The Confession

Becky gulped down the rest of her gin and tonic. Her face was bright red and she had the horrible feeling that everyone in the bar could tell she was turned on. It was too much. Becky got off the barstool, waved goodnight to her hostess and headed back up to her room. There was still half an hour to go before ten-fifteen and Becky wanted to be composed when she knocked on that door.

***

Bryan stood in the living room. He felt calm. There was the sound of crying, but it was not coming from him. It was coming from upstairs. It was Tara.

She was crying for her mother.

Bryan looked around in a kind of daze. The whole room was smashed up, destroyed. The shelving units were now lying on the floor, books and CDs everywhere, jagged holes in the wall where the bolts had been ripped out. Anything made of porcelain or glass was now in pieces and all the curtains had been pulled down, rails and all, and were lying in great heaps. Bryan looked in amazement at the flatscreen which he had somehow bent double as he tore it screaming from its wall bracket. 'How the hell did I manage that?' he thought.

Bryan let out a couple of slow breaths. He was familiar with the phrase 'to fly into a rage', but he had always thought it was a figure of speech. Now he knew better. From the moment he hurled his smartphone at Becky's yacht picture and began his whirlwind of destruction, he realised that Rage really was a force in its own right, as all-consuming as Love or Fear. And it was okay, somehow. Bryan looked at the devastation around him and it felt... appropriate.

Tara's wailing went up a notch. She would be hyperventilating if she wasn't careful. Bryan moved towards the door, his feet crunching on broken glass and plastic. He switched off the lights and carefully closed the door, then swiftly ran upstairs and into the child's bedroom.

Tara was sitting up in bed, her face a wet mask of misery and fear. She reached out her hands the moment Bryan entered the room and he gathered her up and held her. She was terrified of the monster who had been screaming and crashing downstairs and Bryan comforted the child without telling her that the monster was him.

'I want my mummy! I want my mummy!' she wailed.

'I know, Tara. I know.'

Bryan sat on the little girl's bed and held her as she cried. She called for her mother over and over, and her father said 'I know', neither promising nor denying, but simply holding her and letting her cry for as long as she needed to.

As Tara began to calm down and the wailing became whimpering, Bryan had the thought, 'So this is what it's like when your family breaks up.' It surprised him. Movies always showed couples having dramatic fights before breaking up, but as he held his little girl, Bryan realised that this was wrong on some fundamental level. It wasn't Becky's anger or rage or vindictive words that signalled the end of their marriage... it was her absence. It was the fact she wasn't here. That was the killer blow.

'When's Mummy coming home?' whimpered Tara.

'Tomorrow,' said Bryan.

'What time?'

'I don't know,' he sighed. 'I honestly don't know.'

***

In room number three, Becky sat with her bare feet on the bed, waiting for time to pass. It felt agonisingly slow. There was no clock in the room, so she switched on her phone, dreading the possibility of a text message or missed call from her husband. There was none. The time said she had less than fifteen minutes to wait and there was no other notification.

'I knew Bryan had too much pride to call back,' she thought. 'He'll be fine.'

'Who are you kidding?' said the inner voice. 'This is killing him.'

Becky's chest seemed to contract from the inside. It occurred to her that she hadn't heard from her inner voice since sitting on the bench at the church.

'Of course not,' said the inner voice. 'My job is to tell you the truth and that's the last thing you want to hear right now.'

'He started it!' said Becky to herself. 'This is entirely his fault!'

'I'm not here to apportion blame,' said the inner voice. 'I'm simply here to remind you of what you already know: That the choice you make tonight will determine the kind of woman you will be in the coming years.'

'Why does it have to be a choice? Why can't I be Bryan's wife and have an adventure? He did!'

'Are you trying to pretend that a choice is not really a choice?' said the inner voice. 'I thought you despised people who did that? "He made me do it!" "It wasn't my fault!" Or the best one of all: "I have a right to do this!" '

Becky was biting her lip, tears streaming down her face. The inner voice went on, remorseless.

'Have your sexy adventure if you must,' it said. 'But don't delude yourself that it has anything to do with Bryan.'

'How can you say that? It has everything to do with him!'

'Only in the sense that you are trying to make Bryan responsible for your actions.'

'But he is responsible!'

