Mine To Lose (12 page)

Tension lay heavily over us for the next day as Jordan tried to keep things civil and non-confrontational, but in truth, it made everything so much more awkward between us. The whole affair felt so odd. Here we were, married for years, best friends, intimate lovers who had seen one another at our worst and still supported each other – suddenly making small talk like two adolescents on a first date.

So many times, I just wanted to ask my husband to talk to me, but my courage would abandon me in the moment. Yet, we both knew that the matter had to be discussed. We both knew it was the reason for our once silly, sexy, happy home life to have disintegrated into a sullen and suspenseful den of emotional darkness.

‘When are you going back to work?’ he asked when we found ourselves in the kitchen at the same time.

‘Tomorrow,’ I answered. ‘I think I have two new cases to start this week off with.’

‘Oh, okay,’ he replied blandly while making a sandwich. ‘You want one?’

‘Sandwich?’ I asked. He nodded. ‘No, thanks. I find that just about everything makes me puke my bits off.’

My attempt at humour wasted, he just turned back to finish stacking his bread with tomato relish and cucumber. Clearly my reference to the pregnancy and its shenanigans peeved him, so I left it at that.

‘I’m going to take a shower,’ I told him as I left the kitchen, but Jordan suddenly decided that it was time to address the white elephant in the room. Maybe my silence on the subject and apparent nonchalance finally vexed him into action.

‘My mother is still upset with the way you spoke to her when she came to visit you,’ his voice thundered from behind me. My heart started up again.

‘Here we go again,’
I thought.
‘Mommy versus the Evil Wife – Round 1.’

Of course she is
.
What’s new?
I ignored him and continued on to the bathroom as if his grievance had no merit with me.

‘Katie!’ he shouted. ‘I’m talking to you!’

‘I know, Jordan. The same sad old repetitive bloody sermon. Let me know when you have something new you wish to address,’ I replied plainly. Even I was surprised at my response, but I was just so sick and tired of it all. My quota of tolerance had been sapped in the past day already, and I merely felt exhausted, not to mention knowing how the argument would turn out. As it always did, he would defend her, and I would be reprimanded like the child he was. At this point, I had simply run out of reasons to care anymore.

‘What?’ he roared, neglecting his sandwich to trail me. ‘I see she was right about your fucking attitude!’

I stopped in my tracks as I entered the bathroom and spun around. ‘Yes, she was. She’s always right, isn’t she? Your loyalties have always been with your mother, and I’m just here for you when you need everything else! Not once, Jordan, have you ever considered that that woman simply cannot stand me and has been driving a wedge between you and me since we got married!’ I yelled at him.

Jordan leaned with his arm against the doorway, filling the whole space of the door with his body. It made me a bit uncomfortable as it felt as if he was trying to box me in for some reason, but I had to maintain my composure and pretend not to notice.

‘Look, I will admit that the two of you have never really gotten along. I’m not an idiot. I know you’re both fighting over me. But you cannot be so hostile toward her,’ he said more mildly.

I switched on the shower and ripped off my shirt as the steam started floating under the ceiling.

‘See?’ I challenged. ‘You just did it again. I’m hostile toward her. Not once would you ever consider that she treats me like shit, and even less would you ever defend me instead of your mother!’

He did not retort immediately, so I took advantage of the moment. Kicking off my shoes next to the toilet, I unzipped my skirt. When it fell to the floor, I approached Jordan in my underwear. Either the bathroom was filling up with hot steam, or I was growing more pissed off by the second. With my finger pointed at him, I shot him another thing to think about.

‘And you know when two women are fighting over you?’ I asked in an accusatory fashion. For a brief second, it looked as if Jordan was sobered by the words – as if he had said something he should not have. ‘Jordan, we’re not supposed to fight over you. Don’t you realise that?’

His eyelids twitched, a shift in demeanour only I could discern. Having been with my husband this long, I could literally notice a change in thought even behind a perfectly still facial expression.

‘Your mother and your wife have two different roles in your life. There are things we do that you should not be doing with her! There are things you do with Martha that I know full well I am not supposed to intrude on.’

‘You’re missing the point,’ he scowled.

I ignored his defensive response and stepped into the shower. ‘Now can I just have a bloody shower without being chastised for five fucking seconds?’

Through the vapour, I checked for his silhouette, but he remained fixed in his place.

‘You’ve changed, Katie. I’m seriously worried about you. This pregnancy is changing you and not for the good.’

‘Oh, hardly,’ I said pushing the shower door open. ‘My attitude is not the result of hormones, Jordan. I’ve just run out of patience with you and your mother always taking control of my choices and my life. Jesus Christ, I’m a grown woman, and I can make my own decisions. It’s time you both learned to show me some goddamn respect.’

