The World Made Yonder Pt. 04

But in marrying Joey, Celia was trying something new. A memory surfaced—a three-hour sex marathon shortly after they got engaged. Celia was lying with her head on Joey's chest, both of them drenched in sweat.

'God, Joey...' she had said. 'I can't believe how happy you make me.'

Joey's ego had dined out on that statement for years. Even remembering it now, he felt the twinge of pride. And Joey had given the credit to his sexual prowess, his skill as a lover, his quality as a man. But what if he was wrong?

What if she had meant it literally?

What if it was genuinely surprising to Celia that being with a man she wasn't actually in love with was making her happier than the reverse situation? That the clarity and strength of Joey's love for her was touching her more deeply than her past experiences with the men she had chosen? There is always a chooser and the chosen in a relationship—and perhaps, deep down, Celia was happier being the chosen rather than the chooser. Providing she didn't lose respect for the man, of course.

And providing the man respected her in the first place.

***************************

It was dark by the time Celia arrived home. The streetlamps were on and Celia parked the Nissan a couple of doors down from the house. She switched off the headlights, turned off the engine and twisted around in her seat to look at her son. Stephen was fast asleep, lolling in the grip of the seatbelt, his head thrown back and his mouth wide open. Celia smiled. No matter how rough things were, she always felt touched at how beautiful her boy was, even in the most unflattering of positions.

Celia took off her own seatbelt and got out of the car. When it came to getting Stephen out, she found herself struggling. He was growing fast. Soon, she wouldn't be able to lift him at all. Closing the rear door with her foot, Celia lugged what felt like a giant doll to the front of her house. There was light behind the living room curtains and the glass panes in the front door. As Celia approached that door, it opened.

There was her husband, in jeans and jumper, switching on the outside light and looking at the two of them.

'Do you want a hand with anything?' said Joey in a hushed voice.

'Actually, could you take Stephen upstairs?' said Celia. 'I still have a bag in the car.'

'Sure.'

There was a careful transfer of the sleeping boy. Stephen mumbled something and made a little moan as he was pulled away from the warm body of his mother. Then Joey was holding him and the boy relaxed into the man's embrace, his arms hanging by his sides. Joey turned and went into the house.

Celia walked back to the car, her throat tight, her eyes stinging with tears. That moment of transferring the child was so normal, so ordinary—and yet so full of tenderness. No one watching that moment would guess that the man and the woman were in a war of emotions, tearing and ripping, trying to crush each other's hearts. She retrieved the overnight bag, locked the car and went back to the house. She dumped the bag in the hallway, hung her jacket on its designated hook, then paused to listen at the base of the stairs. She heard the faint murmur of Joey's voice, nothing more. Celia went to the kitchen-dining room to get a drink.

In the end, it had been a good day. Stephen was thrilled to see his grandfather and the two had played swingball while Celia helped her mother prepare an early evening meal. The dinner conversation was kept light and neutral and, because she still had to drive, Celia drank lemonade while her parents drank wine. But now, she was in the mood for alcohol, so Celia took the nearly empty whiskey bottle, collected the single cutglass tumbler and poured herself a decent measure. She downed it in one and emptied the bottle for a second glass.

This one she did not drink immediately. Instead, she put the glass on the table and took the empty bottle to the plastic box near the wastebin, where it joined other bottles to be recycled. Joey came in and quietly closed the door behind him. He saw the whiskey glass on the table.

'Do you want it?' said Celia. 'I already had one.'

'No, you have it,' said Joey. 'You look like you need it.'

'Fuck, is it that obvious?'

'You do look like you've been put through the mill.'

Celia gave a short laugh. She went to the table and then—to Joey's surprise—sat on it and put her feet on the nearest chair. He used to like doing that at his old bachelor flat, but had given it up after marrying Celia because she found it irritating. One of the reasons he liked having his own business was because he could sit on the damn tables.

'I've been doing a lot of thinking,' said Celia, picking up the whiskey glass.

'Oh, yes?' said Joey, sitting on the table and turning to face her.

'Yes. And I think that we need to divorce.'

