Normal in terms of not having surgical pain, sure. But even that would be better than the pain she'd been enduring for a year prior.
Normal like her own bed and shower and fridge, sure. But her bed was not as plush, her shower not as clean and her fridge dangerously empty.
Normal like Paul coming home and thinking that ordering a take away and daring to drink wine beside her while she could not was okay. Normal like an empty flat and a desire to be around people but not knowing who wouldn't piss her off.
Normal like …. Normal was and will always be overrated. Her normal, she decided, anyway.
She'd texted Liam a few times in the past two days she'd since been home. She had little choice or he'd make a big to do. And he was fun to text. Paul was one word answers, very boring innuendo or sass she didn't care for in a man… or anyone for that matter.
Michelle messaged her - which was shocking because although they seemed to eb and flow with how close they were at any given time - Michelle while busy with a boyfriend was a very MIA Michelle.
Steve was causing aggro. For the life of her Carla could not see why Michelle decided he was fit for her, but she long since learned that beyond a few jabs and drunken jokes, women didn't tolerate that sort of judgement well. And never coming from her.
Besides, as she looked around the flat at Paul's things - including the golf clubs she considering bludgeoning him with - she knew she was one to fucking talk.
She still could not walk in heels and it wasn't like he could try for or expect sex, so there was no need to have any difficult conversation yet. By that, of course, she meant a blow out-knock down fight. Or flight, as it were. Because she truly didn't know how Paul would react to her questioning, or her threats to leave and she had to make them more than empty threats this time around didn't she.
It was like the strength she'd had in that hotel room had nearly vanished as she attempted to remember the same old 'normal' that she now felt she was doomed to remain in.
The betrayal stung more. The likelihood that he had been cheating on her cemented by observing his coldness. The kicker was, he had always been cold, except when they were intimate and yet somehow this coldness seemed knew. She knew exactly what was standing out. She was grown now, no longer a girl. She was a woman who dared to know what she wanted and she was shocked more than anyone to discover what she wanted was someone with a warm heart. The kind of person who would stick by her for good and bad… the kind of person that would bring over stupid movies and make sure she was well enough to be on her own but then not leave her on her own because he loved her company so much. That kind of person that had a very obvious avatar right now and that… that was the part she could not think too much about.
A knock at the door turned out just to be an amazon delivery and she accepted it rather glumly.
Before she could shut the door though, Liam stood in her hallway.
"What you doin' here?" She realized a little too late how widely she was smiling now. And the contrast - had he seen her just a second ago frowning like a child whose ice cream just fell - would be a dead giveaway.
He simply smiled back.
"Checking on you…. Also, you owe me that movie remember?"
"Do you ever work?"
"Not very hard, it seems."
She laughed at his admission and let him follow her in.
"I dunno, sitting in a theatre…."
"Do you still need to lie down a lot?"
"I mean, I need to often but not all day. It's more so…."
"What?"
Nothing, she thought. Just the dangerous precipice she stood on that was 'this is not your normal and it feels so much better, right?'
They'd always been friends, but in the past bunch of years they'd stopped the manic level of spending so much time together. She'd settled into the roll of shrew wife (as told by Paul) and Liam had his own life to lead -however much she judged it. She missed their youth and heady banter but they weren't kids anymore. And this was either a nostalgia trip that would make her feel old and stunt him or…. Or if was a dangerous not normal.
"I want to see a film. I 'ave no one to go with," he said, ignoring whatever plea she'd make next. If Paul was the reason, he didn't want to hear it.
He knew that a few years ago, had he caught Paul cheating or even suspected it he would have had some harsh words - drunken ones, likely - with his elder brother. But now, well, now he knew full well why he was choosing another path. It stung to think on it too hard, but there was a Mr. Hyde to his hapless Dr. Jekyll now and it would not be ignored. Nearly 15 years was more than enough.
"Which film?" She said, putting in lipstick and clearly getting ready to join him.
"That hero one… I knew you'll say…"
"I'll say, good. Listen Leebugs, I hate pretentious shit. You want explosions and easy morality, I'm there. So long as you pay."
"I'll pay."
"That'll be a first," she scoffed and nudged his arm.
