My Wife's Li'l Secret (28 page)

She took a giant step away from me, her nostrils flaring, her jaw set. “You should have told me, Ritchie. You didn’t have to lead me up the garden path, make all sorts of promises on a whim, only to let me down a week before the wedding.”

“I…I…” It was no use trying to worm out of this one. The lying had to end. I threw out my hands in a gesture of resignation. “Liefie…I…I…Liefie, I’m sorry,” I said in a sheepish voice. ‘I really, really am.”

Her eyes welled up. “It was your idea to get married. It was your idea to buy a wedding dress, to renew our wedding vows, Ritchie – all your idea! Yours, Ritchie, yours!”

“I know, I know, I know!” I said, wishing the earth would cave under my feet and swallow me whole. “And I’m sorry! I’m really sorry!”

She cocked her head and stared at me, her face etched with hurt and confusion.

I took a step toward her and put my hands on her shoulder. “Look, Liefie…”

She shrugged off my hands.

“Liefie!”

“How…how could you do th…his?” A sob caught in her throat. “You said you loved me. You promised we’d be a f...family again.” She covered her face with her hands and wept loudly.

“Liefie, please! I’m so…”

She turned and ran into the house.

I looked at my sister – she was crying.

I looked at my brother-n-law, he looked shell-shocked.

Not knowing what to do, I went after Liefie.

Liefie wasn’t downstairs. I looked at Girly.

“What is wrong with you?” she hissed, raising her index finger, concern in her eyes. She and Liefie had become good friends.

“Keep the kids occupied,” I muttered, ignoring her chastising before I took the stairs two at a time.

I found Liefie in the main bedroom, hurriedly throwing clothes into a suitcase.

“What are you doing, Liefie?”

“I’m leaving, Ritchie! I can’t do this anymore. Lying to myself…telling myself that all is okay and that I am imagining things, when clearly I’m not. She jerked clothes off hangers and flung them into the suitcase.

“Liefie, don’t leave,” I pleaded. “We can work this out. I just need time. Please understand. Please! Please! Please, plea –”

“Stop!” she said, holding out her palm. “I know what’s going through your head, okay? I figured it out. It’s best I leave.”

“No, Liefie, that’s not the—”

“I can’t live like this anymore. It’s too painful, Ritchie,” she said, throwing toiletries into travel bags. “You don’t love me.”

“— answer. I do love you. With all my heart. I’m just –”

“Me and the kids, we’ll make it. We don’t need—”

“The kids? What do you –”

“— you. We can do this without you.”

I stood up really straight and said, “NO!”

After a cursory glance at me, she said, “Ritchie, I’m taking my children.”

“Liefie.” One word – my warning shot.

“You can’t stop me!”

I moved in front of her and tried to grab her arms to stop her from packing.

She responded by shoving me hard in the chest, something she had never done before. “I’m taking them! Get out of my way!”

My frustration compounded. “You are not taking my kids!”

“
My
kids!” she yelled, thumping her chest. “They’re
my
kids, all of them!”

“No, they’re not!” I yelled back, a surge of panic running through me. “They’re my fucking kids. You are not taking them!”

“Like hell!” she spat before she turned away from me and continued her feverish packing.

I grabbed her arm and swung her around to face me, anger getting the better of me. She responded by smashing the bottle of baby wipes in her hand across my face.

That’s when I snapped. I grabbed my wife, threw her on the bed, and fell over her. Wrestling style.

Her response was to smash her knee into my nuts. I yelped in pain, then dug my thighs into hers, anchoring them. She fought feverishly, scratched my face, pulled my hair, and hit me across the face. I grabbed both her arms and held them above her head.

“You listen to me,
Nadia
,” I said, battling to control my fury, my breathing raspy. “No matter what the situation is, no matter what anyone says, including YOU, they are my children, and they will
never.
Leave. My. HOME!” I shoved my forehead against hers. “Never! Understand?”

I was more forceful than I needed to be, but…I was frustrated, I was hurt, and I was totally floored when she called them
her
children.

She should have been scared at my anger, because I had never manhandled her like that before, never lost control like that. Ever. Never ever dreamed I would.

