The Confession 18

The Confession

Author's Note: This is a 'Becky & Bryan' story, part of a series I'm posting about the ups and downs of a marriage. In terms of continuity, this story comes between 'February Sucks in Britain/To Love, Honour... and Obey' and 'Audrey'. However, I've included enough plot details so that new readers can easily follow this story without having to read earlier ones. A complete list of the stories is at the end. I hope you enjoy it.

*****

1

IT WAS A Thursday mid-afternoon in the airport departures hall. To one side were fast-food cafés and shops, and the other side was dominated by rows of escalators which led to bag security and the airline gates. Barriers had been set up before the escalators with notices saying 'Passengers only beyond this point'. This was where people had to say goodbye to each other.

On this particular afternoon, Becky Sandford was saying goodbye to her parents. Her father was finally taking her mother on the six-week tour of America that he had always promised her. Both of the silver-haired retirees seemed a little bemused that this was actually happening--as though they were about to wake up and realise it was a dream--but when Becky received a hug from her mother, the extra hard squeeze was very real.

'Thank you, darling,' whispered the older woman. 'And God bless you.'

Becky felt her throat tighten and tears pricked her eyes. The two women exchanged a nod and then the old couple took hold of their roller-cases and went through the departures gate together. Becky stood and watched as her mother and father were taken up the escalator, waving every time her mother looked back. Then they were gone, onto the next chapter of their joint adventure. Becky wiped away a tear and walked away.

She had intended to head straight to the car park, but something in her didn't feel ready to go back to her life just yet. Becky walked instead to one of the blatantly commercialised fast-food places, bought a latte in a paper cup and went to sit at the edge of the seating area. There was a kind of high shelf with hybrid barstool-chairs and sitting there, you could watch the activity in the hall. She sipped her latte and enjoyed the feeling of watching the world go by.

Becky was not a religious person, but she still felt deeply moved by her mother's blessing. Yes, it was partly a thank you for Becky's role in getting her father to keep his promise. But more than that, it signalled the end of a silent conflict between mother and daughter. That final nod and the look in her mother's eyes had said to Becky, 'We're good, my darling daughter. We're good.'

The source of the conflict was Becky's decision--along with her husband Bryan--to retake their marriage vows earlier that year without inviting family and friends. Even the two witnesses required by law had been people attached to the church administration. The couple had decided to keep it a secret, but when Becky asked her mother if she and Dad could look after Tara for a couple of days, her mother wanted to know why and did not buy the 'romantic getaway' story. She knew her daughter too well.

So Becky had told her mother and her mother had been deeply upset. She believed strongly that marriage vows should be made before family and loved ones, and she made a compelling argument that Tara especially should be there to witness it. Becky counterargued that she and Bryan had

already

made their original marriage vows in public, and this time they wanted to do it in private.

'This is between me and Bryan,' Becky had said. 'It's a

personal

commitment.'

Becky's mother looked at her daughter. She opened her mouth and quietly said:

'Did Bryan do something, my darling?'

'No, Mum!'

'Then did

you

do something?'

Becky swallowed, but somehow her eyes stayed dry. The memory of Marcus DeVere flashed up in her mind, the man she had nearly cheated on Bryan with. In fact, the man she

would

have cheated on Bryan with had Bryan not been there, although Becky didn't want to admit it, even to herself. Instead, she looked her mother dead in the eye and said:

'This is between me and Bryan.'

That was her final word and she would have cut her mother out of her life rather than reveal anything more. So her mother had dropped the matter and agreed to look after Tara for the two days Becky wanted. Like I said, the older woman knew her daughter. But she did not do it gladly and there was a certain frostiness between the two women after that.

But as Becky sat sipping a premium-priced latte that was most definitely not premium-quality, she realised that the frost had thawed and spring was now here. Her mother had let go her grudge that her daughter had secrets she wanted to keep... and that was a big thing for Becky's mother. Becky appreciated the older woman for having been able to let it go and she made herself a promise to do the same for Tara when she was grown up.

It was during this reverie that a woman in a trenchcoat walked past pulling a burgundy roller-case. She turned her head just as Becky's gaze fell on her and--for a moment--the two women locked eyes. Then the woman's head turned back and if she had carried on walking, that would have been the end of it.

