‘That’s not the issue!’
‘Oh? So what is the issue?’
‘The issue is that you do go out of your way to earn people’s trust!’ said Bryan. ‘I see you do it for Tara and Tara’s friends and your friends and your work colleagues! I’ve even seen you do it for complete strangers!’
Bryan stepped before his wife.
‘In fact, the only person you don’t make that kind of effort with … is me! Being trustworthy is important to you … except with me! Why is that, Becky? Why the fuck is that?’
Becky’s face was still red, but there were tears in her eyes. When she spoke, it was clear she was fighting the urge to cry.
‘Listen, you bastard, I do make an effort to keep my word to you,’ she said. ‘It’s totally unfair to say that I–‘
‘You were dancing with a man knowing damn well how I would feel about it! You knew my seeing you dance with a man like Marcus DeVere would blow my trust in our marriage right out of the water!’
‘I didn’t “know” that.’
Bryan grabbed Becky by her upper arms and forced her to face him.
‘Look me in the eye and say that again! Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t know how I would react. If you can do that, Becky … I’ll believe you. I swear it on Tara’s life.’
‘Don’t … don’t say that…’
Becky began sobbing. Her hair was tied back, so she was unable to hide behind it and had to lower her head. Bryan looked at her with contempt.
‘You can’t do it, can you?’ he said. ‘You knew what it would do to us, and you did it anyway.’
‘It was just a dance…’
‘You knew that it was no longer just a dance the moment he started telling you he wanted to make love to you.’
Becky’s crying got harder. Bryan still held her at arm’s length, his hands on her upper arms. He shook his head, then drew her to him and put his arms around her. Instantly, the dam burst and Becky was howling.
‘I’m sorry, Bryan!’ she sobbed. ‘I’m so sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry … I never meant to do that … I never, ever meant to do that…’
‘I know,’ said Bryan as he held her. ‘I know.’
***
Becky lay alone in the big double bed feeling utterly wretched. Bryan had hugged her and comforted her and Becky was beginning to believe that maybe he had forgiven her, maybe things were going back to normal. And then he had devastated her with a single sentence:
‘I need some time alone.’
Becky had refused at first, saying that she had just as much right to be in the living room as him. Bryan had said ‘Fair enough’ and gone out to the hallway to put on his coat. Becky ended up begging him to stay, promising to go upstairs if he promised not to leave her alone in the house. It was awful, humiliating, and yet even as Becky lay in bed hugging a pillow to her stomach, she realised that she respected Bryan for not being a pushover.
It was a puzzle. Becky knew that Bryan loved her, totally and utterly. She was more certain of Bryan’s love than Tara’s, even when he was furious with her, and she realised that this certainty was part of the reason she had allowed herself to dance with Marcus DeVere. Bryan’s love was so deep and unassailable that she could dance with Marcus DeVere — hell, she could sleep with Marcus DeVere — and Bryan would still love her. She knew that without a sliver of doubt.
But Bryan loving her and Bryan wanting to be her husband were not the same things.
Before Tara was born, Bryan had spent much of his spare time watching old black-and-white movies. Becky didn’t share his passion, but she went with him to a special big screen showing of The Maltese Falcon with Humphrey Bogart. And in the final scene, when Bogart declares to the woman, ‘I won’t play the sap for you!’ Becky understood why this was one of Bryan’s favourite movies. Here was a man who would rather hand the woman he loved over to the police and spend the rest of his life alone than have her make a fool of him. Becky found it cold-blooded while Bryan found it heroic, which told both of them something important about each other.
And on the night she met Marcus DeVere, Becky had lost sight of that. Her relationship with Bryan had been so good for so long, that she had forgotten there were boundaries. Worse, she had taken Bryan’s love for granted.
No, thought Becky, as she lay on the bed. It was even worse than that.
She realised that on some level she had given herself the credit for his love. She had gotten herself to believe that Bryan’s love was not due to him being a man with an extraordinary capacity for love … it was due to Becky being such an awesome woman that she would have inspired high-quality love in any man. Bryan just happened to be the lucky winner.
‘No wonder my friends hate me,’ thought Becky.
