Bastard. Lying, cheating bastard. Caroline looked at the clock. She felt like she'd been awake for hours and it was just after 3am. Having swallowed a sleeping tablet earlier, she'd managed to nod off for a bit but her turbulent brain had hauled itself back to life when the drug had worn off. She'd been awake for hours, unable to stop thinking about John. Five months. Five months he'd been shagging that woman, that whore, that home wrecker. Five months he'd been fucking that bitch while fucking her. She groaned and curled into a ball, the thought that he'd been sharing her bed, and her body, while screwing someone else was overwhelming. The walls started to close in and suddenly the bedroom was too small to contain her angst. Caroline gave up the pretence of sleep, sprung out of bed and headed for the kitchen.
As she padded down the stairs trying not to wake the boys, she peered through squinty eyes, surveying the damage to the wall below her. She wondered if John had cleaned up the broken glass or if it had been William, her ever-considerate son. Examining the wall more closely, she knew the marks on the paint would wipe off but the framed art she'd knocked to the floor while hurtling John's shoes at him was history. For a moment she wished she'd had better aim and a sly grin ghosted across her face. She was consoled by the thought that the pictures were a house-warming gift from John's mum — she'd always hated them — and her eyes narrowed with gleeful satisfaction that she'd played a part in their destruction.
Bastard. Fucking, lying, cheating bastard. That had been her mantra since the shocking revelation of John's affair toward the end of her school day. Never in her wildest imagination did she expect to be where she now found herself, with a lying, cheating bastard of a husband. A sudden sickly feeling that she'd become just like her mother gripped her chest and she held her breath as she hugged the post at the bottom of the stairs, momentarily too horrified to let anything go. She ran her hand over the familiar pockmarked wood that still carried the scars from when a younger Lawrence had regularly thrown his school bag at it. The post stood firm despite the damage and it was a relief to have at least something she could rely on. She was lightheaded before the air finally left her lungs in a rush, leaving her breathless but with a bolt of clarity. Not the same. She hadn't known. Fucking lying, cheating bastard.
Stepping into the kitchen she flipped on the light and her eyes instantly fell upon the colourful dish resting on the middle of the kitchen counter. She recognised the plate as one belonging to her mum. Leaning against the counter, she lifted a bit of the cling film to inspect the contents. The aroma of her favourite biscuits filled the air and she lifted the plate to her nose and inhaled deeply. The comforting notes of the cinnamon and chocolate she adored suffused a calm through her body and she didn't resist its effect.
Uncharacteristically Caroline selected the biggest biscuit on the plate. That first bite was as soft and chewy as she remembered, with the oatmeal and raisins sticking to her teeth like they always did. In that instant she was transported back to her mum's old kitchen. She was in her mid-teens when she'd realised Celia only made a batch of these oatmeal, raisin and chocolate chip biscuits whenever she'd had a fight with Kenneth over a dalliance. Every time Caroline came home from school to find a batch of them waiting for her on the kitchen table with a cold glass of milk, she knew that silence would reign at home for the next few days. She didn't have a sibling to commiserate with so she'd taken solace in those biscuits. Looking back, she was amazed she loved them so much since the memory of them was steeped in tension and sadness.
Needing something to help wash down the biscuit, the urge to recreate even the small sense of security she'd had back then pushed her to shuffle to the refrigerator and pour herself a glass of milk. She slid her bottom over the nearest stool and settled in, hands wrapped around the cold glass. She couldn't remember the last time she'd drunk milk like this and wished she could turn back time. Eighteen years. Eighteen fucking years with that lying, cheating bastard.
It was at that point she noticed John's computer was not in its normal spot. She wasn't sure how to feel about the confirmation that it wasn't a nightmare and she really had thrown him out of the house. That lying, cheating bastard. She sighed, realising it was impossible to drown her sorrows with milk. At least the biscuits were helping.
Celia's timely gesture touched her and provided a bit of comfort she hadn't expected. Tears started to well in her eyes while she ate and she wondered when her mum had made and delivered the treat. The fight with John was only a few hours old and she hadn't told her mum about it; she decided it must have been one of the kids as she was certain John wouldn't have had the guts to face Celia. As soon as John had gone, suitcase and computer in hand, she'd told the boys to order pizza for their tea. Minimum parenting achieved, she'd disappeared into her bedroom, needing space to finish having her mental breakdown without the teenage audience. She'd spent the early part of the night pacing around the room, alternating between bouts of agonising betrayal that seared sharply into her soul and white-hot rage that flooded her body with a stormy heat. Eventually she'd taken a tablet, desperate to get past the chaotic emotions that engulfed her.
The plate of biscuits, artfully arranged into a tempting pile, reminded Caroline that she'd skipped dinner. Hungry, one biscuit tasted like two and somehow two tasted like three. She finished her milk after the last bite and found her tears had dried up. She was back to being furious with John, which was easier to cope with than the pain of his duplicity. She vowed while she was growing up that her marriage was going to be vastly different from her mum's, but here she was, thanks to that lying, cheating bastard, not very different from Celia. She suspected that was what shocked her the most.
Caroline hadn't ever expected John to be unfaithful. She'd believed they'd had a good marriage. Well, at least a workable one. The sex had been good and while not earth shattering, it had certainly been regular. He was a generous lover when he wasn't drinking and she'd enjoyed it. She'd thought he had too. What cut the deepest was that he knew how much her father's indiscretions had destroyed her childhood, filling the house with a tense silence so the only space that felt safe was her bedroom, her books a haven of distraction from the drama downstairs. Each time Kenneth cheated on her mum it had felt like her dad was cheating on her too. John knew this and still he'd cheated on her. And their boys. John had cheated on them all. She sighed heavily, thoughts racing through her head as she wondered how the boys were coping.
