A Hasty Split
Disheartened, Andrew watched as Rita gathered her things, ready to head home. Hed grown so used to his after-hours chats with his attractive colleague those warm post-6pm conversations when the rest of the office would drift off into suburbia.
For a whole week, Rita Chapman lingered late at work, and by remarkable coincidence, so did Andrew. The truth was, there wasnt much waiting for him at home a surly teenage daughter and a wife with the patience of a caffeinated squirrel. Lucy, his daughter, was in full adolescent meltdown mode: sullen, occasionally dramatic enough to warrant an Oscar, and allergic to constructive criticism.
Communication with his wife, Sandra, wasnt exactly blissful, either. Recently, shed adopted a permanent air of frazzled briskness. After work shed bolt straight into the kitchen, start hacking up salads, dicing meat, and scrubbing pans, all with the delicate grace of someone whod just stuck their finger in an electrical socket. Andrew was wary of approaching her during these culinary rampages shed glare at him for suggesting the tomatoes be sliced finer, and as for daring to question the grubby state of the floors? That was a one-way ticket.
Wife and daughter bickered on loop, like two alley cats determined to out-hiss one another. Stick your nose in, and youd be promptly shredded.
An explosive wifes not all bad, Andrews mate, Simon, joked after Andrews latest complaint about life on the home front. Means theres some spark, eh? Bet you dont nod off at night!
Honestly, I think we both just collapse, Andrew grumbled. Shes got the energy to argue, but once her head hits the pillow shes out for the count.
Time to wake her up, mate! Simon winked. Women love a bit of charm cuddle her, kiss her. Shell come alive, trust me.
Im not even sure I want to, these days, Andrew sighed. Sandys changed, put on weight, shes just so old all of a sudden. Soon as she switched jobs, she turned into my gran. Always cross, always knackered. And Lucy kicking off well, its just a perfect mess.
Shes got a new job? Whats she pull in, then? Simon asked.
Nothing to write home about, Andrew snorted. Although, since shes started, weve been clearing the mortgage early. Another year and were free of the building society.
There you go! Its just a phase, mate. Mortgages turn people inside out. Once youre done, lifell come roaring back.
Those hour-long, easy chats with Rita Chapman became Andrews oasis. Hed help her polish off some paperwork, chat about nonsense, and soak in those precious after-hours of calm. She was a delight: always well put-together, sweet-smelling, never without an interesting story. She raised her daughter on her own Veronica was Lucys age, so conversation naturally drifted to children.
Thats just growing pains, Rita would say warmly whenever Andrew moaned about Lucys latest outburst. Attention, patience, love thats what they need. Youll both survive.
Youre an expert, then? Andrew quipped. Your daughter seems fine, no?
For now, yes, Rita smiled, but I keep a close eye. My nieces parents would tell you all about adolescence theyve been through it all!
Well, comfort in numbers, I suppose, Andrew sighed. He barely recognised his daughter anymore once a sweet, clever girl, now a whirling dervish of hormones and defiance.
Mines an angel for now, Rita giggled. Im under no illusions, though.
Their conversations meandered through life and work, and now and then, Andrew brushed her foot by accident; now and then Ritas hand met his, a little tingle of a connection fizzing between them. Andrew found himself counting down the hours to their dates at the office.
So it hit him like a cold bucket of tea when, one evening, Rita stood up to pack away at six sharp.
Heading off already? Andrew asked, trying to sound breezy.
Yes, home time! Rita smiled.
What, no more work? he pressed, feigning concern.
Rita laughed. All done! Wouldnt have finished without you, Andrew thanks for your help this week.
Wait, but He was floored. Was this the end of their after-hours trysts?
Rita paused, noticing his confusion. Quietly, she said, Andrew, I think we ought to stop meeting like this.
What? No! Come on, Rita Andrews own anxiety surprised him. The thought of not having these evenings unsettled him far too much.
And lets keep it Rita, not Rit, please, she chided, soft but firm. You know its gotten a bit too friendly. Were both feeling it.
Andrew went red. It was true their gentle brushes and stolen glances were more exciting than any film scene, definitely more than his marriages rare hugs.
I thought you enjoyed our chats, Andrew muttered.
I do, Rita nodded. I enjoy good company, but somewhere along the way well, you know.
Yes, I do, Andrew replied, sheepishly excited. But why stop something wonderful?
Because youre married, Andrew, Rita replied, steady as a judge. And I wont do sneaky, romantic liaisons with married men. Business, friendships? Fine. Furtive romance, absolutely not.
Andrew knew by her look that she wouldnt be swayed but, he suspected, if not for his ring, things would be rather different.
