Mine To Lose Read online

  ‘Just thought I’d make some old-fashioned Irish soup,’ I smiled, pretending that nothing was bothering me at all. ‘Mutton, leeks, turnips, barley ... I am throwing in macaroni too because I’m a rebel.’

  Jordan laughed out loud. It was wonderful to hear him laugh like that again after so many weeks of sullen silences and obligatory smiles. He opened the cupboards, looking for something.

  ‘Shall we crack open a bottle of wine?’ he asked.

  ‘Not for me. But you go ahead,’ I replied, stirring the soup. I deliberately didn’t remind him that I couldn’t drink wine because of the pregnancy and just left the fact unaddressed. Either he was too thick to remember that pregnant women should watch their alcohol, or he was truly an indifferent asshole who had no respect for his baby. It did not matter to me.

  ‘How was your weekend?’ he asked, pouring himself a large glass of red wine.

  ‘Good, thanks. Pam dragged me off to London for the day on Monday.’

  I stared him straight in the eye as I said this, and he didn’t bat an eyelid.

  You’re an exceptionally good liar, my beloved, I thought as we laughed together about the ingredients of my dish and the first time I’d attempted to make it. He had said it tasted like boiled socks, and to be honest, it did. I totally forgot to put the stock in.

  Just laughing like we did not so long ago was enough to convince me not to throw in the towel. Jordan was my first and my only, and I loved him with all my heart. Both of us knew that marriage was about ups and downs, so I held fast to the hope that he would come out of his mother’s thrall and love me again ... like he used to.

  ‘Have you eaten, or will you be joining me?’ I asked, lowering the heat on the hob to a simmer.

  His attention was focused on his phone, and he replied without looking up. ‘No, thanks, I’ve already eaten.’

  I wonder where you ate, at Mummy’s or a fancy restaurant in London.

  ‘Oh, alright. Then I made way too much,’ I lamented, trying to evoke his sympathy, but he simply shrugged.

  ‘Just have the rest tomorrow,’ he suggested. ‘I’m gonna have a shower then chill out for a bit,’ he said, taking both the bottle of wine and glass.

  ‘Don’t blame you after that long trip. You must be knackered,’ I said convincingly.

  When he left the room, my mind played back on something he’d said. ‘Just have the rest tomorrow.’ This statement sounded distinctly as if I would be eating alone. Before I dwelled any further, I remembered Pam telling me not to jump to conclusions because men did not always articulate as well as we did. Maybe he meant nothing by it, and I was just being accusatory because of hormones and witnessing his secret mummy-meeting and all. I suppose I should have just been grateful to have my hubby home again.

  Jordan’s phone rang, and I went to answer it.

  ‘No! Leave it!’ he shouted suddenly, storming my way. He was naked from the shower and dripping water everywhere. He grabbed his phone, switched it off. I frowned, still fixed in my position where he’d snatched it from me. Jordan noticed and sighed apologetically.

  ‘I’m sorry. It’s just that I am really exhausted, and I keep getting calls from Leslie about some shit I was going to sort out tomorrow anyway. And Jack also bugged me twice while I was travelling home,’ he explained. ‘They can wait until tomorrow, so if you answered the call now, I would have to speak to them.’

  ‘Oh, I see. I get it,’ I agreed. ‘Besides, they’ve had your company all week. You need a little bit of space.’ I knew it was a statement I intended as a hint, and I knew deep inside that I was setting myself up for heartbreak. But Jordan’s answer was amazingly pleasant.

  ‘Exactly. They send me off away from home and then expect me to be stand alert when I should be paying attention to my wife,’ he said, still staying distant. ‘And her terrible cooking.’

  I laughed, not because Jordan was being silly, but because it felt so good to hear him jest again. I turned back to the hob. I felt his warmth behind me, and my body practically gravitated towards his with one-sided affection. A peck on the back of my head sealed my disappointment.

  ‘I’m knackered. Going to chill out and watch a movie in bed,’’ he said lightly as if nothing was wrong here. My heart burned, and I felt sick as my emotions went haywire again. Again the tears came, and all I wanted to do was run to Jordan and tell him I loved him. But I knew that his response would only send me crashing even harder, so I turned the gas off and neglected my delicious Irish-Italian soup for the solace of the sofa.

