If you truly love me Ch. 01: David

I turned into our street, my gaze on our house, the house we'd designed, built, and decorated together. The usual warmth of homecoming didn't suffuse my gut, and, in that instant, I knew the house was no longer my home. My name might be on the deeds alongside Holly's, but now it was merely the place I stored my things.

Swallowing painfully, I slowed to a crawl and pressed the remote for the garage door, watching it slowly rise like a curtain to a stage show. Instead of looking forward to the performance, I was dreading what I'd see.

I looked at the floor to the left, to where the laundry door opened onto the garage and saw Holly's lower legs appear. As the garage door slowly rose more of her legs were revealed. My heartbeat gathered speed, like a train gathering momentum as it left the station. I recognised the short silk dressing gown she was wearing—I'd bought it for her last Christmas. Upper thighs... a glimpse of crotch... Oh, my God. she had... they had... I just knew. Blood roared in my ears.

Time warped to Matrix movie slowness. It seemed to take hours to reveal the rest of her.

And then I saw her mouth.

Rosy red. Swollen.

Was it from kissing Sophie?

And her hair.

Damp. Messy.

Even the strangled cry that escaped with razor sharpness from my throat seemed to fill the air around me in slow motion.

I glanced to the left again. My worst fears were confirmed—Holly had ignored our agreement. Sophie stood in the doorway, leaning against the door jamb, clad only in a flimsy dressing gown -- another of Holly's. I snarled, rage bursting into my veins like an injection of adrenaline. Instinct told me to go for the bitch's jugular. It told me to snap the bitch's neck.

I dragged my gaze back to Holly to stop myself leaping out of the car and following my primeval urge to protect what was mine from a poacher. I stared at Holly through the windscreen. She took a step toward my car, her smile freezing at what she saw on my face. She recoiled, stepping back. I couldn't breathe. There was no air in my lungs, and no blood in my veins. Only rage.

I put the car into reverse and backed away, knowing if I turned off the engine, if I stepped out of the car, I'd do physical harm to both women. Worse; I'd make Holly watch as I strangled her lover until the bitch was limp in my grasp before turning to Holly and doing the same. I'd squeeze every drop of breath from their deceitful bodies.

In my mind, Holy was now a stranger. A threat. Someone out to harm me. Someone who needed annihilating.

As if from a distance, I heard her call my name. Once. Twice. Three times. Each time progressively louder. It only served to make me accelerate faster down the driveway, swinging the wheel of my car without a thought as to what was behind me.

I took off down the street as if I had harpies from hell on my tail. A glance in the rear-view mirror showed me Holly, clutching the front of her dressing gown, standing in the middle of the road. My foot developed a mind of its own and pressed down on the gas pedal. My brain disengaged, letting my body work on autopilot, twisting the steering wheel, taking a turn here, a turn there. I had no idea where I was headed. I didn't care. All I knew was I had to get away before I did something I'd regret.

How long the car drove itself I'd never know. In the end, it took me to the carpark overlooking the beach. More pain. But it wouldn't have mattered where its final destination was—there was nowhere to go in the greater city area that didn't hold memories I'd made with Holly.

The waves rolled in, constant and steady, and I watched them, wanting some of their strength to roll into me.

Time passed, and my rage subsided. I touched my cheeks, surprised to find them wet. I hadn't realized I'd been crying. I felt faintly ridiculous for my overflowing emotions. So much for my resolve to show a cool, calm, and collected exterior. So much for keeping my dignity intact. Idiot me, trusting Holly to stick to our agreement. Recent months were filled with her broken promises.

Sophie would be having a field day with my reaction. She and Holly had probably had a great laugh at my expense. Embarrassment, as much as a simmering fury of what I'd just seen, kept me from returning to my home. For a moment, I considered going to Ben's. He'd have been helpful and sympathetic, but it was late, and I didn't want to have to explain myself or put him in the position of having to choose between his best friend and his sister, and so I headed toward the office, deciding to spend the night on my sofa.

Rather than switch on all the lights I used the small torch on my phone to guide me across the expanse of the office. Lord knows, with the amount of time I'd been spending at work I could probably have navigated my way blindfolded. I inhaled deeply at the base of the staircase. Now that the end was in sight and I'd finally be able to rest, exhaustion was setting in, and the last hurdle between me and a place to sleep seemed daunting. I made myself lift one foot after the other, breathing a sigh of relief when I reached the top.