But she didn't carry on walking. Her head snapped back towards Becky, this time with an expression of combined recognition and disbelief. Becky saw intelligent grey eyes, a clean jawline and dyed cherry-red hair. A name leapt into her mind.

'Siobhan?'

The woman stopped dead, staring at Becky like a fox in a trap. Becky stood up, looking over the café's wooden barrier, like a homeowner looking over the garden fence.

'My god, it

is

you!' said Becky. 'But you used to be blond, didn't you?'

'I haven't been blond for years,' said the other woman.

'Right. Sorry.'

Siobhan looked smart in her trenchcoat and boots, the silk scarf a similar burgundy to the roller-case. She seemed to come to a decision and walked up to the wooden barrier. As she approached, Becky had a flashback of this same woman approaching her in a crowded pub. Becky had only just met Bryan and Siobhan used to work for him. This was in the days when Bryan owned a small business, before his then-partner Eric had made a deal with 'new investors' behind Bryan's back and forced him out.

Still, water under the bridge and all that. Although Becky wondered whether that was the reason Siobhan was a bit nervous of her. Didn't she stay on with Eric after Bryan got pushed out?

'Hi,' said Siobhan warily. 'It's "Becky", right?'

'That's right.'

'What a coincidence.'

'What?'

'Bumping into you here?'

'Oh, yes, of course! What are the chances, eh?'

'Yeah...'

Siobhan nodded and smiled awkwardly. Becky's smile was just as awkward. She hunted around for something to say.

'Are you still working for Eric?'

'No!' said Siobhan. 'God, no! Half the staff were gone within six months of Bryan leaving. I was one of them.'

'Really?'

'Yes. It wasn't the same without Bryan.'

'He'll be happy to hear that.'

'What, you're still

together?'

The surprise in her voice was obvious and Becky didn't like it one bit. Siobhan seemed to realise she had committed a

faux pas

and tried to backtrack.

'Sorry,' she said. 'I didn't mean it like that.'

'How did you mean it?'

'Look, I just... found it surprising.'

'Why?'

'Becky...'

'No really, Siobhan! What's so surprising about me and Bryan having a great marriage?'

Becky stood ramrod straight, glaring at the other woman. Memories of that time were now flooding back, to say nothing of the feelings that went with them. The fights, the anxieties, the whole shitty situation. But she was not the only one with emotionally charged memories. Siobhan also straightened her back and looked Becky in the eye. When she spoke, her voice had lost all trace of apology.

'Because you were

awful

to Bryan,' she said. 'At his worst moment, you did nothing but tear him down!'

'You don't know what happened!'

'I was there!'

'Yeah, stabbing Bryan in the back!'

'You were the backstabber! He knew if he made a fight of it, the whole company would go down and everyone would lose their jobs! That's why he took the settlement... and for that, you called him a loser!'

'Every wife gets mad at her husband!'

'Not the way you did!' said Siobhan, taking a step forward. 'What wife tells her husband, "A

real

man would have seen this coming"? Or "A

real

man would know how to protect his interests"? Or how about: "Eric's wife is lucky 'cos at least she's not married to a pussy!" '

Becky had gone white, struck dumb by words she had spoken over half a decade ago. Words hurled at Bryan in the privacy of their home. How the fuck did

this

woman know them? Okay, Bryan had clearly told her, but... under what circumstances?

Siobhan saw the look in Becky's eyes and seemed to take pleasure in it. Becky's anger gave way to a kind of appalled disbelief. She could see hatred and contempt in the other woman's expression and it shocked her. 'How can anyone hate me?' she thought. Then Siobhan came right up to the barrier and spoke in a venomous whisper.

'You have such a

great

marriage, do you, "Becky"?' she said. 'Well, let's see how great it is after Bryan tells you what happened on Eric's desk!'

Becky's mouth dropped open in horror. Siobhan took a moment to enjoy the effect, then turned and walked away, head high, shoulders straight. She disappeared into the crowds and a minute later, Becky caught one last glimpse of her, riding up an escalator bound for a flight to God knows where.

***

It was evening.

