Love Letters Ch. 02

Mum just patted Mel's hand; she was used to Mel's passionate personality and speech. It was something we all loved about her and part of why she was perfect for Shaun who was far more laid back.

"Sit down, sweetie. Let's give Danny a chance to say something."

"Okay, um, well, first up, I'm sorry for all the worry I've caused. I guess, I wasn't thinking as clearly as I thought I was. I didn't, um, think of the bigger picture, I guess. But I-I-I think I might have been in shock, and I, ah, needed to get away."

Mel looked as if she was about to tear into me again so I held up my hand.

"Please hear me out before you rip me a new one, Mel. Once you do, I think you'll understand why I raced off halfcocked."

And so I told them everything. I didn't leave anything out, not even the parts that painted me in a bad light, such as my desire to cause Claire a few headaches and anxious moments when she found her key wouldn't work.

"So, if Claire's been calling on you guys every day, can I assume she hasn't gained access to the house?"

"No. She's either called or visited after work to see if we'd heard from you. We've all been holding off doing anything until this afternoon because you said you'd be home by today," Mum supplied.

I laughed. "Well, I have to say, that surprises me a bit. The lock changing worked better than I anticipated. I thought there was a good chance she'd sweet talk some gullible locksmith into letting her in. I figured at best it would keep her out, at worst, slow her down, and either way, it would cause her some gray hairs not knowing what was going on and how much I knew."

"She did try to con one into letting her in but he insisted she produce something other than her license to prove she lived there and wanted her to sign all these forms. She said she couldn't show him a bill or anything because you handle all that stuff. She was pretty upset."

I couldn't hold back a smile of satisfaction. So far so good for my keeping possession.

"I wouldn't start smiling yet, Danny. One visit to court and she'll probably be allowed back in." Despite his words, Shaun was smiling too.

"Yeah, I know, but this gives me time to convince her it would be in her best interests to be the one to move out."

"How do you plan on doing that, son?" asked my father.

"Simple. I'll tell her if she moves back in, I'll move out because there is no way known I'm living under the same roof as her. And if I go, not only will the renovations grind to a halt, because I certainly won't be doing them, but I'll not pay to have another tradie to do them either. On top of that, I'll also stop paying the mortgage—she'll have to pay it."

"Oh, Danny, are you sure that's a good idea? You could lose the house." My mother reached for my hand, squeezing gently.

"I know it's a gamble, Mum, but I'd rather lose the house than see it go to her when it's been my blood, sweat, and tears that provided it."

"But the deposit and all the money you've put into it—"

"It's only money, Mum. I'm young; I can always make more money and I'll be screwed six ways to Sunday before I see her profit from her lies and betrayal. She's a whore and she fucked me over well and truly, but she's not getting one nickel more out of me than is absolutely necessary."

It spoke volumes about my mother's mood that she didn't chide me about my language; normally, she wasn't as tolerant of Shaun or me swearing as she was Mel. Go figure.

"Too right. I'm with you, Danny," chimed in Mel. "Cheaters shouldn't prosper. In fact, that bitch should pay in spades for what she's done. So should Rat-Zack."

"So where has she been staying?"

Mum opened her mouth to answer, and then closed it, frowning before trying again. "Actually, Danny, I don't know. She never said after she turned down my offer to have her stay here. Sorry, honey, but—"

"It's okay, Mum, you weren't to know. I wanted it that way so you guys wouldn't have to lie for me. I, um, actually, put a few different stories out there. I wanted to confuse her and have her not know where to look for me. To her work friends, I said I was going to be working out west and was organizing a surprise party and to Zack I kind of made a mixture of both stories and—"

"You called Zack?" I could hear the shock in Mel's voice.

"Um, yeah."

"How did you not leap through the phone line and gut the bastard?" asked Shaun.

I chuckled. "With great difficulty."

"I'll bet," muttered my father, shaking his head, a grim smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

Conversation stalled; there was silence around the table. All eyes were on me. I could feel their love and support without a word being spoken. My father was the first to break the silence.

"Seems your reservations about Claire were justified after all, honey."

