My Wife's Li'l Secret (31 page)

With a cynical smile, I folded my arms across my chest and looked at her. “You love me? Really? Yet in
record
time you started dating Vlad and are planning a humungous wedding? HUH? I’m sick of seeing wedding paraphernalia every side I turn. Sick of stumbling on huge…bloody wedding journals throughout the goddamn lounge and TV room!”

“It’s a survival thing once again, Ritchie.”

I dropped my folded arms and turned away from her. “Oh, puhleese! That’s your get-out-of-jail card?” I turned away from her and moved toward the patio doors.

She rushed to block my path. “Ritchie, I don’t love Vlad, I love you. I have to leave here and he...he is a means to an end. That’s all. Living here, loving you so
deeply
, so very deeply, and knowing that you don’t want to come home every evening because it means facing me cuts deep, Ritchie!” Her eyes turned into mini pools and her chin wobbled.

At the sight of her tears, my jealousy, my sarcasm, my desire to hurt her for moving on so quickly ebbed. “I…I…”

She was openly admitting to not loving Vlad – how was I to handle that?

“I lived in fear that you would come home one day and tell me it’s over and that you want out. I lived in fear that you would walk into this house and tell me that you have found someone you want to be with, and that I must leave the house or that you are leaving. I dreaded that day and this…
relationship
with Vlad, Ritchie, it’s because I l…ove you so much.” She placed her hands over her heart. “If I’m with him, I will stop pining for you. Hopefully.”

I rubbed my forehead. “I…I …waddaya want me to say, Liefie?”

“You are my first love, Ritchie. The miracle in my life, remember? You made me believe that I was worthy of being loved when I thought nobody would ever love someone damaged like me. I had given up on love, and then I met you, and my world, it just flipped.” She smiled.

“After you rescued Gareth and me from Ukraine, I felt like I had won the Miss World competition. You loved me in spite of my past. You wanted to re-marry me! I was floating on a cloud. My prince was rescuing me again. But when you backed out of our wedding, I had to give back the crown.”

I felt like a total jerk. Would it have mattered if she told me this before? I wondered.

“Nobody can match up to you. I am pretty sure I will despise whoever takes my place like you are despising Vlad simply for daring to take your place.”

Words failed me.

“Sometimes when he holds me, I close my eyes and pretend it’s you.”

Tears flowed down her cheeks, but she did not bother to wipe them away. “Vlad, he knows. I told him in the beginning when there was nothing between him and me. I told him that I could never love anyone the way I love you. He has to live with that, Ritchie. That’s sad, don’t you think?”

I dropped my eyes to the floor. That
was
sad; it
had
to hurt.

As much as I didn’t like Vlad because of what he stood for, I was terribly uncomfortable with the notion that I would be the source of his pain. I knew first-hand how hurtful it could be when someone didn't love you and was simply using you.

“From an early age, I learned to swing into survivor mode to…
survive,
Ritchie. I’ve done that so much in my life, especially over the past year when I was in Ukraine, that it comes really easily to me. Ritchie, I have three beautiful children worth living for, so I try hard to be whole. Lately, I’ve been just drifting, waiting…for…” she lifted and dropped her shoulders. “Vlad, he’s the rock that I’m clinging to, and by marrying him, I’m burning a bridge, the one that connects us and keeps me waiting, wishing, and hoping. I’m setting you free, Ritchie. That is an unselfish act on my part.”

She made sense. I couldn’t end the marriage, because I was a coward, so she did.

“The irony is, for the first time in my life, I am free, Ritchie. No Olga, no Cruikshank, no Aristov – yet I’m the saddest I’ve ever been.”

I absolutely did not want to hear that. “Liefie…”

“I’m not complaining, because I am luckier than I’ve ever been. I have Arena, Bear, Girly, Vlad, and most of all, I have you. Never before have I had so many people to help me, so I think I am lucky. I can depend on you. I know you’re just around the corner, and in spite of you not being able to accept me and my past, you
will
be there for me. God knows I am grateful for that.”

