Youve already started smelling of old age from a mile away! burst out the man I considered the closest person in my life.
Emily, hi Lets meet up today, I need to talk, my friend Rebecca rang unexpectedly around nine in the evening.
Today? On a Tuesday? Ive work tomorrow and its a bit late Plus, Ive caught a bit of a cold thanks to this damp autumn weather.
Come on, get ready! Ill be round in twenty minutes.
Is something the matter?
Yes Guess who came to see me for a therapy session?
Who? Oliver?
No, your son doesnt need me, thank goodness. The only therapy he wants is a punching bag at the gym, Rebecca snorted.
Who, then? Surely not Peter? It cant be I felt a chillPeter, my new partner, always seemed healthy and balanced.
Think back further. Not Peter, but well, Ill tell you. Your ex-husband, Mark. The one who sent you to me for therapy for five straight years. Anyway, get your coat and meet me down by the car park. Ill fill you in when I get there.
I stared incredulously at my phoneRebecca had to be joking. Markstubborn, old-fashioned, would never set foot in a psychologists office. Though What could have happened to push him there?
Instantly, any weariness or sniffles disappeared. I threw on a jumper and jeans, grabbed my purse, and went out to wait.
A few years back
So, youre not even going to say anything to explain yourself? I asked, after scrolling through his phone and stumbling across rather daring photos of a young woman, inviting him round that very instant.
What exactly am I supposed to say? That at the age of fifty, youre not as fresh and beautiful as you used to be? That your skin is losing its glow?
Dread washed over me as I looked at my husband. I imagined anything: apologies, feeble excuses, maybe claims it was the devils work, or that it was all a misunderstanding and the wrong number But Mark came clean without a hint of shamehe was enjoying the company of someone much younger.
Its only natural, Emily, for a man in his prime to seek someone his own age.
Why didnt you just divorce me? Why bring this muck into our home? I choked out.
Oh believe me, Julia is much cleaner than youll ever be. Salons, rose petal baths, showering twice a dayand you? I can smell your old age before you even walk in the door! sneered the man Id once called my soulmate.
Completely losing my temper, I snatched a wet tea towel off the table and started thrashing him with it, landing blows until he wrenched it from my grasp and shook me by the shoulders.
Calm yourself. Hold it together, for goodness sake. You need to learn to lose with dignityand let the young have their turn.
I glared at his face, desperately wanting to spit at him, then lifted my chin as high as I could, and walked out.
I knew the flat wed bought together would be split, all our belongings sold off and divided, and Mark wasnt about to show any kindness.
He even demanded a share of the china tea set Mark’s mother had given us before she passed. That set was so precious to me, but he took it, laughing at what I had left.
After the divorce, I had to move back into my parents boxy flat after evicting the tenants. All the stress had left me thin and worn, looking far older than my years.
The single thing that kept me going was my dearly loved son, Oliver.
Mum, Im on your side. Hang in there, he said, hugging me.
Rebecca stuck by me tooshed been through a nasty divorce herself, retrained as a therapist, and started holding sessions.
Emily, it pains me to see you like this. Come to me for counselling. I wont charge youconsider it practice for me, while you get to talk about your issues with Mark.
At first, I refused, then realised if I didnt at least talk, I might explode one of these days.
One thing led to another, a bottle of red, and my therapy began.
Over those years, Rebecca became one of the most popular online psychologists in our small town, swapped her battered old car for a posh German make, bought her daughter a flat, had a facelift, and became a young-looking, successful career woman who inspired others to claw their way out of toxic relationships.
No wonder Mark hadnt recognised the accomplished therapist as an old friend of his ex-wife. Or maybe he had come to her knowingly, understanding that shed be the only one able to actually helpafter all, she had glowing five-star reviews online. Or perhaps he was just desperate for a confessional to my old friend.
Spill it! I declared, clutching a second cocktail. I felt like a teenager again, partying in an old pub, letting my hair down.
Are you sure you want to know? Rebecca asked, fixing me with a serious look.
Dont toy with me! Dont hold a sweet out to a kid, and then snatch it back. Youre not going to do that, are you?
