Loreal: A Tale of Betrayal

When they'd completed the last album, Claire encouraged Loreal to talk about her own achievements in life and wasn't stunned by the information she learned. Loreal had only schooled up to the end of high school. Worked some menial jobs, until she'd met Dave, married him within a year-and-a-half. Gotten pregnant in an accident within a year, opposed having more than one child to preserve as much of her body shape as she could, but bowed to pressure and had two more. Been a stay-at-home mum pretty much since then. She'd tried to get a couple of meaningful jobs after the discussion that they needed a better nest egg to retire early and enjoy the standard of life they were used to, but gave up after a few knock backs. Her administrative volunteering for a couple of charities was so she could compete at the country club.

With time running out, Claire shuffled Loreal out with orders to think of what they'd spoken about that day. Loreal left, relieved that the session had been far less painful than she thought it would.

On the way out, Loreal asked Claire if she thought Dave now hated her. Claire simply replied that she should research the opposite of love.

Claire used her lunch break to do some research on Dave and again wasn't surprised by what she found. Successful businessman who'd reached as high as he could in their small provincial city. His only choice to hit the bigger time was to uproot his wife's social life and move away from their kids by relocating somewhere bigger or by travelling extensively to spread his net further.

Before her next client, Claire then pondered her tactics for the next sessions with Loreal. She sighed. Would she have to blatantly point out that about five percent of the photos in the albums showed Dave, another thirty percent their children, with the remainder being of a smiling Loreal?

Would she have to disclose that her conversations with Penny had revealed the daughter was immensely proud of her dad and in no way condemned him for his treatment of his wife, her mother? How much of the condescending way Loreal had treated her husband Penny had revealed? Such information had to be carefully handled to avoid a possibly permanent breakdown in her client.

She was amazed at Loreal's self-delusion in not being able to interpret Dave's expression the night he'd left forever. Loreal had clearly always, and to this day, believed she was out of her husband's league. His doting behaviour toward his wife reinforced her belief. Claire could imagine his own journey of self-discovery. Memories of a thousand slights, being treated as second best, a mountain of small disrespects balanced against a lifetime of loving and cherishing her.

Claire wondered how close to the discovery of her cheating Dave had sat down and looked at the balance sheet and seen the inevitable conclusion. The conclusion that was the real reason for that enigmatic half smile that Loreal had described. She wasn't out of his league, but he sure as hell was out of hers. He'd finally escaped.

Claire couldn't help hoping Dave's new beau appreciated him and treated him the way he deserved.

Moments before her next client was ushered in, Claire questioned her wisdom in suggesting Loreal research the opposite of love. If she did, the knowledge would certainly explain all of Dave's behaviour since that fateful night, but could also, potentially, be quite devastating.

The opposite of love was never hate; it was indifference.

EPILOGUE

Loreal's next two nights after the session were a turmoil of nightmarish questions. Had she loved Dave? How hadn't she spotted he hadn't loved her? How could he just walk away without fighting for her?

Claire had researched the opposite of love but hadn't understood the answers she'd found. Hadn't understood or didn't have the strength to accept?

Finally, at 4:00 a.m. on the second night, she send a text to the number she'd memorised from a surreptitious look at the file in Claire's office. Dave's new cell number.

"Can we meet so I can ask you some questions?"

Dave, an early riser responded immediately.

"I don't think Sue would like that. I'm sure if I asked her if she minded, she would agree but wouldn't want me to. I don't want to put her under that pressure right now and risk what we have building."

Frustration replaced the melancholy Loreal was feeling.

"You can tell her I'm not hoping to get back together with you. I'm harmless and just need some answers."

Again, the answer came quickly.

"It's a small risk I'm sure, but not one I'm willing to take right now."

Anger building, Loreal thumped a reply on her electronic keypad.

"For the sake of our years together and the children we share, why wouldn't you take that tiny little risk?"

The answer was slower coming this time. It made her suddenly understand the research she'd done the previous day. It cut through her delusions like a katana through a watermelon. She realised what a self-centred bitch she really was and that she never had experienced and likely never would experience love for another. Surely one of life's essentials. Through the rapidly growing red haze of mental collapse, she looked at the response again.

"BECAUSE YOU'RE NOT WORTH IT."

THE END

Dave's monologue at the end of CHAPTER ONE was partially inspired by real events. In high school, I was captain of the debating team. We had little instruction and only one debate against another school. I developed our tactics from scratch.

I spoke first, and as I'd anticipated all their planned arguments, I answered them before they raised them. One after another, the opposing team stood and raised things I'd already addressed and that made them look silly. They knew that and I have to say I've felt bad ever since. We won by landslide, of course.

After the debate, I was congratulated by the head of the English department, our coach, who then pointed out one of life's lessons to me. Yes, winning is important, but how you win is even more important. Actually, what he really said was, "...... that wasn't really cricket."

My debating skills are now redundant. Nowadays, you don't need any skill at all. If you're losing an argument, you just have to accuse your opponent of racism if they're white, or sexism if they're male, and then magically, you've won.

I apologise to any counsellors out there that may have taken offence at my portrayal of Claire above. I meant no harm and I admire their courage in choosing the profession. While I've never been a client, my work has put me in contact with many shrinks and counsellors. In my experience, some take it on board personally and become a little deranged. Others build a hard shell to protect themselves, as Claire did.

A counsellor once said to me, "That sounds interesting, tell me about it." Well, that's the kind of thing counsellors say, isn't it? Problem was that we were at a party. I found it pretty disturbing.

++++++

Now lighten the fuck up.

WARNING!!!!

The following joke may offend at least one of the 7.7 billion inhabitants of Earth. Particularly vulnerable are the pinko lefty set, bleeding heart liberals, those that think they can win any argument by shouting 'racist' and those with the sense of humour of a boiled potato. If you take offence, remember, it is perfectly acceptable to abuse me publicly, then refuse to apologise when every other commenter says they haven't a clue why you're offended.

The boss walked into the office one morning not knowing his fly area was wide open.

His assistant walked up to him and said, 'This morning when you left your house, did you close your garage door?'

The boss told her he knew he'd closed the garage door and walked into his office puzzled by the question.

As he finished his paperwork, he suddenly noticed his fly was open, and zipped it up.

He then understood his assistant's question about his 'garage door.'

He headed out for a cup of coffee and paused by her desk to ask, 'When my garage door was open, did you see my Jaguar parked in there?'

She smiled and said, 'No, I didn't. All I saw was an old minivan with two flat tyres...