Celia took a sip of whiskey. She looked at Joey and offered him the glass. He hesitated, then took it.

'Can I ask why?' he said.

'I thought that's what you wanted?'

'It is, but I'm curious to know what changed your mind.'

'Well, you can thank my dad for that.'

'What did he say?'

'What didn't he say, more like!'

There was a note of bitterness in her voice. Joey took a quick sip of whiskey, then handed her back the glass. Celia smiled sourly and took a larger mouthful.

'It boils down to this,' she said. 'I had sex with another man and bore his child. That is a dealbreaker. And if you let me get away with it, deep down I will never respect you—and a marriage can't survive without respect.'

Joey nodded. He waited to hear if she had anything to add, then turned away and leaned on his upper legs, his expression pensive. Celia held the glass halfway to her mouth and looked at him.

'Don't you believe me?' she said.

'It's not that,' said Joey. 'It's just that I can so clearly hear your father's voice in what you've just said.'

'What, you don't think it's my opinion?'

'No, it's not that either.' Joey frowned. 'Celia, I've known you for a long time. And one of the things I know about you is that you have very little sympathy for people you see as fools. In fact, I can remember overhearing you tell one of your female friends that it's not a wife's job to compensate for her husband's stupidity.'

'I wasn't talking about you!'

'But the principle still applies.'

'Joey! I have never thought of you as stupid!'

'But I was when it came to Stephen!'

Joey jumped off the table and began to pace.

'I was a complete and utter idiot!' he said. 'You stay the night at a birthday party and nine months later give birth to a baby—and I don't connect the dots? How stupid was that? And I stayed stupid for six long years!'

'Yes, but ... that was only because you trusted me.'

'And whose fault is it when a man trusts the wrong person? Shouldn't a grown man be able to tell the difference between a person who lies and a person who tells the truth?'

Joey leaned on the table with both arms and glared at her. Celia slid off the table and backed away.

'Joey, why are you being like this?'

'Because I don't like it when you bullshit me!'

'I'm not bullshitting you!'

'Yes, you are! One minute you say you'll never divorce me and the next minute you say you will, and I'm thinking: Who the fuck are you, Celia? Just who the fuck are you?'

'Joey, I'm trying to do the right thing.'

'No, you're not! You're trying to impress Daddy! He finally sees that his precious little girl is not the paragon of virtue he thought she was and you're trying to claw your way back into his good books. You don't give a shit about "the right thing"!'

'That's not true!'

'Isn't it?'

Joey was still leaning on the table, still looking directly into her eyes, but this time it was not a glare. It was a straight-forward look, an honest, I-just-want-the-truth look. And Celia found herself responding.

'Look...' she said. 'You have a point. My father has utter contempt for women who ... who cuckold their husbands. And, yes, I don't want him to see me in the same light. Of course I don't. But that isn't the whole reason.'

Joey straightened up and folded his arms.

'Go on,' he said.

'As I was driving home,' she said, 'I caught sight of Stephen in the rear-view mirror. And it suddenly hit me that if he grows up and marries a woman who does to him what I did to you, I'd want to kill her. And I certainly wouldn't want him to stay married to her.

'But it occurred to me that if you and I were to stay together, that is exactly the message we'd be sending—that it's okay for a woman to cuckold her husband. That this is normal and a man should just get over it. And the irony is that if you did get over it and we had a happy marriage, that would actually reinforce the message. But if you didn't get over it and we made each other miserable ... well, what's the point of that?'

Joey uncrossed his arms and put his hands on his hips. He nodded in agreement.

'And there's another thing,' said Celia. 'Right now, Stephen is too young to understand sex and relationships and words like "cuckold", but he will understand them one day. And when that day comes, I have this horrible feeling that he will look at our story with a grown man's perspective and despise me for what I did. That he will look at me the way my father looked at me this morning—with that mixture of disappointment and contempt—and he'll say, "I love you, Mum ... but I can't respect you." '

Tears dropped from Celia's eyes. She stood straight, arms wrapped tightly around herself as she stared over Joey's shoulder. Joey resisted the temptation to go to her, his full attention on her face. Her eyes moved to meet his gaze.

