Lifes Lines

Maggie pauses as the cleansing pad skims the side of her face. Once thin lines had sucked in the life-changing events and expanded. Her finger touches the grooves, and she’s grateful her world is on the mend. Any extra additions and bags would be needed for storage. 

“Damn!” she says and flips the mirror. “That’s better.”

Now those lines are back to being the ornate anchors holding her skin in check, keeping her eyes open and allowing the mess that occurred to remain visible. The permanent reminder of the betrayal endured propels her. Although David’s departure was a glorious thing, she’ll never forgive him for the callousness of his actions. 

***

There was no clue that someone who only hours earlier claimed he loved her could be so cruel. With their tenth anniversary celebrated, everything was amazing, wasn’t it?

When he arrived back early, it wasn’t unusual. He liked to surprise her.

“We have to talk,” he said with a pained expression.

Oh god, has something bad happened? She waited whilst dampening down the knot in her throat. Should she sit? Unsure, she grabbed a glass and gulped some water. He began.

“I have viewed some flats and found one to rent. I’m moving out.” 

He used a calm voice, as if that would lessen the impact. He was thoughtful like that. Things needed saying in response, but nothing formulated. So she left. The door reverberated as the key turned. Their warm, cosy room seemed hostile. She headed for the window and waited until the words ‘I’m moving out’ packed their bags and pissed off. They lingered. Her hands bashed her head, but that failed to dislodge them, so the bed suffered. It was complicit in the proceedings. Pretending to show how much love it had for her whilst laughing behind her back. 

BASTARD! BASTARD! 

She gathered up the quilt. Twisted and squeezed until white knuckles shone. Breathless, her eyes moved towards the wardrobe. THUD! Shirts landed in a heap on the deck as a cry of “Yes!” emitted. Maggie grinned, then tugged at the trousers and sent them off to be reunited with their friends. Well, it saved packing, didn’t it?

*

Face cleansed, she needed to choose an outfit. Black, it had to be black. Today would be tough, but she had no choice. Apparently, there are no valid excuses for avoiding your mum’s funeral, so she would have to endure it.

It’s the pity, that’s what she hated. Those half-smiles offered because they couldn’t figure out what to say. How many looks would be flashed in her direction later? Plenty, probably. David was making an appearance. Rosie was a dead cert, so... Well, joined at the hip, weren’t they?

*

Maggie refused David’s requests to talk. To her, there was no point. He felt it necessary to leave and explaining why wouldn’t have altered that, so why bother. Couldn’t he just stay away? Allow her to detach her heart and rebuild. Unfortunately, with something to say, he ambushed her, fully aware that her vulnerability would make it easy.

Her eyes stung as the mountain of water tried to remain hidden behind the dam. He wouldn’t see her cry. The key evaded the lock. Of course it did, and any hope of a quick getaway faded. The antiseptic stench that she despised wafted by. 

“Let me,” he said, grabbing her hand. He passed over the keys before standing aside to allow her to pass. That was generous.

Maggie headed for the bathroom. Her contaminated skin needed scrubbing, and she wanted time to regroup.

In the kitchen, two cups of tea waited. (It’s not your home anymore, remember). Arms folded and leaning against the cabinet, she stared at the pathetic specimen who should take his contrite face and shove it where the sun didn’t shine.

“Sorry. The way I stated I was leaving was wrong. I....”

(Must book in for a manicure, my nails look terrible. Need to add coffee to the shopping list.)

“... I’m seeing someone. Please say something.”

Oh, he wanted a response. She unfolded her arms and disappeared into the hallway. Eventually, he took the hint. She closed her eyes as the fresh air hit and smiled as the door slammed.

“Goodbye. Mobile, where’s my mobile?”

“Hey, Sis. Are you in the mood for alcohol? Excellent. Usual place. 7pm.”

*

After gulping half the liquid, the seat enveloped her. Red wine always hits the spot.

“Thanks for coming, Rosie.”

“Not a problem. I know what day it is. So, how did things go with David?”

“I never mentioned that he stopped by,” Maggie replied. Silence.

“I bumped into him earlier and he said.”

“Oh, right? Well, he spoke, then left. Just wanted to make himself feel better, I suppose.” 

“Or check on you because it’s the anniversary....”

She emptied the glass. “My daughter’s name was Chloe, and a year ago today she was stillborn... and you can talk about her. I can’t believe you are defending him. I’m going home.”

“Call me later,” her sister said.

*

Neither informed her. 

Cowards! Wimps! Backstabbers! 

But fate arranged for the exposure at the hospital. David dropped Rosie off, which was unlucky, as the room overlooked the car park. Maggie spied them. (He had looked at her like that once.) She plonked down, afraid her legs would divulge the truth. Her mum shouldn’t be told. She had enough to deal with.

“Oh... um... hi. I... I thought you were working,” Rosie said.

“Taken a few days off, to offer mum some support. I’ll grab a coffee whilst you’re here.” Maggie glanced out of the window. Then glared at her sister. Busted!

The phone closed as he leant against the car, waiting. “We couldn’t decide how best to tell...,” he blurted out as she approached.

The stinging reverberated as she turned on her heels. But that meant it was hard enough. As she re-entered the room, Rosie sensibly left.

*

Ready. The curve is prominent now, and a large, comforting hand caresses it.

“Any movement yet?” asks Paul.

“Are you going to ask me that every five minutes? When a flutter emerges then you are the first to be told. Promise,” she grins.

He hauls her close. Those lips taste good. 

*

For Maggie, not dwelling on past hurts wasn’t as simple as it sounded, but Paul was patient. (An essential trait as a nurse). A friendship blossomed as he guided her through each stage of the chemo and became a shoulder when the treatment was unbearable.

They discharged her mum so she could spend Christmas at home. As their final one together, she wanted it to be special. Paul agreed to ‘live in’ and help. Maggie was grateful for his presence, as she had to cope with Rosie and David’s appearance. She offered them the spare room, and they accepted the invite. Damn! With Paul by her side, she coped.

*

There they are. Hand in hand. 

Blatant! 

Auntie Alice walks past. No eye contact given. Ditto Uncle Trevor. Maggie turns. Smiles. Oh dear! Still, all actions must have consequences.

“Wow, you are blooming.” Auntie kisses her cheek, then bear hugs Paul. “What a wonderful couple you are. Please don’t worry,” she glares across the room and continues. “They won’t upset you, not today. We shall see to that.”

*

Home at last. Shoes off and pyjamas on.

“I’m moving out. Remember. By Friday,” Paul stated, carrying the tea.

“You’ve already told me. My brain hasn’t got that bad yet,” Maggie responded.

“Are you still okay with me living here? I don’t want to put pressure on you and have you agree because you’re pregnant,” he said.

She approaches as the sandalwood and musk combination flicks her switch and grabs his hand. 

“Pressured? I have been counting down the days. Now, let me show you how much I love you,” she said, climbing the staircase.