My Wife's Li'l Secret (30 page)

I swallowed hard. “I want to, but I can’t. Get it?” I put down my fork and hung my head.

“Well, good then, because she’s met someone.”

My head jerked to look at my sister.

“She wants to start a life with him, Ritchie. He wants them to move in together—”

“What?” I bolted upright in my seat, my eyes the size of the coasters on the table, my jaw hanging like a cartoon character's.

“—but she prefers to get married, considering she has kids. You know, do the right thing. But she’s —”

"Who did she meet? And WHEN?”

"— worried  how you’d react and…shhhh!” Arena’s eyes darted around the restaurant.

I took a deep breath and slumped in my chair, feeling like I had been body-slammed. “Who is this prick? A fellow librarian? No wonder she dolls up for work,” I muttered in a voice filled with bitterness.

When Arena hesitated and looked at Bear, fear shot through me.

“Do I know him, Arena? Does he know me? Does he know about her
past
?”

Bear stared at me, fork poised in mid-air.

Arena sucked in her bottom lip and appeared to think about it before she said, “Yes…yes… and…yes.”

“Who, Arena? Who is this…this …
person
?”

She took a sip of her wine, carefully placed her glass on the table, and looked at me. “Remember Vlad?”

“Vlad? Who the fuck is…?” I stopped and stared at her in disbelief. “Vlad? As in that Russian? Aristov’s…”

She nodded.

“You are kidding me!”

The look in her eye told me she wasn’t.

My eyes flew to Bear. “You know about this?”

His shrug was tiny.

“And you didn’t tell me?” I darted my index finger at him. “Some friend you are!”

He leaned his betraying self in and looked at me. “Take it easy, Ritchie. It’s sensitive stuff, and I was waiting for the right moment to tell you.”

“Right moment, eh?”

Bear turned out his palms in a helpless gesture.

“Et tu, Bear?” I said

“Ritchie,” Arena said, “Liefie’s world shattered when you told her you couldn’t resume your, you know…?”

“No, I don’t know!”

“Relationship. She knew Vlad, she confided in him. Cried about you and of course, he knew everything there was to know already, and being a victim of Aristov himself, he understood. Over time they grew close and…”

“Over time…” I spat. All that expensive lingerie she had bought; it wasn’t for me, it was for Vlad! And there I was, stewing in guilt over it. Bitterness oozed through me.

“She doesn’t know how to approach you without hurting your feelings,” Arena said.

“She is worried about
my
feelings? About hurting
me
? Seriously? Gimme a break.”

“She cares about you, Ritchie.”

“Yeah, right.”

“He’s met the kids and…”

“My kids? When did he meet my KIDS?”

Arena’s finger flew to her lips. “Shhh!”

“I need another drink,” I said as my neck swiveled. “Where the fuck is the waitress?”

“Chill, bro!” Bear said, signaling the waitress. “He met them with Cruikshank and Olga. A long time ago.”

“So, like what? They wanna make it together and I’m in the fucking way?”

“Relax, Ritchie,” Arena said. “Why you getting so mad when you can’t make this work? You’ve had your chance, she’s in love with you, but you’re…” She shook her head, her eyes suddenly liquid. “I don’t know… I don’t understand, Ritchie. Explain it to me, why you ask her to marry you, then change your mind, then get mad when she moves on without you? Tell me, ’cause I don’t understand.”

I stared at my sister, ready with a smart aleck answer. Answer
s
. Then involuntarily, my shoulders slumped.

A dense silence followed.

I lifted and dropped my shoulders, opened my mouth to speak, willed myself to say something, make an excuse, bullshit her like I’ve been bullshitting myself, tell her the truth,
dare
to tell the truth, but…nothing came out of my mouth.

“Dunno,” I finally muttered in a meek voice.

“You can’t get past the fact that…” she sighed, “you can’t get over her
past
. Right, Ritchie?”

Awash with shame, I nodded.

“She gets it, Rich.” Arena’s voice was gentle and devoid of reproach.

I raised my eyes to my sister’s. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, she told me that, and Ritchie, she doesn’t hold it against you. But…”

“She did? She told you that?”

“…she feels the only way both of you can move on is if she moves out.”