Slowly, I moved closer to her and took her in my arms. “Liefie, I’m sorry. I don’t know …man, I really don’t know what to say, except that I am so damaged by all that happened …”

She clung to me. “I know. I know, and I feel your pain, Ritchie. I see you staring at Vlad, your eyes full of hurt when he puts his arm around me or when he’s playing with the kids – and I feel for you.”

“Please don’t feel sorry for me, Liefie. I’m the jerk here.”

“You’re not.” She rested her cheek on my chest. “You're a victim, and you too are suffering.”

I nodded. “Liefie, you know that if things don’t work with Vlad, I will take care of you and the – ”

“It will, it will,” she said to my chest. “He’s really accepting of me. He’s equally damaged – him and his sister fell into Aristov’s clutches when they were little and…” she lifted and dropped her shoulders, “we get each other.”

“You know,” I said, kissing her hair, “I’m really happy for you. Grudgingly, I have to admit, he’s not bad.”

She smiled. “Grudgingly?”

I was really happy to see her smile. “
Very
grudgingly,” I said, my face spasming.

She laughed and my heart warmed. “Will you give me away?”

I stared at her. “You're kidding me, right?”

“Please! I would really like you to. It would mean so much to me.”

For a few moments I stared at the floor as I thought about it. Wouldn’t that be the ultimate good-sport act? Me walking with her on my arm down the aisle, smiling good naturedly.

Ritchie is not a sore loser.

But I had to be true to myself. “I’m sorry, Liefie, I can’t do it.”

Her face fell. “Okay,” she said in a voice that reminded me of Ally.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated. “It would hurt too much.”

Her head bobbed and she quickly rubbed my back. “I understand. I don’t want you to hurt.”

I hugged her back. “I love you, Liefie,” I whispered. “I really do. And saying goodbye to you is…impossible. You are my first love; nobody can take that place in my heart. All that you have, you deserve.” I meant every word I said.

“Just promise me one thing,” she said.

“What?” I asked, a little nervously.

“Don’t fall in love with anyone anytime soon.”

“Aw, c’mon!”

“Wait till my broken heart heals.”

“Not a chance of that. Me fall in love again? I doubt that will happen.”

She pulled back and smiled at me. “I’m selfish; I don’t want to ever see you with another woman. Don’t think I can handle it.”

“I think I will die alone and on a park bench. So don’t worry.”

She smiled. “You’re so beautiful to look at, which women can resist you?”

“Yeah, you’re right about that.”

She laughed out loud.

“Hey, I have something for you,” I said. “Wait right here!”

I left her and ran up to my room, took out the gold chain with the love heart and the box of chocolates and ran down to her.

“For you,” I said, thrusting it at her. Got it for you after our fight. There were roses but …” I shrugged.

“Wow, I love it!” she gushed, handing it to me and turning around.

I fastened it around her neck and said, “Now, about Vlad – he lives so far…”

“He’s moving closer!” she said, turning around to face me, her hand on the pendant. “He sold his house and he's trying to find something to buy closer to you, but after Aristov’s ill fate, his business basically collapsed and he’s trying really hard to build it again. This time he’s going legit.”

“You saying he’s got no money?”

“Well, Aristov took most of his money and he could do nothing about it. He’s going to have to build his business again. Then he’ll be able to afford a decent house.”

“Wait, wait, wait! When he does buy the house, I want it to belong to
both
of you. I don’t want him putting you and the kids out in the street after one argument or complaining they are messing up his Celine Dion CD collect –”

“How? I earn too little. And he doesn’t listen to Celine – ”

“I have money.”

She stared at me.

“I’m going to give you half of whatever we own. You deserve it.”

“What?” Her eyes popped. “Sweet of you, but...Ritchie, I don’t want you to sell this house or increase your mortgage. You may struggle to obtain another mortgage with your bad credit and –”

I held up my hand. “I won’t be doing any of that.” She had no idea about Aristov’s money I had buried in my garden. Who better to benefit from it than Vlad and Liefie? Both had been Aristov’s victims.

