The World Made Yonder

'Shall I put on some music?' he said politely.

'If you like,' said Celia with equal politeness.

'I'm actually okay as it is.'

'So am I.'

'All right then...'

'Okay...'

'Okay.'

They continued to eat in silence. Celia looked at her plate as she ate. Joey swallowed his mouthful of food, then washed it down with a sip of red wine. Stephen used his fork to carefully roll some spaghetti onto his spoon, the way he had been shown, and then he put it in his mouth. But instead of chewing, his face seemed to freeze. His mouth opened and the spaghetti fell back out, along with strings of spittle. Stephen began to cry.

It happened so suddenly, both grown-ups were taken by surprise. Stephen sat there, food and spit dribbling down his chin, as he cried from somewhere deep inside his gut. Celia got up and went to him, wiping his mouth and gathering the boy in her arms. The moment he was there, Stephen's cry went from a wail to an ear-splitting shriek. It was shocking how such a small being could produce such a terrible sound. Celia knelt by the boy's chair, rocking him and murmuring in his ear. Joey sat immobile, staring at his uneaten dinner.

'What's the matter, baby?' murmured Celia to the boy.

'I'm scared...' howled Stephen.

'Why are you scared, my darling?'

'I don't know.'

Stephen went into another bout of helpless crying. Celia held the boy close and turned her head to glare at her husband. Joey did not return the glare, but kept his head turned away, his face grim. He pushed back his chair and crossed his legs.

'Are you just going to sit there?' said Celia.

'You seem to have everything under control,' said Joey.

At the sound of Joey's voice, Stephen twisted himself round in his mother's arms. He stretched out his little hands and cried:

'Daddy!'

Joey's eyes were red. The tendons stuck out from his neck and his knuckles were white as he clenched his fists in his tightly folded arms. Joey stared at the boy and Celia realised that she had no idea what the man was thinking. He might be fighting a broken heart or planning to kill the boy—she honestly couldn't tell. It terrified Celia and she moved to take Stephen away. Then Joey held out his hands and Celia felt Stephen scramble out of her arms, fighting to get towards him. She cried out as Stephen's elbow hit her cheekbone, then he leapt into the man's embrace with a blind trust that enraged her.

'I love you, Daddy!' cried the boy.

'I know you do, Stephen,' said Joey. 'I know.'

Celia felt a stab of hatred for Joey. What the fuck was so difficult about saying, 'I love you too, Stephen'? But she also resented the boy, her cheek throbbing where his elbow had hit her. That same boy was now quiet in his "father's" arms, hardly crying at all. It was damn unfair! Joey was the one planning to turn his back on Stephen, yet he was the one getting all his love!

'Daddy?'

'Yes, Stephen.'

'Can you put me to bed?'

'I don't know,' said Joey. 'Would that be all right, Celia?'

Celia wanted to kill him. How dare he! She barely managed to speak without shouting.

'You're his father,' she said tightly. 'Do what you think is right.'

Joey gave her a look of intense coldness, but Celia was beyond caring. She got to her feet and took Stephen's plate and plastic cup to the sink area. Joey put the boy down and told him to say goodnight to his mother. Stephen ran over to Celia and she forced herself to give him a perfunctory hug and kiss. Then she watched Joey pick up the boy and carry him away. When they were gone, Celia stood in the empty room.

She had never felt more alone.

***************************

It was more than an hour later when Joey came downstairs. Celia was in the living room, lounging on the giant L-shaped couch. On the matching pouffe was a tray with the whiskey bottle and a glass tumbler. Celia had taken off her shoes and blazer, and a second whiskey glass was in her hand. She raised it in a toast as Joey walked in.

'Are you drunk?' said Joey.

'Not yet,' said Celia. 'But that's the plan. Want to join me?'

'Not particularly.'

'Oh, come on, Joey! Get drunk with me! I'll tell you my secrets.'

'There's only one secret I'm interested in.'

'Then that's the one I'll tell you.'

Joey gave Celia a look. Celia returned the gaze, a challenge in her eyes. Joey went over and sat on the end of the couch, keeping a distance between them. Celia put her feet on the floor so she could pour him a whiskey. She handed him the glass, then poured herself a second and put the bottle back on the tray. With her open white blouse, knee-length skirt and stockinged legs, she looked vaguely seductive and Joey forced himself to sit up straight, his feet flat on the floor. Celia, on the other hand, put her feet up on the L-section of the couch and leaned back, her hand behind her head on the backrest. She looked at the man, whiskey in hand, her hair coming loose.

