I held up my hand again, and he stopped just like his wife. I looked at a tree on the other side of the road for a moment. It was a larger tree that had one of its limbs torn off in a recent storm. The branch had collapsed onto a carport but missed the house. As I stared at it for a moment, I felt the analogy of the tree losing a branch was an apt analogy for what I was feeling. Losing Jillian felt like I had my arm cut off.
When I looked back at Mark and Lina a minute later, tears were dripping from my face while anger flashed white-hot from my eyes.
“Don’t you dare, Mark? Don’t you fucking dare make excuses!” I spat. “You’ve known that slut has been cheating on me behind my back for months and you say nothing. ”
“But Gregory, it’s true…” Lina started to say.
“Love!” I finished, interrupting her as I felt the warm tears continue to streak down my face. “Spare me the sanctimonious bullshit woman. True love doesn’t stab others in the back to get what it wants. True love is compassionate. It cares about what happens to those around them, not abandoning them or humiliating them with no warning and then rubbing it in their faces in front of an entire crowd.
“I thought what Jillian and I had was true love. I never doubted her. I worshipped the ground she walked on and loved her so much that I would have given her anything.”
“I know,” Lina said, tears now swelling in her eyes, “But Jillian and Troy…”
“STOP!” I yelled, my rage boiling over in the single word. My tears were suddenly gone.
“Stop,” I said more quietly. “Lina, I don’t want to hear another word about Jillian and Troy. I don’t want to hear another word about their love and how they are meant to be together. I just wasted the last several years of my life in a lie. Seven fucking years Lina! Years of being there for her as she struggled with self-identity issues when she felt Troy abandoned her. Years of encouraging her to grow beyond her limits, years of intense period pain every month, and years of planning for a family. And let’s not forget so many years of talking about growing old together.
“I’ve wasted years of nothing because I was only ever a plan b. But tell me why friend,” I said, emphasising the word. “Why does the asshole get to waltz back in after leaving her while I’ve spent years investing in someone I loved without reservation?”
They looked at me like a child that had no idea. I continued, the anguish and pain rushing out.
“He gets all of my hard work; he gets the woman I built up when he abandoned her. He gets all her friends that betrayed me before she has true love.”
At least on the last statement, they had the decency to look ashamed.
“Well fuck that!” I exclaimed to them. “She now gets what she deserves, and both of you were part of that, so get the fuck off my property.”
“Greg,” Mark said. I glared, “Look I get it. This is not what any of us thought would happen. We honestly thought Jillian and you would be happy forever. We thought you would have kids. But Troy came back, and we can all see how much they love each other. We know it sucks, but they deserve to be happy.”
“And what about me and my happiness?” I asked them. “What do I deserve?”
Neither of them knew what to say. I sighed.
“I tell you what I deserve, I deserve a loyal wife; I deserve friends who look out for me. But I get none of them, so fuck you. I don’t want your pity. None of you including the slut appear to care anything for me if it has any conflict with them.
“So if I appear bitter it’s because I am. However, put yourself in my shoes,” I said. I looked at Lina. “Mark? When Lina finds her true love and leaves you for him, then you’ll know how I feel.”
“But Mark is my…” Mark’s arm clamped down on Lina’s arm silencing her.
“All right Gregory,” Mark said. “You’ve made your point, and you’re not willing to see things from the other side. We’re leaving, but as a last friendly gesture is there anything we can do?”
I thought for a minute and then looked at the mini-van they had parked in the driveway.
“Yes, wait here.”
Over the next few minutes, I brought out, well practically threw out several boxes crammed with Jillian’s clothes, her makeup and personal belongings. I dumped the boxes in front of them and a couple of times you could hear fragile things break. I saw them cringe but they said nothing.
“I was thinking of just leaving them in the driveway, but as you’re here, you can just take them to the slut’s new home wherever their love nest is.” I said.
“But Jillian said she wanted the house and you were going to move…” Lina said.
I laughed, silencing her before she could say another word.
“It’s not her house. It doesn’t belong to her. Then again it doesn’t belong to me either. So she is going to find she’s shit out of luck. Tell the whore that she doesn’t need to come back here. Everything that’s hers is in those boxes. Also, tell her she will be mailed the divorce documents Monday by my lawyer. I’ve already removed all her stuff and taken myself off the accounts so whatever is left is hers.”
“You’re not even…” Lina started and stopped.
“What?” I asked. “To fight? Fuck no… She’s in love with him, she’s been cheating on me, and she’s lied to me for several years about where her loyalty lies. No, I’ll give her what’s coming to her. Nothing more, nothing less.”
There was not much more to say, so I watched them load most of the boxes into their van and drive away. I think they were somewhat sad, they knew by supporting Jillian they had lost my friendship, but if they were remorseful, I wasn’t there to see it.
That night I got drunk and cried like a baby. I got angry and put my fist through a wall; that done, I smashed a vase that Jillian and I bought on holiday for our first wedding anniversary. I raged at being abandoned by my wife and friends and destroyed most of the lounge room. If it wasn’t tied down, I threw it. If it was tied down, I used everything else to smash it to pieces. I punched more holes in the walls along the hallway. I let the seething anger I had manifest, tearing most of the doors off cabinets in the kitchen and even putting a couple of big dents in the fridge.
I woke hungover in the morning, with a headache for the ages and bloody knuckles, possibly fractured hands and scrapes up and down my arms. I roughly put some bandages over my hands and arms, knowing that I would need to take myself to the doctor to get everything looked at.
I surveyed the lounge room noting that I would have to replace pretty much everything as not a single piece of furniture had escaped my wrath. Along the hallway, ragged holes were spaced unevenly as I took out my frustrations on the unsuspecting walls.
In the kitchen, there were cupboard doors strewn all over the floor and appliances leaning in positions where they would never operate correctly. I winced as I looked at the three big dents in the fridge, a vague memory of how at the time, the punches I threw at the sheet metal door felt so satisfying.
In the dented fridge, I found some orange juice that only expired a couple of days ago, so I grabbed a couple of Panadol and took a big drink. Within half an hour, the pulsing around the room had settled down and I moved into the lounge room, sitting on the floor between broken chairs and sat gazing at the cracked TV.