Yours, Mine And The Truth

1.

Jayne

The mug filled with steaming hot green tea stung my hands as I sat on the couch watching the morning news. I’d taken a few days off work to sort myself out, not that I told my husband, David. To him I lied. I said I had appointments over in Edinburgh so I wasn’t driving into work with him as I had done every day of the last six years. Truth was I was off to Birmingham tomorrow morning and I wouldn’t be around for a while. He was flitting between rooms moaning about not being able to find his tie, then his watch. I tried to block it out and concentrate but my head screamed, This afternoon I’m leaving this house forever. Never coming back. Never looking over my shoulder, and running away from you, my husband and the pain in my arse for the last ten years of my life.

It’s true I’m leaving as soon as he goes to work. I’ve to give my brothers a call and they’re bringing their van round, acting as my muscle for the day. I can get everything out that’s mine and get it round to my new flat in one go.

It’s not that I don’t love him, I do, well I did but I’m not in love with him. David is a great guy, perfect for me when we met but we’ve drifted apart. Now every single thing annoys me and I want to scratch his eyes out. I want different things like excitement. I’ve had some and I want more.

See you late Jayne, love you, he yells before pulling the front door closed.

I don’t reply he doesn’t deserve anymore of my time.

His head bobs up and down as he runs under the living room window and across to the car. This house is above road level so it’s ideal for watching until he reverses the car. I tip toed to the edge of the blinds and leaned a little closer to the window. He turns out of our street and onto the road leading up to the main road. Now I should be safe enough. A few minutes pass by and my nerves have me hopping from one foot to the other. I need to get on with packing, but eventually there he is at the top of the hill. He signals, turns the car and drives away.

Seconds later my phone rings, I grab it and a sigh of relief passes my lips. Hey Dad.

Has he left?

Yes.

Give us half an hour and we’ll be round.

Are you coming as well? I thought you didn’t approve. I looked down at the floor uncomfortable at admitting to Dad I knew what he thought of the situation. God forbid he finds out I had affairs. That would be the end of our strained relationship.

I figured you could use the extra pair of hands.

Thanks.

Ah well, little one, I may not agree with what you’re doing but you're still my daughter. I’d rather you are happy. Dad hung the phone up before I could say thanks.

I took my empty cup into the kitchen and flicked the kettle back on. It burbled and made noises I took to mean, it would soon pack in. In the cupboard where we kept all the plastic tubs, I retrieved a big brown envelope. David wouldn’t look in the cupboard, I knew that. He always used to ask me to get him a box. Hated bending down and reaching into the back of the cupboard, now he would need to. Inside the envelope, I pulled out a few sheets of paper that over the last few days I’d been jotting down items I was taking. My finger ran down the list until I reached the kitchen bit and crossed out the word kettle. It sounded terrible. He could keep it. I’d buy a new one. While I waited, I grabbed boxes from of the storage cupboard and emptied the contents of the kitchen cupboards.

Four hours, sweat, tears and numerous cups of tea for my brothers, we’d packed everything on my list. Now it was outside in their box truck. Dad sighed every time he walked into a different room and asked, several times, Are you sure?

I was and I am. It’s over and Dad’s disapproving stares, noises and choice comments to my brothers will not change my mind. They left me to check the rooms for anything I’d left behind. Thing was, I’d almost emptied the house and as I walked from room to room, disgust, sorrow and anxiety ran through my veins. I hadn’t left him much. Clothes, a bed, the spare one, not the nice dark wooden one I loved, and he hated. One of the two seat couches, chair, TV table, the TV itself, and assorted games consoles. There was less in the kitchen, just the essentials and the noisy kettle. It wasn’t vindictiveness. I left him more than he came into the relationship with, plus I bought most. Yes, he paid the mortgage, but I provided the style.

In all honesty leaving him with anything was more than he deserved. He should have fought for me harder. That makes me sound selfish and I guess I am. I want something different. I thought he did too, but he doesn’t. His priorities have shifted, and he’s happy to settle. I don’t want kids. I don’t hate them but I would choose not to be around them. That’s why I hate this house and I can’t wait to be in my own. But it’s not just that, he doesn’t see me. The real me. Stopped paying attention many months ago.