I turned to my mother in surprise. She'd never been cool or unwelcoming to Claire. Perhaps, there wasn't the same closeness she shared with Mel, but she'd never been unfriendly, critical, or shown any favoritism when it came to gifts.

"You had reservations?"

Mum shrugged. "It was nothing I could put my finger on. She was always polite and sweet and well-spoken, but, yes, I've always had reservations about her. In the early days I put it down to her youth, but she's in her thirties now and should have outgrown any flightiness. I don't know what to say other than it was a case of women's intuition, I guess. I never said anything to you because, well, you were head over heels in love and I had nothing to base my doubts on."

"Did any of you ever see anything untoward? I've been racking my brain but I never noticed her flirting with him any more than she did anyone else or him getting handsy at any of our family do's."

Everyone shook their heads.

"They've clearly been very careful about their affair," Mel piped in, stating the obvious.

"What's this?" my mother asked quietly, resting her fingertips on the display folder.

"That's all the letters Zack wrote." She had the folder in her hands and half-opened before I could warn her. "Ah, Mum, I don't think you want to see those. They're, um, rather crude and explicit. Not really love letters at all."

She paused, looking at me over the edge of the folder. "I've no doubt I'm about to be horrified, but I'll cope."

We all silently watched her. Several times she closed her eyes for long moments, but other than a gasp or two that escaped her pursed lips, she didn't make a sound. When she was done, her face a mask of revulsion, she passed the folder to my father who followed suit and began reading the folder's vile contents.

Reaching across the table my mother grasped both my hands. "I am so sorry you had to read something like that, sweetheart, about two people you loved and trusted. I wouldn't have blamed you if you strangled the bitch to death and then went and did the same to Zack. I'm glad you didn't because I don't want you in prison, but a slow and painful death is what they deserve."

Silence fell again. The lack of conversation was awkward; normally we were a noisy bunch, but I knew them all well enough to know no one wanted to say much until they'd all read the letters. Mum and Mel sipped their teas while Shaun, Dad and I our beers. When Dad finished he passed the folder to Shaun and stood.

"Give me a hand, Danny."

I followed my father to the kitchen where he wrapped me in a hug so tight I could barely breathe. I sank into the embrace, clinging to him like I did as a small child when my father's arms were the safest place on Earth. When we eventually drew apart, he cupped my face and looked fiercely into my eyes.

"This is not your fault, Danny. You never treated that bitch with anything other than love and devotion. The minute you start doubting yourself, you give me or your Mum a call. Don't let this break you, son. She's clearly not worth it."

I nodded, afraid to speak in case I lost it and cried like a baby. Sensing my dilemma, my father continued to cradle my face and stare into my eyes, trying, I think, to infuse me with his strength.

"You will get through this, Danny. I promise you that. You have a family that loves you and will stand behind you, no matter what."

"I know, Dad."

"Good, but it doesn't hurt to be reminded sometimes that you're not alone."

He released his hold on my cheeks and drew me in for one more hug. With a final pat to my back, he pulled away and grabbed the kettle, filling it with fresh water before switching it on. He moved to the fridge, extracting three sodas which he passed to me.

"We need clear heads. Once we have a course of action planned we can sink a few beers or brandies," he said by way of explanation.

We rejoined the others and I could see Shaun and Mel, who were sharing the folder, no doubt in order to save time, were almost finished. Shaun was silent, his jaw clenched in a way I knew indicated the depth of his fury. He was never noisy about his rage. I'd only seen him lose it a few times in my life, but each time had been marked by his silence and stillness before an explosion of wrath was unleashed. The cliché, the calm before the storm fit him well. Mel, on the other hand, was muttering under her breath, her cheeks flushed with what I guessed was a mixture horror and anger.

With a look at Shaun to confirm he'd also finished, Mel tossed the folder back on the table in disgust.

"Well, if I hadn't seen it for myself I'd never have believed the pair of them capable of such filth. It's like some gross B-grade porn movie."

As my father lowered himself onto his seat he looked at my mother. "I put the kettle on for you and Mel, love. It should have boiled by now."

"I'll do it, Mum. I needed to do something or I think I might explode."

Mel grabbed the teapot, almost flipping the lid off in her haste.

"Can I assume you'll divorce her?" asked Shaun.