She regularly saw Dee and Jane, although only because their children were all friends, and she could sense that both women were secretly glad that she and Bryan were having marital problems. Come to think of it, Jane didn’t make it much of a secret. But if loving a woman was a skill, then Bryan was way better at it than either Dee or Jane’s husbands — and Becky saw that she hadn’t exactly been humble about that.
She sat up in bed, putting the pillow behind her back to sit straight and tall.
Okay, so Becky had her husband’s love, but not his trust. What could she do about that? The feminist in her head said, ‘A woman shouldn’t have to prove herself to a man!’ Becky sighed.
‘That’s a big help,’ she muttered.
***
Bryan sat with his feet up on the couch, reading a book titled The Romantic Delusion. He had been reading many such books lately, as well as watching podcasts on subjects such as the nature of desire, intersexual dynamics, and the differences in male and female psychology. It was both fascinating and depressing — depressing in the sense that if what he was learning was true, virtually everything he had been taught about love, sex and relationships was a lie.
There was a quiet double knock on the door. Bryan marked his place in the book.
‘Yes?’ he said.
Becky opened the door and looked in. She wore her years-old long white nightie and her hair was loose, making Bryan think of a woman in a Victorian ghost story.
‘May I interrupt you for a minute?’ she said.
‘Of course,’ said Bryan.
Becky stepped in, closed the door and came barefoot over to Bryan. He took his feet off the couch so that she could sit next to him, but instead Becky knelt on the carpet at his feet. In her white nightie, she looked like a religious penitent.
‘You can sit next to me,’ said Bryan.
‘No,’ said Becky. ‘I don’t think that would be … appropriate.’
Bryan looked at her, his expression impassive. She was either mocking his ‘assertiveness’ or this was a clumsy attempt to show respect. He decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and assume the latter.
‘All right,’ said Bryan. ‘How can I help you?’
‘I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,’ said Becky. ‘And I’d like to run an idea past you.’
‘Certainly. What’s the idea?’
‘I want to suggest that we retake our vows.’
Bryan took in a deep breath. He looked at the far wall, his eyes tracking left and right as his mind went to work. Becky recognised that expression and knew she was in for a long wait. She rested her cheek on his thigh, reaching her arms around his waist, and Bryan idly stroked her hair as he considered her suggestion.
‘Okay…’ he said finally. ‘Here’s what comes up.’
Becky lifted her head to look at him, her two hands resting on his leg.
‘First, I’m delighted that you came up with this idea,’ he said. ‘It shows me that you’re serious about wanting to make the marriage work.’
‘I do want to make the marriage work!’ said Becky. ‘I absolutely do!’
‘Yes, and that comes across loud and clear. I want you to know that.’
Becky’s face fell. She knelt back, her hands hanging by her sides.
‘I can feel a “but” coming on,’ she said.
‘I’m afraid so,’ said Bryan. ‘Becky, there is no point either taking or retaking a vow unless you believe in it.’
‘But I do believe in it!’
‘I’m sorry, but your behaviour suggests otherwise.’
‘Bryan, I was weak! I made a mistake!’
‘Really?’
Bryan leaned forwards.
‘Becky, be honest with me. When you were considering sex with Marcus DeVere, did the thought of breaking your vows make the idea more exciting or less exciting?’
Becky’s face went bright red. She got to her feet and turned her back, her hands clenched into fists. She shook her head angrily and spoke to Bryan while only half looking at him.
‘Bryan, I can’t help how I felt!’
‘I’m not saying you can. I’m not even saying you should.’
‘Then what are you saying?’
‘I’m saying that you’ve proposed a solution to our problem, and I appreciate that. But in my opinion, retaking a vow that you nearly broke in the first place is not going to work.’
‘Well, what do you suggest then, Smart Guy?’
‘If you want to take a vow, it has to be one you believe in.’
‘For god’s sake, Bryan! Just because a person is tempted to break a vow, that doesn’t mean they don’t believe in it!’
‘I disagree. I think a vow is something you take in order to strengthen your resolve to do something positive, not something you take to stop yourself doing something negative. If you’re tempted to break a vow, then it’s not really a vow.’
‘That’s bollocks!’ cried Becky. ‘Name one vow that you wouldn’t be tempted to break!’