Dumbstruck

Dumbstruck
Golden light splashes up the wall behind her, diffusing over her raven
hair, cropped short in that androgynous way that her face was designed
for. Her cheekbones are high and severe, casting her face with a
porcelain beauty, fragile and breathtaking. She is as beautiful now as
when I first met her.
We're in one of those trendy, centre-of-town restaurants - crisp white
tablecloths, neon splashing up and down plain walls, Swedish-style
furniture and efficient, unobtrusive staff. It is the perfect place for
such an assignation - clean, aloof, polite. Even the smells from the
kitchen are gentle, lacking offence.
Diana is at her most radiant, a smile playing across her face. She is
flattered by the attention she is receiving, basking in it like a cat
in a patch of sunlight. Mike hangs on her every word.
Tonight Diana and I should be celebrating our fifteenth wedding
anniversary. Tonight is my last chance to sort things out with
her.
From a safe distant I watch as my wife and my best friend order drinks.
Gin and tonic for the lady, a pint of Stella for him. As they watch
their waiter retreat to the bar I slip into a seat with a better
view.
They're still in that delirious, delicious honeymoon stage - that
shining passion that transforms the outside world into mere shadows. I
am drawn to their light, despite the pain it causes me. For too long
our marriage has languished in the shadows.
They push on past the small talk, dipping into that secret world that
is theirs alone, my wife and my best friend.
'I don't understand how you can even stand to look at him anymore.
There's nothing much left to be said, is there?'
He's right. She didn't make an excuse when she left tonight. I've tried
to bring the subject up, but I fumble for the words, dropping them
clumsily and listening as they shatter into silence. And if she looks
at me, then it's always indirectly, from beneath her eyelashes, from
behind her sunglasses.
She circles her glass with a fingertip. There's a film of her pink
lipstick near the rim. She sighs. How long since I kissed her, held her
to me? Hunger scoops me up, tightening iron bands around my throat,
around my stomach. Not even every dish on the menu here at Blake's
could satisfy me. I need her alone.
'I know Mike, believe me, I know. But Dave is still my husband. Letting
go is difficult. And I will not be rushed into a decision?' she pauses
to sip from her glass and then fixes Mike with a meaningful stare, '?by
anybody.'
Good old Diana, stubborn and determined. There's hope yet.
I need a drink. I try to catch the waiter's eye. Slippery beasts -
waiters. Like buses. Never one when you need them and then three come
along at once. Except tonight. I can't attract the attention of any of
them. Yet they inch past my table, intent and purposeful.
Am I that unobtrusive?
'Diana, I don't want to rush you. Heaven forbid. I just feel it's
tasteless to let the whole thing drag on.'
Diana coughs lightly and looks down at her menu. 'Are you having a
starter, Mike? I thought I might go for the Calamari.' Her tone is
quick and thin. Mike now buries his head in the menu, rather than
looking directly at her. Good old Wifey, giving him a hard time, laying
down the law. And Calamari too - maybe she hasn't entirely forgotten
what day it is.
A waitress glides up to their table. She's twenty, at a push - tall,
blonde and slim. Scandinavian looks - like the furniture, that same
healthy, golden glow. Diana watches Mike as his eyes slide up and down
the girl's body, assessing, appraising. She coughs loudly.
'Sorry.' He regains himself, blushes with shame. Sad, saggy old Mike,
twice divorced. A master of the wandering hand. What on earth is my
wife doing with him?
They order their food, the waitress cocking her head, listening
attentively. Surely she'll serve me next? But she doesn't. The girl
finishes scribbling on her pad and strides off to the kitchen.
When they're alone again Diana smiles indulgently at Mike. 'You really
can't help yourself can you?'
He coughs and looks away. 'I don't know what you mean!'
'Oh come on! You can't deny it. If we're going to be together then you
mustn't lie to me. Just as you mustn't try to rush me on what to do
about David. Fifteen years is a long time.'
He reaches across the table, covers her slender hand with his clumsy
paw. 'I'm sorry.'
'I know. It's not easy for any of us. The longer it drags on the harder
it becomes. Except for David. Ironically he's the one who has it easy
in all of this?'
