Anna

I shouldn’t have gone in his wallet, but we had been married for three years. We shared a bank account, for goodness sake. Why couldn’t his wife try to slip two twenty notes in his wallet to pay for dinner? I had been trying to do a nice thing.

Now I sat on the edge of our bed, my hands shaking. I felt tears bubbling beneath the surface, but I wouldn’t let them rise. I wanted to be angry, to shout, to argue. I sucked in a shaky breath through my dry lips, squeezing my eyes closed as a barrier against the tears.

The shower turned off in the bathroom and I steeled myself. I hated arguing, but not as much as Ben. He wanted a “drama free life”, which meant we didn’t argue. Which was fine. It was vastly different to my parents’ marriage, and I was happy about that. I knew exactly where each creak on our staircase could be triggered from late nights listening to their shouting… I never wanted that for my children.

No, I was happy we didn’t argue. We never argued. That was a good thing. But… how did Ben not feel frustrated, like I did? Keeping it all inside made me feel like a pot about to boil over sometimes, like I might explode at any moment. 

Well, I suppose now I knew - he was letting out his tension with another woman. It was undeniable, the proof crumpled in my shaking hands now, the woman beaming up at me. I never expected Ben to have an affair, but what made it sting even more was the woman in the picture. She was so young… what a disgusting man he turned out to be. She was young - could she even buy herself a drink at whatever hotel they frequented? The girl - yes, she was a girl, not woman - could not possibly be to blame for this.

But I hated her. I hated her because she was the opposite of me, she was young and beautiful and blonde. She looked like a singer, or maybe an actress. Was I viewing this through disillusioned glasses? The rose tinted ones had been snatched off so violently the moment I found the Polaroid, it felt like my eyes hadn’t properly adjusted. Was she really as attractive as I saw her now, was she really so different to me? The evidence was undeniable - only a fool questioned tangible proof in front of them. I couldn’t start doubting myself now, before Ben had even had a chance to gaslight me yet. 

The lock rattled and my nostrils flared as I looked up, waiting for Ben to walk in.

He put his pyjamas in the wash basket straight away, not even looking up at me. I felt disappointed that he hadn’t seen the look of rage on my face when he walked in, that he hadn’t been frozen on the spot like a victim of Medusa.

”You are so beautiful, did you know that?” Benjamin smiled when he looked at me, stepping towards me and leaning in for a kiss. I dodged his hand.

“Are you kidding?” I spat, outrage filling me. Was he really so oblivious? Could he really not see me?

”What?” He asked, eyebrows knitting together, low over his confused green eyes.

”Who is she?” I said, standing up. I held up the Polaroid of the other woman.

”What?” He spluttered, before his face darkened. “How did you find that?”

”It was in your fucking wallet,” I cried, throwing it down on the bed. Benjamin fueled my anger by rushing to pick the picture up, smoothing it out in his palm.

”You ruined it!” He shouted, rage filling his face. I was taken aback for a moment - the man who hated arguing looked set to kill, and I wondered if I really knew him at all. We shared a last name now, we had done for years. We had been married now for longer than I knew him before I became his bride.

”You seriously care whether I creased your picture? Is that what you care about right now?”

”You shouldn’t have been snooping! You’ve crossed a line, how can I trust you?”

”Trust?” I laughed, baffled. “You’re talking about trust? Benjamin… my God, what are you on?”

Benjamin walked around the bed and picked up his wallet from the side table, sliding the Polaroid back inside. Flames of anger consumed me, licking at my heart, burning hot and hungry in my throat.

“So who is she?” I repeated.

”I’m not doing this,” he said, shaking his head as he passed me and walked into the corridor. I followed him out of our bedroom and down the stairs.

”You can’t walk away from this!” I cried, incredulous at the thought that he would even try to sweep this away. “This isn’t a forgotten dinner party. You’re cheating on me!”

Benjamin walked around the other side of our kitchen island, forcing a barrier between us. He leaned his hands on the counter, the vase of lilies by his left fist. My eyes bore into him as he stared back defiantly.

”I’m not cheating on you,” he sighed, and I laughed mirthlessly. He interrupted my chuckle. “I’ve not done anything.”