“I have extra money under my mattress.”

She chuckled. “You serious?”

“I sure am. Call him over. I want to have a word with him.”

Her eyes became slits. “What…what do you want to talk to him about?”

“Stuff, Liefie. Man shit I need to talk about with him. What if he wants to have the wedding reception at some seedy pub, huh? Ever thought about that? I gotta make sure you’re getting a good deal. Someone’s gonna have to watch out for you, you know.”

She chuckled. “I’m a big girl, Ritchie.”

“Yeah, yeah! Call him.”

She sighed and started to dial his number.

It was correct to say I muscled Vlad into buying a house one street away from me with the million dollars I gave Liefie toward the house – a five-bedroom, three-bathroom house. I also gave Liefie another two hundred thousand dollars toward the furnishing of the house, and she was beside herself with joy.

It was correct to say they owed me a big fat thank you for being so magnanimous.

Their wedding was small, but lovely, and Liefie looked just beautiful in the long white gown she had bought for our wedding. I wondered if Vlad knew that she was wearing that gown. Somehow I had a feeling he did, and he didn’t care too much about it.

There were no bridesmaids, but all the kids, including Arena’s, were part of the wedding ceremony, all dressed in white and looking like little angels.

It was surreal watching my wife, whom I still loved, being walked down the aisle by Bear, professing to love another man, promising to love him in sickness and in death. I felt disconnected, as if I was underwater, in a dream.

The rest of the wedding…well, I believe it went well. I can’t remember.

They told me later that I had started to drink
before
the wedding. I downed shot after shot of tequila and whisky (Cruikshank style), then wanted to dance even before the wedding reception, and even though there was no dance music playing. I don’t believe I did that.

They told me that when the priest asked if anyone objected to the wedding, I jumped out of my seat and stuck my hand high into the air. Then when everybody looked at me, I said, “Kidding! Kidding! Go on, Padre.” I don’t believe I did that. Me call the priest Padre? No way.

They told me that I took Vlad into a headlock at the reception and threatened to cut off his balls and put them in the deep fryer at McDonalds and serve  them as nuggets if he ever told Liefie she couldn’t wear red lipstick, because women should be able to wear whatever color lipstick they desired, and just because she was wearing red lipstick didn’t mean she was a slut. I don’t believe I did that. No way!

They told me I held onto Liefie and cried real tears, told her how lovely she looked and how much I loved her, wetting her wedding gown, then I used part of her dress to dry my tears and blow my nose. I, eh, believe I may have done that. Yeah.

They told me I badgered the DJ for "I Know What Love Is"
by Celine Dion, which he did not have. I then apparently tried to buy it from my iTunes account right at the wedding. They told me I then dragged everybody onto the dance floor to Gangnam style it. I believe that could have happened.

They told me I shoved everyone out of the way to catch the wedding bouquet and caught it, then tried to stick it behind my ear and do a Hawaiian dance. They’re lying. Why the hell would I want a wedding bouquet? Talk about exaggeration.

They lied about more stuff, which I will spare you.

In addition to the money I gave Liefie toward their house, I gave them two plane tickets to Hawaii (in the spirit of my dance moves) where a honeymoon suite awaited them.

Girly and I took care of the girls and Gareth, our little terror, while his mother honeymooned in style.

Finally, I had the house to myself and I could relax. Whew!

But something was missing. To change the climate inside my home, I turned on the music. It didn’t help; the place felt empty, echoey.

I switched on every single light there was. The place became brighter, sure, but without Liefie’s bustling around, the lighting made the place feel clinical, and reminded me of a long hospital corridor.

Only Liefie was missing from my house, yet the void was a yawning chasm.

Is this how every day was going to feel like?

The thought of that made me go up to my room, pull the covers over my head, and sleep even though it was only 2 p.m.

****

Vlad was great with Liefie, great with the kids, great with Girly, great with every fucking body!