Becky sat barefoot on the giant L-shaped couch, legs crossed, picking at the cuticles of her fingernails. She had tried distracting herself with her phone, but some inner voice told her not to clutter her mind and she decided to listen to it. Bryan--who was at present putting Tara to bed--had a talent for using Becky's emotionality in his favour and she was determined not to let it happen this time. Indeed, she had taken a leaf out of Bryan's book by reflecting deeply on the events of the past, probing her emotions on them and figuring out exactly

why

she was so upset. She even formulated her arguments and come up with answers to Bryan's most likely counterarguments.

In other words, she intended to beat her husband at his own game.

The possibility of Bryan being innocent was discarded the moment the thought occurred to her. Siobhan would never have been so specific if it weren't true. That would be like stabbing your enemy using a stage dagger with a retractable blade. No, thought Becky. Siobhan was too smart to do that. The blade was real.

Becky heard her husband's feet on the stairs and she stopped picking her nails. She turned to face the spot on the couch where Bryan would sit, took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. The door opened, her husband came in and quietly closed the door behind him. He stood for a moment, looking at her.

'Do you fancy a drink?' he said.

'No, thank you.'

It was the politeness which warned Bryan there was trouble, although he'd felt it all evening. But there was no way of addressing it with Tara around, so he had kept conversation general, asking after her parents and getting polite answers. But now they were alone and he was genuinely curious to know what was up. He took his assigned seat at the end of the couch and turned to face her, like an opponent in a duel.

'Okay...' he said. 'What's cooking?'

This expression usually made Becky smile. Not tonight. Instead, Becky cleared her throat and spoke with businesslike calm.

'I bumped into someone at the airport,' she said. 'Someone who used to work for you when you were partners with Eric.'

Bryan's face darkened. He shifted in his seat, looked at a cushion, started controlling his breathing. Becky watched him the way a cat watches a bird. She knew that however calm he was trying to appear, if she pressed her hand on his chest, she would feel his heart racing. Bryan looked up at her.

'Who was it?' he said.

'I think you know who it was,' said Becky. 'I also think you have some idea of what she told me.'

'It was a she?'

'Don't play games with me, Bryan.'

'Hey,

you're

the one trying to make me guess!'

'Did you cheat on me with Siobhan?'

The words were launched from Becky's mouth with the force of a bazooka missile and had pretty much the same effect. Bryan was hit, his face frozen, the telltale 'Oh, fuck!' visible in his eyes. It was so obviously a direct hit that even as he recovered, Becky could see on his face the awareness of how pointless a denial would be. She watched that face go through several emotions before settling on an expression of quiet acceptance. He let out a long sigh and said:

'Okay...'

'Okay, what?'

'Okay, yes. Yes, I did.'

Becky nodded, her mouth twisted.

'How many times?' she said.

'Once.'

'Oh, really?'

'Yes. Really.'

'Why should I believe you?'

'I can't control what you believe.'

'That's not an answer!'

'Becky, you either believe me or not.'

'And I'm asking, why

should

I believe you?'

'I don't know why you should! Maybe you shouldn't! I don't know! Do you

want

to believe me?'

'No, I want to kill you! I want to fucking

kill

you! I want to beat your righteous head in with a baseball bat and rip your face off with my nails! I hate you! I fucking

hate

you!'

Becky was in tears, floods of tears, screaming and wailing. Bryan moved over to hold her and she fought, slapping and struggling. Usually, she would slap his arms and chest while allowing him to slowly overpower her, but not this time. This time she fought for real, rolling off the couch and onto the carpet to get away from him.

'Stay back!' she screamed. 'Stay

away

from me!'

Bryan lifted his hands in surrender and moved back to his original place on the couch. Becky stayed where she was on the floor, crying her eyes out, choking on her tears. Bryan sat dry-eyed and waited. It was a good ten minutes before she could talk. She lifted her head as though it weighed a ton and looked at the man on the couch.

'How can you be so calm?' she said.

'I'm not calm,' said Bryan. 'I'm just very, very sad.'

'Then why aren't you crying?'

'I don't know. Maybe because I deserve this.'

'Deserve what?'

'To lose my marriage, my family. To be divorced.'

'No...' said Becky, getting to her feet. 'No, you don't get to put divorce on the table! That's for

me

to decide!'

'Becky...'

'Listen, fuckface! You cheated on me! Then you lied about it! And then you had the

gall

to act the wronged husband over the whole Marcus DeVere thing, knowing damn well you were just as guilty as me! In fact, you were

more

guilty! I only

wanted

to have sex with someone else! You actually

did

it!'

