Sprung Ch. 01-04

"I snuck away again and made a noise like I was coming in. I didn't want you to have to show me the dress in case you were ashamed of buying it. I looked at our bank statements online to see when you'd bought it and for how much, but it didn't appear anywhere. That, and the strange expression on your face, just set off my internal alarms."

I remembered the moment Dave was talking about. Holding the dress up had made what I was planning to do more real and had me really doubting my motivations. Ten minutes before that, and Dave would have seen me modelling the lingerie.

"After I'd picked the kids up from soccer and you were busy, I went looking for that dress and couldn't find it. I checked the rubbish bins, thinking someone might have given it to you and you didn't like it. Of course, it wasn't there. I thought of looking in your car, but the spare key was missing off the hook. I waited until you were asleep that night, found both the keys in your handbag, then found the rather revealing stash in your trunk. The dresses and lingerie I could have explained away, even hidden as they were. The condoms just broke my heart. Do you still think I was sick last weekend?"

He looked up, forcing me to drop my gaze. I could see and hear him panting. A glance showed a rapid pulse in his neck. This was tearing him up and I'd caused it. I had the urge to go to him, comfort him and calm him. I was deterred by the expression in his eyes. It wasn't hate, but something like a first cousin to it.

"I tried to find out who it might be but there were no unexplained calls from your phone or any hidden or deleted emails that I could see. I knew when you started crapping on about nursing your sick aunt that this was the weekend everything was going to happen. I invented a business trip in the hope you would change your plan and meet him here. That way I could get evidence for the divorce, but you stuck to your plan of going away.

"I needed to see if you would go through with it or whether your conscience would stop you before the ultimate betrayal. There was also a little, 'if you love something set it free', as well, but not much. I was mainly giving you enough rope to hang yourself. A PI installed a GPS tracker in your car last night. He was going to follow you today, find out who you were with. Once he observed you doing anything a wife shouldn't do, he was going to get photos, then call me. We were then both going to serve you with divorce papers, there's a copy in the desk drawer in the study."

I was stunned even further that not only was I sprung, but Dave had decided to divorce me without so much as a word of discussion. But why was I surprised? Dave's handshake was his bond. Trust, to him, was paramount.

"If the guy was married, I was going to send any photos we got to his wife. If he was from your work, I was going to send photos to every work email I could find. Every one of your family members was going to get them as well."

Dave stopped talking with a sigh. He turned and looked once again at the photo above the hearth.

"But I just couldn't do it."

That's when it hit me. Everything he'd described was in the past tense. He wasn't going to burn me. Burn Michael. His gaze gave away his motivation for the change of heart. The thought of destroying his beloved children was just too hard a cross to bear. At least, I hoped like hell that was the decision he'd made. Not to destroy the family. As I watched in horror, Dave's shoulders began to shake. For the first time ever, I was seeing him cry. I felt wretched at the two choices I'd forced on him. To murder the family he treasured so much, or continue to live with someone he no longer trusted, probably didn't respect much, and, who knows, perhaps no longer loved. I felt like a murderess. If the ground opened and swallowed me, I would throw a quick prayer of thanks to the gods, before I was delivered to hell. I shut my eyes to block out the horrible sight. Hours seemed to pass.

"Do you love him?"

That shook me as well. I realised that Dave knew nothing about Michael or my motivation. He didn't know I loved only him and would be as devastated as him if our family broke up. I could hear the quaver in my voice as I answered. I knew a delay would make him think I was pondering the question, so I answered before I was under control.

"No, dear heart, not in any way, shape, or form. I can tell you my motivations, if you like, but in hindsight, they're silly and selfish. Please, please, please, forgive me."

I didn't even realise how tense he was until I saw his shoulders slump mightily. Whether it was from my answer or because he'd decided to end it anyway, I could only guess at optimistically.

"Have you had sex with him?"

"No. Please believe me, no."

"But you were going to this weekend, weren't you?"

I just couldn't answer that one. The silence hung between us like a portcullis.

"Is he married?"

"Um, yes, he is."

"Does he have children?"

"Yes, three of them."

"I just can't believe you would risk destroying your two children and he would risk destroying his, for what? For what? If you don't love the guy and, presuming he doesn't love you, why take the risk? Just for some meaningless sex?"

Dave shaking his head almost triggered me shaking mine. When he put it like that, what the fuck had I done? Had I been so sure I wouldn't be caught that the consequence of my actions was just a little guilt? Talk about arrogance. Time for recriminations later, Sarah. What could I do now?

"I'm terribly sorry, Dave. I accept full blame for where we are and forgive you in advance for anything you do from now on. I desperately want to stay married to you and am willing to do whatever penance is necessary to regain your love and respect. I accept that trust is probably gone forever, but I can assure you, you are looking at a much wiser woman than ten minutes ago."

He did turn and look. I know my voice had been strong, but I could feel the tears rolling down my cheeks. We stared at each other across the gulf of the lounge room.

"I can't say how I will feel tomorrow, next week, or next year, Sarah, so I make no promises."

He looked at the ceiling for a moment.

"Do you know where he lives?"

"Who? Michael?"

"If that is the cunt's name, yes."