She wasn’t.

“Go fuck yourself!” she hissed, her face red with anger, her eyes bulging. “You think I’m scared to be hit? Huh?” Her voice was goading. “Try it! Just try it!”

My eyes narrowed at her words. “You…you don’t know what I’m capable of,” I said in a low voice.

“Ditto,” she said through clenched teeth, reminding me of Olga.

I’m glad Bear pulled me off her or, I would probably have head-butted her. I was that furious.

“Ritchie, stop this!” Bear said, literally dragging me off her and out of the room, ripping my t-shirt in the process.

“What the hell, Ritchie!” Arena cried before she rushed into the room with Liefie and locked the door.

“Ritchie, what the fuck man?” Bear asked, holding me.

“She’s taking them, Bear?” I said, shrugging him off me and pulling down my t-shirt. “She can’t, Bear. I won’t let her. They’re mine. My kids, man. Mine!” I paced, my palms smacking my head.

“Okay, I get you, man, but you have to chill, Big. Seriously.”

“My worst fears, Bear. My worst. I’m scared, okay?”

“Okay. Okay.”

As I paced, I tried to still the panic mushrooming inside of me.

“Stay put!” Bear warned. “I’m going to talk to her. You stay right here.”

I nodded.

He walked into the room and shut the door behind him.

While they talked, I wore a hole in the carpet. How the fuck could I have lost control like that? I asked myself. Grabbing her arm, slamming her onto the bed? Wanting to head-butt her?

What the fuck was wrong with me? I was losing my shit for sure.

And she, how could she say that she wasn’t afraid to be hit? To
me
?

I had never touched her like that before, and for her to say something like that, it cut. Really deep.

My shoulders sagged from the stress of the situation. I fucked up. Badly. Major fuck up this time. All because I was a coward.

What have I done?

While I admonished myself, the door opened and Bear stepped out.

I looked at him, eyebrows raised.
What, Bear?

“Talk,” he says, shaking his index finger at me. “Okay?” He jerked his head toward the bedroom.

Relieved that she was willing to talk to me, I walked into the room. Liefie sat on the bed, clutching a towel to her breasts. Her eyes were red, her nose was bulbous and her cheeks were flushed.

Arena quietly drifted out of the room and shut the door behind her.

“I’m sorry,” I said in a meek voice. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry. Please…”

Her eyes stayed fixed to the floor. But she nodded.

Encouraged by this slight gesture, I rushed over to her, took her in my arms, and hugged her hard.

“I’m sorry,” I chanted, kissing her hair, hugging her tighter. “I’m really sorry. I’m sorry!”

She wrapped her arms around me and sobbed. I’d never seen her sob before, and I held her tight as she unraveled.

“I’m buckling under all that’s happened. Struggling with it, Liefie. Now that the dust has settled, I am able to think, and Liefie, I have to tell you, it’s mind-boggling. Everything. Every fucking…thing.” My voice became really choppy. “Some of the things freak me out, big time, seriously, I swear. But in spite of all that, Liefie, I’m certain of two things… I…love you with all my heart, and I love the children more than…” I shook my head, that solid lump returning to my throat once again and taking away my words, my eyes burning with tears.

I held her back and looked at her tear-stained face. “Maybe I need time, I don’t know, Lief. I am loathe to lead you on, make promises I don’t know if I can keep…” I looked at my wife, a look of utter resignation on my face. "Can you understand what I’m going through, Liefie?”

“Can you understand what I’m going through?” she asked through her tears. “One minute I had a d…ream, the next minute it’s shattered. I feel so…so let down by you. After all you did for me, then to drop me like that.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, baby. I am really sorry. Help me handle this. Please. Kill the thoughts in my head. Help me not to think about it. I really need you to help me here.”

She shook her head and extracted herself out of my arms. “I have to get away.”

“I’ll leave, you stay,” I quickly said. “Problem solved.”

“Problem is
not
solved, Ritchie. It’s not!” She jumped to her feet and resumed her packing. “I can’t stay.”

What could I do? She was determined to leave.

At that moment, I felt like I was on a precipice. Any minute now, I was going to plummet. In short, I had reached my breaking point.