Like a stranger in the room, I listened to myself as if from the outside. I realised that I wasn’t able to tone down on years of pent-up disgruntlement finally being let loose. Without thinking, I kept spewing out truths about our long kept pen of resentment.

‘You’re someone else now,’ he finally said, defeated. I watched his hazy frame turn to leave through the obscured glass of the shower. ‘The person I loved would never do something to hurt me.’

He disappeared into the darkness beyond the doorway, and I didn’t see him again for a day. My heart was broken under all the hostility, but I had to take control. They had no right to hate me for being pregnant. Martha had no right to take Jordan from me by cultivating his dependency so insidiously, but in the end, he was an adult, and he had to make his own mistakes.

I missed him so much. Jordan’s absence felt like a vacuum in our home, but I knew he had run off to his mum again. There was no doubt that he had gone to lick his wounds and be recharged by her iniquitous agendas and opinions. She was feeding her son slime and soiled his right to make his own choices, and he hungrily ate from her hideous palm. Then he would come back, I knew, to regurgitate her filth all over our marriage, hoping it would re-establish his control and her superiority.

Much as I wanted my husband back, I wasn’t about to lose my baby to appease him. What I had to do was to make him see that being a father would be wonderful and fun. Not only would it alienate him from Martha and liberate him from her claws, but it would restore our relationship and strengthen our marriage. Ethan’s approach made more sense than ever now. Once Jordan got used to the idea of being a dad, he would soften to my plight. And the next step would be his acceptance. All he needed was some space to find himself and some time to understand that he could actually make his own life choices without Martha’s approval or input.

More so, once he saw how his baby was growing, felt it kick under his hand, he would naturally adapt, and things would even out like a calming pond after a rock had been tossed in.

I spent the rest of the night on the Net, just poking about for something to cheer me up. Normally, the momentary embarrassment of others was my choice of entertainment, and it served me well once again. With a cup of tea and some shortbread, I opened video clip after video clip of models tripping and falling, cats reacting in their freakish manner to things like Death Metal and doorbells and in general just laughing myself into a stupor at memes about socially unacceptable behaviours.

All in all, I had a great time, even though deep inside, the pulsing ache for my husband – the one I fell in love with initially – persisted. But the laughter dulled the sting of losing his support. My phone rang suddenly, and I jumped to get it from the charger, hoping it was Jordan.

But it was a private number.

Now?
I thought in annoyance.
Now, at this time of night?

‘Hello?’

I could hear from the background that I was being rung from a pub or a party, but the caller did not speak. Women squealing in drunken abandon cut through the earpiece, but the music was difficult to identify.

‘Hello? Can you hear me?’ I repeated, giving the caller the benefit of the doubt. Maybe it was someone who accidentally dialled me, forgetting to lock their keypad, I reckoned, and hung up the call.

Moments later, the phone rang again. I figured whoever called before realised that they had made a mistake and wanted to check.

‘Hello,’ I said less enthusiastically.

A man’s voice shredded my ear, an unfamiliar and callous voice I had never heard before. Again, I could discern the background noise as being the same as before.

‘I’m going to get you for meddling in my business, bitch,’ he said.

My heart stopped.

‘Excuse me?’ I frowned, barely able to force the words.

‘You heard me. I’m going to break your fucking neck,’ he threatened, and after a brief pause to allow his intimidation to sink into me, he killed the call.

My hand just numbed from shock, and my phone fell to the floor, shattering on impact. The frame had come off, and the screen was black.

‘Oh for fuck’s sake!’ I bellowed. As I crouched down to collect the pieces, I tried the power button and the touch screen, but there was no life in it. I tried to be upset about my phone breaking, but the caller who just attacked me was overwhelming in my mind. Picking up the pieces was an exceedingly difficult feat for my jumbled brain to achieve, and I kept dropping pieces.

The well-spoken voice didn’t belong to Jordan, that was for sure. But my gut pretty much assured me that I knew who it was; James Wicker.
How did he know my number? Does that mean he knows where I live as well?
If he could do all those dreadful things to Carol, what was to stop him doing them to me?
My night was totally screwed up, and I was suddenly unable to function even doing the most mundane things like making coffee or typing the e-mail I sent Pamela. With scrambled grammar and spelling, I relayed what had just happened to me and that she would not be able to call me.