  A good horror movie would put me off all things romantic and destroy all notions of love, so I surfed the channels on the telly for something gruesome and fell asleep in the arms of a nightmare far kinder than the blood my husband was drawing bit by bit every time he spoke to me.

  ***

  A symphony of ill dampened noise woke me the next morning. Jordan’s bustling in the kitchen was hastened, and I knew he had overslept. With much effort, I shuffled to the kitchen, checking the clock. I was relieved to see that although he was late, I still had 45 minutes to get ready for work.

  ‘Morning,’ I groaned.

  ‘Jesus Christ, Katie, why didn’t you set the alarm?’ he moaned. He was extremely irate, throwing clothes around and slamming the cupboard doors looking for stuff.

  ‘Why didn’t you set your phone to go off like you always do?’ I asked.

  Jordan looked at me with daggers in his eyes, ‘Because I switched it off last night, remember?’

  ‘How is that my fault?’ I had to enquire since he looked at me as if I just fucked his best friend or something. My heart was pounding again. Barely awake, I was forced into another quarrel already. I had a valid point, though.

  ‘Because if you could mind your own business, you wouldn’t bother with other people’s phones when they ring! Do you have to stick your bloody nose into everything I do?’ he shouted.

  ‘Wow!’ I uttered without even thinking about his ridiculous retort. I was astonished that he would be this hostile about a phone call from work. It did tell me something, though, which I thought to address right there. ‘I’m your wife, Jordan! I know that seems to a confusing concept for you lately!’ I got into his face, wide awake and livid. ‘And why on earth would you be so paranoid about a simple phone call if you were not hiding something?’

  ‘Listen, you’re my wife, not my keeper who has the right to rule every aspect of my life. Are we clear, Katie?’ he bellowed as he opened the front door.

  ‘No, you already have Mummy to rule your life for you!’ I shrieked after him.

  ‘At least she gives a fuck about what I want. She does not force her illogical wiles onto me under the pretence of love!’ he barked. ‘And keep your voice down. Everyone can hear our argument.’

  That was it. I shouted at the top of my lungs to aggravate him. ‘Oh, are you afraid the neighbours will realise what a first-grade bastard you are? Just like your mother, you only care what others think. Weak! Weak! You’re both weaklings, desperate for approval!’

  The door swung back open, and before I knew it, Jordan had his hand locked on my throat. He slammed me hard against the wall, hard enough to stifle my voice instantly, grinding his teeth so loudly I could hear it. I could not believe what was happening. It took Jordan a moment to realise what he was doing before he unceremoniously released me. Without apology or explanation, he just left.

  My body shivered madly, and my legs gave way under me. I slid down the wall to the cold floor, pulled up my knees to my chest and just sobbed. Honestly, I had no idea how long I sat there crying, but somewhere along the line, a strange calm came over me, and I ceased my weeping. Numb and sorrowful, I just sat there in silence.

  A knock at the door shook me to the core. It startled me so that I let out a yelp of fear. A pause followed, during which I remained perfectly still to repel the caller. But a few moments later, a timid knock repeated the same previously strong one. A muffled voice of a woman sounded from the other side.


  ‘Hello? Katie? Um, my name is Vicky. I really need to talk to you about ... your husband,’ she said. The last part of her statement sealed my interest with interest. Laboriously, I rose from my pity spot, checked the clock and realised that I was already late for work, so it would make no difference now.

  ‘Just a minute,’ I sniffled, trying to make myself look remotely presentable in the lobby mirror. Wiping my hair back, I went to unlock the door. There stood a woman who was practically a clone of myself. Her green eyes were just rounder, her blonde hair a tad straighter than mine, and she looked no more than a tender twenty-four years old.

  ‘Hi,’ she said, looking very self-conscious and just a little bit scared. ‘Is he gone? Can we talk?’

  ‘What’s it about?’ I said, pulling my dressing gown over my round belly.

  ‘Look, I know this must be a horrid thing to hear, but I can’t stay quiet anymore, and I think keeping this from you is just disrespectful,’ Vicky said. ‘Especially in your condition. My motives for outing Jordan are my own, so please don’t ask me why I have decided to do this.’