"Yes, as I see, it divorce is my only option."

Everyone nodded.

Mel returned, and proceeded to top up my mother's cup. "Divorce is all well and good, but you need to make them pay for what they've done."

"I can't lie, Mel. I've imagined umpteen truly spectacular ways of taking revenge on them, but..." I trailed off, sighing. "But I don't want to lower myself to their level. I'm scared if I do I won't be able to climb back out of the filth. I don't want to lose who I am."

"You don't have to," my mother said. "The truth and their own words and actions will damn them both."

She had all of our attention.

"We'll make a public announcement in all the local papers which will serve as formal recognition of your separation. You've done nothing wrong so we don't need to sugar-coat it. We can clearly state its due to Claire's infidelity with a member of your extended family. We can even name Zack, if you want. We follow up with what we say is a courtesy email, call, or letter to all our family and friends, including Claire's family, where we elaborate a bit more, naming names and timeframes, and we let them know we have concrete proof which we're happy to share. We make copies of the letters and scan them and then we let people's natural curiosity or love of gossip do the work for us. Anyone who asks—and believe me, they will ask—we share the letters; each and every one of them. As I've already said, Danny, you've done nothing wrong. Nor have you done anything you need be ashamed of. Anyone who knows anything about you at all knows you've always treated Claire like a queen."

I thought about Mum's plan. It was simple, honest, effective, and I'd get to keep my integrity, but oh how my heart mourned for the loss of my revenge ideas, for the chance to see the pair of them riddled with chlamydia and oozing muck with their sex organs on fire every time they peed. And it went without saying, I'd loved to have had the opportunity to shove Zack's disease-ridden balls down his throat, but I guess I'd have to settle for the bulk of our family and friends ostracizing the pair of them. I couldn't help thinking they were getting off light. Sometimes being honorable sucked.

"What about Aunt Sally?" asked Shaun.

"We have to face the possibility she won't abandon Zack, she is his mother, after all, but if she sticks by him, then she can join him in exile, because I won't tolerate anyone treating either of my boys the way Zack and Claire have treated Danny."

Her voice was determined, but I saw the sadness in her eyes; it would hurt her to lose her sister.

"Can't we, I don't know, find some way to use the letters to really humiliate and embarrass them? Maybe, make posters and put them up all over town? Plaster videos all over the internet? I just feel like we need to do more."

It warmed me how loyal Mel was to me, to our entire family. She was fierce in her devotion. Shaun had certainly struck gold when he married her. I certainly couldn't picture her betraying or using Shaun the way Claire had me. I looked at my family and felt blessed—without a single request from me, my battle had become theirs. That was something Claire could never take from me.

"We could, sweetie, but I want you to think for a moment. Forget, for the time being, the legal ramifications if we did something like that. If you had a choice of having the man you wanted hate you or being totally indifferent to you, which would you prefer?"

Mel pondered my mother's question. "Ugh, I hate to admit it, but I'd prefer he hate me because that would mean that, at the very least, I affected him in some way. And hate can turn to love. To have him be indifferent would mean I didn't exist in his eyes. I'd hate to feel like I was a non-entity. Like I was evaluated and dismissed as irrelevant."

"Exactly. To my way of thinking, the opposite of love isn't hate; it's indifference. It would hurt Claire far more if Danny pretended to not care one iota than if he flew of the handle and hurled insults. She's a vain girl; she won't like not mattering."

"You're assuming, Mum, that she cares about what I think and feel and considering the woman revealed in those letters that might be a stretch."

"Oh she does, Danny. She wants you. It may not be for the reasons you wanted her to want you for, but she does want you. She wouldn't have hung around for twelve years if she didn't, nor gone to such trouble to hide her true nature. Whatever her motivations, she won't want you pulling the plug."

"Yeah, she wanted a gullible chump to foot the bill for her lifestyle," I mumbled, unable to disguise the bitterness I felt.

The answers came thick and fast, each of them talking over the top of the other.

"You're not gullible; you're trusting. There's a difference."

"You're not a chump."

"Don't let her get you thinking that way. Don't give her that power."

"You're not the chump. She is. She had a wonderful man who'd do anything for her and she threw him away."