At the beginning we were great. Our only issue was the sex. His proportions are on the large size and despite the common myth being the bigger the better, it’s not. We got used to each other and after a while it wasn’t an issue but I craved normality. David wasn’t the first guy I slept with, nor was he the best. The first time I cheated on him I had the most outrageous dangerous sex in a lift. It was wonderful and opened my eyes to what I was missing.

Ready? Dad asked from the doorway.

Yes. I closed the door behind me, locked it and posted the keys through the letter box. The clunk as they hit the floor signalled the end, and I walked out of the patio closing the gate behind me.

********

Lindsay

Illness and I weren’t a good match at all. A few days laid low with a cold or flu then fine, but this was well into the second week of house confinement with shingles. Daytime TV was no longer satisfying my needs, and I’d taken an interest in what was happening in the lives of my neighbours outside my own windows.

Take this morning, Brian left as usual at eight and without checking I was awake. He sticks his head inside the bedroom door, just as far as he has to. I swear he thinks he will catch this just by looking at me. Since the diagnosis he’s slept in the spare room, made all his own meals and insisted on using the same two towels after a shower. I’m surprised I haven’t had to use different utensils to cook my meals or do the washing separate. Extreme is an understatement.

I saw him walk to the car as I rose from bed and opened the curtains. He chatted to David our neighbour from work then they climbed into separate cars and drove out of the street. The neighbour in between our homes followed half an hour later but unlike the cars, he drove a motorbike at least twice the legal noise limit. Him I didn’t see leave the street, I heard him while I was in the kitchen organising breakfast.

I munched my way through a bowl of granola and yoghurt and continued to glance out of the window from behind the safety of ceiling to floor length voile curtains.

It's day eleven of my enforced quarantine and what will we get up to day? I ask the silence of my home. Just as I thought. Nowt. With a chuckle, I ate another spoonful and fixed my blank expression on the not so entertaining daytime TV.

This was my day at the moment, eat, sleep, and do nothing. The rash was healing, and I’d got over the worst. The first few days were terrible, and I stayed in bed. Over time the situation improved, I felt myself again but until the rash disappeared, I had to stay at home. That was the toughest thing. I watched movies, read half dozen books but had driven myself loopy. My mates were all at work, so was Brian. Adele, my best friend called every day. Brian didn’t. I needed a human connection. When he was home, we barely spoke, but it had been like that for the past few months.

I met Brian at a summer party with my work colleagues. He was in a different team managed by David’s wife, Jayne. In a quirk of fate, David was a manager in my area, although not mine, and played cupid, introducing me to Brian. It wasn’t love at first sight, but he wore me down with his humour and charm. At first, I didn’t think I was ready to jump into a relationship since I’d just left one. After two months of dating, he’d moved in. That was almost two years ago. I’d love to say they were two blissful years, they weren’t, but I thought we were happy and going places. Before the shingles, I’d tried to raise the subject of kids. I wasn’t getting any younger and most of my friends either had them already or were pregnant. I felt left out, but he didn’t want to talk. Then I fell sick, and he left my bed. That hurt!

Oh, what’s that? I said as a large truck passed the window. Trucks passed at all times of the day, small ones with refrigeration boxes on the back, taking produce to the small local shop at the end of the road. I jumped up and peered through the edge of the curtain. Nosy but this was my excitement, such as it was. Two guys, one young, one older climbed out of the van and disappeared around the side, then the van backed up further at an angle. It was obvious someone was moving home and in a hurry. No way, the van could park like that for long because it blocked the shops access, and the owner didn’t have a pleasant nature. Right enough I heard yelling not too long after I stopped watching and the truck repositioned.

As I had done over the last couple of weeks, I fell asleep watching daytime TV but today shouting woke me. Whatever was going on sounded nasty. I jumped up and caught the tail end of an argument between the driver of a recycling lorry and the driver of the blocked moving van. The van wanted out. Karma since he’d blocked people in for the last few hours. It was handbags as my dad used to say. Two men squaring off against each other with menacing faces plus a verbal altercation but without the real nerve to take it further. An older man came out, shouted two swear words and the van driver disappeared. Seconds later, it drove out of the street followed by a black hatchback. The older man in the driver seat.