'I don't want that to be my future,' she said.

Joey nodded, his expression soft.

'I understand,' he said. 'I really do understand. And thank you for your honesty.'

***************************

It was Monday morning and the weather had turned cloudy.

Stephen was having breakfast, eating cereal and quietly watching his parents. Both Mummy and Daddy were dressed for work and they were eating and doing stuff while speaking to each other in soft voices. He noticed that they didn't once touch each other, but when Daddy was busy looking for something in his computer bag, Mummy stopped what she was doing and just stood there watching him. After a moment, she realised that Stephen was watching her. She gave him a quick smile and went back to what she was doing. Stephen chewed his cereal and swallowed.

'Can Daddy take me to school?' he said.

The two grown-ups looked at each other. They began to make various faces, which made Stephen think of a superhero movie in which characters could talk with their thoughts. Finally, Daddy turned to face him.

'Of course, Stephen,' he said. 'I'd love to take you to school.'

Breakfast was rounded off and Stephen took his Spider-Man backpack to his mother for his lunchbox and drinks. Daddy fetched Stephen's coat from the hallway and was ready to go. Mummy gave Stephen a big hug and a kiss, then he was off with his daddy, leaving the house and walking to the car. Daddy had a blue BMW—one of the old ones, with stiff boxy seats. Stephen sat in the back and Daddy strapped him in, then Daddy got into the driver's seat and drove off.

The drive to Stephen's school took about fifteen minutes and neither of them spoke. Yet Stephen found it a comforting silence. He had woken up that morning and watched the first part of Hercules again, up to the bit where Hercules is told by his adoptive father that his parents were not his 'real' parents. Stephen still didn't quite get how the story applied to him. He looked at the back of Daddy's head as he drove the car and thought, 'Why does Daddy take me to school if he's not my daddy?' It didn't make sense.

The car stopped at the school gates. Because there was so little space to turn, Daddy had to get out to tap in the code on the security panel. As the metal gates swung open, Daddy got back into the car and drove in to the small, almost always full car park. But, in the mornings, it was not necessary to park—parents could drop off their kids and the children walked to the classrooms on their own.

Daddy stopped the car as far to the side as he could and got out. Stephen undid his own seatbelt and grabbed his backpack as Daddy opened the rear door. He climbed out, Daddy swung the door shut and then bent down for a hug. Stephen felt himself being held for a long time. Then the grown-up broke the hug and set the boy on his feet.

'Have a good day at school,' he said.

Stephen stayed where he was. He looked the grown-up in the face, his expression serious.

'You're my daddy,' said Stephen.

It was like a declaration. Daddy looked sad and seemed at a loss for words. Finally, he said:

'Go on now, Stephen. Have a good day.'

Impulsively, Stephen gave the grown-up another hug.

'You're my daddy,' he repeated.

The man accepted the hug, but this time when he ended it, he stood up to his full height. There would be no third hug.

'It's time to go to school,' said the man.

'I love you, Daddy.'

'I ... I love you too, Stephen. Now, go.'

Stephen gave a little smile and lifted his hand. Then he turned and carefully made his way between two parked cars to the edge of the car park.

Joey stood by his car and watched as Stephen circumnavigated the car park, heading for the pathway beside the school building that would lead to the main playground. Other parents were dropping off their children, but Joey only had eyes for that one six-year-old boy who carried his Spider-Man backpack with the same seriousness as a businessman with a briefcase. When he reached the pathway, he turned and waved. Joey waved back. The boy turned and went off, disappearing behind the school building.

Joey stood for a moment longer, looking at the empty space where Stephen had stood and waved just a moment earlier. Then Joey got back into his car, covered his eyes with a hand as though shielding them from the light, and cried and cried and cried.

***************************

The Regency building where Joey and Jeremy rented office space for J&J Animation looked both grand and welcoming. As Joey went through the impressive double doors, past reception and up the restored oak staircase, he felt like he was coming home. Compared to the volcanic landscape of his personal life, the business world was a countryside of rolling hills and green fields. Sure, things could be tough, but there were rules in business which almost everyone played by and losing clients and money were like flea bites compared to losing a son.