“What do you want from me, Liefie?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she muttered.

“You want blood from me? Huh?”

She stopped and stared at me.

“HUH? BLOOD?!”

Bear appeared at the doorway and shot me a warning look. I clammed up and watched Liefie throw baby powder, baby shampoo, and nappies into a bag.

Bear stepped into the room and took Liefie by the shoulders. “I’ll take Ritchie to my place for the night, Liefie. You stay. No need for you to leave.” His voice was calm, reassuring.

She shook her head. “I need to leave, B…ear. I need to get away. Out of this house!” Tears reappeared and welled up in her eyes.

“Okay, come stay at my house, then,” Bear said. “For the night.”

“
I’ll
leave,” I repeated. “She doesn’t have to leave the house.”

Suddenly Liefie’s head lolled and the baby blanket in her hand dropped to the floor.

Bear turned to me. “Give us a few moments,” he mouthed.

Without a word, I walked out of the room and sat on the top stair, elbows on knees, my head hanging.

No way is she taking my children. No way! No way!

Ten minutes later Bear joined me.

I looked at him, eyebrows raised.

“She’s going to a hotel for the night.”

“Why?” I jumped to my feet. “That’s cra –”

“She's taking Gareth, Ritchie. Just for the night.
Only
Gareth.”

I blinked rapidly as I digested his words.

“Just for the night,” Bear said in a reassuring voice. “Guess she needs some time alone. I think it’ll be okay, Ritchie.”

Slowly, I rubbed the back of my neck, not knowing what to do. Then with a sigh, I walked out onto my patio and leaned over the balustrade, a feeling of defeat washing over me.

How the hell do I fix this?

Minutes later, when I walked back in, Liefie was gone with my son. I couldn’t believe she had left our home. The house suddenly felt different – the furniture seemed to shrink. The place felt cold. I looked around – all the windows were closed.

I looked around for my daughters. Girly had taken them to bed.

For the first time since they were born, I did not say goodnight to them.

Sleep evaded me. I tossed and turned in the dark while I post-mortemed our fight. I became furious with Liefie. How quickly she wanted to take away my children. How dare she? It was a good thing Bradley foresaw these problems and protected me.

Then I became furious with myself. It was all my fault. My cowardice and my delaying tactics caused this explosion. When did I become a wife-beater?

What now?

The upside to the detonation – everything was out in the open. The wedding, which had been a noose around my neck for so long, was off.
Whew
!

I waited for that feeling of relief to cascade over me.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Checkout time in a hotel is usually around 10 a.m., so I expected Liefie and Gareth to arrive home around 11 a.m. Noon at the latest.

I bought twenty-four long-stemmed roses, heart-shaped chocolates, and a gold chain with a diamond heart-shaped pendant on it. Lots of hearts, because she liked hearts.

Sucking up big time? For sure.

After my thuggish behavior, Liefie deserved diamonds.

At 3 p.m. they hadn’t returned home.

Arena called and I told her about the string of bribes I had for Liefie.

“Good idea,” she said. “Diamonds work with me.”

At 6 p.m. that evening, Liefie had still not arrived. I called Arena. “Is Liefie with you, ’Rena?”

“No,” she said.

“Do you know where she could be?”

“No, I don’t. She said she was checking into a hotel. I called twice, but my calls went to voicemail.”

“Mm.”

“Did you call her, Ritchie?”

“Yeah, I did. Fourteen times.”

“And…?”

“Voicemail.”

“Text? Did you –”

“Yep, that too. About twenty texts. All ignored. But I noticed her charger is here, so maybe her phone died.”

“Ah.” After a short silence she said, “Maybe she’s staying another day?”

“Well, I went online and checked her credit card, and there are no hotel charges showing on it.”

“Maybe it will show tomorrow?” she said. “Sometimes they don’t show right—”

“From experience, they show right away.”

“Oh.”

“No purchases either. Small purchases show almost immediately.”

“What about cash?” Arena asked. “Has she got any cash? Maybe she’s got—”

“I doubt it. No cash withdrawals either. I checked.”