At the same time as my fingers flicked on the lights, Holly's voice came to me from across the room.

"Where have you been?"

I jumped, instinctively forming my hands into fists and moving them to shield my upper body in a protective stance. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you. You haven't answered my question. Where have you been? I called you at least a dozen times. Why didn't you answer? I spoke to Ben. I even phoned Ronnie and Warren and no one has heard from you."

"I forgot my phone charger. My phone died yesterday."

Holly nodded and despite my excuse, which, admittedly, was a lie, still looked angry. "Why did you drive off?"

I didn't answer. What could I say? She wouldn't like any of the reasons and I wasn't about to give her any ammunition. I could just see her face if I voiced; I left so I wouldn't strangle you and your lover.

"David, answer me. Why did you drive off? Where did you go?"

Like a flame to gasoline, her tone reignited the anger in my veins. "Enough with the interrogation, Holly. I'm not a child, nor am I some employee for you to throw your weight around with. All you need to know is I didn't want to come home. I didn't want to see your lying deceitful face."

Hurt flared in her eyes and the sight, rightly or wrongly, sent a wave of satisfaction through me.

"No, you're not a child or an employee. You're my husband."

"Why, thank you. How nice of you to remember. Is tonight the first time you've remembered that little nugget of information since I left last week? And, I notice you aren't denying being a liar or deceitful. Did you decide your promise not to see Sophie for the week I was away was another vow you didn't need to keep?" I couldn't keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

Holly opened her mouth as if to reply, but I didn't give her a chance. "Well, who can blame you for forgetting? After all, I'm sure you've been ever so busy exploring your sexuality. You couldn't possibly be expected to remember something as boring and inconvenient as a promise, let alone a husband." The venom in my voice surprised me. Clearly, my self-control was at an all-time low thanks to weeks of sleep deprivation and stress. All my anger, my pent up hurt and frustration, all my tightly reined in fears, were in control of my tongue.

Holly ran a hand through her hair, a sure sign of her frustration. "Don't be an arsehole."

I snorted, nodding. "Of course, you lie and cheat and break your promises but I'm the arsehole. Let's see... I'm not being your cheer squad. I'm not singing your praises and offering my undying support. I'm not stroking your ego and giving you whatever you want. I'm not anticipating your needs and tying myself into a pretzel to meet them. And I'm not agreeing with every word coming out of your mouth so that automatically makes me an arsehole."

Unsurprisingly, Holly ignored the true issues and focused on my driving off.

"Did it ever occur to you that seeing you speed off scared the crap out of me? That perhaps I was worried when I couldn't find you and you weren't answering your phone? And that when you didn't phone anyone to let them know where you were that maybe, just maybe, I was concerned?"

"You know what, Holly? No, it didn't occur to me because how I'm feeling, what I want or need, or what I'm doing or where I am doesn't seem to rate highly on your list of priorities these days."

She flinched. "That's not true."

"Isn't it? Could have fooled me."

She sagged back into the armchair. "David, what's happening to us? Why did you drive off? I only stopped long enough to throw on some clothes and grab my phone before following you, but you took off like a bat out of hell and I couldn't find you. I've been worried sick."

Fury at her refusal to see her actions for what they were saw the truth spill from me like an avalanche, gaining momentum with each sentence uttered.

"What's happening to us? You dare ask? You. You and your obsession are what's happening to us. We agreed—you promised—a week with no contact with either Sophie or me. A week with no one trying to influence you. A week for you to decide what you really want. Decide what's really important to you. But could you do that? Could you keep your word? Apparently not.

"I arrive home to find that not only is Sophie there but that you look well-fucked and you're both clad in one of your dressing gowns. And then you have the gall to ask me why I was—am—upset enough to drive away from my own home? Are you stupid? Delusional? Has she addled your mind?

"So, what exactly did I interrupt, Holly? Were you so hot for her you had to squeeze one more in before I got home? Gotta tell you, the thought of you kissing me with lips that have probably been up close and personal with her filthy snatch revolts me. Truth is, right now, you disgust me."

"Oh, my god."