'How?'

'If he hadn't cheated, I wouldn't be doing this!'

That lie was so blatant that even her inner voice seemed lost for words. Becky felt a wave of self-disgust wash through her. She felt sick, almost nauseous. The memory of dancing with Marcus DeVere--and how it aroused her--rose up in her mind. Was that Bryan's fault too? 'Yes!' said a scratchy voice in Becky's head. 'If Bryan was a true Alpha Male, you wouldn't have been interested in Marcus!' Becky clutched her head, appalled at how part of her mind seemed devoted to twisting things around so that she was never guilty of anything.

'God, I'm such a mess!' she said out loud.

'You're a human being,' said the inner voice. 'Believe it or not, what you're going through is normal.'

'Is it?'

'Of course it is.'

Becky leaned on her elbows and stared at the floral curtains. The phone on the bed showed the time: ten-fifteen.

'What should I do?' said Becky to herself.

'Decide on the kind of woman you want to be,' said the inner voice. 'And then make your choices based on that decision.'

'Where do I even begin?'

'Last night, you drank a toast to finding out "the true meaning of strength". Were you serious about that or were you just trying to impress Cathy?'

'No, I was serious about that.'

'Then start there. Decide that you want to be a strong woman, in the best sense of that word. A woman of Love; a woman of integrity. The kind of woman you want your daughter to grow up into.'

'Okay,' said Becky. 'Okay.'

'Now ask yourself this,' said the inner voice. 'If you already were that woman, if she were sitting in this room right now... what would she do?'

Becky didn't even need to think about it. The answer sprang instantly into her mind. And the answer did not please her.

'Fuck!' she said.

***

It was night-time on an endless ocean that looked black in the darkness. Bryan stood on the deck of a single-mast boat, staring out at the horizon and hearing the water lapping against the sides. He held onto a metal guy rope as the boat bobbed gently from side to side and all was quiet. As quiet as the grave.

'Wake up, Bryan,' he said to himself. 'Come on, wake up.'

A wind began to pick up. Bryan felt it against the skin of his forehead as it ruffled his hair. Then, looking out, he saw the source of that wind. A giant wave that stretched right across the ocean, from horizon to horizon, was heading towards him. It came slowly, inexorably, as huge as a mountain range, utterly inescapable. Bryan tried to close his eyes, but found that he couldn't. He just stood and stared as that giant wall of water came closer and closer, until it blocked out the sky and he could see the surface of the water rise up almost vertical before him.

Bryan cried out and shook. His eyes were closed, but he could see yellow light from beneath his eyelids. He felt someone's fingers pressing on his arm and head.

'Bryan! It's me,' said a woman's voice.

Bryan opened his eyes.

For a moment, he thought he was still dreaming. Becky's face--her beautiful, beautiful face--was inches above his, looking down at him with a look in her eyes... my god, how to describe that look? It was the kind of look every man wants to see in the eyes of the woman he loves. Recognition, amusement, and a deep, deep gladness, as though the woman is overjoyed to see him. His brain tried to catch up with what it was seeing, but it was sleepy and sluggish. The woman smiled, pursed her lips and blew lightly on his forehead. The stream of air made the hair on his fringe dance and wave.

'Becky...' said Bryan finally.

'Yes, it's me.'

'But...'

'But nothing, Bryan. Nothing happened. I'm still your wife. In the full sense of that word.'

Bryan's eyes filled with tears as his slow-moving brain comprehended her meaning. He felt overwhelmed, almost suffocated by emotion. Unable to speak, he took Becky in his arms and pulled her to him. The woman lay half on top of the man, stroking his arm with her thumb as he held her tight. Minutes passed as Bryan held his wife, feeling as though he would die of happiness.

'I love you so much, Becky,' he said. 'I love you so much.'

'I know you do,' said Becky. 'I never for one second doubted it. Even when I'm at my absolute worst, you still somehow manage to love me. I don't know how you do it sometimes.'

'Loving you is easy,' said Bryan. 'Trusting you is where the iron bites.'

'Yes!'

Becky pushed herself up and looked down at her man. She was smiling and her eyebrows were twisted to express ironic agreement. Bryan returned her gaze without a trace of irony in his expression. He was still too damn happy she was back. Becky saw that and her eyebrows relaxed. She lowered her eyes and nodded.