She wasn't happy that her pain and anger had spilled over into fury when the truth had finally surfaced, but she simply hadn't been able to hold in her white-hot rage after she'd confronted him in the kitchen. Her most stinging regret was that the boys were in the house and for the boys' sake, she knew she needed to get her act together, and quickly.
A tense smile teased at the corners of her mouth as she slowly climbed the stairs, recalling the stunned look on John's face when she'd kicked him out of the house. She was thankful she had the means and courage to do it. It was something that her mum had never been able to do and in the grit that underlay this intangible mess was a small sense of justice for the both of them.
The sheets were cold when Caroline climbed in between them. After a few minutes of lying on her back, she flopped onto her stomach and clutched her pillow under her chest. She reached up and combed hair off her face and neck with her fingers, allowing the soft caress to soothe. She willed her brain to power down enough to drift back to a restless dreamland, miraculously managing some sleep before her alarm sounded.
Bright light streamed through her bedroom window, callously oblivious to the horrors of the previous night. The dull thud in Caroline's head as blood attempted to traverse her brain vanquished any doubt that today was going to be a tough one. Then it all came flooding back. Bastard. Fucking lying, cheating bastard.
Her need to hide under the duvet was compelling, but the whip of duty pushed her inexorably into her day. She covered her face with her hands while she mentally ran though her calendar before flinging back the duvet and stumbling towards the bathroom. It was only when she was having a shower that she realised she'd need to get tested for STDs. She dry retched then, the visceral understanding that he'd brought home whatever diseases he'd picked up from the bitch making her nauseous, like she'd unwittingly slept with an army. Selfish prick. Shaking, she stood upright, trying to keep down the biscuits from last night. Through gritted teeth she made a plan. GP. Today. Get tested for everything. Disinfect the house. Everything. Throw out the sheets. All of them. She couldn't bear the thought of touching anything that SHE might have touched. Caroline's mind churned through all she'd need to do while hot water cascaded over her distress, but she knew she could get through this. She had a plan.
Slowly she dried her body and dressed in the suit that reeked of power. It was a suit of armour woven with fine wool. In the mirror, in the harsh light of day, she saw how puffy and red her eyes were from crying so she carefully applied her makeup. Today it was war paint. If it weren't for her mid-morning Board of Governors' meeting, she would have called in sick, stayed curled up under the duvet and tried to decide how to fully divest herself of John without actually murdering him.
As ready as she was ever going to be, Caroline considered herself in the mirror before heading downstairs. As she buttoned her suit jacket, the sight of her wedding ring caught her eye. She tried to twist it off her finger but her hand was a little swollen and it didn't move easily. Leaving it in place for now, Caroline left the privacy of her room to speak with the boys. She knew she had to find space for them in her head; they'd had a cattle prod to their hearts as well.
Entering the kitchen, Caroline found the boys slouched over the kitchen counter finishing their breakfast.
"Good morning boys. Are you okay?" Caroline looked closely at her sons before kissing each one on the side of their heads as she hugged them.
"We're fine mum." William watched her, gauging her mood as she moved around the kitchen to make her coffee. "How are you?"
"Oh, I'll get there." She looked up, seeing William shrouded in sadness and Lawrence clearly unseated from his sense of home. Her guilt drove her to apologise to them both again, the short silence settling over them only broken by the sound of cutlery.
Lawrence spoke into his cereal before glancing quickly at his mum, "Where's Dad?"
"I don't know." She looked at the bench with unseeing eyes, her mouth twisted with uncertainty. "I expect he'll get in touch with you at some point."
"Are you going to tell people?" he asked quietly, the vulnerability in his voice slicing through her, delivering yet more pain and another dose of guilt. She did her best to bury it, promising herself that she'd deal with it later, all the while knowing she'd avoid it if she could.
Caroline walked slowly around the counter and stroked the side of Lawrence's face. She spoke quietly. "No. I'd rather it didn't get out yet, 'till we've worked out what's what." She was surprised when he leaned into her body and she gently wrapped her arms around him again. "I am sorry. I know it's tough. Whatever happens, we will get through it. It'll be okay, I promise." She held him for a moment longer, adding with more surety, "I love you. So does your dad, whatever happens between us." She kissed the top of his head and released him.
They finished their breakfast in subdued silence, the boys sharing glances as their mum drank her coffee. It was getting into the car that she realised that the boys' on-going quarrel about anything and everything had dissolved overnight. Perhaps this might bring them closer together; an unexpected benefit, even if it was temporary.
She turned the key to start her old Volvo. As she drove to work the sun shone brightly and she decided it would serve John right if she bought an expensive new car. His repeated objections no longer mattered and that idea brought a much-needed smile to her face. Bugger John, she ruminated as she parked in her reserved carpark. Bugger that fucking lying, cheating bastard. She was grateful the boys couldn't hear her thoughts as they slid silently from the car and left her to it while she pulled herself together for a day in public. Moments later she followed them inside.
"You look…" Beverley began as Caroline entered her office until she thought better of it. She could tell something was off but knew Caroline was more likely to reveal what was going on if she wasn't pushed, "...like you could do with some tea?"
"Please. And keep it flowing," Caroline said, relieved to sidestep any personal conversation with Beverley for the time being. If she were going to keep up the Celia-like pretence that everything was fine, she knew she couldn't start her day by spilling her tale to her ever-vigilant assistant.
Dis-Moi and KatieDingo worked together on this fic. Dis-Moi is posting the fic on Fanfiction dot net and KatieDingo is posting the fic on Archive of Our Own dot org. Both would be delighted to read any comments or feedback you might have about the fic. Thank you for reading.