Diana's Calamari is set down in front of her. I should jump up, turn it
over into her lap, slap her face and then punch my one-time best
friend, the fat bastard who's cuckolding me. How can I have it easy? I
am, after all, the injured party here. My anger makes me slump back
into my chair. My desire for food has melted away now. A cannonball
sits in my stomach.
Mercifully they drift back into small talk over starters. They're
discussing the film they're going to see. Something about Nicole Kidman
living in a haunted house. The sort of nonsense that Mike and I would
have gone to see together. Until all this began.
Through blinding tears, that sting the corners of my eyes, I watch her
eat. Quick, delicate movements. From plate to mouth and from mouth to
plate. I surrender once more to the spell of this woman that I am on
the verge of losing.
If there was but a way of getting through, of finding the words, the
actions she wants from me. The things I am lacking, the things that
she's found in Mike! A magic formula that would take us back in time.
Before the cracks began to show. Before her attention wandered. But I
can't remember when that was. There is a gap in my memory?
'You're not enjoying that are you?' Mike watches her greedily. He took
three mouthfuls to swallow his delicate portion of prawns and avocado.
Pearls of pink sauce cling to the ginger hairs above his lip.
Diana drops her fork and shakes her head, her diamond earrings
shimmering, splitting the light into miniature rainbows. I feel so
cold.
'Oh, I don't know, I just feel so?'
She starts to cry, a single tear rolling down her pale cheek. It's like
watching your life being turned into a soap-opera.
'I know it's hard, darling. But it really is the best thing for
everyone, including Dave. He's only suffering at the moment. You can
put an end to that.'
How can he presume to know what I'm feeling? Divorce can only deepen my
wounds.
But then Mike was never able to comprehend the feelings of others. His
first wife would tell you that. And his second. Don't make their
mistake, Diana.
'You're right, of course, you're right. But I spent fifteen years with
him. And he was so?so dependable, so gentle so?so?damn nice.'
I thought 'nice' was all you ever wanted Diana. Or are you like all
women, settling for nice when what you really want is a complete and
utter bastard?
'Of course he's nice. He is?was?my best friend.' Mike is crushing the
napkin in his fist now, gulping down wine, hoping their main courses
will appear and distract them both.
Diana sobs, pushing down in her seat, biting her lip before she is
overwhelmed. 'And look what we did to him.'
The people at the next table fall silent, turning a fraction in their
chairs to listen more intently.
'Diana! Come on. We've been over this a million times. It was an
accident. We did nothing to make this happen.'
'Karma?'
'Bullshit. IT?WAS?AN?ACCIDENT.' Mike's face is blotched and beetroot
now, his eyebrows knitted tightly together. Never has he looked more
bullish. Diana is sobbing desperately, quietly, her slender shoulders
quivering over the half-eaten squid rings.
My darling! It's not too late. Come back with me. We can start
again.
Mike turns away from her. Disgusted? Embarrassed? Whatever, it is time
for me to reclaim her. To put an end to this nonsense. I rise from the
table, purposeful, strong. Sweat streaking down my face, along my neck,
rolling in great drops down my back.
'Diana?'
No response.
'Diana? Come home with me? Please? We can start again. Forget this
jerk.'
Silence. Not a raised eyebrow, not a threatening fist or a single look
of contempt. Instead Diana wipes her eyes, checks her mascara and turns
to Mike. She forces a weak smile.
I watch open-mouthed, dumbstruck.
'I'm sorry Mike. It's been a bit of a disaster this evening, hasn't
it?' Mike smiles coyly. Diana shivers.
'It's cold in here. I've lost my appetite. Let's go home.'
They both rise and Mike summons a waiter, who brings the bill. Whilst
he pays it Diana and I are alone. She still does not acknowledge me. I
cannot find the words, the way of saying how much she means to me, how
much it hurts me that our marriage is over.
Mike returns, gently helping Diana into her coat, the leather jacket I
bought her for our fifth wedding anniversary. She takes his arm and
they march towards the door without looking back. I follow at a little
distance, convinced that no matter what I do now they will not see
me.
'I'll phone the hospital tomorrow. Ask to see Dave's consultant. Tell
him I think it's time. To take him off life-support.'
'I'll come with you.'
'Thankyou. I'm ready to let him go.'
The marriage is over. There is nothing left for me to say. I return to
my wasted, battered body, defeated. Tomorrow it will all be over. At
last?