As Connie walked in through her front door that same evening, her mind was made up. Never mind what it took, no matter how long she had to wait, she and Michael were going to talk. This ridiculous situation of polite silences and of being virtually afraid of one another's touch had gone on for quite long enough. She wasn't entirely sure what to expect from the coming conversation, but she supposed that at this stage, anything was worth a try.
Michael was in the kitchen, in the process of opening a bottle of wine. "You're home early," He said in surprise, looking up as she appeared. "You're not complaining, are you," she countered back tiredly, hoping that she hadn't walked in on another of his assignations. "No, no," He assured her. "Just surprised, that's all." "I think we need to talk," Connie told him quietly, watching as he poured himself a glass, gesturing the bottle in her direction. "Please," She said in response, though thinking that a large scotch would probably put her in a far better frame of mind. As Michael followed her into the lounge, he raised an eyebrow as she retrieved a lighter and her packet of cigarettes. "I saw that you'd taken that up again," He said disapprovingly, obviously referring to the occasional ashtray she left until the next morning. "Please don't whinge," Connie said, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. "You have your vices, including screwing my staff, and I have mine." "You're not still going on about that, are you?" Michael said disbelievingly, not having thought she would be so jealous over such a trifle. "Michael, sleeping with one of my staff, made me feel unbearably small, which is I think why you did it. Quite what other reason could have persuaded you that breaking one of our few rules was a good idea, I couldn't possibly tell you." "Connie, you're making far too much out of this," Michael told her placatingly. "Yes, I realise that I shouldn't have slept with Chrissie, but what do you want me to say? She's an attractive woman, and she was ripe for the picking." "Rubbish," Connie told him scornfully, blowing a smoke ring at a painting above the fireplace. "Sister Williams is a nondescript, treacherous little bike, who delights in screwing up everyone else's marriages, just because she hasn't got one of her own. But she isn't worth my time or consideration," Connie added dismissively, taking a swig of her wine and then another drag of her cigarette, as though determined to flaunt her inadequacies in his face.
"What I came home early to discuss, is you, and me." "Brought on by your trip to Ghana, I suppose," Michael said a little nastily. "So, you did find out where I went," Connie said, sounding thoroughly amused. "I thought you might. Give you a little moment of concern, did it?" "Hardly," Michael told her disgustedly. "Ric Griffin couldn't give you anything that you couldn't get from me." "Oh, I wouldn't be so sure," Connie mocked him, squinting at his asinine face through her cigarette smoke. "You like your material possessions too much," Michael replied confidently. "Whereas the likes of Ric Griffin could barely afford to clothe you, especially with your tastes. So, did you find what you were looking for out there?" "Yes," She said quietly, utterly stunning him into silence. "I found peace, the peace to get over my anger, and the peace to begin thinking about what I wanted from my life." Michael seemed to be temporarily floored by such a philosophical response from her, and he simply sat and watched as she continued. "I had absolutely nothing to do but sunbathe out there, not a state of being I think I've experienced for some years. No one was making any demands on my time, and nobody was asking anything from me that I didn't have the reserves to give. Having all that time to do nothing but think, allowed me to put a few things in perspective, your involvement in my career being one of them. Michael, I can't continue to work with you at such close quarters. You might think that your closely guarded methods of influencing my decisions haven't been noted, but they have, and not just by me. You might also think that by letting me get away with the odd bit of kingdom building, you can keep me sweet, but not any more." "Connie," Michael said a little dismissively, his power of speech returning to him. "You can't suddenly decide that you want to stop being the centre of the goldfish bowl, in order to play with the sharks instead." "Perhaps I can't," Connie replied a little icily. "But I can decide, that I don't want one, particularly malevolent shark anywhere near my goldfish bowl." "Really," Michael laughed scornfully. "I doubt it, because a mere Medical director, does not have the power to fire the chairman of the hospital board. Whereas, I can assure you, the opposite is entirely possible." "No way, Michael, you are not doing this to me again," She said angrily. "I don't care what it takes, but you will not hold my career over me every time you want to win an argument." "Connie, without me, you wouldn't have a career," Michael told her firmly. "And without me, you don't have a wife who makes you look like the most sexually precocious man in the world. You wouldn't like to lose that, now would you," she taunted him. "But I promise you, my career will always be in far less jeopardy than your marriage currently is. It would make you look a bit of a fool to lose me, wouldn't it, whereas any developing country would snap me up at the drop of a hat."
In the ensuing silence, she watched as Michael's face turned redder and redder. She hadn't seen him this angry in a very long time, but even she could remember how easy it was to push all his buttons. "Griffin put you up to this, didn't he," Was Michael's eventual response. "No, he didn't," Connie told him acidly. "I am quite capable of thinking for myself. Ric was very sweet to me, though, a nice little word that I don't think you have ever known the meaning of. Even when he walked into his office, and found me sat at his desk, quite without having announced I was coming, he didn't even try to ask why I was there. I wouldn't have thought it possible of someone who has so few material possessions, but he really made me want to stay." "Connie, I have absolutely no interest in hearing about you and Griffin," Michael told her, turning his face away in utter disgust. "No, because even though you always get a kick out of telling me about your conquests, you never want to hear about mine," She replied stonily. "Well, no, I'll rephrase that. You only want to hear about them if they weren't any good. What's the matter? Are you afraid that now that I've spent a few days in Ric's company, you might not be able to get me going any more? That would be a fine piece of extremely sweet revenge for finding Sister Williams in my husband's bed, now wouldn't it." Michael briefly clenched his fist, the fury at her silkily crushing comments making him want to lash out at her, to shut that brutally taunting mouth once and for all. "Do you know why I think you're so angry with me?" Connie almost purred. "It's because this is the first time I've gone back for more, in the whole time we've been married." She conveniently ignored having slept with Mubbs more than once, because anything as pathetic as him really didn't count. "That's what scares the hell out of you, isn't it. Still, I think it's about time that you were faced with something of a challenge. It might teach you some professional and possibly sexual manners, though I doubt it."
After taking a few slow deep breaths to calm himself down, Michael said, "So, is this how it's going to be?" "Absolutely right," Connie told him without missing a beat. "Either you lay off me at work, and confine your trust duties to the absolute minimum, or I'm out of here, because I am no longer prepared to put up with your continual manipulation, or your utter disregard for how I appear in the eyes of my staff. Just remember this, if you ever, and I mean ever, make me look a fool in front of the board again, or bring one of my staff into this house, your days of being married to one of the leading cardio thoracic surgeons in the country, shall be numbered. Do I make myself quite clear?" "Connie, what possible reason could I have for wanting to agree to your terms? As you previously implied, spouses are almost instantly replaceable." "Well now, you wouldn't want it known among all your colleagues, that I'd found someone far more able to satisfy my every need, now would you." Again, Michael had to fight the urge to hit her. He couldn't believe this, his Connie, his wife, was sitting here, bargaining with him over his future behaviour towards her, when it was she who had spent nearly a week in some other man's bed. "Hmm, I thought that would make you give in," She said, getting to her feet, and going into the kitchen for more wine, and wondering just how long he would stick to it. Connie couldn't really say that she'd solved anything, because she wasn't remotely convinced that it would last, but she'd had to try something. But was Michael right? Was she trying to win a game she hadn't been trained to play? Only time would tell.