Time dragged. Rita got on with life, as if their late nights had never happened, but Andrew obsessed. His irritation with Sandra increased his wife was now the only barrier between him and the wondrous Rita.
Arguments at home multiplied. Their sex life vanished; Andrew didnt want to touch his wife, didnt even want to talk. Sandras food, once a source of pride, seemed tasteless now though, to be fair, she could make a gourmet meal out of bread and a lone carrot when the mood struck.
One day, Rita asked around the office for help moving house. Andrew leapt at the chance, promising to organise everything, No sweat!
Have you a mate with a van then? Rita asked.
Of course! Andrew lied smoothly, beginning his desperate search for a rental.
Rita and Veronica were off to a posh three-bedroom flat, courtesy of a parental swap. The place was gleaming after a lengthy renovation.
Beautiful place, Andrew admired. Just you and Veronica?
Yes, Rita laughed, plenty of space for us both.
Or maybe for, you know, someone else? Andrew blushed furiously.
Rita instantly recognised the implication and drew the line: Lets be clear, Andrew. Youre lovely, yes but youre married. A relationship is out of the question. Im strict with my boundaries, youll have to respect that.
Still, Andrew couldnt help himself. Can I just ask: if I werent married, would you consider it… us?
Rita looked away. You are married, so there are no if onlys. But it was enough to spark hope in Andrew. He kissed her. She relented for one soul-stirring moment, then gently but firmly pushed him away, tears in her eyes.
Please dont mess with my head, Andrew. I I do feel something, but I refuse to go down that road. Go home to your wife! I want nothing more to do with this.
Oddly, Andrew found himself buoyed. She did care! If only he were free, theyd be together. Well, hed fix that.
Ill be back and soon, Andrew declared, feeling positively airborne, though he was marching right back to his domestic battlefield.
As for Sandra, she was spoiling for a row. That night she looked duller, more exasperated than ever; Andrew had half a mind not to even speak to Lucy, since whatever he said would just be met with eye-rolling and sighs.
Youre never home! Sandra fumed. And when you are, you eat and play on your phone. Whats the point of you, Andrew?
No point? Fine, lets get divorced, then you can have peace at last, Andrew replied, razor-sharp.
Words flew, tempers rose but instead of stressing him out, Andrew felt almost energised. Lucy stormed in, tears spilling over her cheeks, Can you two just get divorced already?! Im sick of it!
Sandra walked off with Lucy, voices raised; Andrew didnt even bother listening.
That evening, Andrew raised divorce again emboldened by visions of Rita. Sandra burst into tears. She begged him to sleep on it.
Andrew, this is just a rough patch. Works overwhelming, Lucys acting up, Im doing my best. Just wait itll all sort itself out. I shouldve paid more attention to you
I dont know whose fault it is but I dont want this anymore. I theres someone else. Please let me go.
Sandras tears barely moved him. He just wanted out, fast. Their splitting-of-assets talk followed a very British script.
Well stay in the flat, obviously, Sandra murmured, finally realising pleading wouldnt work.
The mortgage needs sorting out, Andrew nodded. You and Lucy keep the place, but Id like to keep the car.
If you sign over the flat, you can have the car and Ill take the rest of the mortgage, Sandra countered, all business-like.
Andrew was stunned. Sandras new job allowed her a zero-interest staff loan, meaning she could finish paying off the mortgage and finalise the settlement quickly.
Normally, Andrew might have hesitated, but right now, all he could think of was Rita and true love. Fine by me, he agreed.
But well sign before the divorce, Sandra insisted, itll all be smoother.
Sandra marveled at her own stoicism: here she was, efficiently divvying up the life theyd built, while her heart and home unravelled. But the instinct to protect her and Lucys future kicked in. Let Andrew perish of romance, as long as she and Lucy had a roof.
This isnt really happening to me, Sandra thought as she blitzed through the paperwork. The loan went through, the split was finalised, the keys now hers.
The divorce itself an efficient matter at the local magistrates court left her with a strange numbness. She wasnt even crying. She mightve begged, once. But not now.
Meanwhile, Andrew crashed at his mums. She was appalled but stoically reserved she liked Sandra well enough, but kept her opinions to herself.
At work, Andrew kept his distance from Rita. He knew the dance: no romance so long as Sandra was on the forms. Rita, for her part, was cool but slightly more intrigued than she let on.
Certificate of divorce in hand, Andrew intercepted Rita after work. Nothing stands in our way now, he grinned, grabbing her bags. Let me give you a lift home.
I dont understand, Rita stammered, but climbed in all the same. When he showed her the paperwork, her eyes widened.
You didnt get divorced for me, surely? she asked.
No, Rita. Our marriage quietly collapsed a long time ago, Andrew insisted. When I met you, I realised I deserved to be happy.