“Yeah?” That was all I could manage with the lump in my throat the size of a tennis ball.

Arena nodded. “But she wants to be straight with you. To tell you the truth even if it hurts, Ritchie.”

Liefie with another man. Liefie and my children and another man.

The sense of loss washed over me. I clutched my head with both my hands and stared at the floor.

“Ritchie?”

My eyes remained on the floor.

“Boet?”

Slowly, I dragged my eyes to meet Arena’s.

“It’s not your fault, you know. You’ve done a lot for her in spite of what happened to you. You’ve been through hell and…and you were forced to do things that were against your grain. All that has obviously impacted your ability to accept her. Go easy on yourself. Go easy on her.”

Liefie is leaving me. Liefie is going to marry another man.

I suddenly felt like I was alone in a Blair Witch forest at night with no GPS.

“Wha…like, how do I handle this, sis?”

Arena appeared to think about it for a few moments before she said in a kind voice, “Leave it to me, Ritchie. I’ll handle it, okay?”

Cloaked in despair, I nodded. It was all my fault. I had longed for the old Olga, and I found her in Liefie, to my delight. Yet, when I did, I didn’t want her. I held her past against her, put my kids second, and put my feelings first. I ignored the sunny pull of the future by dredging up a sepia past.

Cad?

Heel?

Jerk?

Arsehole?

Pick one.

Or all of the above, because I was willing to accept
all
those labels.

After I left Bear and Arena, I drove to a pub and got wasted. I did not want to go home and face Liefie.

I drank till I was legless. Then at 1 a.m., I took a cab home and stumbled into my bedroom.

The next morning, hangover or no hangover, I was hurt enough and disturbed enough to get up while Liefie was asleep, pop a few aspirins, and sneak away to my office.

It was a dog day of course. I mean, the woman you love is seeing another man and talking marriage – what the fuck kind of day is a man supposed to have?

She didn’t want to hurt your feelings…

Yeah, right – so she snuck off and spent days and nights with him, quietly, behind my back. Dressed glamorously for him.

No wonder I found no paper trail in our bank accounts; he probably paid for everything.

Were they laughing behind my back? Feeling sorry for me, perhaps?

Well, I would show her, I told myself. I would be a good sport about it. A
great
sport. She will never see my pain over losing her. Never!

The next evening before I entered my home, I took a deep breath, straightened my back, and with my good-sport demeanor firmly in situ, approached Liefie.

“Congratulations!” I said, in a back-slapping kind of voice. “When’s the wedding?”

“Oh, eh…well…” While she tried to recover from her shock, I leaned in and gave her half a hug.

She mumbled something, but I didn’t hear what she said. I was too busy trying to remember the next line I had rehearsed throughout the day.

“So we’re going to meet him at a barbeque, huh? Cool!”

This time she didn’t answer, she just stared at me.

“Looking forward to it!”

My neck craned for my kids. “Where’s…” I looked at Liefie.

To my absolute surprise, instead of seeing her breathe a sigh of relief at my
pleasantness
, fat tears roll down her cheeks.

Her tears were not part of the script, so my carefully rehearsed act immediately fragmented. All I could do was stare at her as she silently wept, her pain over our situation tangible.

When my eyes began to burn, I mumbled, “Gotta take a shower,” and hurried away from her. I walked upstairs, pulling off my tie as I went.

It didn’t matter how I felt inside, how Liefie was feeling; what mattered was how I
reacted
to her leaving me, what I
said
and whether my
no-hard-feelings
act went smoothly.

Because when she and that fucker talked about me, the cuckold husband, my wife would report, “
Ritchie
was
a great sport about it,” or “Ritchie isn’t a sore loser.”
And that was important. To me.

Immature? Perhaps.

When I got to the top stair, I turned around to glance at Liefie. She had followed me and stood at the bottom of the stairs. She was looking up at me. In her watery eyes, I saw a reflection of mine – unconcealed sadness.

I did something stupid, I betrayed myself and my act by looking at her and shaking my head.

You’re making a mistake.

Before she could respond, I turned and walked away from my wife.

****

We met Vlad for the first time at Arena’s house over a barbeque. A neutral, poolside, relaxed environment . (No shrimp on the barbi, just steak and sausages. Pork and lamb sausages. No crocodile, koala or wallaby sausages, let’s get that straight.)