“Mm. Look…give her some time, Ritchie. She’ll come around. Don’t hound her.”

Hound
her? What a word my sister chose to use.

“Okay, fine, I won’t
hound
her,” I said in an angry voice.

“Ritchie!”

“Just saying.”
Ms. Fixit.
I hung up and stared at the four walls. Where could she be?

Liefie did not return that evening either.

I quietly freaked out at Liefie’s behavior. It was unlike her not to call and talk to the kids. I looked at the roses and shook my head.

Liefie, where are you, baby?

Two days later, I arrived home from work to find Liefie in the kitchen, peeling potatoes. Rice was steaming, and something was cooking in the oven.

Nearby, Gareth played with my girls.

“Hey,” I said, in a nervous voice.

She turned to look at me. “Hey,” she said in an equally nervous voice as she wiped her brow with the back of her hand.

I gave a series of small shrugs. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice pained. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Liefie, I’m so sorry.”

She nodded.

I wanted to hug her, but I was afraid she’d reject me.

“Where were you?”

Her eyes returned to the potatoes. “Out.”

What kind of an answer is that?

I pressed on. “You wanna talk?” I jerked my head toward our patio.

She squeezed her eyes shut, opened them, and blinked rapidly. “Gotta make dinner. Can I take a rain check?”

“Sure. Of course.” I looked at the potatoes. “Want some help?”

“No!” Her response was so swift, my neck jerked to look at her.

“I’m almost done,” she quickly added.

“O…kay.” I moved to play with my three children, the flowers, the chocolates and the diamonds forgotten. It just didn’t seem right giving it to her after she was so secretive and distant.

Liefie and I ate our dinner in silence. Luckily, Girly was there to entertain the kids, and little Gareth was around to distract the girls by threatening to topple over his food.

After dinner, while Liefie and Girly busied themselves in the kitchen and with the kids, I opened my laptop and inspected our bank accounts for a paper trail. Nothing.

No cash withdrawals, no purchases, no hotel charges, nothing!

Perplexed, I checked further up in the month, prior to our fight, for a large cash withdrawal.

There was a small cash withdrawal of a hundred dollars four days before our argument. That was it. Not enough to book a hotel room for two days.

Disturbed and determined to get to the bottom of it, the next day I called my bank. They confirmed that Liefie’s credit card had not used that weekend. It just didn’t make sense.

“Can you double check for cash withdrawals that are not yet reflecting.”

“Sure.”

“No withdrawals, Mr. MacMillan. No charges either. I’m sure of that.”

The question that plagued me: where did Liefie spend those two nights?

****

Liefie avoided me. She didn’t seem to want to talk, didn’t seem to want to point fingers at me for destroying our beautiful family, didn’t want to hurl abuse at me for letting her down.

It bothered me.

It also suited me – I didn’t have to hurt her further by revealing my nightmares. Aristov’s words…

So, I let things ride. Just went along to get along – kept the peace. We hadn’t had peace for so long.

A fortnight later, around 9 p.m., I was seated on my patio, Jack Daniels in hand, staring into the dark when Liefie approached me.

“Can we talk?” she said without making eye contact.

Oh, well, here is the deep and meaningful you skirted. The hollow-point you dodged.

Donning my figurative crash helmet, I said, “Sure.” I sat upright and braced myself for tears, accusations, and recriminations.

“I have a job,” she said. “A part-time job.”

“Wha…?” A job was the last thing I expected of her.

“It’s at the library, and it’s three times a week. Part-time job. An assistant.”

“But…but…Gareth…the girls, Liefie?”

“Girly’s around to help,” she said in a firm voice, “And the job is 9 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. School hours, basically.”

“Gareth…Liefie, he’s so little?”

“I’ve arranged family daycare for those three days. He’ll be okay. He’ll love the company of other kids, too. It’ll be good for him, really it will.”

Slowly I sat back into my patio chair and fell silent.

“Ritchie?”

I looked up at her.

“You okay with this?”