Liefie and I shared custody of the kids, and with Girly’s help, the wheels of family life turned smoothly. We all met regularly at weekends, had barbeques and picnics, and co-existed.

Yes, life was finally uneventful and
smooth
.

So I was surprised when Bear and Arena cornered me in my home one Saturday evening.

“Hey!” I said, “Did you bring me food?”

“Bear, and I need to talk to you,” my sister said. “And no, I didn’t bring you food. Sorry.”

“Okay. Talk ’bout what?”
Liefie’s pregnant. Please don’t let her be pregnant. Not this quickly. Please!

Arena took a deep breath and said, “Consider this an intervention, Ritchie.”

“Intervention? But I haven’t had alcohol in more than a week.”

“Not that; you need to start going out,” she said.

“Whaaaat?”

She poked my brother-in-law in the ribs with her elbow. “Tell him, Bear.”

Bear’s response was to reach for an apple from the fruit basket and chomp on it.

Arena frowned at him.

“Where…to?” I asked.

“Dates. I’m talking women,” she said, her voice a little distracted. “Bear, you didn’t wash it.”

Oh that!

Bear looked at her. “Wash what?”

“Jeez, Arena, do I really want to get into that
arena
again?” I said. “I’m happy the way I am. Stop trying to fix things. No woman, no cry, remember?”

“Pesticides on the apple, Bear!” Arena said, then turned to me. “Ritchie, you don’t have to
marry
them, just go out on dates and have friends. It’ll do you good to get back on that bicycle again. I did it and I landed Bear. Tell him Bear.”

We both looked at Bear, who appeared preoccupied with the apple.

He stopped chewing and stared at both of us. “This apple has been washed, right?”

I laughed. Arena didn’t.

“What?” Bear asked, to my amusement.

“Bear!” Arena hissed. “What kind of an intervention is this if you are eating an apple? You are supposed to
talk
to him.
Cajole
him. Tell him how we found each other and stuff…”

Bear’s head bobbed. “Eh, yeah, she hit the jackpot, mate. She landed me, and we all know I’m as good as it gets.”

Another elbow to Bear’s solar plexus.

“Aw!” He frowned at her. “Whazzat for?”

“Give him some
man
advice,” she whispered, slicing the air with her hands.

He looked at me as he continued chewing the apple, a thoughtful look on his face. “You need to start going out,” he finally said.

“I said that already, Bear,” Arena said, through gritted teeth.

“Oh.” He pointed his index finger at me. “Okay, then, here it is: you need to get laid, mate. If not, one of these days, you’re gonna get drunk and bang Girly.”

Arena groaned behind both her hands.

“Jesus God, Bear! What’s wrong with you?” I whispered. “She’s like my mother, man. Have some ressssspect! Besides, she looks like the terminator, man.”

“Yeah, but a bottle of whisky later and she can look like that chick with the big arse.”

“Who?” Arena and I chorused.

He rolled his finger in the air as he tried to remember. “Whatshername…?”

“Kim Khardashian?” Arena asked.

“Nah!”

“Nicky Minaj?” Arena prompted once again.

‘No, no…”

“Jennifer Lopez?” I said.

“Not…her, but okay, she’ll do. Her arse is big, right?”

“Yeah," I said. "It is. But she’s got no tits, if you think of it.”

Bear’s eyes shifted to the left, then to the right before he said. “Yeah, true.” He grimaced. “You want the whole shebang if you…”

“Hey, you guys!” Arena yelled.

Both Bear and I turned to look at her.

Bear cleared his throat. “Okay, Ritchie, we think you may be depressed.”

“What?”

He nodded and continued. “It’s true Ritchie. You need to move on.  Sitting at home on a Saturday night is not…”

“But I’m happy,” I interjected.

Both responded with that-is-bullshit looks.

“Okay, fine, I’ll start going out. Jeez!”

That shut them up for a while.

But I didn’t go out. I really wasn’t up to seeing anyone. All I wanted to do was to sleep, and I did.