I snuck a glance at Liefie – tight black jeans, and a black top that showed a little too much cleavage if you asked me. Again she wore high heels and red lipstick.

Did I mention how much I dislike red lipstick?

Maybe I stared too hard, because she turned, looked at me, and frowned. Then she walked up to me and said, “You okay, Ritchie?”

“Yeah, sure,” I said, reaching for a long barbeque knife. “Where is he?”

“Put that knife down!” she snapped.

“Why? I’m just going to cut me some Vlad,
Nadia
. I mean
sssssteak
.” I threw my head back and guffawed at my own joke, even though she wasn’t laughing.

“Put it down, Ritchie!”

I ran my finger lightly over the edge of the knife. “Be warned, I’m going to interrogate the fucker. Better believe it. Vlad better not be old and weird. And he’d better like kids. And he’d better have money. And his family better not be fucked up. Like your family is.”

“You are going to scare him off!” she hissed. “Put down the knife!”

“Fine.” I put down the knife and looked at her. “Now say, good doggie.”

With a roll of her eyes, she walked away on those ridiculously high heels. One little trip and she could be in the pool. Wouldn’t that ruin her carefully crafted look, I thought with a wicked smile.

Vlad arrived on time, not a minute late, to my ire, with lilies for Arena, red roses for Liefie, a bottle of red wine for Bear, six silver foil balloons for the kids, and fuck all for me.

I stewed silently. He meets her ex-husband and fails to bring me a gift? Who is this guy?

“God, I hate Russians!” I murmured.

“Ukrainians,” Bear corrected.

Then in front of all of us, Vlad planted a kiss on Liefie’s lips.

Really, Vlad? My body isn’t even cold and you’re making out in public? In front of me?

Liefie, appearing a little nervous, raced over to introduce me. “This is Ritchie, my eh, ex-husband.”

Ex. Seriously, Liefie?

“Nice to meet you, Ritchie,” Vlad, the man whose uncles I barbequed, said to me, his hand outstretched.

He was around 5’8”, green eyes, reddish-brown hair, and in need of a tan. In an arm wrestling contest, I would win. For sure. That thought made me smile inwardly.

After shaking his hand, I watched him carefully, waiting for him to slip up, ready to pounce, to criticize, maybe even arm wrestle him. He didn’t, to my disappointment.

He offered to help Arena with the salad, he brought both Bear and I beers without us asking, he topped up Liefie’s drink and wouldn’t eat until she was ready to eat, he fixed Ally’s doll’s arm when it came apart, and he carried li’l Gareth while Liefie and I fed our girls – major sucking up.

But wait, there’s more!

He even helped with the
cleaning
up! Loaded the dishwasher, helped my sister cling wrap leftovers, and then made Arena and Liefie fancy coffees, saying, “I worked for Starbucks when I was in Uni.” Yeah, he was on his best behavior.

But I was patient. I told myself that I would wait for the fucker to slip up if it took the rest of my goddamn life!

When he left, I shook his hand and muttered, “Good to meet you.” In spite of the fact that he was my rival, that he was taking my wife away from me, that I was jealous of his and Liefie’s deep connection, that he probably knew Liefie better than I did. and that he seemed an okay guy.

Grudgingly, I had to admit that.

Liefie handed me Gareth and hurried after Vlad.

“Where you going?” I asked.

“I’m going to see Vlad off!” she threw over her shoulder and broke into a trot.

With my jaw loose, I watched my wife run behind her boyfriend, take his hand in hers, and almost skip toward his navy BMW without a thought about me.

She’s still my wife!

It was so confrontational, it made me feel as if I had a bout of motion-sickness.

That night, with my arms crossed behind my head, I stared at the ceiling as I tried to get the image of Liefie and Vlad holding hands and walking away from me. They seemed so familiar, so at ease with each other – did he get to fuck her when Aristov was around? Obviously he had his eye on her, and it was clear she liked him a lot.

Would she do him the way she did me? Fuck him in the unrestrained, uninhibited manner she fucked me?