Since it was already in the very early morning hours, I decided not to wait for her response. It was Monday morning, and most people were sleeping to recover from the weekend before another work week. I was terrified. I couldn’t think straight, so I did what I vowed not to do for the next nine months. Sleeping pills were my last resort, and I hoped they were powerful enough to deaden my mind, dispelling the unnerving feeling I now carried on top of my marital discord.

‘And?’ Pam asked, astonished. ‘Did you see him lurking around your place?’

‘No,’ I replied. All I could do was shrug while both Pam and Martin gawked at me in dumbfounded concern.

I felt remarkably safe here in my office, between the two of them; the last thing I wanted to do was go across town to meet a client. I was so scared of being a vulnerable target on the streets that I’d nearly crashed my car several times. I was so busy looking around me and not concentrating on the road. With Jordan absconding after our argument, it felt as if the whole world was against me now, and my colleagues at work were the only people who didn’t have some kind of hate towards me as everyone else seemed to have developed.

‘Jesus, Katie! You have to report him to the police,’ Pam suggested, sucking at the edge of her teacup to prevent her lips from getting scalded. Martin said nothing, but he was mulling it over in his head.

‘I don’t just want to jump the gun. What if I make him even more angry?’ I sighed. If I pushed him too far to the edge, and he felt he had nothing left to lose, he would be capable of doing anything.

I started to think Carl exposing him was a bad idea now. It wasn’t just me I had to look out for, there was another life growing in me that I had to consider.

‘From what you’ve already said, I think he’s tethering over the edge already?’ Pam insisted. ‘Look, you’ve got to protect yourself.’

‘She’s right, Katie,’ Martin chipped in.

‘If you don’t want to call them, I’ll do it,’ Pam continued. ‘And by the way, what does Jordan think about all this?’

‘I haven’t seen him since yesterday lunchtime,’ I informed them. Again they looked flabbergasted.

‘Wait, so you’re going through all this alone?’ Martin asked. ‘Where’s Jordan?’

‘I have no idea. Work probably. We...’ I exhaled wearily, ‘... we had a heated argument yesterday about something, and he took off. I think he went to his mum’s to unload on her. That is usually what happens.’

Pam’s expression shifted from amazement to sympathy as she approached me. Placing her cup on the desk, she reached out to hug me. ‘I had no idea. Why didn’t you call me?’

Martin stood still in his spot, drinking his coffee. His eyes pierced through mine as if he was mentally displaying his compassion and support. Pam’s perfume was soothing like my grandmother’s powdery skin always permeated lilac when she held me after one of my parents’ spats.

‘Tell them,’
I heard my grandfather’s voice. The naughty crackle was absent, but his deep-toned assurance was potent in my mind as he urged again.
‘Tell them, Kitten.’

When Pam let go of me, I looked at both of my sweet colleagues. If I told them, I hoped they would be happy for me instead of reprimanding me for being reckless, not letting the police know that I was threatened.

‘Because …’
oh what’s the point in lying. They’re going to find out sooner or later
. I have some news,’ I said hesitantly.

‘Hmm?’ Martin mumbled as he stuck his nose back in his cup.

‘Actually, I found out when I was hospitalised that,’ I stammered, clearing my throat. ‘I’m six weeks pregnant.’

Nothing.

All I could hear was the sound of phones ringing at reception and our other staff members talking afar, but in my office, time seemed to stand still. Their faces were a thing to behold – shocked, reluctant, then excited and finally both cracked a smile.

‘Thank God,’
I thought. A positive reaction!

‘You’re fucking with me. Eh? Eh? You’re pulling my leg, like, aren’t ya?’ Pam shrieked, clasping her hands together. She had never sounded more Irish than at that moment. I shook my head and smiled.

‘My God! You’re serious!’ Martin marvelled. Even he sounded unlike his usual self. No more the solemn, firm and in control man of refinement, he acted like a college student who just scored free tickets to his favourite band’s concert.

I braced myself for another hug, this time from two people taking turns. It felt so good to be accepted and supported for a change. Not since Ethan’s chat had I felt so relaxed and happy, even if I knew it was just for the moment. For a short time, all the unpleasantness and danger disappeared from my spirit, and I felt renewed, literally rejuvenated, by the reaction of my colleagues and friends.

‘I am ecstatic for you.’ Martin smiled proudly. ‘You’re going to be a brilliant mum. I just know it!’

‘Thanks, Martin.’ I smiled.

At once Pamela looked serious again. ‘Does Jordan know?’

I took a moment. ‘What do you think the argument was about?’ I asked.

Martin shook his head and sank his chin while Pam scoffed.

‘Thought so,’ she said with narrowed eyes. ‘So that’s why he ran off to Mummy is it? Do you think he’ll come round?’