'I don't blame you for not trusting me,' she said. 'I don't trust myself half the time. I feel like a Jekyll and Hyde.'

'What do you mean?'

'When I was driving home tonight,' said Becky, 'I was having this massive argument with myself. Part of me knew I was doing the right thing, but another part was so against it, so angry, so absolutely furious. I have this thing that if a man does something, a woman should be able to do it too. And by choosing to be faithful when you didn't, I was somehow letting myself down. Do you know what I mean?'

'I think so,' said Bryan. 'You denied yourself something when I didn't and the Mr Hyde part of you finds it unfair?'

'Well, it is unfair. There's no two ways about it! And it's very difficult to argue against someone when you can actually see their point.'

'Yes, that's true.'

Becky sighed and leaned on Bryan's chest. She looked at the bedside lamp and her gaze became distant.

'Anyway, after a two-hour drive, I finally got home,' she said. 'I'd been trying to call you from the car, but you weren't picking up and I was worried that you might have taken off with Tara, to your parents or something. But your car was still in the driveway, so I thought, 'Okay, he's still home.' I was still mad at you at this point and was hoping you'd be glad to see me so I could make you regret it. I had some really cool insults lined up.

'But after locking the car, I noticed that the front room had no curtains. At first, I thought you'd forgotten to close them, but no... the windows were like black, gaping holes. So I went into the house with my case, hung up my coat and then opened the living room door and switched on the lights.'

Becky went quiet. As she gazed at the bedside lamp, her eyes filled with tears. They overflowed and dropped, falling on Bryan's chest, and she roughly wiped her face with her forearm. She looked down at Bryan, lowered herself so she was close enough to kiss him and stroked his forehead with her fingertips. When she spoke, it was in a whisper.

'Bryan...' she said. 'I had no idea how much sleeping with another man would hurt you. I had no idea. Okay, I knew it would piss you off and make you angry, but... not like that. Not to that degree. And I am so sorry...'

'Becky--'

'No, let me finish. I can't honestly say I've forgiven you and I don't know what to do about that. But this fucking game of tit-for-tat I've been playing... well, it sickens me. I can't believe I've been doing it. And wanting to have my own "adventure" suddenly feels like a massive missing of the point. I don't even know what the point is, but I know that I've missed it! Does that make sense?'

'Yes,' said Bryan. 'Yes, it does.'

'Oh god, Bryan! Why do we do this to each other? Why do we always end up torturing each other when we love each other so much?!'

'I don't know,' said Bryan, his voice cracking. 'I don't know...'

And both man and woman burst into tears. They clung to each other as they wept, setting one another off, tightening their arms around each other's bodies, as though demons were about to break in and tear them apart.

*****

3

IN THE MORNING, Tara was almost beside herself with excitement when she came into the bedroom and saw her mother. Becky tried to sit up as her daughter bounced up and down on her, babbling away about what she'd done with Daddy and the Powerpuff Girls and the hundred other things that kids babble about. It took a good ten minutes to calm her down.

Bryan checked that the living room door was firmly shut before Tara was allowed downstairs. The three of them had breakfast together in the kitchen-dining room, mother and daughter chatting away and the man a quiet presence in the background. When they finished eating, Tara wanted to show her mother something on the tablet. Becky looked across the table at her husband.

'Isn't that still in the living room?' she said.

'Yes,' said Bryan. 'I'll go fetch it.'

'Is it... intact?'

'Yes, I think so.'

Bryan got up and left the room. A few moments later, he was back and Tara climbed onto her mother's lap as he handed her the tablet. Becky saw that there was not a scratch on it. Tara busied herself switching it on and tapping it, telling her mother that she had something really cool to show her, but Becky was looking at Bryan. 'He smashed literally everything in that room,' she thought. 'Why not the tablet?'

'Because it was Tara's,' said the inner voice.

Becky felt a lump in her throat. She watched her husband pour himself another glass of orange juice and realised with surprise that his capacity for violence didn't scare her. In fact, she felt reassured by it. This was a man who would fight for his family, to his last breath if he had to. Becky wondered what John would do for Cathy.

'Mummy! You're not looking!'

