Tempting Fate (11 page)

Gabby is trying very hard to pretend her night with Matt never happened. Immediately afterwards, when they had consummated their lust, when the full impact of what she had done was already hitting, Gabby found it hard to even look at Matt.

All of a sudden they were moving around each other awkwardly, until Gabby dropped the pretence that they would be spending the rest of the evening together; she even invented a headache so she could drive him back to the hotel.

Matt was puzzled. Hurt. He could see that she deeply regretted what they’d done and he tried to talk to her, to reach out to her, but she’d retreated so far within herself that, in the end, he gave up trying. He understood she was doing what she had to do.

She went home and stood under scalding water in the shower for twenty-five minutes, attempting to wash away the stain of her betrayal. She put on her fluffiest, most comforting pyjamas, and curled up in bed, phoning Elliott, wanting to be enveloped in the safety of his voice.

Every morning since that night, after she awakes, the shame and guilt of her betrayal come flooding back.
Some days she feels so disgusted with herself, so filled with remorse, she can’t look Elliott in the eye, and she screams at him over nothing, not because she is angry with him, but because she is so angry with herself.

Other days, overwhelmed with love, or with fear that he will leave, she is sexually voracious, pushing him onto the bed, taking him in her mouth, desperate to prove to him how much she loves him, how much she still wants him. She is terrified that this is the only way she can keep him.

Never has she wanted Elliott as much as she has since she betrayed him. Never has she been more aware of the fragility of marriage, of a relationship that once seemed so unbreakable, so strong.

And now that it is over she cannot believe she has spent months of her life obsessing over another man. The minute it was over, everything was over. She never wanted to see him again.

A week later Matt emailed her. He thanked her for a lovely time, said he hoped she was okay, that they would still be friends. There was nothing flirtatious in the email, nothing leading, but Gabby, sick with shame when she saw his name in her inbox, wrote back to say it was better if they didn’t speak for a while.

She had tremendous affection for him, she said, but it should never have happened and she needed to refocus on her family. Matt didn’t write again after that, and Gabby didn’t expect him to.

She sensed that the email exchange – brief but
warm – was closure for both of them. There was nothing further that needed to be said, and she was able to walk away without hating him, or blaming him, or wanting anything more from him than he had already given.

He had already given too much.

Or perhaps she had taken too much. Either way, Gabby knew, even before it was over, that it would never happen again. Not just with Matt, but she never again will she jeopardize everything she cares about, never again will she be unfaithful, no matter how great the temptation.

She would do anything to go back in time and change what happened, and is hopeful that every passing day that brings normality with it will help her transgression feel more and more like a dream.

It still burns, that nugget of guilt, each time she and Elliott make love. At times it feels as if she is play-acting at being herself, at being the kind of woman who is loyal, faithful, who would never betray her husband.

She cannot change it, but she can hope to learn from it and protect those around her from being hurt by it.

She wasn’t caught. No one knows. She does not have to live in fear of Elliott waking up and asking who she is typing to at three o’clock in the morning. It is something of a relief to look at her inbox now and not see an email from Matt. It is something of a relief to sleep through the night, not waking up several times in the
early hours, reaching over for her iPhone to see if he has been in touch. It is something of a relief to not have to lie, or deceive, or withhold, any more.

Gabby did a terrible thing, but it was one time only. She did a terrible thing but she has to try to forgive herself and move on. The terrible thing served only to prove how much she loves her husband; how lucky she is. She will never make that mistake again.

Three months later, however, she is still feeling sick with shame, although she is convinced her hormones have something to do with her sickness, her crazy mood swings.

Finally, thank heavens, she has a doctor’s appointment.

Please God, she thinks, let the doctor put me on something that will make this all better. Please let them have a pill that will make me feel normal once more.

Please let me have my life back, and I’ll never do anything wrong again.

The gynaecologist comes back in the room with a large smile on his face. As he walks over and sits behind his desk he asks, ‘Do you want the good news or the good news?’

Gabby stares at her OB/GYN, mystified. ‘What’s the good news?’

‘The good news is you’re not going through menopause.’

She breathes a sigh of relief. As mentally prepared as
Gabby thought she was, menopause would mean she had crossed to the other side, and she isn’t old enough for that. Not yet. ‘Great. So what’s the good news?’

‘Congratulations, Gabby! You’re pregnant!’

It is three days since Gabby’s visit to the doctor. Three days since everything in her life was destroyed. Three days of acting as if everything is normal, trying to put off the pain she knows is inevitable, unavoidable.

Each morning she wakes up with a sense of something not being right, then the full force of what it is shocks her into consciousness.

‘Mom? What’s going on?’ Even Olivia, usually so wrapped up in herself, has noticed. ‘You don’t seem like yourself.’

