This Man Confessed
Page 59
His face crumbles before me, enflaming the guilt further. ‘You’ve broken my fucking heart, Ava.’ He drops me and stalks into the wardrobe, leaving me a pathetic form of shaking body parts. Sickness has moved aside and made way for crippling shame. I suddenly feel disgusted with myself, so I have a very good idea of what Jesse thinks of me.
He appears again with a handful of clothes, but he doesn’t stuff them in a bag or go to the bathroom to get anything else. He just walks out, still only wearing his running shorts. My throat has closed off on me, so I can’t even scream for him to stay. I’m paralysed on the spot, nothing working, except my eyes, which are releasing a relentless flow of tears. Then I hear the front door slam, and I find myself in a heap on the floor, silently sobbing to myself.
‘Ava, dear?’ Cathy’s soft, warm voice is only just detectable through my heaving. ‘Ava, my goodness, whatever is the matter?’ It must be glaringly obvious that I’m not suffering with morning sickness, and she must have heard Jesse bellowing at me.
I feel her squidgy body against me, and I instinctively turn into her apron coated body, wrapping my arms around her back.
‘Oh dear, oh no.’ She starts rocking me gently, shushing me and whispering quiet words in my ears. ‘Oh Ava, come on, dear. Tell me what’s happened.’
I try to form some words, but it just results in me crying even harder. My compulsion to spill my guilt, to share my remorse, is just emphasising how incredibly selfishly I was thinking.
‘Come on. Let me make you a cup of tea.’ Cathy soothes, hauling her round body up from the bedroom floor before tugging on my arm, encouraging me to stand. I just about manage it, and then I’m cradled under her arm and guided down to the kitchen.
She hands me a hanky from the front of her apron, then sets about making a pot of tea. I watch her in silence, except for the odd judder of breath that escapes as I try to gain control of my shaky body and erratic breathing. I’m trying my very hardest, but it’s inevitable for me to think about all of the other times I’ve sent him crazy mad, except this time he really looked unhinged. This time I’ve really sent him over the edge.
Cathy sets a pot of tea down on the island and pours two cups, putting a few sugars in mine, even though she didn’t ask and neither did I. ‘You need the energy.’ she says as she stirs, then picks it up and places it between both of my palms. ‘Drink up, dear. There’s nothing tea can’t cure.’ She takes her own, blows across the top, and a wave of steam streams through mid-air and disintegrates in front of me. I stare at it until it’s gone, and I’m left gazing blankly at nothing. ‘Now, tell me what’s got my boy in such a pickle and you in this state?’
‘I was thinking about having an abortion.’ I say to thin air. I don’t want to see the look of horror that will have undoubtedly jumped onto the face of Jesse’s sweet, innocent, wholesome housekeeper.
Her silence and the mug of tea that I can see in my peripheral vision, hovering at her lips, only confirms my thoughts. She’s shocked, and having heard the words aloud, so am I. And embarrassed. ‘Oh,’ she says simply. What else can she say?
I know what I should be saying. I should be explaining myself and the reasons, but not only do I feel like I’ve let Jesse down and trampled all over his happiness, I feel protective of him. I don’t want Cathy to judge him if I tell her how I ended up pregnant, which is ludicrous. It’s the only reason I considered a termination, and the fact that I didn’t think I was ready, but the last few days have proved me wrong. Jesse has unearthed a deep feeling of hope, happiness, and love for this baby growing inside of me. A piece of me and a piece of him mixed together to form a life. Our baby. Now the thought of ridding it from my body is absolutely abhorrent. I’m disgusted with myself.
I turn towards Cathy. ‘I would never have seen it through. I soon realised I was being stupid. I was just so shocked. I don’t know how he’s found out.’ Now I’ve calmed slightly, I’m wondering how he does actually know.
That paper. The envelope.
‘Ava, he’s obviously shocked. Give him time to come round. You’re still pregnant and that’s all that matters. He’ll see soon enough.’
I smile, but Cathy’s words haven’t made me feel any better. She doesn’t know what happened the last time he walked out on me. ‘Thank you for the tea, Cathy.’ I say, getting down from the stool. ‘I’d better get ready for work.’
Her wrinkled brow furrows, and she looks at my mug. ‘But you’ve hardly touched it.’
‘Oh,’ I quickly scoop it up and take a few hot sips, probably burning the roof of my mouth in the process, but there’s a piece of paper lying on the floor of the master suite, and it’s screaming for me to read it. I give Cathy a quick peck in the cheek, and she rubs my arm affectionately before I escape the kitchen.
