but so far honesty seems to have been not the best policy for the King of Fuck-Ups. “I do realize how serious this is. I’m just saying that it’s very, very common and we shouldn’t let it get all out of proportion. This happens to lots of couples, but they manage to work things out.”
“This
as you so carefully put it, does not
happen
to lots of couples, Scott. Infidelity isn’t an earthquake or a bolt of lightning and we just happened to be standing in the wrong place at the wrong time—it wasn’t me, Miss, I was just lying there and this woman threw herself on top of my willy. It’s pathetic. Take some responsibility for once in your life. Now that you’re a big lad of forty you might try acting like a grown-up. Who knows? You might even get to like it. Many of us act like grown-ups every single day and come to no major harm.”
“Cheers. I
do
take responsibility. All I’m saying is plenty of blokes—and women as well for that matter—”
“But not me.”
“No, not you. I’m not saying that, course not. Where was I?” She always does that, throws you off so you lose your thread.
“Hunting for some sort of easy way out? Up shit creek without a paddle?”
She never used to talk like that. I don’t know what’s happened to her lately.
“My point is, Gail, lots of people have meaningless affairs—”
“So it was an affair? You’ve given up pretending it was a one-off mistake then? It’s a good idea to stick to the same story once you’ve started lying, Scott. Do try to keep track. Perhaps you should keep a small notebook. So, are we getting some truth out of you at last?”
“No. Yes. No. I mean, I
am
telling the truth. No, it wasn’t an affair, I told you. Look …” I rub my fingertips hard against my forehead; my brain is beginning to throb. “Can I just say what I’m trying to say for a sec?” She shrugs, then folds her arms, her expression a perfect cross between smug superiority and complete boredom.
“I mean—just ‘cause someone goes off the rails once or twice, it’s not as if it’s really the be-all and end-all, is it? If someone makes one small mistake—which they really, really regret—it doesn’t—”
She interrupts me. This is her idea of letting me finish. I just want you to know it’s not all one way, that’s all. She may make out she’s the poor little victim but Gail can give as good as she gets. Better, even. I might as well have laid down on the floor, waved a white flag, and let her march straight over me on her way to conquer the rest of the planet.
“Scott,” she says, spitting out my name like it’s an insult. “You only ‘really, really regret’ what happened because you got caught. Otherwise you’d have been swaggering around thinking how clever you’d been. And your story still keeps changing. Was it once or was it twice? Surely even you must have noticed?—though I dare say
she
may not have. And if you don’t call betraying your wife’s trust and breaking your marriage vows and lying and cheating and letting down your children the be-all and end-all, then I’m afraid all I can do is feel sorry for you. You don’t have the slightest idea of what it means to be a husband and a father, do you? I think you barely understand even how to be a passable adult. You’re just a silly overgrown kid. Honestly, I might as well be a single parent half the time—I ought to have received extra child benefit for having you in the house.”
I’m stood there, words lodged in my throat, trying to swallow, feeling my sodding eyes start to water. Bugger this, I am not going to cry, I’m just
not.
Nobody, but nobody, makes me cry. Not any more. But I’m not having her call me a sponger. No way. So I lost my rag completely at this point, but who wouldn’t have? I meant to stay calm, I really did, but she shoved me over the edge because she gets off on being the mature, sensible one and making me look like the toddler having a temper tantrum.
“This
as you so carefully put it, does not
happen
to lots of couples, Scott. Infidelity isn’t an earthquake or a bolt of lightning and we just happened to be standing in the wrong place at the wrong time—it wasn’t me, Miss, I was just lying there and this woman threw herself on top of my willy. It’s pathetic. Take some responsibility for once in your life. Now that you’re a big lad of forty you might try acting like a grown-up. Who knows? You might even get to like it. Many of us act like grown-ups every single day and come to no major harm.”
“Cheers. I
do
take responsibility. All I’m saying is plenty of blokes—and women as well for that matter—”
“But not me.”
“No, not you. I’m not saying that, course not. Where was I?” She always does that, throws you off so you lose your thread.
“Hunting for some sort of easy way out? Up shit creek without a paddle?”
She never used to talk like that. I don’t know what’s happened to her lately.
“My point is, Gail, lots of people have meaningless affairs—”
“So it was an affair? You’ve given up pretending it was a one-off mistake then? It’s a good idea to stick to the same story once you’ve started lying, Scott. Do try to keep track. Perhaps you should keep a small notebook. So, are we getting some truth out of you at last?”
“No. Yes. No. I mean, I
am
telling the truth. No, it wasn’t an affair, I told you. Look …” I rub my fingertips hard against my forehead; my brain is beginning to throb. “Can I just say what I’m trying to say for a sec?” She shrugs, then folds her arms, her expression a perfect cross between smug superiority and complete boredom.
“I mean—just ‘cause someone goes off the rails once or twice, it’s not as if it’s really the be-all and end-all, is it? If someone makes one small mistake—which they really, really regret—it doesn’t—”
She interrupts me. This is her idea of letting me finish. I just want you to know it’s not all one way, that’s all. She may make out she’s the poor little victim but Gail can give as good as she gets. Better, even. I might as well have laid down on the floor, waved a white flag, and let her march straight over me on her way to conquer the rest of the planet.
“Scott,” she says, spitting out my name like it’s an insult. “You only ‘really, really regret’ what happened because you got caught. Otherwise you’d have been swaggering around thinking how clever you’d been. And your story still keeps changing. Was it once or was it twice? Surely even you must have noticed?—though I dare say
she
may not have. And if you don’t call betraying your wife’s trust and breaking your marriage vows and lying and cheating and letting down your children the be-all and end-all, then I’m afraid all I can do is feel sorry for you. You don’t have the slightest idea of what it means to be a husband and a father, do you? I think you barely understand even how to be a passable adult. You’re just a silly overgrown kid. Honestly, I might as well be a single parent half the time—I ought to have received extra child benefit for having you in the house.”
I’m stood there, words lodged in my throat, trying to swallow, feeling my sodding eyes start to water. Bugger this, I am not going to cry, I’m just
not.
Nobody, but nobody, makes me cry. Not any more. But I’m not having her call me a sponger. No way. So I lost my rag completely at this point, but who wouldn’t have? I meant to stay calm, I really did, but she shoved me over the edge because she gets off on being the mature, sensible one and making me look like the toddler having a temper tantrum.
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