Chapter Two
Carla sat with her feet resting on her desk, flicking through an old Vogue magazine she had found during her brief quest for freedom. She couldn't concentrate on the words in front of her though, reading the same sentence over and over again, ultra-aware of Peter's presence on the other side of the desk. They'd become close recently, closer than she'd care to admit, closer than she would've ever thought they would be again. He had leaned on her when he split with Toyah after the baby debacle and she had been quietly impressed at how well he'd coped. The Peter she married would've gone off at the deep end, wallowing in his misery, the 'woe is me' act ready and raring to go as he drank himself into oblivion at Toyah's betrayal. But this Peter, she couldn't help but be pleasantly surprised at, and she hated herself for that, for setting the bar so low for him. Not letting on to her discomfort though she continued to flip pointlessly through the magazine.
Peter sat facing his ex-wife on the other side of the desk. Without a magazine to keep him occupied he instead faffed with everything in front of him, incessantly clicking the stapler, wrapping sellotape around his wrist and then peeling it off. When the roll of tape finally ran out he picked up the elastic band ball from the desk and bounced it, over and over and over again.
"Do you mind?" Carla finally snapped.
"What?" he looked over innocently.
"Stop fidgeting."
He placed the ball on the desk, and they resumed their silence. He watched as she pretended to read her magazine, he had never known her flick so quickly through a Vogue, pretence was the only reasonable explanation.
"We don't have to sit here not saying anything at all you know, we're not strangers," he finally piped up.
"More's the pity," she mumbled to herself.
"What?"
"Did you concoct this hair brained scheme with Si?" she raised an expectant eyebrow at him.
"Would you believe me if I said I didn't?"
"Nope."
"I'll not waste my breath then."
Carla returned to her magazine.
"So, back to silence then?" he questioned.
"Believe me, if I could walk out of that door right now I would."
"But you can't, so how's about we have an actual conversation?"
"Fine," she slammed her magazine shut. "What do you want to talk about?"
"Si clearly wants us to talk about us."
"No no no, we're not going there. I've locked all that stuff in a box up here," she tapped her temple. "It was so long ago now I've lost the key."
"We would say that was unhealthy in the group."
"In the group?" she laughed cruelly.
"What?"
"I'm sorry, I just forgot I've got sober, zen Pete in the house tonight."
"Look I'll start this off then, I wanted to say that what I did to you, what I did to us-"
"You seriously do not need-"
"Just let me finish?"
She sighed loudly and gestured her hand irritably for him to continue.
"I want you to know that I take 100% of the responsibility for everything that happened."
A wry smile spread across her face as she leant back in her chair and folded her arms. "Who else would be responsible Peter?"
"No one obviously, I just-"
"Funny thing to say though, since it hasn't crossed my mind for one moment that the breakdown of our marriage was anything but your fault."
"You know you're the woman of every man's dreams, you're smart, funny, sexy."
"What has that got to do with anything?"
"I am getting to a point."
"Get there quicker."
"With everything that happened, when it all came out I was so busy trying to win you back that I never told you, unequivocally, how sorry I am for what I did to us, and to our baby."
Carla stared at her ex-husband, attempting to remain indifferent as she felt the rug pulled from under her at the mention of their baby girl. Her mind was whirring as she tried to decide the best response, a response that wouldn't reveal to him her inner turmoil. She eventually shrugged in an attempt to appear nonchalant.
"Are you expecting me to choke up?" she replied coldly.
"No, course not-"
"Then what are you expecting exactly?"
"Honestly? To the mention of our baby? Cold indifference just like that," he smiled hopefully.
"I'm glad I'm so predictable."
"Only to me. You know we never talked about her, not once."
"Look I told you before, we really do not need to drag this stuff up. It's ancient history, we've both moved on."
"Maybe." He shrugged. "Maybe you're a pretty tough act to follow."