I nodded. Presumably to talk himself up, Michael had told me his prestigious address during one of our conversations. I'd driven past for a stickybeak at it when I was in that part of town once.

"I want you to go there now."

"Why? Michael won't be there. He was leaving for the cabin straight from work."

"I'd guessed that, Sarah. You're not going there to talk to him, though."

My heart sank, and my pulse quickened. A feeling of absolute dread pervaded my soul. Surely, he wouldn't insist...

"You're going to tell his wife everything. Don't ring him to warn him first. I'll see from your call log if you do that. If he seduced you, tell her. If you seduced him, tell her. Be truthful about everything you did and intended doing together. She deserves to know the truth. It's what I'd want if the shoe was on the other foot. Do it now!"

I thought about trying to wriggle out of this heinous act I was being asked to do. I shut up. I'd committed a crime against Dave and our family. This was the first of many hoops he was going to make me jump through before he even contemplated forgiving me. It was a drop in the ocean compared to the pain I'd caused him. I changed into something more appropriate then slowly drove on my mission to devastate a woman I didn't even know.

An hour later, I drove home, my conscience eased just a fraction. My right eye starting to swell shut.

Whether Michael's family survived was almost totally out of his hands. Just as ours was out of mine.

ALTERNATE ENDING #3: BTB Rating Ambiguous.

Putting my bag down near the front door, I turned around.

And stopped. Dave had a neutral expression on his face. Interestingly, the feeling of guilt I was expecting at this point didn't materialise. What did, was terrifyingly worse. It was far from any expression I'd expected on that familiar, loveable face. For the first time, the possibility that he knew what I was up to, or would find out one day, hit me.

Why was I doing this? All my justifications to myself to date had measured the value of what I was going to achieve against the guilt I would feel. I must have judged it worth it; otherwise I wouldn't be standing here now. Judging what I would gain against hurting Dave or, heaven forbid, losing him... well, there was no question. I glanced at him again. He was still staring into the distance, expressionless. God! Did he know where I was going? Did he know what betrayal I'd already committed? Was he just giving me enough rope to hang myself? Should I fess up now? Would that change my sentence if he knew where I was going? But what if he didn't know, or didn't know for sure?

Another glance. He was now looking at me but still with that strange expression. He seemed to wake from a reverie, stood and walked towards me. I saw his gaze focus on my necklace, then flick to my left hand, the one with my wedding and engagement rings. Oh god! He did know! He was going to take my rings off. He knew and had already decided it was the end of our marriage, our family, and life as I knew it. The roaring noise in my ears partially masked what he was saying.

"Give my regards to Nick, won't you.?

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! He even knew my lover's name.

The roaring became a scream. I felt faint and before I knew it, I'd sunk to my knees, my head flopping forwards. I put my left hand behind my back, protecting my rings, the symbols of hope. Then changed my mind and threw both arms around his legs when I saw his feet next to my knees, to stop him escaping. I shouted to make myself audible above the noises in my head.

"I'm sorry, Dave. I haven't had sex with him, you must believe that. I...I...was going to this weekend, but I haven't yet. We've just had lunch a few times and kissed a bit, I swear. I didn't think about what would happen if you found out, I didn't think you'd ever know. I've been weak. Don't take my rings, please. I'll do anything, please don't throw me out."

I continued to cry, sob, and blubber, while he just stood there unmoving. Minutes or seconds felt like hours. Finally, my grief subsided. Turning my face to his was possibly the bravest thing I'd ever done. His expression would give me a clue to my future. A snarl would be bad. A smile, undreamingly good. I'd even settle for that neutral expression of hours, or was it minutes, before.

His actual expression was so confusing, it took a long time to register. It was as mobile as the previous one had been neutral. Shock, surprise, anger, all on a repeating loop. What? We stared at each other. After several attempts, he succeeded in forming a sentence.

"You...you're having an affair?"

What the fuck? He knew that already. My next words were automatic.

"But you said, 'Give my regards to Mick, won't you?'"

He shook his head, like he was trying to clear it.

"No, I said, 'Give my regards to Nick, won't you?' Uncle Nick, June's husband; well, his ashes."

I stared up at him as what he'd said forced its way into my befuddled brain. My mind, far more riddled with guilt than I'd allowed myself to believe, had firstly misinterpreted his expression—in hindsight, probably meaning he was musing on a work problem—then transposed Nick to Mick. In the confusion, I'd outed myself. If I was still standing, I'd have kicked myself.

Sobbing in remorse, self-pity, and fear, I dropped my head and squeezed his legs harder as I awaited my fate which was no longer in my hands.

ALTERNATE ENDING #4: BTB Rating 2

Putting my bag down near the front door, I turned around.

He was a little distracted, judging by the expression on his face. Probably thinking about a work problem. That helped. He rose as I walked towards him, that allowed me to make eye contact with him as little as possible. The rest was prevented by my hugging him. He returned my hug, then pushed me to arms-length and looked me square in the face, his expression still neutral.

"I'll cancel my trip, if you cancel yours, Sarah. We won't tell your sister and have a whole weekend in bed, just like the old days, huh?"

I pulled him in for another hug.