Gabby forces a tight smile. ‘I’m fine,’ she says.

But she isn’t fine. How can she be fine?

For three days Gabby has been replaying in her mind the scene in the OB/GYN office. She is aware that even as the doctor’s pronouncement reverberated in her head, the horror of his words was mixed with immediate, but secret, elation at carrying a new life, at having the one thing she has always wanted. Just not in this way.

‘You’re pregnant … You’re pregnant … You’re pregnant …’

Gabby could only stare at her doctor as the static built in her head.

‘What?’ Her voice was barely a whisper.

‘I know,’ he said, with a laugh. ‘A lot of my older mothers are surprised, particularly when they’re convinced their lack of menstruation is due to menopause, but I’d say –’ he looked down at his notes as she fought a wave of nausea – ‘judging from the date of your last period, you’re about fourteen weeks. Obviously we can be more specific when we do the scan, which we’d like to do today, plus the blood work. You can talk to Jacqui outside about making an appointment with the genetics counsellor before you go. Given how late you are, we need to get you in as soon as possible. This afternoon would be best.’ He looked at Gabby kindly. ‘I can see this is a shock. Do you have any questions you’d like to ask me?’

Gabby’s voice was low and quiet. ‘What are the chances of getting pregnant after a vasectomy?’

The doctor stared at her, the smile sliding off his face as comprehension dawned. ‘Oh dear,’ he said, with no idea what to say next.

She went straight in for the nuchal scan, lying on the table, still numb, still unable to believe this was happening. The baby couldn’t be Elliott’s, and no further lies would change that or give her an opportunity to spin it in any way other than the awful, shattering truth. She stared at the ceiling, blinking back her tears, as the sonographer put the warm gel on her belly. She didn’t want to look at the screen, didn’t want any of this to be real, but it was. Burying her head in the sand wasn’t an
option any more, but still she couldn’t look at the screen; she wasn’t willing to see the tangible evidence of what she had done.

Naive enough to think she had got away with it, as she lay there Gabby knew, with sudden clarity, that this was her penance. You do not get to betray a man such as Elliott and walk away scot-free. You do not get to play around with your marriage, your future, and expect to get away with it.

‘There you are,’ the sonographer said, and Gabby was aware of the worried glance she gave as she tried to draw Gabby’s attention to the screen. Gabby supposed most new mothers, particularly the older ones, do not lie staring at the ceiling, tears streaming down their cheeks, during their first scan. ‘What a perfect picture!’ the sonographer continued, and Gabby slowly, reluctantly, turned her head, not wanting to look, but unable not to.

There it was. On the screen, in a hazy blur of greys, an unmistakable life: a perfect curled-up baby, thumb brought up to his mouth, tiny legs furled inwards. No amount of guilt and shame could prevent the magic of that moment stealing up and catching Gabby in its grasp.

‘A good, strong, healthy heartbeat.’ The sonographer stopped moving the wand for a few seconds and Gabby’s eyes widened with wonder. A baby!
Her
baby. The life she had wanted for so long, a life she thought she would never be privileged enough to create. Not again, not after Olivia and Alanna.

She caught her breath, taking in every curve, wanting to stop time, wanting to lie there, on that table, and drink in the marvel of the moment for ever.

‘That’s my baby,’ she whispered, and everything else was forgotten as her heart exploded with maternal protection and devotion.

Gabby’s shock at what has happened is interspersed with utter terror when she thinks about the moment of breaking the news to Elliott. She knows she cannot put that moment off for very much longer. Gabby has never been a very good liar, and she can’t keep pretending this is the menopause. She has done enough damage. The very least she can do now is step up and take responsibility for her actions.

Every time she tries to think of the words, tries to think of how to frame her announcement to cause the least impact, to somehow make it palatable, to ease the pain she knows is inescapable, her mind goes blank.

How do you tell the man you love that you have done the worst thing possible; that you have betrayed his trust; that you will have to live with the evidence for the rest of your life?

‘I am not stupid, Gabby!’ Elliott is back to shouting again, as Gabby, exhausted, sits on the small sofa by the window, her head hung low.

‘I didn’t say you were stupid. It’s possible. It happens. There’s a chance, a very slight chance …’

‘Gabby, don’t lie to me. All I’m asking for is the truth. If you’re honest with me, I can deal with anything, but what I can’t deal with are lies. The chances of you getting pregnant by me are, as you pointed out, infinitesimal. We are a family, and you know I don’t believe families are necessarily blood, but if you lie to me and tell me that somehow, despite the vasectomy, this baby could only be mine, and I do genetics testing and discover that you are lying to me, I will never recover. Do you understand that, Gabby? I will never get over you lying to me.’

‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you so much,’ Gabby blurts out, and she starts to sob. ‘I know you won’t forgive me. I don’t know how to …’

Sitting down on the bed, Elliott takes a deep breath and his voice is calm. ‘Just tell me.’

‘It was nothing. It was just … once.’

Gabby watches as a muscle starts to twitch in Elliott’s jaw.

‘It … it was only one time. It didn’t mean anything.’

Elliott turns to look at her, his face blank. ‘What?’

‘I slept with him once. It was a mistake.’

‘Gabby, what are you saying? You slept with whom once?’

‘The guy from the website.’

‘Jesus Christ!’ Elliott’s voice is a roar of pain as he leaps up. ‘Are you serious? You’re pregnant with another man’s baby?’

Elliott thought he was prepared to hear the truth, thought he would be able to handle it, already knowing, deep in his gut, that this baby could not possibly be his. But to hear the words, to hear Gabby admitting that she has betrayed him, that she has slept with another man, is more than he can bear.

Gabby has never seen her husband like this. She cowers back against the sofa as Elliott looms above her, his face, always so loving and kind, now contorted with rage. He looks as if he is about to hit her, but then he turns and whirls out of the room, storming down the stairs.

Gabby is right behind him. ‘Where are you going?’ she screams.

‘I don’t know,’ he says, slamming the door and gunning the engine before screeching off down the street.

There is a gentle tapping on the door that Gabby doesn’t hear for a while because her face is buried in the pillow as she sobs.

Eventually she hears the sound, lifts her head, and attempts to calm down. ‘Elliott?’

The door cracks open. ‘No, Mom. It’s me. Alanna. What’s the matter?’

Gabby tries to crack a smile. ‘I’m just having a bad day. I’ll be okay.’

‘Mom, were you and Dad fighting?’

Oh God. Please let them not have heard what happened. ‘What did you hear?’

‘Nothing. I was in the sunroom but I heard raised voices. Did you have a fight?’

‘Yes, but it’s all going to be fine.’

‘Mom, I’ve never heard you and Dad shout at each other before.’ Her face falls. ‘You’re not going to get a divorce, are you?’

‘Absolutely not!’ she says firmly. ‘Not a chance in hell.’ She holds out her arms to give Alanna a reassuring hug, preventing her daughter from seeing the fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.

It is night time before Elliott returns. Gabby is freshly showered, and she has made his favourite: pork chops and mashed potatoes. The table is set for two, even though she has no appetite, and yellow chrysanthemums, cut from the pot on the front doorstep, are in a vase, bravely pretending everything is sunny and bright.

Alanna is up in her room, getting ready for bed; Olivia is out at the movies with friends. Gabby is exhausted, and terrified, feeling trapped in a bad dream,
desperate to make it better. She knows that pork chops and mashed potatoes probably won’t make all that much of a difference, but she doesn’t know what else to do.

She has been sitting at the kitchen table for the last two hours, waiting for Elliott to come home. He has switched off his mobile phone, and there has been nothing to do but wait. She hasn’t been able to read, or watch television, or focus on anything other than the return of her husband and what he might have to say.

Relief floods her body when she eventually hears the car. He opens the front door and glances through to her, in the kitchen, before sighing and taking off his jacket.

‘I made you dinner,’ she says. ‘Pork chops and mashed potato.’

‘I’m not hungry,’ he says slowly, walking in.

‘Can I get you a drink? Would you like a beer?’

‘No.’

He pulls out a chair and sits at the table, staring straight ahead, his jaw clenched. He keeps starting to say something, but then he stops. Finally, he takes a deep breath, and bursts into loud, wracking sobs.

‘Oh, Elliott.’ Gabby gets up and flies to him, cradling him in her arms, resting her forehead against his. ‘Baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’ She is weeping too. ‘I never meant this to happen. What will it take for you to forgive me? Whatever it is, I’ll do it. Anything.’

There is a long silence as they both weep. Elliott makes no move to touch Gabby, but lets himself be held by her until he is calm. Gabby goes back to her chair, but reaches out for his hand, certain this is a step in the right direction, that the very fact he allowed himself to be held means there is hope.

‘The thing is,’ Elliott whispers, not looking at Gabby, ‘I’m not sure I
can
forgive you.’

Gabby’s voice catches in her throat. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I want to. I want to be able to put this behind us and move on, but I don’t know how to do that. It would be one thing if you had just been unfaithful, but you’re pregnant. With another man’s child. How am I supposed to get over something like that? I thought it would be possible, but it isn’t. How am I supposed to forgive a betrayal like that?’ He looks up at her then.