'Go on then, Joey,' she said. 'Ask the question.'

Joey stared at his glass.

'Is Stephen my son?' he said.

'Probably not.'

'What do you mean "probably not"?'

'Look, I cheated on you,' said Celia. 'But you and I had sex within a week of that, so it's still possible that Stephen is your biological son.'

Joey swallowed his whiskey in one gulp. Celia waited while he poured himself another, the bottle neck clanking against the glass. She wiped a tear away while he wasn't looking.

'When did it happen?' said Joey.

'Do you remember when I went to Jackie Warren's birthday party?' said Celia. 'Well, she'd invited my ex from art college, Bjorn Eklund.'

Joey downed the second whiskey. He poured himself a third.

'Did you want to get pregnant by him?' he said.

'Yes.'

'Why?'

Celia sat up, putting her feet on the floor so that she could look him in the eye.

'Because Bjorn is the man I love,' she said calmly. 'I told you that even before we got married. Think what you like about me, but I never hid that from you.'

'You said he was history!'

'He was history! Seeing him again was the last thing I expected.'

'But you were married to me!'

'So?' said Celia. 'Joey, did you ever, even for a moment, truly believe that you were my first choice for a husband?'

Celia said those words without malice, yet they were the most painful words Joey had ever heard. They were so painful, they didn't even register as pain at first—just a sudden intense chill which seized his entire body. Then the pain hit, along with a violent desire to grab Celia by the throat and crush it. Joey put down the whiskey glass and walked across the room to the far wall. They were both silent. Joey pressed his forehead against the wall, while Celia watched him like a hawk.

Joey said something.

Celia asked him to repeat it.

'I said, why didn't you marry Bjorn?' barked Joey.

'I would have if he'd asked,' said Celia. 'But Bjorn didn't want to marry me.'

'Didn't he love you?'

'Yes, but not enough to "forsake all others". Even when we were together, he refused to be exclusive.'

'And you accepted that?'

'For a while, yes.'

'Why?'

'If you ever met him, you'd understand. I can show you a photo, if you're curious. He has a Facebook page.'

Joey turned around to face her, his expression loaded with contempt. Celia saw that look and was on her feet marching towards him.

'No, no!' she said. 'Don't look at me like that, you hypocrite!'

'Me, a hypocrite?' shouted Joey.

'Yes! You!' Celia was right in his face. 'If you wanted a woman to worship the ground you walked on, you should have married that dumpy girl at your office! But you didn't want a woman like that ... you wanted me! You wanted to marry me! You wanted to fuck me!'

'I love you!'

'So love me some more! Make me happy! Give me what I want!'

'You want me to bring up another man's child!'

'Yes!'

'You can't expect me to do that!'

'Of course I don't expect you to do that! Why do you think I kept it secret the whole time? Why else would I bother to lie my ass off to stop you finding out?'

Celia looked at Joey, hands on hips, without a trace of shame or apology in her eyes. Her frankness seemed to take them both by surprise. Joey put his own hands on his hips and shook his head.

'This is all a game to you, isn't it?' he said.

'In a way,' said Celia. 'And until that stupid movie, I was winning. Now everything's up in the air.'

'You were "winning"?'

Joey's voice dripped with contempt. Celia looked at him without any kind of feeling, merely a curiosity at how long he could keep up the indignation. She went over to the couch to collect their drinks.

'Yes, I was winning,' she said. 'I was like the woman in The World Made Yonder. Life wasn't perfect, but she managed to get the things she wanted. One: She was married to a man who loved her. Two: He provided her with a decent lifestyle where she could do her own thing. Three: She had a child by the man she wanted to have a child with. So she basically got everything she wanted without having to compromise.'

'Having her husband's child would have been a "compromise"?'

'You saw the film, Joe.' Celia handed him his whiskey. 'I get that it's not an easy thing for a man to see. But you can't pretend not to understand why a woman would prefer the foreman over the husband. It's the mating instinct, pure and simple.'

'Well, maybe I don't want a marriage based on "the mating instinct".'

'Then divorce me and marry someone else. Marry a woman who shares your "higher values".'

'And what about Stephen?'

Celia glared at him, biting back her first reaction: 'Oh, so now you care about "another man's son," do you?' She turned and walked in a circle, forcing herself to calm down and think. She stopped and faced Joey, the hand with the glass pointing a finger.

'I'll tell you what,' she said. 'If Stephen is Bjorn's son, I get custody. If he's yours, you can have him.'