No, I’m not okay with this, I wanted to say. Okay fine, I get that the kids are being taken care of, but I’m not fooled in any way by your move, Liefie. I’m onto you. I know what you’re up to. You’re gaining your independence, making your own money, forging your career, doing what
you
like, and I feel left out and I really don’t like it. Mainly because I am a selfish jerk who wants you to be reliant on me. It makes me feel good to be a provider, and I am more than happy to take care of you financially for the rest of your life, even though I don’t want a sexual relationship with you because I just can't.

That’s what I really wanted to say. Wanted to
blurt
.

“Yeah, okay,” I lied.

She smiled for the first time in days, and it was like a ray of morning sun, even though it was dark.

“I’m really excited about it,” she said. “They gave me a hard time because of my accent, but I got the job and…”

“What? Your accent? That’s not fair!”

“…I told them I would volunteer for a day, and if they didn’t like how I worked, they didn’t have to pay me. So I worked really hard and…I got it!” She clasped her hands and held it to her chest. “My first job in Australia!”

Sweet.

For a few moments we sat in silence, and all we heard was the sounds of crickets in the dark.

“I don’t know what to say,” I finally said.

“You could say congratulations!”

I nodded. “Congratulations, Liefie. I’m happy for you.” In spite of my insecurities, I meant it.

She smiled again, and it was like someone had switched on the patio light.

“Gotta go,” she said before she hurried back into the house.

Being surrounded by books, the physical kind, not e-books, was her idea of heaven. I knew she would enjoy every moment of her job. She would be happy, and in spite of the feeling of loss I felt at her breaking away from me, I really wanted her to be happy.

My guilt at not being able to be rekindle our relationship with her assailed me something terrible and I was desperate for her to be happy. Keeping busy was probably what she needed to help her through this tough time.

****

Liefie blossomed in her new job.

Her dressing changed – gone were the relaxed-fit jeans and polar fleece jackets. She now wore tailored pants and matching jackets, silk tops and jewelry. Her hair, which was always in a ponytail, was now highlighted, layered, and worn loose.

Is that how librarians dressed? I asked myself. She looked more like someone working in the corporate world. Well, she was one smoking hot librarian for sure. Even though she had three kids.

She was sophisticated and chic, and with each day I felt her drifting further away from me.

At home we were civil toward each other, went through the motions of being a happy family in front of the kids, and even took the kids out together. Like families do.

Alone, she ignored me. She wasn’t rude or anything; she just stayed away from me.

The sad thing was, I liked it that way. I hated confrontation and I knew that if we did talk about our situation, it would result in a fight. I didn’t want to lose her, but I didn’t want her to leave my life, because… I still loved her.

We existed (not lived) in a heavy and tangible air of expectancy. As if we expected something to happen that would change the climate between us. Something
had
to happen – we couldn’t go on living the way we did – living an economical lie.

Secretly, I still clung to hope that I would ‘come around’ and take up with her. It was just unimaginable that I wouldn’t.

Maybe she did too, because I noticed the purchases on her credit card – lots of lingerie. Clothing too, but very expensive lingerie. It was totally unlike her to be so self-indulgent.

Good, I thought. Retail therapy. I was happy that she was happy.

Guilt followed. All that lingerie, and she can’t share it with me?

Maybe if I got really drunk, I would see
her
and not her baggage, I thought. So I got really drunk, but all that happened was that I passed out and suffered a terrible hangover the following day.

I constantly rebuked myself – it was my responsibility to put my family first and myself last (that’s what loving parents did) and pick up where we left, giving my kids the solid, stable home they deserved, especially after their harrowing ordeal with Banshee Olga. I didn’t, so I was a selfish, self-centered, and a self-absorbed prick.

My mother, had she been alive, would have reminded me of the vows I took before God –
for better or worse…

Despair, guilt, and a sense of abject failure compounded and led me to seek solace in Jack Daniels.

And Jim Beam.

And Johnny Walker.

And Jameson.

To avoid facing Liefie, I began to work late, even when I didn’t have to, and left early in the morning before she awoke. This soon led to exhaustion and the inability to concentrate at work, which resulted in me being even more miserable.

All the Jack, Jim, Johnny, and Jameson did not drown my sorrows, because my sorrows, they could swim. So they survived and compounded, making me feel lost and alone, and home became an emotional torture chamber.