Then, one Saturday afternoon, Liefie dropped by. I had fallen asleep while watching TV, and awoke when she kissed my forehead.

“Hey,” I said. “Did you bring me food?” My standard question.

“No,” she said. “Sorry.”

“No? What kind of an ex-wife are –”

“We need to talk about you, Ritchie,” she interrupted in a firm voice. One I don’t think I’ve ever heard before.

I struggled to sit up.

“You’re sleeping a lot, you don’t go out, and you’re…depressed, Ritchie.”

“Oh, please, not you too!” I said and ran my hand over my face.

But she was right. My life consisted of work and home. I seldom went out and rarely socialized. Obviously Bear and Girly reported my low spirits to Arena and Liefie.

“I know what the problem is.”

“What?” She had my full attention now.

“Becky.”

“Ally and…” I cocked my head at her. “What do you mean?”

She held my gaze. Slowly I lowered my eyes to the floor.

“You need to know. I know you, Ritchie, you
need
to know.”

As I stared at her, a million little protests were forming on the tip of my tongue, most of them feeble. I realized she was right. I needed to know. That was what was weighing me down, holding me back. It was silently plaguing me, even though I told myself I didn’t want to know.

Not knowing if Becky was mine was like stumbling in the dark.

“I’ll arrange a paternity test,” she said, squeezing my hand gently.

I stared at the carpet, willing myself to tell her it wasn’t necessary and that she was wrong and why was she worrying about me when she dumped my arse and married someone else.

But I found myself nodding, my shoulders slumping.

In hindsight, I should have entered therapy. But telling a total stranger about my wife who betrayed me, about my daughter who I loved and cherished, and who may not be mine? About the son I thought had died, but who was alive and mine? I worried I may come across as a nut job.

Luckily, my trio of well-meaning angels—Girly, Liefie, and Arena – quietly took care of my home and kids, freeing me up to wallow in what my doctor called a rich man’s condition: depression. (He said poor people are too hungry to be depressed.)

I was stuck in life, shrouded in misery and dejection, and I silently desired answers to the questions that nagged. Questions I dared not seek answers to for fear of what I would have to deal with.

It was a terrible situation to be in, and I often asked myself: why did it happen to me? I am a nice guy; do nice guys really finish last?

What about my kids? What had they done to deserve a broken home? A life with a part-time mother?

Vlad would spend more time with Gareth than I would; would he think that Vlad was his father? Would he call him Dad? What if he liked Vlad more than me? Who would he want to give him away on his wedding day? (Crazy to think so far ahead, yet I was.)

Then there was the issue of Becky; was I doing the right thing by not knowing? Was I being stubborn, and would I pay a hefty price for not having the courage to know?

Did I really want to know?

Slumped forward, I stared hard at the floor as if the answers lay there.

“Leave it to me,” Liefie said as she rubbed my back. “I will handle everything with Arena, okay?”

My nod was slight.

“And I will send you some food with Vlad.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

After a hug, she left.

The strange thing was, the moment Liefie took control of that poignant and vital issue, I felt as if someone had thrown open the blinds and let the sunlight in.

Energized is how I felt.

I put on a pair of sneakers and did something I hadn’t done in months – I went for a five kilometer run.

****

After almost eighteen months of avoiding the issue, I sat at Arena’s dining table facing a large yellow envelope that promised to change my life.

Liefie’s face was pale and drawn with black circles around her eyes, probably matching the black circles around
my
eyes. Ever since I okayed Becky’s DNA test, I awoke at 4 a.m. every morning. Without fail.

I looked at Bear and Arena sitting across me, fingers entwined, shoulders to ears.

Arena’s nod was slight, urging me to accept the envelope.

My eyes shifted to the envelope again. “Why is the envelope always yellow?” I heard myself asking.

Nobody answered.

For a few moments we sat in silence, the air thick with tension.

“It doesn’t matter,” I muttered.

Even though I didn’t elaborate, all three of them nodded vigorously.