”Okay,” I spat. “So you haven’t fucked her yet. Good thing, too, because she barely looks legal. Jesus, Benjamin… look at you, the picture of morality.”

”Don’t talk like that,” he said darkly, his jaw clenching. I didn’t let up at all, glaring at him madly. I must have looked insane. Benjamin sighed deeply and ran his hand over his face. “Her name was Anna.”

I shook my head. He was going to lie now? Why would he keep her picture if he wasn’t talking to her anymore?

“We dated in high school. Way before I met you,” he said, shaking his head.

“So what?” I spat. “You’ve been carrying her picture around ever since she dumped you?”

”She didn’t dump me,” he groaned, looking down at the counter top.

”Don’t tell me you’ve got another wife, Benjamin.”

”Obviously not,” he said angrily. I waited, at a loss for words, not sure where the conversation was going. How elaborate was his excuse going to be? “She died. Car accident just before my twentieth birthday… I was…”

Benjamin’s eyes filled with tears and he used the back of his sleeve to wipe his face. I felt a balloon deflate inside of me, the urge to comfort Ben filling my heart, but I pushed down that urge. 

He blew out a long breath. “We had a fight, and she left my house to go home. A drunk driver hit her and… she died instantly, nothing they could’ve done for her.”

Ben looked out of the window at our garden, and my eyes followed his. The wind whipped through our flowerbeds, the weather unseasonably wild. Some of the flowers looked like they might be pulled from the ground at any second.

”She’s always with me,” he said sadly.

”How long were you together?” I asked, my mouth dry. 

“Four years,” he smiled. I felt like I was going to be sick; he had been with another person for four years, and he had never mentioned her. His girlfriend had died, and he had never spoken her name. Who was this stranger in front of me? Who was the stranger in his pocket?

”When you say she’s always with you…” I trailed off, thinking of our wedding day. Had he been picturing her at the end of the aisle?

”Not like a ghost,” he said stupidly, shaking his head. He seemed so pathetic to me now, but I could hardly be angry at him… how could I hold a dead woman against Ben? “Just… she’s always here.”

He raised a hand to his heart and I felt tears fill my eyes, finally threatening to spill over.

”Do you still love her?” I squeaked.

A puzzled look crossed Ben’s face, and he met my gaze properly.

”Of course,” he nodded. I let out a choked sob, squeezing my eyes closed. “I’ll always love her, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you too.”

I shook my head, smiling emptily. Salt streamed down my cheeks.

”Do you love me more?” I asked. Benjamin was silent, so I opened my eyes. Tears clung to my dark lashes. “Do you love me more than her?”

Benjamin looked uncomfortable as he broke my heart. “She was my soulmate… she was the love of my life.”

An invisible fist had reached through my ribs and pulled my heart out, bloody and raw. At least he had the decency to look like this was hard for him, too. Poor Benjamin. It would have been so much easier keeping the love of his life a secret, I supposed. 

“I love you,” he said, and I grabbed at my hair, shaking my head.

”Don’t say that,” I said. “You don’t get to say that.”

”I love you,” he repeated, walking around the counter. I backed away from him, the thought of Benjamin touching me causing my stomach to flip. “I do love you. It doesn’t matter if I love Anna, because she’s not here. You’re here. We’re here.”

I shook my head, feeling like I was being torn in two. He was right, Anna was not here - there was no competition. There could never be any competition, because she had already won. How could I ever live up to her? Someone who never did anything wrong, someone who never aged, never disagreed with him. How could I ever live up to the happy ending he never got, the woman who never was, the girl who knew him before? Before grief, before adulthood, before me. I never could. Anna was deified, a shining memory. A mere human could never live up to that.

”Please,” Benjamin choked, and a pang of guilt shook my core. It wasn’t his fault. It couldn’t be - it was no one’s fault.

I finally allowed him to wrap his arms around me and pull me close, enveloping me in a hug. Tears stained his shirt as I cried into his chest, and he held me ever tighter.

When I closed my eyes, I saw Anna smiling at me: frozen in the crumpled Polaroid. Between us, I could feel the outline of his wallet.