(Continued from last issue)
David and Diane have been married for years; then there is Julie, the young secretary whose axis collides with the couple’s in ways none of them saw coming.
DIANE
I did not get a wink of sleep that night, and it clearly showed on my face the next morning, for as soon as I walked into the boutique, Tracy ushered me into the back office, and closed the door behind us.
“What’s going on? You look terrible!” she exclaimed.
I had kept the news of David moving out from her, but I was so tired of keeping up the façade that everything was fine that I did not need any further invitation to just let go and get it off my chest.
I told her everything, from how he had moved out, to how I had tried to keep the children from him to punish him and force him back, ending with how horribly that plan had backfired and how he was now threatening to file for custody.
“Oh man, Diane; you sure do know how to make a mess of things! Why didn’t you talk to me about all this earlier? I would have stopped you from making the colossal mistake of trying to use the kids to get him back! Didn’t you realise that would just worsen the situation and up the stakes?” she reprimanded me like I was a child.
“Now I do,” I whined pitifully. “Well, there’s no use crying over spilt milk; we’ve got to fix this before he calls his lawyer. Call him and tell him he can see the children whenever he wants to; once he knows he doesn’t have to fight to see them, that will remove the need for courts and lawyers.”
“What if he’s already called him?”
“Then you’ve got to make him call back and say he’s changed his mind. No matter what, you can’t let him take this to court, or you will lose! You might be a great mum, and there’s no doubt that David is a low-down, horrible, unfaithful husband, but when it comes to who has more money, he beats you hands down, and you know in this country, it’s all about the money, which, unfortunately for you, David has enough of to get whatever result he wants.”
As much as I hated to admit it, I knew that she was right; so, taking a deep breath, I picked up my phone and called David’s number.
DAVID
Since I had threatened her with legal action, I had every confidence that going forward, Diane would quit playing her stupid games and let me have unfettered access to the children; I just had not expected her to come round as quickly as she did.
She called while I was still in my first meeting of the day; I rejected the call. She called again five minutes later; I turned off my phone. As soon as the meeting ended and I turned it back on, she called again; it was clear she would just keep calling until I answered; so, with a resigned sigh, I did.
“What do you want, Diane? I’m busy,” I snapped irritably. “I was calling to let you know you can come see the children this evening,” she answered timidly, her tone one of defeat and resignation.
“First of all, I don’t need your permission to see my children, and secondly, I thought they were visiting your family,” I reminded her mockingly.
“They were, but they’ll be back this evening – the girls have missed you; they would really like to see you,” she added cajolingly, knowing full well that I had a soft spot for the girls.
Still plotting and scheming and trying to control the narrative, I thought to myself wryly. It almost worked. I missed the girls too and would have loved nothing more than to see them that evening, but at the same time, I refused to make it that easy for Diane; I was determined to teach her a lesson, and ensure that she would never again dare to use our children as pawns.
“I don’t know if my lawyer would think that’s such a good idea; I mean, one minute I’m filing for custody because you won’t let me see my kids, and the next I’m visiting with them like there’s no problem.”
“There is no problem! You can see them whenever you like!” She pleaded, her voice cracking with fear and desperation. I almost felt sorry for her – almost.
“Not this evening, maybe tomorrow; I’ll call and confirm.”
“David….”
“Diane, I’m at work! I said I’ll call and confirm tomorrow!”
I interrupted her brusquely, and then without giving her a chance to respond, hung up.
JULIE
Although he possessed a lot of positive qualities, one of the most frustrating things about living with David was how hard it was to predict which ‘David’ would be walking through the door that evening.
One evening he would return in a great mood, and be the kindest, most romantic man in the world, and the next he would be cold and distant.
That was what happened on the day we were finally moving out of the apartment; David had been in high spirits the previous evening as we celebrated our last night at the apartment with a sumptuous meal, and a bottle of wine that he had picked up on his way back from work.
The next day was a Saturday, and while he had to go to work, he assured me that he would be done by lunch time, and would meet me at the site to help with what would undoubtedly be a hectic moving process, especially since I had to simultaneously manage work at the rest of the site too.
We both left the apartment at around eight, him headed to work, and me to drop Junior at the daycare before rushing back to the apartment to meet the movers at nine.
I did not realise just how much stuff we had until I had to organise, pack and supervise its move to our new home. By the time the last of the boxes had been moved, and the keys handed back to the landlord, it was one, and I was hungry and exhausted, and there was still no sign of David.
I was about to call him to find out where he was, when as if by telepathy, he called.
“Hi, honey, I was just about to call you; where are you?” I cheerfully answered his call.
“Leaving the office; but I’ve got to go to the house first.” “What house?” I asked in confusion.
“Mine; I’m going to see the kids.” “What! I thought you said you were coming here after work!”
“I was, but the kids just called begging me to go, and you know I haven’t seen them all week; so, I miss them too, and right now, I really need to be there,” he explained simply, like what he was saying made perfect sense, when it did not make any sense at all.
“Can you at least pick Junior from daycare at four?” I asked sulkily.
“That would mean leaving the kids practically an hour after getting there; you’re less than twenty minutes from the daycare; can’t you get him?” I could hear the mounting irritation in his voice and quickly capitulated:
“Sure, no problem, I’ll pick him.” “Great; I’ll see you tonight,” he answered approvingly, and without further ado, hung up.
margaretwamanga@yahoo.com
About the Author