‘I really don’t know,’ I said indifferently, refusing to abandon this little bit of happiness. ‘It doesn’t matter what he does at the end of the day. I’m going to have a baby in a few months, and that’s all there is to it.’

I chuckled. Maybe I did it to cheer up myself, or maybe to set them at ease about the war I was still facing at home. Bottom line was that they accepted my comfort with the whole scenario.

‘So you’re fine, then?’ Pam asked.

‘Totally!’ I smiled. ‘This is what I have wanted, remember? I just didn’t think I would get so lucky this quickly. How can I not be fine?’

My response seemed to make Pam happy, but Martin brought up the other topic.

‘Then it is imperative we alert the police about James, just to make sure you’re safe,’ he suggested.

‘How are they going to protect me?’ I asked him. ‘They’re certainly not going to send a squad car to guard my every move, Martin. And until James tries something, I have nothing to have him arrested for.’

‘She’s right, you know. Dammit!’ Pam said. ‘There’s nothing anyone can actively do to prevent him from badgering her until we can prove it is him in the first place. Shit! I feel so helpless.’

‘I hate to suggest this, Katie, but maybe you should just make up with Jordan, even if it is just to have someone with you at home, you know?’ Martin proposed.

I nodded. ‘Yes, I understand. He has to come home sometime anyway.’

‘And I’ll come with you during lunch time so that we can get your phone fixed. There’s no way I am going to have you cut off from the world during all this shit,’ Pamela affirmed sternly.

‘Yes, you have to have open communication lines. At least, you’ll be able to call if something is wrong,’ Martin said. ‘Well, I have some paperwork to catch up on. I’ve put your new cases in your inbox, Katie. I’ll send someone else to cover you at your eleven o’clock meeting.’

‘Thanks, Martin.’ I smiled. I really appreciate it.’

I glanced down at the folders in my tray. At least they would give me the necessary diversion to keep my mind occupied. Martin had left, and it was time to get back into the rut. Pamela gave me one more hearty hug, kissed me on the cheek so hard that her lipstick roughed me up and said, ‘So very happy for ya. If it’s a girl, you know her name must be Pamela, eh?’ Without waiting for a response, she skipped out the office to go and buy a celebratory cake.

Not a minute after I started going through the new files from the local social services, I was rudely reminded that I was pregnant. From the kitchen down the hall, the smell of freshly prepared Sainsbury’s noodles floated, filling my senses with what was usually a delightful odour. But this time, it was cruel and vicious to me. A heavy pressure just under my diaphragm alerted me to nausea that was assaulting my system without reservation, and I jumped up to rush for the ladies’ room.

After so many instances of puking on floors, I was determined not to suffer the same horrible fate again. Bolting through the corridor, I passed the staring eyes of staff and walk-ins, barely reaching the corner where those heavenly doors awaited, one beckoning with its sign.

Ladies

‘Oh, thank God,’ I cried out inadvertently as I busted through the door. My body just started convulsing under the pressure when I made it into an open stall and vomited into the old porcelain toilet bowl. I hoped that nobody was occupying the other two stalls as my grunts and spitting echoed throughout the pristine white restroom.

The misery and torment of the repetitive onslaught from my own body seemed to feel personal. It was ridiculous, but I could not help feeling utterly violated by the new condition I was suffering through. After I had spilled everything and flushed the toilet, I was inexorably weakened and fell back in relief and fatigue. Sitting on my arse on the toilet floor, leaning my back against the partition, I felt so alone again.

Unintentionally and relentlessly, I began to sob. Even my own body wanted me to suffer, just like Jordan and his mother and James and God knows who else was waiting in the wings to attack me. My throat burned from the horrid bile, and my nose was blocked, lending me the most painful migraine I had suffered in months.

Feeling sorry for myself, I just sat there crying as softly as I could. The last thing I wanted was to be heard by anyone. I absolutely did not want anyone to take on the role of comforter right now. I just wanted to be left alone to wallow in my misery and contemplate all the things I dismissed temporarily in my denial. Suddenly, the darkest thoughts came over me. Jordan would never hold me again. And once I was a mum, no man would want me because I would be second-hand goods. Nobody wanted a woman with a baby, and all that trouble and effort that came with it.

That, I told myself, was the beginning of my celibacy. And even after my child was grown enough for me to start dating again, my body would be in such a terrible state that no one would want me. Like some sadistic master, my recollection presented me with the disdainful tone in Jordan’s voice when he last spoke to me. I could still hear his voice clearly in my memory, how he said I wasn’t the woman he used to love.

‘...
used to
love ...’