'Sorry, darling.'

Tara was holding up the tablet. Becky shook herself out of her thoughts and turned her attention to what her daughter wanted to show her. But she felt impatient to be alone with her man and afterwards, she suggested they all get dressed and go to the park. There was a playground there which would keep Tara occupied while she and Bryan could sit together on a bench and talk.

It was cloudy outside, but not too cold and the three of them walked the route to the park. Once inside, they walked down a path which ran through an avenue of trees, together with other families and joggers. Tara was between her parents holding both their hands and she wanted them to lift her up and swing her, so Bryan took them off the path and onto the grass. The two grown-ups then walked along, swinging their screaming, laughing little girl in the air. Becky noticed another couple doing the same thing with a little boy, but she and Bryan were way more in synch, sending Tara up almost horizontally, her feet kicking in the air on the upswing. They really were a good team and Becky felt appalled at how close she had come to losing this.

As the playground came into view, Tara screeched and ran off. Becky and Bryan followed hand-in-hand, going through the little gate and taking a seat on one of the benches. Tara was already on the miniature castle, heading across a gangway towards the slide at the end. 'Mummy, look!' she cried and Becky waved and then took Bryan's arm and leaned against him.

'I love you, Bryan,' she said.

'I'm glad to hear it,' he said, giving her thigh a squeeze with one of his big hands. 'And I'm very glad you came home last night.'

'Me too. That was a good decision.'

They sat for a while, enjoying the feel of each other and watching their daughter. Then Becky said:

'Can I ask you a question, Bryan?'

'Of course.'

'If a man with a machete came running out of the trees, would you risk your life to defend me?'

'Of course I would! My god, what a question!'

'Are you sure?'

'Becky, what kind of man would I be if I didn't?'

'Okay,' said Becky. 'But what if I'd had sex with another man? Would you still risk your life for me?'

Becky felt the muscles of her husband's arm go rigid. He went very quiet. When he finally did speak, there was a hard edge to his voice.

'I probably would,' said Bryan. 'But I would resent it. I'd be thinking: This shouldn't be my job anymore. It should be the other guy risking his life.'

'That's what I thought,' said Becky.

'Are you trying to tell me something?'

'No, I'm just trying to get my head around the situation,' said Becky. 'It's pretty clear to me that the best thing for our marriage is for me to be faithful to you. But making that work means me letting go the fact that you weren't faithful to me, and that still rankles, Bryan. It still pisses me off. And if I don't figure out a way to let this go, it's going to poison our relationship.'

Becky was still leaning against her husband's arm, idly watching Tara ride a hobby horse on a giant metal spring. She felt Bryan moving. He put his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

'I'm sorry I put you in that position,' he said.

'Thanks. I appreciate you saying that.'

'Is there anything I can do?'

'Oh, yes,' said Becky. 'There most certainly is.'

***

Becky lifted her knees as her husband fucked her hard and deep. She had her arms around his body, her legs raised and bent as he penetrated her. 'For god's sake, do it!' she cried and Bryan responded, harder and harder, faster and faster. And then he came, his cock pushing deep inside her as he jerked and grunted. Becky felt the delicious warmth of his semen filling her cunt and she groaned in pleasure. Their limbs held each other fast as his cock did its work and Becky pressed her face into his neck as he ejaculated, wanting to bite him and resisting the urge.

Their coupling lasted for several glorious moments. Then Becky felt the man's body relax and begin to come back down to earth. His cock was still rock hard inside her--Bryan's capacity to retain an erection was one of the things Becky most liked about him--but he was shifting into recovery mode. Becky felt him move to get comfortable, as always taking care to support his own weight. She moved her hips and flexed her legs against his buttocks to let him know that she wanted the full length of his cock to stay right where it was.

Bryan let out a deep sigh, feeling like he'd died and gone to heaven. He loved Becky's cunt. When he was inside her, there was nowhere else in the world he wanted to be. He had never had this with any other woman. Hell, he didn't always have this with Becky. But when she wanted sex and gave herself, fully gave herself--as she was doing right now--there was no-one else to touch her. Bryan had the suspicion that Becky didn't fully realise how amazingly sexual she was when she let herself go. If she did, she would probably better understand why he had no desire to share her with another man.