Im just a terrible psychologist, Emily, airing peoples dirty laundry! Rebecca pulled a dramatic face, then cackled. For all the wronged women! Me! I turned him down! she proclaimed, raising her glass.
Waithe what? He made a pass at you?
He wanted a couple of months of therapy. I declined.
Thats it? I slumped, disappointed.
No, I didnt know it was him when my secretary booked him in. So I had to do one session. Then
Well? Dont leave me hanging! I pleaded.
You know he married that Julia girl, dont you? Rebecca went on.
He did, yes. He rang Oliver about it, bragged, invited him to the wedding I chewed my lip, remembering.
Mum, Dads lost the plot! Oliver had snorted when hed called about the big day. Does he think Ill actually turn up? What do you even call that sort of weddinga joke? Sad old man with a girl?
Id just shaken my head. Oliver was absolutely right.
The wedding had come and gone. None of the family wenteveryone silently supported me. Two years later, as Oliver and his wife expected their first child, Mark suddenly turned up at their door.
So, sonany tips? Your wife gave birth recently
What for? Oliver shot back coolly, not letting him past the door.
My Julia is expecting. I need the contact details, the names, the hospital
Oliver just shut the door in his face. But I found out: my ex was a father again. So I went back to therapy, round and round in circles.
Ive got no one! Even my ficus has died! But him hes a dad again at sixty! Bloody hell! I sobbed to Rebecca.
Calm down! I had a gentleman in the other dayhes widowed, really good fellow. Let me set you up.
Rebecca really did introduce me to Peter, and we started seeing each otherquiet trips to the theatre, strolls in the parkthen before long, we moved in together.
Thanks to Peter, I was finally able to let go of all the bitterness over Mark.
And thenyears laterMark found himself sitting in Rebeccas office, not realising he was talking to my closest friend.
How can I help? Rebecca asked, icy but professional.
My childs not really mine, Mark blurted.
I see, and how does that make you feel? she managed to keep a straight face.
I mean, Ive gotten used to the little onelove her, spoil her. But now my wifes expecting again, and Im certain this one isnt mine either.
How did you know the first wasnt?
DNA test. I just knew. But I pretend shes mine. I care for her.
So, what are you hoping for from me? Rebecca couldnt hide her amusement.
Help. Tell me what to do. I feel humiliated, my young wife cheating behind my back.
In that case, perhaps I should suggest you divorce the young lady and marry someone your own age. At sixty-three, youll not have to worry about paternity.
But I dont want to marry an old woman!
Then stick it out with your trophy wife and pretend youre happy, Rebecca openly laughed, glancing at the clock before stating the session was over.
Could you work with me? You know, help me accept things
No, sorry. Youre a lost cause, she replied briskly. Best of luck with your twilight years. Just hope you dont have to check your wife for fleas. Shes probably counting on a fat inheritance.
I signed over the flat to the daughter Mark sighed.
Well then, youre a hero. Ive nothing else to say, Rebecca just shrugged.
He sloped out of the office, feeling even worse than before, Rebecca successfully convincing him that help was pointless.
She was dying to tell me about it.
So thats that, she said happily. Hes a miserable cuckold, and the flat now belongs to his wifes child. So dont think things have worked out for him.
Good. Well, I cant pretend I feel sorry for him. Honestly, Rebecca, it doesnt mean youre a bad psychologist or that I havent worked through itbut Im glad. I really am glad that mangy old dog got his just desserts. Theres some justice after all! Heres to all the dumped wives out there!
We clicked our glasses, laughed about our exes, and called it a night.
Rebecca and I have both moved on, with bright futures ahead.
As for Mark, after his humiliating session, he flew into a fit, demanded another DNA test from his wife, and soon found himself out on the street.
When Julia left hospital, it was the real fathera much younger, handsome but not wealthy manwho picked her up with the baby. Mark was no longer rich, nor respected. Just a grey, portly, homeless old man, left to pay maintenance for a child that wasnt his. Julia had played him, and it remained to be seen whether Mark could ever contest those payments, as his name was on the birth certificate.
Poetic justice, you might say. Life has a funny way of coming full circle.
If Ive learned anything from all of this, its that sometimes, life itself is the fairest judge. No matter how much pain someones caused, sooner or later, what goes around does truly come back around.