I turned to walk back to the couch but a woman standing by a parked car caught my gaze. It was Jayne. I’m sure Brian said you were in Birmingham this week!

2.

David

The alarm clock blared in my ear. Spider like fingers crept along the edge of the small oak bedside table, located the clock and launched it against the wall at the opposite side of the room. Today would be as bad as yesterday.

After dragging myself out of bed I turned the kitchen light on and filled the kettle. The remnants of last night’s dinner lay in half opened containers on the worktop. Her letter lay underneath. I opened doors searching for a clean mug until I found the cupboard where my snake of a wife placed all the earthenware, she left me with. Two plates, bowls and half a dozen mugs.

Upstairs I sat in the one chair I had left, flicked the TV on and drank the black coffee. She didn’t even leave the fridge!

I’ve heard men talk before. Friends, colleagues and they all say I didn’t see it coming. I never believed them but now I do. This I didn’t see at all. We were happy, I thought, until I walked in last night and stood on her door keys. She left an envelope taped to the top of the TV to make sure I’d see it.

The words jumped off the page, twisting my soul, destroying my heart. I couldn’t understand half of what she was saying. I love you but I’m not in love with you! What does that even mean? One thing was for sure she’d cleaned out our home and left me with my clothes and next to nothing else. After finding my home gutted, I expected the bank account to be the same. I called them and cancelled her cards. To my surprise it was untouched, but she’d cancelled all the direct debits for her phone, gym membership and other standing orders that day. None of it made any sense.

I’d had the day from hell. Back-to-back meetings, arguments, disagreements on everything and far too much company politics for my liking. All I wanted was a beer and to lounge on the couch with a half decent film. Jayne was in Edinburgh on a Pensions training course. She’d left that morning, I thought. Now I know different.

I tried to call her mobile, but kept hearing the same computerised recorded voice say the number you are trying to reach is out of service. She definitely didn’t want me contacting her, but then that made sense after cleaning me out.

With the coffee finished I wandered back to the kitchen. She’d left me some tins, condiments and bread. That was it. Annoyed was an understatement. Just last week we’d filled the freezer since we were working different shifts for the next few weeks and we would grab meals rather than enjoy them. Now she had it all. I couldn’t process the deceit from the woman I loved, who I’d spent all of my adult life with. We wanted to have kids, grow old together but to find out it was all a lie, well I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I grabbed the bread and made toast. This isn’t over! I screamed into the air.

A few hours later, armed with the letter and photographs of the house and kitchen cupboards I made my way to the office of my lawyer. I’d called him after getting the day off. He didn’t handle this kind of stuff but others in his practice did and he’d introduce me.

David, he said walking into the mini corridor they called a waiting room. His outstretched hand offered a warm handshake. There’s been a catch. Come with me.

I liked Dean. He was a man’s, man. Not one of these smarmy young lawyers with the good looks, floppy hair and pricy suits. We met at university and became friends of a sort. Not someone I’d head to the pub with but I trusted his judgement and he was the man to steer me in the right direction now. What kind of catch?

Jayne has a contract with one of the other partners so we can’t handle you as a client.

That two faced sneaky...

Dean raised his eyebrows before I could continue and grinned. Now now, this is just round one. She thinks she’s got you out of your comfort zone but I’ve found a lawyer that can handle your separation or divorce. Someone who comes with my recommendation.

He was heading towards the front door of their offices. We were almost out on the street. Who? I asked uncertain with this turn of events.

Dean Brody Senior. His office is upstairs. He handled my divorce and he might be older than most lawyers but Dad’s seen it all. Every dirty trick that anyone has tried, he has a list of them all and how to make it right.

He held out his hand again, and I shook it again. I can’t thank you enough for setting this up and thanks for the honesty.

You’re welcome mate. Listen to Dad. He handled my brothers divorce, and that got nastier than it needed to be because my brothers stupid. He patted my shoulder and opened the door.

Upstairs the offices were as I expected from an older lawyer. Wall to wall wooden bookcases stacked high with journals and law books. A battered red chesterfield couch sat off centre