Joey stared at the woman. He shook his head in disbelief. Celia regarded the man with a frown, then walked up to him.

'Sorry, Joe, but I'm not buying it.'

'What are you talking about?'

'This shock. This moral outrage. I'm not buying it.'

'I am shocked, Celia! I don't know you anymore!'

'That's not true. And I think—under all your self-righteousness—that there's simply a Cave Man screaming in rage that another man fucked his Woman and put a child in her.'

'Well, of course I'm angry about that!'

'So go Cave Man on me! Punish me, Joe! Put your own child into me!'

'I'm not that kind of man.'

'Bullshit! Every man is that kind of man.'

Celia stepped right up to Joey and looked him in the eye.

'Do you know what I think?' she said quietly. 'I think you still want me. I think the idea of outsmarting me at my own game turns you on. And I think, despite everything, there's a part of you who likes the fact that you're married to a woman who doesn't give a fuck about the rules.'

Celia finished her whiskey. Joey watched as she walked across the room, tapped the electronic thermostat to activate the central heating and then put her glass on the bookshelf. She began to unbutton her blouse. Joey snorted in derision.

'Are you serious?' he said.

'You either want me or you don't,' said Celia, letting her blouse slide off her shoulders. 'Just do whatever feels right for you.'

Celia carried her blouse to the giant L-shaped couch and laid over the backrest. She took off her bra, her skirt and her stockings, neatly piling them over each other. Finally, she pulled off her black panties and laid them on top.

Joey nursed his whiskey, glaring at his naked wife. He hated her, was furious with her ... and yet he couldn't take his eyes off her. He tried to tell himself that her round breasts were not as perky as they used to be, that her bare legs were less toned, that her shaved pussy was showing signs of regrowing hair. It made no difference. Celia was a formidably good-looking woman and no matter how angry he was with her, he still desired her.

And she damn well knew it.

That was the one thought which kept Joey in control of himself. He couldn't count the number of times Celia had fucked him into a state of Nirvana, only then to bring up the new car she wanted or that holiday in France. He knew she was using his sex drive against him even as she did it, but he couldn't bring himself to say no. 'Not this time,' he thought. 'Not for a hundred, million fucks. I will not be the husband in The World Made Yonder.'

Celia stood naked and looked at her husband. It was a strange look, a guarded look. Joey had the sense that she was not so much looking at him, but feeling her own reactions to looking at him. She frowned, sat down on the couch, then lay on her back and stared up at the ceiling. Finally, she turned and curled up, taking a cushion and holding it to her stomach. Joey found himself looking at Celia's back, her bare bottom and the soles of her feet. He realised with a certainty which made his heart ache that if he left the room now, she would hug the cushion and cry her eyes out.

Joey stared at her. Curled up naked on the couch, Celia did not look like a lying bitch who was ruining his life—she looked like a beautiful woman who was lost and confused. He felt the urge to go over, take her in his arms and tell her that everything was going to be all right. Joey knew he was being manipulated. And yet, he also knew her vulnerability and lostness was real. Celia was many things, but she was not a fake.

Joey finished his whiskey, put the glass on the same bookshelf as Celia's and then went to join her on the couch. He sat in the space between her bottom and feet and he put a hand on the curve of her hip. Celia didn't move. She hugged her cushion and faced the back of the couch.

'You're a very smart woman,' said Joey.

Celia spoke without turning around: 'If that were true, I wouldn't be in this mess.'

Joey managed a half-smile. He nodded and stroked the skin of her thigh. He looked over at the mass of blond hair hiding her face.

'Tell me what you want,' he said.

'I want you to tell me you're not divorcing me.'

'Celia, you're in love with another man.'

'That doesn't mean I don't love you.'

Celia twisted herself round to look at him. Her expression was earnest, concerned. Joey wanted to say that he didn't believe her, but realised with surprise that he did. He frowned and looked away.

'I don't trust you,' he said.

'I know,' said Celia. 'But I trust you. And, to be honest, so long as you love me, I don't really care whether you trust me or not.'

Joey stared at her.

'You cow!' he said. 'The number of times you criticised me for not trusting you!'

'I know,' she said. 'And I meant it at the time. But now that you've seen the real me...' She blinked and frowned. 'Now that I've seen the real me ... there seems no point in pretending.'

'And you think that's enough?'

Celia looked at Joey. She looked at his face, his frown, his posture.

'It depends,' she said.

'On what?'

'Joe, I want to show you something.'