Joey nodded hi to the troops as he went in, heading straight for the office he shared with Jeremy. He entered, closed the door and said:

'Hi there! Sorry, I'm late.'

Jeremy was at his workspace and he stood up. Joey froze. Jeremy was a bona fide geek who was virtually glued to his swivel chair with wheels. He never stood up, even when he was upset.

'What's wrong?' said Joey.

'Lorna's quit.'

'What! When?'

'As of yesterday evening. I guess you didn't check your emails.'

Joey immediately switched on his work computer.

'Did she say why?'

'Don't fuck with me, Joey!'

Joey swallowed and looked at the floor. Jeremy went across to the door and hung the Do Not Disturb notice on the outside before closing it. He turned to look at Joey with angry grey eyes.

'The email said she was resigning "for personal reasons",' said Jeremy. 'So I called her up, honestly thinking that maybe she'd had a death in the family. "No, nothing like that," she said. So when I asked her what it was, she said, "Look, just talk to your partner." That's when I knew.'

'Jez, I'm sorry.'

'Don't "Jez" me! The name's Jeremy! And I'm considering "Mr Mantle", I'm so fucking angry with you!'

Joey said nothing. Jeremy turned and walked to the centre of the room, trying to cool off.

'Look, I get that you have massive problems at home,' he said. 'I mean, the whole Bjorn thing is every man's worst nightmare. But fuck's sake, Joey, this is our business! This is our livelihood! And not just ours—for everyone outside that door!'

'I know.'

'You know and you fucked her anyway.'

Joey didn't know what to say. There was nothing to say. Jeremy was right.

'Look,' said Joey, 'I'll give her a call.'

'No, you don't! She made it crystal clear that she doesn't want to see you, talk to you or even get emails from you. The only person she'll negotiate with is me.'

'Negotiate?'

'Her words.'

'What does she want?'

'I don't know. But she wants something, that's for fucking sure. And whatever it is, we're going to have to pay up.'

'Well, that depends.'

'Joey, are you fucking mad?'

Jeremy walked up to him, his eyes almost wild with panic and anger.

'All it takes,' he said, 'is for her to send one Tweet about having a boss who "abused his position of power" and we're fucked!'

'Jeremy, I did not force myself onto her.'

'I know that! It doesn't make any difference! You're the man, she's the victim, and that's all there is to it! And Lorna knows it.'

Joey stood, hands on hips, staring at the window blinds. He was inclined to agree. At the same time, he was shocked. He thought he had ended things amicably with Lorna. Besides, it seemed out of character for her to do this.

'What exactly did she say in her email?' asked Joey.

'Read it for yourself,' said Jeremy. 'She sent it to both of us.'

Joey sat in the chair at his desk and logged into his email account. The window with his inbox appeared onscreen. Joey looked at it and felt his heart stop. There was Lorna's email all right, sent the previous day at 7.48 p.m. But there was another email above it sent that very morning, arriving half an hour ago. It had an attachment.

'Oh, my God,' said Joey.

'What is it?'

'I got an email from the DNA lab. It's the results of Stephen's paternity test.'

'Fuck,' muttered Jeremy to himself. 'And it's only Monday!'

He looked at his friend, sitting in his chair and staring at the screen like a stricken man. Jeremy let out a long, deep sigh.

'Go on, Joey,' he said. 'Rip off the band-aid.'

Joey swallowed, his heart thumping. He clicked on the email and read it. Yes, it was the results of the paternity test, which were in the PDF attachment. Forcing his hand to keep steady on the mouse, Joey clicked on the attachment and called up a window. There was an eternal moment as the document was loading—and then there it was.

Joey found himself looking at a table titled DNA Paternity Report. There were four columns with various numbers, although the column marked MOTHER was blank. At the bottom under the table was the summary, with two boxes which said the following:

Combined Direct Index: 952,731

Probability of Paternity: 99.98%