Hey love, you wont believe the call I got today. The voice on the other end was flat, almost like they were reading from a script: Your husbands been in an accident but theres more. My blood went cold before I could even ask what that meant. The next line was, You need to come to the hospital. Hes conscious, but there was someone else with him.
I bolted out of the house in flipflops, no coat, keys in one hand, phone in the other, and snagged the first cab I could find. The driver gave me a puzzled look, like Id lost my mind. All I could think was, who was that other person? Who could it have been? Mark had just gotten back from a work trip, or so hed said.
When they got me to the A&E, a nurse gave me that look you see in dramas a mix of sympathy, embarrassment and a desperate wish to get the conversation over with. He was in a car crash. No broken bones, but hes badly shaken and suffered a concussion. Hes in the observation ward. The woman she was in the car with him. She died on impact.
My mind raced. Who was she? A colleague? A hitchhiker? Mark never stops for strangers, never chats with anyone he doesnt know. Nothing like this ever happens.
I walked into the bay and saw him with a bandage across his forehead, his face scratched, an IV drip hanging. He looked up, averted his eyes and whispered, Hey. And then everything inside me just shattered. Who was she? I asked. A coworker? He stayed silent for a moment before saying, Its not the right time. But I already knew.
The next day, when they were discharging him, he finally told me the truth. She was Eleanor. Wed been seeing each other for a year. She was supposed to go back to her husband, but wanted a proper goodbye with me. I drove her home, was going a bit too fast, and we left the road. He said it as calmly as if he were commenting on the weather, then added, I didnt want you to find out like this.
I got home feeling empty. The flat looked exactly the same a coffee mug on the kitchen table, his slippers by the radiator but everything had shifted. Mark tried to act as if life would just snap back into place, that everything would settle down. I couldnt sleep in the same bed, couldnt breathe the same air.
Eleanor was thirtynine, mother of two. I read about her online; her husband was on the local news, saying he didnt understand what happened, that Eleanor had been happy and they were planning a holiday. I stared at the screen and felt like I should have been the one in that interview the woman who knew nothing.
I shut myself away. I stopped eating, stopped answering calls. My daughter showed up and said, Mum, you have to do something about this. But what? Hed cheated. Hed fallen in love, and in the worst possible way killed the woman he loved. What now?
Two weeks later Mark started talking about saving the marriage again. It wasnt a conversation any more; it was a monologue from a man with nowhere to go. He didnt cry for Eleanor, didnt speak her name, as if trying to erase her. I felt a part of me die the part that still trusted him.
So I packed a bag and went to stay with my sister. I only said, I dont know how long this will last, but I cant be a background for his lies any more. Mark kept calling, texting, even showed up once with a bouquet, but I wasnt that woman anymore.