"I'll just change and we can go."
The movie was uncomfortable in how comfortable it was. She talked too much, he remembered that now. They hadn't really been to a film just the two of them for ages but it was coming back to him now. She liked to point out which men were hot but he knew he'd be smacked if he dared mention a fit actress. He loved this. Her jealousy made me feel warm and now he felt even more uncomfortable because even that was perfect to him.
She ate half the popcorn but didn't want to hold it lest her jeans get greasy. This meant she was reaching into his lap every few minutes and he shook his head to tell the inner teenage Liam to shut the fuck up and watch the film.
Moments of sadness hit hurt throughout the film. She was mourning more than the sacrificial death of a good character. She was noting how natural this felt and what that meant - she was mourning the entirety of her adult life so far and all it ended up being instead of what it should have been.
"You okay?" He asked, touching her arm in a gesture Liam rarely did when sober.
"Yeah. it were sad though, right."
"Sure, but…"
"Sad. Shhh." She refocused on the film and he kept staring at her profile. He knew every angle and he knew every expression and this was not her "sad movie moment" face.
He knew this was daft, this next move would undo him and royally piss her off or confuse her but he grabbed her hand. Like a daft teenager on a first date and she sat perfectly still.
She half smirked after a few beats and took her hand away. He nodded to himself more worried than dejected, but then felt her lean into him on his shoulder where she remained for the rest of the film.
The ride home was quiet. When they arrived back at her flat he moved to get out but she stopped him.
"You've done enough," she said and for a moment he was scared. "You've been there in a way I … thank you Liam."
She leaned in and kissed his cheek sweetly. It wasn't the first time she'd done so, but it was different.
His urge to pull her onto him nearly took over. He pictured his hands in her hair, bringing her face to his, urging her lips to open for him. Holding her head as his other hand rested on her thigh.
"Did I make it awkward Liam?"
"Huh?"
"By being nice. I know you often expect a wind up for forgive me for having a moment of real feelings but…"
She was smiling and he shook his head.
"No no. Not awkward. I mean, I wonder if you're alright,... too nice. Where did my Carla go?"
"Oh she's in here Liam. For good and bad, she's still here." She winked at him and went to shut the door. "Oh and Liam?"
"Yeah?"
"Pretty bold."
"What?"
She bit her lip and walked away.
(One week later)
"Carla!" Hailey smiled as she entered the cafe. No one understood their bond, but Hailey had seen Carla crying and drinking in the factory one night - after Paul and Liam had left. She'd spilled her guts about feeling like a kept woman, stifled by an idiot man and mocked and hated but a bunch of loser hens. Hailey laughed, defended a few souls, and hugged her. From that moment on, Mrs. Hailey Cropper became a trusted friend. Roy and her were still feeling their way around, but Hailey had said she thought Roy quite liked Carla - her loud laugh aside. He liked honesty above all else and Carla was nothing if not brash and bold, so according to Hailey, whether she could see it or not, he liked her too.
"You've been gone for a while, they said you went to some spa…."
Carla rolled her eyes. "If Paul were gonna lie, I wish he'd have said holiday, spa makes it sound like I was in rehab for ages."
"Oh no one thought that!" Hailey said quickly. But at this Roy stopped making the butty and said:
"They did Hailey. You heard Fizz and Kelly yourself."
Hailey tossed the dish rag down, "Oh Roy. Not everything has to be said."
"Truth is truth though and…"
She shook her head and moved them towards the back table.
"Were it… Well, are you alright?"
Carla smiled and patted her arm. "Yeah, I'm fine. It was surgery for…. Well anyway."
"You don't need to tell me. I believe in privacy more than most…."
Carla nodded but explained it all to her quietly when a lull hit the cafe and no one she knew was within ear reach.
Of course this meant Hailey would offer anything to help as well and Carla reassured her at least one hundred times she was well on the mend and would be much much better in a few weeks of taking it easy.
"Well Roy and I are here for you, aren't we Roy."
"For what?" He'd, of course, now been eavesdropping. He would never.
"We're here for you," Hailey repeated, patting her hand.