I run upstairs fast and pick the paper straight up, being immediately greeted with a bunch of pamphlets, stapled to the corner of a letter. The letter is a scan appointment. The pamphlets are a wealth of information on abortion. The information sinks in very fast, and as I lift my eyes to the top of the letter, I notice my name and address. No, not my address. It’s Matt’s address.
I gasp and screw the paper up, throwing it at the wall on an infuriated yell. I’m so fucking stupid. I’ve not changed my address with the surgery. I’ve not changed my address with anyone. All of my mail has been going to Matt’s and clearly the fucking bastard has been opening it. He must’ve been in his element to find this. What the hell is wrong with him, the nasty fucking lowlife? My damn emotions are all over the place. I’m sad, I’m hurt, I’m blood boiling mad.
At the risk of lashing out on the door or the wall or anything I can lay my hands on, I throw myself in the shower instead.
* * *
I’m still shaking with anger when I walk into the penthouse foyer only half an hour later. I’m already late, but my work, for the first time ever, is the least of my priorities. And it’s a good thing because I’m standing staring blankly at the keypad, with not the first idea of what numbers to punch in. I glance back at the door, contemplating nipping back in to ask Cathy, but I decide against it, instead bashing in the code of the fire exit door and pushing my way through. I need to burn off some of this fury before I’m in the close proximity of people. I might rip someone’s head off, and I want to save my wrath for Matt.
‘Good Morning, Mrs Ward.’ Casey’s friendly voice is the first thing I hear when I exit the stairwell, panting from exhaustion as oppose to panting with anger.
‘Casey,’ I puff, putting my heels back on.
He looks me up and down. God only knows what I must look like. I didn’t even bother to use a mirror, instead blasting my hair and firing pins in all over my head where I felt they needed to be. ‘Are you okay?’ he asks.
‘Fine,’
‘Congratulations,’ he says. I look at him in alarm. Jesse wouldn’t share our good news with the new concierge. He doesn’t like him. ‘On getting married,’ Casey adds. ‘I didn’t know.’
I’m frowning. Would Jesse have told him that? Probably. He was probably trampling at the time, stamping his ownership. ‘Thanks,’ I stalk past him and slip my shades on before I hit the sunshine, hoping the oversized things might conceal most of my harassed face. John’s here. He shrugs, and I shake my head. ‘I’m not coming with you, John.’ I fire my key fob at my Mini and start across the car park.
He appears again with a handful of clothes, but he doesn’t stuff them in a bag or go to the bathroom to get anything else. He just walks out, still only wearing his running shorts. My throat has closed off on me, so I can’t even scream for him to stay. I’m paralysed on the spot, nothing working, except my eyes, which are releasing a relentless flow of tears. Then I hear the front door slam, and I find myself in a heap on the floor, silently sobbing to myself.
‘Ava, dear?’ Cathy’s soft, warm voice is only just detectable through my heaving. ‘Ava, my goodness, whatever is the matter?’ It must be glaringly obvious that I’m not suffering with morning sickness, and she must have heard Jesse bellowing at me.
I feel her squidgy body against me, and I instinctively turn into her apron coated body, wrapping my arms around her back.
‘Oh dear, oh no.’ She starts rocking me gently, shushing me and whispering quiet words in my ears. ‘Oh Ava, come on, dear. Tell me what’s happened.’
I try to form some words, but it just results in me crying even harder. My compulsion to spill my guilt, to share my remorse, is just emphasising how incredibly selfishly I was thinking.
‘Come on. Let me make you a cup of tea.’ Cathy soothes, hauling her round body up from the bedroom floor before tugging on my arm, encouraging me to stand. I just about manage it, and then I’m cradled under her arm and guided down to the kitchen.
She hands me a hanky from the front of her apron, then sets about making a pot of tea. I watch her in silence, except for the odd judder of breath that escapes as I try to gain control of my shaky body and erratic breathing. I’m trying my very hardest, but it’s inevitable for me to think about all of the other times I’ve sent him crazy mad, except this time he really looked unhinged. This time I’ve really sent him over the edge.
Cathy sets a pot of tea down on the island and pours two cups, putting a few sugars in mine, even though she didn’t ask and neither did I. ‘You need the energy.’ she says as she stirs, then picks it up and places it between both of my palms. ‘Drink up, dear. There’s nothing tea can’t cure.’ She takes her own, blows across the top, and a wave of steam streams through mid-air and disintegrates in front of me. I stare at it until it’s gone, and I’m left gazing blankly at nothing. ‘Now, tell me what’s got my boy in such a pickle and you in this state?’
