Convinced I’d done as much as I humanly could, I went home to prepare for Dave’s return. Now that I knew he could possibly know, I watched him like a hawk. He came in and kissed me like normal and rabbited on about his trip while he packaged up the fish and put some in the freezer. My wonderful, naïve husband, I swear, was absolutely normal. I felt overwhelming relief. You know what it’s like when you go to the doctor for some entirely routine tests, then go back to get the results and are nervous about what you’ll hear. Well, that’s what I felt like. The doctor had just told me that I was going to live. After the relief came the extreme fatigue, common when relieved of long held stress. I fell asleep on the couch but was roused as I felt Dave lift me up and carry me to the bedroom. I remember luxuriating in that feeling of anticipation you get just before sex, but I must have fallen asleep again. The next thing I knew, Dave was waking me, saying if we didn’t hurry, we’d be late for work.
It’s been three weeks since I last put pen to paper. I’ve re-read it and can’t believe what a delusional load of crap it is. Since then, my life has descended into nightmare and I’m completing my record, I think, in a vain attempt to stay sane.
For the rest of that week work had been very uncomfortable. I could no longer look on my colleagues as anything but threats. The only exception was Peta, but she was away that week. John just treated me with contempt, barking orders at me whenever he wanted anything. The only thing that kept me going was the thought of going home and snuggling with my Dave.
Dave was very late home Tuesday and instantly picked up on my sadness. He came and gave me a big hug. I broke down and cried. His arms were my last place of refuge from the hell I’d made of my once perfect life. He carried me upstairs again and held me till I fell asleep. It was wonderful.
Wednesday morning, I woke still in his arms. He apologised for not telling me earlier, but he had to go away for two nights and would be back Friday. Of course, I forgave him. He’d become a specialist Aluminium welder and his company occasionally hired him out for difficult out of town jobs. I didn’t like it, of course, but I was happy he was respected in his field and sought after. Wednesday and Thursday night, he rang briefly to say he was exhausted and going to crash as soon as he ate. I went to bed early on Thursday. The next day was going to be huge. It looked like Dave was going to do what he’d done once before—pretend to forget my birthday, then hit me with the surprise.
Even the depressing atmosphere of work couldn’t break my mood the next day. I even managed to smile at the office girls. That was until the text arrived from Dave just before lunch. “Client problem today. Have to stop one more night, see you tomorrow.” I was instantly very angry. How could he do that to me on my birthday? I rang his cell but it was turned off. I knew his company frowned on personal calls during business hours. I left a message I knew it was all a trick, and a very poor taste one at that, then said I’d see him tonight.
I fully expected him to be there when I got home and was very disappointed. I rang his cell again but it was still turned off. The joke was getting real old, real fast. I sat on the couch and stewed; fighting back the feeling of dread that was creeping over me. My desperate logic that it was only paranoia was convincing myself less and less. I pulled out my cell and read his last text again. It was only then that the chilling familiarity of those words struck home. With trembling fingers and a heaving breast, I spun through my text history until I located the one I was looking for. There it was, “Client problem today. Have to stop one more night, see you tomorrow.” It was the message I’d sent Dave after my second night of sex with my lover, enabling a third consecutive night. That may have been a staggering coincidence, but what caught my eye next, proved it wasn’t. Below that text from me, so many months ago, was the next one I’d sent. It was the one apologising to Dave for forgetting his birthday. The fact that two identically worded texts had been sent at the same times on each of our birthdays, took it well beyond the bounds of coincidence.