  ‘Keeping what from me?’ I asked. My heart was slamming against my chest, convinced that what she was about to tell me wasn’t going to be pleasant. It wasn’t.

  ‘I feel terrible about this, but ...’ she hesitated.

  ‘Vicky, just spit it out,’ I asserted myself, weary of games.

  ‘For the past six months, Jordan’s been having an affair,’ she rambled quickly as if saying it rapidly would be less painful, like ripping off a Band-Aid.

  ‘With whom?’ I frowned, sounding much calmer than my screaming heart. With her mum? Is that why she’s telling me?

  ‘W-with, well, with ... me,’ she revealed.

  Her statement knocked the breath from my lungs. I held onto the door to steady myself.

  ‘I broke it off, as soon as I found out about you,’ she added quickly, again hoping it would soothe the blow. ‘He’s been lying to me since day one. I swear, Katie, I didn’t know he was married. I swear to God! I would never do that to another woman.’

  I took a moment. ‘Sexual?’

  She nodded, and my heart tore up.

  In a daze I thanked her for telling me and used my late for work excuse to get her to leave. Before I closed the door, Vicky hugged me tightly. ‘I’m sorry the father of your child is such a bastard.’

  Chapter 29

  After Vicky’s visit, I understood why Jordan was so paranoid about his phone calls, and in some way, her revelation comforted me. Now that I knew the origin of his odd behaviourisms, it was easier not to blame myself for it. I wanted our child to have a father, so I forced myself to keep Vicky’s visit secret and carry on as best I could, coping with Jordan’s erratic mannerisms. I loved him, period. Was it down to my hormones or my own weakness and stupidity that made me put his violent outburst to the back of mind and lock it away under lock and key. Jordan had never shown the slightest hint of violence before. Not once in all our time together. I just couldn’t throw our marriage away over one incident. I was ashamed of myself for brushing the incident under the carpet. Doing the job I did, I knew more than anyone that once a man lays his hand on a woman, the floodgates are open. In my heart of hearts, I knew I’d never look at Jordan the same way again, for the affair or the assault. This was the first time I wouldn’t share an incident with Pam, which should have set off alarm bells. As was the fact that we still hadn’t spoken about the baby. It was the white elephant in the room. Something we both deliberately avoided.

  ‘Can you pick me up from work tonight and drop me at the garage? My car’s ready,’ I asked Jordan, a few weeks later. ‘Martin was gonna drop me, but something’s come up, so I’m kind of stranded.’

  We were getting dressed for work, and he had just come out of the shower. His phone rang. I could see the tension suddenly rip through him as he grabbed it and killed the call.

  ‘Work?’ I asked sarcastically.

  Jordan stared at me. ‘What time?’ he asked amicably as he pulled his jeans on.

  ‘They said it should be ready by 4 p.m., but any time up to six would be okay if you have work to do.’ I played dumb, brushing my hair and fixing my button shirt which grew more taut as my belly grew under it.

  ‘No, four’s fine,’ he said spraying himself with aftershave.

  ‘Thanks,’ It’s been such a pain being without it.’ He quickly gathered his laptop and briefcase as I spoke. ‘Why are you in such a hurry? Early meeting?’

  ‘Remember I told you Jack is introducing the executives of Brownville Productions to us this week?’ he asked.

  I nodded. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Well, that happens today, apparently. Thanks to their fucked up, backward administration department we now have to be at Jack’s office in less than an hour,’ he seethed.

  ‘Just remind yourself that it’s Friday, and you have the weekend off,’ I consoled, wanting to believe with every fibre in my body that he was telling the truth. He didn’t affirm my statement and hurried toward me in silence, fleetingly hugging me.

  ‘See you later,’ he said as he kissed my temple, and then he took off.

  My phone rang, jolting me into action.

  ‘Shit!’ I said as I answered the phone. ‘Martin, I’m on my way. Have to take the Underground ...’

  But all I could hear was a hissing sound.

  ‘Hello?’ I tried again, but the call was certainly not from my office. In the distant background, I heard what sounded like steelworks or a construction site. Terror crept over me as I realised that James might be at it again. I ended the call immediately, sinking to the bed to catch my breath. My heart stopped when the ringtone tore through the silence of our bedroom. Fear turned to annoyance, and I just answered it, shouting into the speaker, ‘Listen, if you have nothing else to do with your time, try to go fuck yourself!’