'The circumstances were completely--'

'

Seriously,

Bryan? You're going to justify this on the grounds of

circumstances?'

Becky was standing over her husband, hands on hips, like an avenging angel. Bryan's head was bowed, his expression that of a condemned man.

'No,' said Bryan. 'Okay, I take your point.'

'So you acknowledge that I have the right to decide what happens next?'

'What do you mean exactly?'

'Just a few months ago, Bryan, I stood up in a church and promised to love, honour

and obey

you. I didn't do that because you're a man and a woman's place is to follow the man. I did it because I honestly believed that you were a better leader than me, that you have a moral strength that I lack, which means that you

should

be the head of our family!'

Becky paused to let that sink in. Bryan looked sick.

'Well,' went on Becky, 'I'm sure you can appreciate that I feel pretty stupid right now.'

'Becky, I'm--'

'Don't you

dare

say "I'm sorry"! Don't you dare! I'll rip your eyeballs out if you so much as breath it!'

Bryan gave her a look, but he kept his mouth shut. When Becky spoke, her voice was measured and careful.

'What I want,' she said, 'is to decide for myself what I want. I don't know yet whether I should stay married to you or not, but I want the freedom to figure it out for myself. After what you did, I think you owe me that. What do

you

think, Bryan?'

'It sounds fair enough.'

'Good.'

Becky relaxed and let out a deep breath. The worst was over. She was still standing over Bryan, but now more like an office manager than an avenging Fury.

'All right,' she said. 'From tonight until further notice, I'm going to sleep in the spare room.'

'Becky, I can--'

'No, Bryan. I

want

to sleep in the spare room. You can have the "marital bed", for what it's worth.'

She gave him a hard look. Bryan swallowed and nodded. Becky looked down at the floor, frowning as though struggling with her thoughts.

'No,' she said.

'No, what?'

'Nothing. I'm going to bed.'

'You don't want to talk about this?'

'I think we've said enough, don't you?'

Bryan looked at his wife's bare feet. His expression was desolate. Becky could see that he wanted to make love and it gave her a small feeling of triumph.

'Good night,' she said.

And she left the room and closed the door, leaving her husband alone.

***

Becky awoke late the following morning. She lay in bed still tired, grateful to be working from home today. Bryan and Tara were already up. Becky could hear their voices from downstairs. There was the squealy laughter of her daughter, followed by the good-natured rumble of her husband's voice. Tara was probably being cheeky about something.

'Fuck,' said Becky to the ceiling.

In the sound of those two voices, Becky realised that she did not want to separate Tara from her father. Not just for Tara's sake either. Becky loved watching Bryan being a father. He was good at it. And when it came to being parents, she and Bryan were a good team. Even in the worst of times, that part of the relationship was solid.

Unfortunately, that also took divorce off the table. Becky was still angry with Bryan--really fucking angry--and untangling all that anger was going to take hard work. Divorce was simpler. Instead of untying the Gordian knot, you simply slice it through, move on and find another man. Women were doing it all the time. Whereas staying married required talking and reflection and self-examination. Becky felt tired just thinking about it. Why couldn't intimate relationships just

work?

Instead of

being

work?

There was the sound of a child's feet on the stairs. Becky sat up in bed just as the door opened and Tara stepped in. She was dressed and ready for school.

'Oops!' said the little girl.

She ducked back out and closed the door. Becky was about to ask what was wrong when she heard a 'Knock! Knock!' Becky laughed and said:

'Come in!'

Tara came in and climbed onto the bed. Becky reflexively glanced at the girl's feet to check that she wasn't wearing shoes and then gave her daughter a hug.

'You off to school?' said Becky.

'Yes, Mummy,' said Tara. 'Mummy, I have a question.'

'What is it, darling?'

'Why are you sleeping in here?'

'I couldn't sleep last night and I didn't want to wake your father.'

'Is that why you overslept?'

'Yes.'

'Oh. Okay.'

There was a note of doubt in Tara's voice. Becky frowned and said:

'What did your father tell you?'

'Nothing,' said Tara. 'He said to ask you.'

'Of course he did.'

'Are you going to pick me up?'

'Of course I am, darling. It's Friday! I always pick you up on Friday.'