Joey opened his mouth, then closed it again. He had no idea what she thought might convince him, but he was curious. Besides, he kind of liked the way she was now calling him 'Joe'. He pulled a face and gave her a look.

'All right, Celia,' he said. 'What do you want to show me?'

'Take off your clothes.'

'Celia...'

'Just do it.'

Joey stared at the woman. So this was a seduction after all. She really thought he was that stupid, that pathetic. That she could fuck her way out of this.

'Fine,' he said.

Joey got off the couch and began unbuttoning his shirt, standing with his back to her. He would fuck her all right. One last fuck, for old time's sake. And then, when she had his semen dripping from her cunt and all over her face ... then he'd tell her he wanted a divorce. And he would walk out of the room and leave that manipulative bitch crying on the floor. As Joey pulled off his boxer shorts, he realised that the thought had given him a hard-on.

Joey stood naked before his soon-to-be ex-wife and looked down at her. Celia had turned around to watch him undress and now she sat up.

She said: 'All right, lie down, please.'

'You'll have to make room,' he said.

'On the carpet. Somewhere away from the furniture, please. And I think I should turn the heating up a bit more.'

Celia got up and walked to the electronic thermostat. Joey watched the muscles of her buttocks as she walked. He was going to miss that. He grabbed a nearby cushion off the couch and used it as a pillow as he lay on the floor. His cock was beginning to wilt.

Celia returned and reclined on the floor next to him, her knees near his head, her face within easy reach of his cock.

'Put your hand on my leg,' she said.

Joey did as he was told. His hand looked big on her pale slender thigh and her skin felt soft and smooth. Celia pushed her hair to one side, lowered her head and took Joey's cock in her mouth.

Joey lay with one arm behind his head and watched Celia swallowing his cock. It was pleasurable, of course, but he felt strangely detached. Celia's eyes were closed as her head moved up and down, yet even when she gently cupped his balls in her warm hand, Joey felt no excitement, no eroticism. It was the sexual equivalent of getting a decent massage. He smiled, partly with relief. He had been worried that maybe—despite everything—he'd still find her irresistible, but that wasn't the case. The magic was gone. As he watched his cock go in and out of Celia's mouth, he almost felt sorry for her.

She lifted her head and held the glistening cock upright with her fingers. Her eyes still closed, she kissed it over and over. After one last kiss, she murmured, 'Oh, God, Bjorn...' then went back to swallowing it.

Joey felt his insides freeze. He watched Celia's head go up and down, her eyes still closed, sighing as she slurped on his cock, dripping saliva on it and rubbing it with her hand. She moved her hips to get more comfortable and Joey caught a whiff of her cunt. She was already wet. He felt her hand squeeze his shaft as her warm mouth sucked the head and he suddenly wanted to kill her.

Joey grabbed Celia's head by the hair and pulled her off. Rolling onto his knees with a speed he didn't know he was capable of, Joey found himself kneeling over the naked woman, her head twisted at an angle as he gripped it. He suddenly imagined himself taking hold of her chin, twisting her head sharply and breaking her neck. It shocked him. He let go immediately.

Celia sprawled on the floor, her fingers splayed on the carpet. She rose to her hands and knees, breathing heavily and staring at Joey's glistening cock. Meanwhile, Joey was engulfed by a wave of intense shame. He put his hands on his hips and lowered his head.

'Celia, I'm sorr—'

Celia lunged forward and bit his thigh. Joey cried out in pain and surprise. He again grabbed her hair, but this time she fought, struggling to get a purchase on the floor and push him off balance. With both hands, she grabbed the wrist of the hand holding her and twisted her head to try and bite his arm. Joey held firm and cried:

'Celia! What's got into you?'

Celia didn't answer. Instead, she snarled and screeched, like a woman vampire fighting the man with the stake. Joey pulled her sideways to thwart her biting attempt and one of her hands flew up and grabbed his face. Her fingers and a thumb clawed into his flesh, seemingly wild yet studiously avoiding the soft tissue of his eyeballs. Joey looked down at the writhing woman and suddenly understood what she was doing.

He let go her hair and took hold of Celia by the throat under the chin. His hand was big and his fingers and thumb reached around three-quarters of her neck. Celia's eyes bulged and she struggled to free herself. Joey held on, his grip calibrated to hold her fast without choking her. He grabbed her arm and pulled her hand off his face, then leveraged his body weight to force her onto her back. Celia fought to stop him, but he was bigger than her and she couldn't resist. Joey wrestled her down and forced his hips between her legs.