Its all just a bit sudden, she murmured. Im not sure Im ready for us, straight away.
He smiled. Lets start with dinner.
Alright, Rita agreed, finally smiling. Veronica was with her gran, so she had time. Their evening was lovely full of laughter, good food, the works.
I had to fight my feelings for you, whispered Rita, eyes moist. I promised myself I wouldnt break up a family
What did you realise? Andrew asked softly, hoping for the words.
That I think about you all the time, she blushed.
They wandered the river, basking in the romance. Andrew was head-over-heels, wanted to see Rita every day, but she often turned down his offers.
My daughters at a difficult age, you understand? she explained. She needs my attention I have to be careful with her.
One day Andrew, keen as ever, floated the idea of living together.
Im not sure, Rita frowned. I dont know how Veronica would take to it.
He suggested a group outing cinema, a café, maybe the arcade. Rita agreed; she was nervous, but Veronica was sweet and well-mannered. Andrew found himself a twinge jealous: what a lovely kid, compared to his tempestuous Lucy. Though, sensibly, he kept this thought to himself.
After several weekends playing house, Rita agreed to give cohabitation a go. Andrew moved in delighted by the fresh paint, new furniture, and the inviting scent of Ritas perfume (much pleasanter than the musty smell of his old place).
Andrew, just a reminder Veronica and I are off on holiday soon. For two whole weeks.
Andrew nodded. Hed been hoping for a romantic getaway, just the two of them.
What, youre planning to come with us? Rita arched an eyebrow.
Well, yes, Ive got leave booked Andrew admitted.
No, Andrew. This is my time with Veronica. She barely gets me to herself as it is. Its just us, not negotiable.
Andrew, clearly dismayed, would have to swallow his disappointment.
Two long, lonely weeks limped by. He imagined reunions full of passion, but when Rita walked back through the door, suitcase in tow, she wrinkled her perfectly shaped nose.
Why is it so messy in here? I left the place sparkling.
Well, you werent here, so no one was! Andrew shrugged. Let Veronica deal with it, and well
Rita glared at him, scandalised. Her daughter wasnt there to be his skivvy.
Andrew took this badly. Hed already noticed that Rita didnt cook for him like Sandra used to. Where was his home-cooked feast every night? Instead, Rita and Veronica grazed on salad, eggs, Greek yoghurt, and thought nothing of a proper roast.
I cant live without a proper meal! Andrew protested.
Rita, bemused, suggested, Then you cook, and well all have some.
Andrew bristled, not pleased with the self-service arrangement.
By the end of the row, Rita coolly informed Andrew hed be sleeping on the sofa.
Fine! snapped Andrew. Then maybe I just wont come back at all!
That might be for the best, Rita replied, eyes not leaving her phone.
Andrew expected her to call him to patch things up, but no such luck. By Monday, he broke and rang her but she insisted on travelling in separately to work.
Whats going on? I want to come home, but it seems youd rather I didnt.
Rita sighed. Youre right, Andrew. Veronica and I have realised we dont need anyone else. Please, come and collect your things.
Andrew tried every line, every charm, promised every change. Nothing worked.
Youll just have to learn to live without me, was all Rita said.
***
Andrew packed slowly, hoping for a miracle. But Rita was unmoved.
Im sorry, Andrew, she said as he left, It was just a passing phase. I feel better without you here.
Andrews heart crunched. With his life in bin bags, he loitered by his old flat for ages, finally parking up as dusk fell. Light glowed in the window. Without really knowing why, he found himself knocking at Sandras door.
Well, this is a surprise, she remarked, not unkindly. Are you eating?
The place was dazzlingly clean and newly decorated and the longed-for aroma of roast potatoes and lamb wafted from the kitchen.
Ill eat! Andrew blurted, before he could check himself.
Sandra, amused, gave him a hefty portion. She looked better thinner, and less stressed.
Wheres Lucy? he realised.
On a school trip in York, Sandra replied.
Looking at her, Andrew felt a little spark had she missed him, perhaps?
Sandra, have you thought maybe we could?
No, Sandra said simply. Dont get your hopes up. Ive moved on. If you want to see Lucy, just let me know. But you and I arent getting back together.
Youre still angry? Andrew asked meekly. I get it. I can wait
Dont wait, Sandra said, almost kindly. Im long past it. Im not angry, just done. Lucy and I got on perfectly well. Apart from those bank texts about your maintenance.
Andrew looked away, ashamed. No one had even missed him.
He locked eyes with Sandra, searching for comfort, but she only shook her head.
He thanked her for dinner and left. Down the steps, into the cold air, keys jingling, Andrew finally realised: he was well and truly, spectacularly, all alone.