Once upon a time her distress was a signal to offer comfort that I wouldn't have been able to ignore. No more. Now, all I could think of was her deceiving me with Sophie.

"You didn't interrupt anything. I'd not long been home from, um, work and, um, Sophie called in. She spilled a glass of wine over her dress and so I gave her one of my dressing gowns and she, um, showered in the guest bathroom. While she was doing that I decided to also have a shower in prep for you arriving home—" she broke off at seeing my look of scepticism. "—alone. I had a shower alone, David. When I heard your car, I didn't even stop to get dressed because I was so keen to see you. I missed you, sweetheart."

"Holly, you're lying."

Holly gasped at my blunt statement. I didn't give her time to add to her lies.

"Firstly, the agreement was you stay away from the office and work from home. On top of that, it's Sunday so how could you be not long home from work? Secondly, who the hell strips off and showers, not even trying to keep their hair dry, when they spill wine on themselves while visiting someone? Your explanation sounds like a load of cock 'n' bull to me."

Holly's hand was back in her hair. "David, she did get red wine down the front of her dress. It's white and so I lent her one of my dressing gowns while I put her dress to soak so the wine wouldn't stain."

I laughed. "I still have my doubts but let's assume for a moment you're telling the truth. When was the wine spilled?"

"Um, I don't know, maybe about fifteen minutes before you got home."

Holly's vagueness increased my certainty that I was being lied to.

"Who spilled the wine, Holly? You or her?"

"Um, a bit of both. I gesticulated and then she knocked it over."

"Wow, if I were to believe you, how convenient was that? And, of course, she couldn't just wipe herself down or say her goodbyes and go home. No, she had to have a shower, knowing, no doubt, when I was due home. If this story had any basis in reality, which I don't think it has, she'd be subtle... not."

Holly winced but didn't deny my observation and I wondered if she was believing her own bullshit and secretly thrilled that a much younger woman would go to such lengths to steal her from me. Her silence was like a blow to my gut.

"And, then there's the biggie. What was she doing there in the first place? Especially when I was due home at any time. What happened to giving me your word on not having contact with either of us until I came home?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't think. I didn't realize I was breaking my word by having her at our house the same evening you were due home. I did it so we could all talk."

"You didn't think. You didn't realize," I repeated softly. "Why did Sophie have to be there at all?"

"Um, to show you she's no threat to our marriage."

"Perhaps not from your perspective, but she is from mine. And, my dear, I'll say it again—if you slept with Sophie you can kiss our marriage goodbye. I will not share, and I will not condone cheating."

Holly blanched and couldn't hold my gaze. The last vestiges of doubt dissolved, but I needed her to admit it.

"You have, haven't you?"

"What?"

"Don't play dumb, Holly. At least show me the respect of being truthful."

Holly gently placed her palm against my cheek. "It doesn't mean anything, baby. I got it out of my system. I love you more than ever. I choose you. I need to kiss you."

I twisted my face away. "No, you didn't. You didn't choose me. And this is all a case of 'too little, too late.' And, Holly; I don't want to kiss you ever again. I know where your lips have been."

"But I choose you."

"You're not listening. Too little, too late. You chose me after spending a week with that slut. Didn't she live up to your expectations?"

I turned away, certain my statement explained we were over—how many times had I said I wouldn't share? Wouldn't tolerate her cheating? Christ, I'd just told her I never wanted to kiss her again. But I was wrong. She didn't get it. She stepped around me and reached up to cup my face, leaning in.

Again, I twisted my face away. "I said no. We're finished. Over. You're Sophie's now. Please leave. I'm tired and I don't want to talk to you right now. I'll call you tomorrow to organise our divorce."

"Divorce? You can't mean to divorce me."

"Yes, I can. And I do. In the recent past you've broken just about every promise you've made to me and then there's the huge one, the most important one of all. You broke your wedding vows. What's worse, you did it so easily my head is still spinning. I can't help feeling that you don't see what you did as a serious transgression, whereas I see it as monumental; a deal breaker. I can't—I won't put myself through this again."

"At least come home. I'll sleep in the spare room. We can talk some more tomorrow."

Holly's voice faltered, and I saw from the corner of my eye she was crying.