"Ta. I'm really fine and Liam was so great about everything so…"
"Liam?" Hailey asked, cocking her head to the side. When she saw Carla freeze she put on her best game face and nodded. "Oh well, it's great to have support!"
She wasn't at her best but after two weeks she felt she could do most things she wanted to do again. She still wasn't drinking and she … well there was no one to have sex with but she wouldn't be doing that either right now anyway.
Michelle had come up for air when Steve was at a poker night with the guys and they'd gone for dinner. It was a bit boring but luckily she hadn't even asked much about her past few weeks and so little lying was required.
Paul was at a meeting, again, she wondered with who and where.
Feeling better was a bit of a curse because it allowed her to think of more than pain and Liam. it allowed her to feel the deep pit in her stomach every time Paul smiled or used his phone. Every time she thought of her fidelity and how he'd likely broke his and humiliated her to the person she wanted to save face to the most: herself.
When Michelle, bless her, was done wittering on about how cramped she felt with Steve, Amy and Liz living with her and Ryan - or rather, the reverse, Carla decided she'd go to the factory because going home was something she couldn't face yet. She knew the better she felt the more on edge she'd be, the more wanting to rip off the bandaid and confront Paul about her suspicions and Liam's partial observations.
The factory was dark inside, quiet in that too quiet is there a murderer lurking way but her anger - more so, her despair - fueled her bravery or possible idiocy.
It appeared Hailey had really cleaned up her little desk in the office. It was next to Liam's in the already small space. Of course her husband the sodding sultan of everything had the big desk. And the worst bit? She couldn't fault him. For years he'd carried the weight. She'd come from nothing, she knew that. She hadn't successfully broken away from her family and their legion of curses, she'd just done what most women with anything seemed to do, marry away.
Her whole life she dreamed of being the one to help herself, the one who made her own way but the desperation to get out of that council flat and away from her half conscious mother and her boyfriend of the month was too severe. She'd needed sanctuary and for whatever the cost now, Paul had been it.
Some women envied happy marriages, big families, beauty - and she wasn't above some of that herself but her main source of envy was at Paul. He'd been born a man, had a stable if not irritating home life and had reaped the rewards for his healthy white man mediocrity. Sure, he achieved and went above his station now and he'd helped the whole lot of them. Liam, who was never one to work too hard or dream too big, had taken advantage of that too. But now she wondered how much of that was a lack of dreaming and how much of that was the fact there was only room for one dreamer in each family. Only room for one sultan in the palace, one king in the castle and no one and nothing would ever make that role move from Paul Connor - she'd always known this.
She was the Queen by default and in the eyes of those around the Connor clan, she knew she appeared to be the rather brash and bossy desperate housewife, hell playing it up now and again was amusing. When you couldn't beat them, the old adage of join them almost made sense. Until it didn't. Until it hurt.
Hailey was a gem at work. Liam was, more than he should be. And she knew Ryan may love his uncle but she was his favourite. Even Michelle needed her. Life wasn't awful like it could have been but today was a new day. She was older and God help her, she wanted more.
Ignoring a cheating man wasn't an option. It never had been, not even at her worst, really.
She'd need to come to terms with this and she'd need to kick his ass to the curb and bleed him dry of any money that was now rightfully hers. But then what? And how?
What if there was no proof? What if he denied it and worse, why did she want it to be true? Why did she want her husband of nearly 10 years and partner of more than that to be cheating on her? It was betrayal of the highest kind and considering that they were still intimate, it was abusive and unclean.
But it was a way out, wasn't it? It was the one thing that would make everyone know she'd tried her hardest and did the right thing and was innocent of wrongdoings everyone wanted her to always be guilty of.
Men are forgiven. Men, even with no kindness to spare, were given the benefit of the doubt all so often and a woman who dared to have any voice at all was always on the edge of near crucifixion.
His wrongdoing in this most obvious way would be a chance at freedom and she was able to bury the feeling of intense hurt long enough to realize that, but such realizations still required whisky.
She'd gone two weeks plus without drinking, a bit would be fine.
Sitting at her desk, her feet on Liam's, she sipped whisky out of her Queen Bitch coffee mug and let some old tears find their way down her face.
TBC: I know it's a relative slow burn. but it's moving... .