‘I don’t know,’ Gabby says, careful to keep the desperation out of her voice. ‘Maybe the only thing we can do is try. You know how Harvey’s always using that expression he learned in al-anon, the one about
acting as if
. Maybe that’s what we have to do. Act as if everything’s fine, and then one day we’ll wake up and it will be fine.’

‘But it isn’t fine. And it will never be fine.’ Elliott starts to weep again. ‘How could you do this to me, Gabby? How could you do this to us? How could you take a marriage that was so damn good and drop a bomb on it? Was I not a good husband to you? Was I
deficient? How could you sleep with another man?’ His voice is rising in anger again as he speaks. ‘How could you?’

‘I don’t know,’ Gabby says. ‘It wasn’t about you. I think it was about me feeling middle-aged. I know how awful that sounds, but it meant nothing. I swear.’

‘When did it happen?’ Elliott, tortured by not knowing, will be doubly tortured by knowing, but he cannot resist asking.

‘It was the weekend you were away.’

He shakes his head. ‘Jesus. You planned the whole thing. You waited for me to go.’

‘No. It wasn’t like that. He was going to be in town,’ she says. ‘And it was coincidence. I was just meeting him for a drink.’

‘Where did it happen?’

‘Elliott. Please. Don’t do this. Don’t ask. You don’t want to know.’

‘Just tell me it wasn’t in our bed. Tell me you didn’t fuck another man in our bed.’

‘No, I didn’t fuck another man in our bed. I … I wouldn’t do that. It happened in the barn.’

‘In our barn? So he was here? He was in my home?’

‘Elliott, I told you not to do this. He was barely here.’

‘You mean he came in, went out to the barn, fucked my wife and left?’

‘Elliott. Please. It was nothing.’

‘No, Gabriella. It wasn’t “nothing”. It was a betrayal. And now it’s a new life.’

Gabby turns pale; she can almost feel her blood freeze as he says these words. She has always been able to get through to Elliott, but, for the first time ever, she knows she has lost him. Permanently.

‘I’m sorry,’ Gabby weeps. ‘I’m so sorry. I love you.’

‘You should have thought of that before.’ Elliott gets up, and wearily goes upstairs.

‘What are you doing?’

Elliott is walking down the hallway with some clothes and toiletries under his arm.

‘I’m going to sleep in the spare room.’

Gabby’s face starts to crumple. ‘Elliott, please don’t leave our room. I won’t touch you, I swear, but please stay in our room. I need you. Please.’

He hesitates, and Gabby thinks she has got through to him, but then he shakes his head. ‘I can’t. I’m sorry. It’s just too painful. I need to be on my own.’

Gabby crawls into bed and sobs until the bedroom door opens and Elliott is standing there. Flooded with relief, Gabby looks up at him, her eyes puffy and red raw.

‘I just have to ask,’ Elliott says. ‘Was he better than me?’

‘What?’ Gabby says in disbelief. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘In bed. Was he better? More creative? Was he bigger than me?’

‘Oh Jesus, Elliott. I’m not doing this. Please.’

‘Please? You owe me, Gabby. You fucked another man so now you have to tell me. Was he?’

‘No, he was not better than you, and no, he was not bigger. I don’t even know. I barely even looked. It was over so quickly.’

Elliott says nothing. Just stares at Gabby. Then he backs out of the room and closes the door.

Elliott is gone by the time Gabby wakes up the next morning.

‘Mom? You look terrible.’ Olivia glances up at her. ‘What’s the matter with your eyes?’

‘I had a migraine last night,’ Gabby lies. ‘It’s still there. It’s made me puff up like a balloon.’

Alanna looks up. ‘Is that why Dad slept in the spare room?’

Gabby nods.

‘So it wasn’t because of that fight you had?’

‘What fight?’ Olivia says.

‘Never mind what fight,’ Gabby says. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ve been very headachy and I get up a lot, which disturbs Dad. Can you please not ask any more about it?’

‘Okay, okay,’ Alanna says. ‘Sorry I asked.’

‘I’m sorry, sweetie. I just get grouchy when I’m tired. Did you see your dad this morning?’

‘Yes.’

‘How did he seem?’

Alanna looks at her mother weirdly. ‘Fine. Why?’

‘Oh. Good. Just glad he slept well.’ Gabby turns to go upstairs, trying to hide a fresh round of tears. How can her husband, the love of her life, have turned into a stranger overnight, into someone she has to ask her daughter about in order to know his state of mind?

This is the man she is supposed to know best in the world, the man she turns to when the rest of her life is falling apart; if she can’t turn to him, if he can’t ease her pain, what is she supposed to do?

Gabby thinks perhaps she should just end it. Terminate the pregnancy. She should have done it before she even told Elliott. Why didn’t she? It’s a question Gabby doesn’t have an answer to.