‘I was thinking about having an abortion.’ I say to thin air. I don’t want to see the look of horror that will have undoubtedly jumped onto the face of Jesse’s sweet, innocent, wholesome housekeeper.
Her silence and the mug of tea that I can see in my peripheral vision, hovering at her lips, only confirms my thoughts. She’s shocked, and having heard the words aloud, so am I. And embarrassed. ‘Oh,’ she says simply. What else can she say?
I know what I should be saying. I should be explaining myself and the reasons, but not only do I feel like I’ve let Jesse down and trampled all over his happiness, I feel protective of him. I don’t want Cathy to judge him if I tell her how I ended up pregnant, which is ludicrous. It’s the only reason I considered a termination, and the fact that I didn’t think I was ready, but the last few days have proved me wrong. Jesse has unearthed a deep feeling of hope, happiness, and love for this baby growing inside of me. A piece of me and a piece of him mixed together to form a life. Our baby. Now the thought of ridding it from my body is absolutely abhorrent. I’m disgusted with myself.
I turn towards Cathy. ‘I would never have seen it through. I soon realised I was being stupid. I was just so shocked. I don’t know how he’s found out.’ Now I’ve calmed slightly, I’m wondering how he does actually know.
That paper. The envelope.
‘Ava, he’s obviously shocked. Give him time to come round. You’re still pregnant and that’s all that matters. He’ll see soon enough.’
I smile, but Cathy’s words haven’t made me feel any better. She doesn’t know what happened the last time he walked out on me. ‘Thank you for the tea, Cathy.’ I say, getting down from the stool. ‘I’d better get ready for work.’
Her wrinkled brow furrows, and she looks at my mug. ‘But you’ve hardly touched it.’
‘Oh,’ I quickly scoop it up and take a few hot sips, probably burning the roof of my mouth in the process, but there’s a piece of paper lying on the floor of the master suite, and it’s screaming for me to read it. I give Cathy a quick peck in the cheek, and she rubs my arm affectionately before I escape the kitchen.
I run upstairs fast and pick the paper straight up, being immediately greeted with a bunch of pamphlets, stapled to the corner of a letter. The letter is a scan appointment. The pamphlets are a wealth of information on abortion. The information sinks in very fast, and as I lift my eyes to the top of the letter, I notice my name and address. No, not my address. It’s Matt’s address.
I gasp and screw the paper up, throwing it at the wall on an infuriated yell. I’m so fucking stupid. I’ve not changed my address with the surgery. I’ve not changed my address with anyone. All of my mail has been going to Matt’s and clearly the fucking bastard has been opening it. He must’ve been in his element to find this. What the hell is wrong with him, the nasty fucking lowlife? My damn emotions are all over the place. I’m sad, I’m hurt, I’m blood boiling mad.
At the risk of lashing out on the door or the wall or anything I can lay my hands on, I throw myself in the shower instead.
* * *
I’m still shaking with anger when I walk into the penthouse foyer only half an hour later. I’m already late, but my work, for the first time ever, is the least of my priorities. And it’s a good thing because I’m standing staring blankly at the keypad, with not the first idea of what numbers to punch in. I glance back at the door, contemplating nipping back in to ask Cathy, but I decide against it, instead bashing in the code of the fire exit door and pushing my way through. I need to burn off some of this fury before I’m in the close proximity of people. I might rip someone’s head off, and I want to save my wrath for Matt.
‘Good Morning, Mrs Ward.’ Casey’s friendly voice is the first thing I hear when I exit the stairwell, panting from exhaustion as oppose to panting with anger.
‘Casey,’ I puff, putting my heels back on.
He looks me up and down. God only knows what I must look like. I didn’t even bother to use a mirror, instead blasting my hair and firing pins in all over my head where I felt they needed to be. ‘Are you okay?’ he asks.
‘Fine,’
‘Congratulations,’ he says. I look at him in alarm. Jesse wouldn’t share our good news with the new concierge. He doesn’t like him. ‘On getting married,’ Casey adds. ‘I didn’t know.’
I’m frowning. Would Jesse have told him that? Probably. He was probably trampling at the time, stamping his ownership. ‘Thanks,’ I stalk past him and slip my shades on before I hit the sunshine, hoping the oversized things might conceal most of my harassed face. John’s here. He shrugs, and I shake my head. ‘I’m not coming with you, John.’ I fire my key fob at my Mini and start across the car park.