She was nimble in the sack, game for any position – cowgirl, reverse-cowgirl, wheelbarrow, doggie…she was adept at it all, could mount me like a horse and would ride me till she came. Whenever she felt me twitch, she’d jump off me and change position, buying her time, ensuring her orgasm.

In our bedroom, she was boss, capable and in charge, and I loved that about her.

Over the years, she knew my body like a map – which spot to hit to make me moan, which spot to hit to make me call out her name, which spot to hit to make me scream out.

I felt an acute sense of loss to know that all that we shared, intimately at that, was no more.

Liefie and Ritchie were no more.

In the future, I would be referred to as
The Ex.

****

We had to talk. I dreaded that and avoided it at all cost. But Liefie didn’t appear to want to, so I let it ride.

Now that Vlad had met the family, out came all the wedding books once again, and plans for a wedding continued as if nothing had changed. Except that my role in the wedding would now be played by Vlad what’s-his-name.

Arena and Girly returned to help Liefie with her wedding, which would take place in two months.

Two
months.

Talk about moving fast.

One Saturday morning, when the kids were gone to a birthday party and Girly was at her sister’s, Liefie approached me. “Can we talk?”

After a slight hesitation, I nodded.

She pointed to the lounge.

I walked into it and she followed.

“The kids…?” she said wringing her hands. “Like what…you know…?”

“What about them?!” I snapped.

“Well, I…I…I’d like to take them with me after we get married, and they can…”

“That’s not gonna happen!” I barked. “This is their house; they stay
here
. Next question.” How dare she even suggest taking my children with her?

She let out a long breath. “Ritchie, Gareth is too little to be without me.”

“And …?” I glared at her.

“Ritchie, your attitude is making all this so difficult. Gareth needs me and —”

“If you take Gareth to go live with you, what about me as a father? How…?”

“I have a suggestion. You can have him as often as you like, I have absolutely no problem with that. But I suggest we formalize it and make it every Sunday. Or Saturday, I’m flexible. How ’bout that?”

You’re flexible all right. I know that. Ha!

After giving it some thought, I shrugged. “But the girls stay with me. You can have them every Sunday. Or Saturday.
I’m
flexible. How ’bout
that
?”

Yes, I was being antagonistic, but I didn’t care. I stayed to keep our family together, she wasn’t prepared to. To me, finding Vlad, finding a man in a matter of weeks, was a fuck you.

Getting
married
to Vlad was another fuck you.

Suggesting she take my kids to live with her was the mother of all fuck yous, and I was mad.

She stared at me for a few moments before she spoke. “Why are you doing this?” Her voice was small and weary.

“Why? Because you are taking away my children!” I said. “You are splitting them up, breaking up our family. Gareth has to grow up without his sisters? My son is going to be raised by another man for six days a week? Is that fair? Huh? How do you think I feel about this?”

“Ritchie, what choice have we got? Tell me. You expect us to continue like this?”

“Yes!” I shouted. “I am prepared to; you should be too. Not running off into

another man’s arms in record ti —”

“No you’re not!” she cried.

I cocked my head to look at her. “What do you mean?”

“You leave the house early in the morning, before I wake, you return when I’m asleep, you avoid me, avoid my eyes, you tense up the moment I talk to you…you’re fucking miserable, Ritchie. And guess what? So am I!”

“Oh, so all of this is my fau —”

“No! It’s my fault. I broke it, I’m trying to fix it!”

“How, by breaking up my family? You fix it that way? By taking away my son, huh?”

“I have no choice, Ritchie!”

“You
have
a choice, Liefie, don’t say that! You could have talked to me about it, but you didn’t, so don’t act like you’re all upset and —”

“Ritchie, I am upset, OKAY?” she yelled, thumping her fist against her chest. “I want you to talk to me about it, but you don’t. You
won’t
! I hurt too, you know.”

“What do you hurt about,
Liefie
? I’m the one who drew a short straw, remember?
I’m
the o…ne!” My voice suddenly cracked, to my dismay.

“And I am sorry for that, Ritchie!” she said. “I was a victim; I did what I had to do to survive. I’m sorry you got so badly hurt in the process, and Ritchie, I would do
anything
to fix it, but you don’t want me anymore, and it hurts, it really does, because I love you so…so much! The hardest thing is walking away from you.”