"It's way too late for that, darling. Aunt June is relying on me, you know that. Have a good trip, I'll see you Sunday night."

Averted eye, peck on cheek, about face, walk to door, pick up suitcase, straight out door, shaking slightly from the released tension.

I got lost a couple of times on the way to the cabin and arrived at about 5:30. The door was open, so I walked straight in. Michael was on the phone, talking work stuff. He glanced at his watch and pointed to the master bedroom. Wheeling my little suitcase and the clothes carrier from the spare wheel well of my car in, I lifted the case onto the bed, opened it and got out my toiletries bag. Next, I unzipped the clothes carrier, took out the cocktail dress and examined it critically for creases. Throwing the plain paper bag, especially purchased to anonymously carry my new lingerie in, on the bed. Mick was still on the phone. I debated waiting for him to get off, but remembered I'd booked the restaurant for 6:30 and it was a twenty-minute drive according to Mick. I hoped he was still on the phone until I at least had the lingerie on. That would improve my forty-year-old, mother-of-two confidence greatly.

Jumping in the shower, I was out in record time. Mick was still on the phone. Quickly splashing some perfume on, I grabbed the lingerie bag and upended it on the bed, prior to the final decision on which set to wear. A piece of paper, about A5 size, fell on top of the garter belt. It was blank, and I could tell by the way it moved, it was heavy duty card. I was confused. I'd carefully disposed of all the purchase paperwork before taking them home, and I'd tried everything on while Dave was mowing the lawn one day.

I picked the paper up. What I saw on the other side felt like the trapdoor opening on the scaffold under a condemned man's feet.

It was a photograph of my two children, one in the other's lap, smiling happily at the camera. It was a smaller version of the framed portrait above our fireplace at home. The one Dave was staring at the last time I'd seen him.

There was only one possible way that photograph could have ended up in my luggage. All of a sudden, the expression on Dave's face when I left took on a whole new meaning. The irony of it was that while I was busy trying to hide my feelings from my husband, he was doing exactly the same. Somehow, he knew precisely where I was going and what I was going to do. He'd made his offer to stay home this weekend if I did, as a last-ditch test of my resolve. He'd tested me, and I'd failed miserably.

My mind was a whirr as I scanned the possible repercussions from my actions. All my justifications to myself to date had measured the value of what I was going to achieve against the guilt I would feel. I must have judged it worthwhile, otherwise I wouldn't be standing here now. Judging what I would gain against hurting Dave, or, heaven forbid, losing him... well, there was no question. God! He knew where I was going? He knew I'd lied to him? Did he know what betrayal I'd already committed? Was he just giving me enough rope to hang myself?

How much did he know? Another thought crossed my overloaded mind. How long did he know? Did he have a PI following me? Did he know that, apart from some lunches and kissing, nothing had happened? I calculated not. If he thought I'd screwed around on him, there would already be a furrow outside our front door, made by my ass.

He'd obviously found the lingerie and knew it was for use this weekend. I speculated that by planting the photo, he was trying to stop me from going past the point of no return. That was a good sign, wasn't it? I hoped so. If that was so, what was his end game?

Suddenly, a pair of arms encircled me from behind. Hands grabbed my boobs, lips nuzzled my neck, and a bulge was pressed against my buttocks. I turned within the circle of his arms, fear giving me super-human strength and kneed Michael between his legs. I felt it wasn't a perfect hit, but it resulted in a good whoosh of expelled air. My mind screamed at me. Minimise the damage done. Lunches, kisses, and intent to do more were forgivable; please. The more I did, the less the chances of survival. The quicker I got home, the less imagination fodder Dave had. Was he really going away this weekend? Unlikely. Much more likely he was monitoring what I was doing and using the story of a trip away to lull me into a false sense of security.

Michael stood upright and reached to grab me. In panic, I jumped across the bed, ran out the bedroom door and kept going. The early autumn, late afternoon freshness alerted me to the fact I was still naked. That pulled me up in my tracks just as Michael caught up to me and again wrapped me in his arms, this time to restrain me. That was the tableau Dave saw me in as his work ute came around the corner of the cottage and pulled up in front of us. He jumped out. Significantly, Michael turned us, so I was between Dave and himself.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"The chauffeur of your worst nightmare, shithead." Dave replied grimly.

At that point, the passenger side door opened, and a mid-thirties lady got out and stared across the roof of the car at us. I heard Michael draw a deep breath.

"Laura. Honey. This isn't what it looks... aw, fuck it."

He let me go as his arms slumped to his side. Without losing eye contact, the lady, his wife, I gathered, strode around the car. I stood rooted; too mesmerised even to look at Dave. She stood in front of us, staring at Michael. I must have looked away briefly because her right cross caught me completely by surprise. I went down on my ass as I felt blood streaming from my nose.

The woman drew her leg back to kick me, then abruptly turned and took four paces back towards the car before sinking to her knees, sobbing. I felt lower than tadpole shit. Dave drew Laura back to her feet and wrapped her in his big powerful arms. I realised that I may never experience those arms ever again. I screamed but everyone was so preoccupied no one noticed.

The end.

Stay tuned for Sprung 5 tomorrow.