"No thanks. I'll sleep better here. I don't want to look around and wonder which items of furniture the pair of you defiled. I don't want to deal with so much as a single whiff of that bitch's perfume, let alone anything else to do with her. And," I paused for emphasis, wanting my next words to wound, to pierce her very soul. "I don't want to be under the same roof as my lying, deceitful, whore of a wife."

Holly gasped, more tears silently trekking down her cheeks at the venom in my voice. Without another word she turned and made her way down the stairs. I heard the click-clack of her sandals as she traversed the room. Her steps sounded fast and loud. She was running. Good. Let the bitch hurt. She deserved it.

I shed my shirt and trousers rather haphazardly, keeping only my undershirt, boxers, and socks on. I turned up the heat and flopped onto the lounge, exhausted. Despite everything, sleep came quickly.

*****

I FELT LIKE a burglar letting myself into what I knew was an empty house. My house. Or what used to be my house. It was early. Pre-dawn. The silence and darkness accentuated my feeling of no longer belonging. Of being an intruder. Holly, thankfully, was staying at her mother's, so at least I wouldn't have to deal with her.

I made my way to the master bedroom, only switching on a few lights, the bare minimum for I needed to pack up my life. It didn't take long. There wasn't much I wanted to take with me.

I left the cases on the bed and moved to the window, sliding it open and inhaling the cool air. I leaned against the sill, pressing hard enough against the sill that it was borderline painful, like pressing on a bruise. It had been a week since the final showdown at my office. No surprise that Holly had been bombarding me with calls and emails. I didn't ignore her but I kept our communication to a minimum. In the months leading up to our final confrontation I'd already said all I wanted to say. Verbalised what I would or would not accept. Now all that was left was the talk of how to split our assets.

Holly felt differently.

She wanted to talk about forgiveness and forgetting, about counselling and reconciliation and not throwing away twenty-five odd years. In other words; crap. It was too late to talk about those things. The damage had been done and it was irreversable. At least, as far as I was concerned. I no longer trusted her and if we didn't have that then we had nothing.

For me love was not just feelings and pretty words. Saying something didn't make it true. Actions backing up words were what made them true and Holly's actions of the previous nine-odd months spoke volumes. Months of neglect followed by a flood of sex, all designed to lead me where she wanted me to go. She'd used my love for her against me. She'd lied and manupulated me. She'd stooped to emotional blackmail and by the end had gambled that it was better to beg forgiveness than ask permission. She lost that bet.

Add to that, I didn't like the look of a new reality that involved her bisexuality and my waiting for the next 'Sophie' to happen. I couldn't go through something like that again and I couldn't live with doubt as my constant bedfellow.

I'd camped at Ben's—he'd insisted despite my protests. I was relieved. I didn't want to spend so much as a single night in the house Holly had fucked Sophie in.

Despite everything, I couldn't bring myself to regret the marriage; it had given me my sweet Caitlyn, after all, but I couldn't deny I was bitter. Bitter, devastated, and angry. I wanted revenge. I was hot for it. I daydreamed about it. It haunted my every waking hour. My nights too. I wanted Holly and Sophie to hurt as I'd been hurt. I wanted them both to regret the day they'd decided to deceive me and play me for a fool.

I was temporarily moving to Sydney to be nearer the Carlson project. Ben and I decided I'd project manage the job and we'd hire someone to assist him, rather than the reverse which was what we'd originally planned. It was what I needed. Something to keep me busy, something challenging, and something to put some distance between myself and Holly and my memories of our life together. If I had to see her or if I bumped into her I couldn't guarantee acting civilly. I couldn't promise I wouldn't act on my revenge dreams.

I sighed, making a concerted effort to not let the anger glowing like the embers of a fire in my gut to re-ignite. It was difficult, but I didn't want to end up a lonely cynical old man. The road ahead might be long and arduous but I was determined to regain my peace of mind, if nothing else.

Before me was a view I'd once loved; that of the bridge crossing Trillby Waters. Like everything else in my life it was now tainted. The style of street lamps spanning its length had always reminded me of one of the many bridges in Paris. Many nights, Holly and I had lain in our bed, the curtains open and enjoyed the lights and the diamonds they cast on the water below. I closed my eyes, feeling the faintly briny breeze brush over my cheeks.