"Thanks, guys, but I can't help feeling stupid and used. She fooled me for twelve years. I never suspected a thing. If I hadn't stumbled across those letters I'd still be happily falling all over myself to make her happy."

"Well, then, we're all fools," stated my mother. "Because, reservations aside, none of us suspected anything like this either."

"Son, you're not a fool, nor are we," said my father. His voice was firm, brooking no argument. "When you fall in love and marry you give that person your trust; that's the way marriage works. And you continue to trust until they do something to shatter it. Claire clearly excelled in deception and you weren't to know that until she made a mistake. It would be a sad day for mankind if we entered every relationship suspicious and expecting the worst."

"Okay, so you're saying I have to hide how hurt and angry I am and make Claire think I don't give a shit."

My mother nodded. "Yes. Let her try to explain herself—information is, after all, king. She may even paint herself into a corner with her lies. Give her enough rope to hang herself with. I'd even go so far as to tape your conversations with her. Your phone can do that sort of thing, right?" She paused, seeing the look on my face. "Sweetheart, I know it will be hard to listen to, maybe don't, maybe try to tune out while she's blabbing. In fact, that's a good idea; it will help you remain unemotional. Every time she pauses, just shrug or say something like 'whatever' or 'are you finished yet, I've got such and such to do'. Look at your watch, try to look bored. Say as little as possible. Don't rise to any of her taunts, pleas, or manipulations. She's bound to try them all at some point."

"But if I do that I'll never get to say to her any of the things I want to say. I don't want to go through life with this shit festering away inside of me."

Dad grasped my knee. "It's not forever, Danny. Think of this as a war or a chess game. This is a strategy for the early foray. She's the enemy, son. You don't want her to see your vulnerability. Later, when the dust settles on your divorce you can tell her whatever the hell you need or want. It will probably be better then. You'll have heard all her bullshit excuses and arguments and have answers ready. You'll be able to rehearse and fine tune what you want to say in your mind and deliver it calmly. Do it that way and you'll be able to turn your words into weapons to shred her with, do it now and you're likely to say or do something you'll regret."

I nodded. He was right. If I opened my mouth now I wouldn't be able to stop the deluge of recriminations I wanted to send her way. I wouldn't be able to hide my pain or my rage. I'd drown her in them and then she would know how to push my buttons.

We talked a little more and Mum and Mel even had me practice looking bland and bored while they trotted out the cliché excuses used for adultery. 'It didn't mean anything', 'It was only sex', 'I was bored/lonely', and the pièce de résistance; 'It's you and only you I love, he means nothing to me'.

By the time they finished with me I felt confident I could act my part as long as the confrontation didn't last too long.

# # #

Prepared or not, I was relieved to see Claire wasn't waiting for me when I got home. I knew she wouldn't be far away as her work day normally ended just after five and it was now five-fifteen.

I offloaded my gear, cursing the way my gut was tying itself into knots at the thought of my imminent confrontation with Claire. No amount of deep breaths was easing its stranglehold. I poured myself a finger of brandy, staring into its amber depths for a long moment before taking a sip. I closed my eyes and swirled it around my mouth, coating my tongue and gums before letting it seep, drop by drop, down the back of my throat. The burn was pleasant, calming, and just what I needed.

At five-forty there was a knock at the door. A few deep breaths followed by a quick check in the mirror to make sure my expression was neutral and I was almost ready. I grabbed my phone, switched it to record mode and slipped it with the keys to the storage facility into my pockets. Now I was ready.

The walk down the hall was slow; I felt as if I was walking through thick mud. I opened the door and stepped onto the front porch, forcing Claire to take a step back. The door closed behind me with a quiet thud.

Her familiar scent wafted around me, hitting me with a force like a punch to the gut. I immediately switched to breathing through my mouth.

"Danny? What the hell? Where have you been and why haven't you returned any of my calls or emails? And did you change the locks?"

As she spoke, clearly angry and frustrated, it dawned on me she didn't know of my discovery of the love letters. She was unaware I knew about her longstanding affair. On the spur of the moment I decided to keep her in ignorance—let the bitch read about it in the papers like everyone else. Then she'd have her fifteen minutes of fame just like the celebrities she idolized.