  A long pause ensued while the background teemed with mumbling voices and a door opening and closing. Then I heard a woman’s voice, reluctant and professional.

  ‘Is this Mrs Katie Winston?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh Jesus,’ I responded inadvertently, taken aback by my screw up. ‘I’m so sorry. Yes, this is she.’

  ‘This is Bev from Dr Howard’s rooms. Your consulting doctor at Allenby General, Dr James, referred you, I believe?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ I replied, running my fingers through my hair in frustration and embarrassment. ‘Yes, I am due for my first check-up this coming week, and I needed to make an appointment.’

  ‘How would Tuesday suit you?’ she asked. ‘Say, 8.30 a.m. or such?’

  Mortified, I just wanted to get off the phone and hide my face in a bucket of fish in embarrassment. ‘That would be fine! Yes, thank you. I’ll see you then.’

  ‘It’s a date,’ she jested and hung up the phone.

  ‘Oh my God! I am such an idiot!’ I moaned into my hands before bursting into a crazy fit of laughter.

  Chapter 30

  Jordan was in a good mood when he arrived home earlier than usual on Monday night. He had bought pizza and rented two movies, got himself some vodka and bought me some non-alcoholic beer. I could not believe it, but I had learned to keep my amazement to myself; I wasn’t going to spoil a good thing while I had it.

  I knew that he had gone to visit Martha the night before, even though he told me he’d had to attend a meeting about the television series they were shooting on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. I guess his excuse was half true, as I checked with Jack if those days really were recording days. Jack had informed me that Sundays were indeed meeting days for the writers, but Jordan had stayed out much later than the duration of the writer’s meetings.

  ‘You can drink non-alcoholic beer, right?’ he asked enthusiastically.

  ‘Of course!’ I cheered and slapped him on the ass. ‘I’m pregnant, not dead.’

  Only after I said it did I realise that I mentioned the dreaded parasite sickness I had to the Anti-Father, but Jordan hardl
y reacted, to my relief. He just smiled and unpacked the bags of fast food and poured us each a glass of our respective drinks.

  ‘Don’t you miss drinking?’ he asked unexpectedly.

  I hesitated answering, carefully formulating my answer. ‘I do, a little.’ I pulled up my nose in the cutest way and giggled. It made Jordan smile, and that was good enough for me.

  ‘Um, just a question,’ I warned with my hands up, ‘but I have to go for my check-up tomorrow. Did you maybe want to come with me?’ I asked, waiting for that darkness to cross his face. I now called it ‘The Martha Effect’.

  ‘I won’t be able to,’ he objected tactfully. ‘Work is getting crazy. Tomorrow, I have to meet Leslie for the re-write of Wednesday’s script before recording. Maybe next time?’

  That was remarkably un-hostile of him, and every instance where I did not get a sermon or an insult was worth accepting. Although we were drifting apart, I still hoped he would eventually accept his role in this, abandon his need for Martha’s approval and come back to me – us – me and our baby. As strong as I was, I found it nearly impossible to imagine life without his support, without his presence.

  ‘No worries. I know they are riding you at work,’ I played along and passed him almost half the pizza on a plate. ‘There, glutton, have at it.’

  Jordan looked happy with my response and my mild demeanour. The night went quite well after that. No talk of work, babies or needing him while I harboured the awful secret knowledge of his infidelity. God, I would forgive him everything, it seemed. Why could men not place themselves in our positions like we imagined their reasons for transgressing and forgiving them? Or was it just the nature of the stock I chose to share my life with?

  The next day was a terrible mix of wind, drizzle and pale sunlight that just tormented those hopeful for a bit of normality. It was nearing summer, apparently, but the calendar was useless aside from marking the weeks of my pregnancy. Nearing 16 weeks, I knew why Dr Pane was annoyed at me for only making my appointment with the gynaecologist now, but I had been reluctant for many reasons. With Jordan tolerating me at home, I didn’t want to deal with the pregnancy’s official business like check-ups and procedures yet, but I realised that putting it off was only making it worse.