Compensation paid in fullby Elizabeth McGinty
I FINGERED the gold ring. Third finger left hand. It felt foreign and cold as though I was seeing it for the first time, my wedding ring.
Do you wear your wedding ring when you are with other women? Or do you care so little for them that you don’t even attempt to pretend?
I removed the ring and placed it on the coffee table alongside the note I had written. It lay there in silent accusation on top of the words that announced the end of the marriage. The betrayal of vows and promises made long ago. No screaming or crying no snot-covered tissues or wringing of hands.
So how did I find out about your sordid little affairs? I followed you. Plain and simple. Bet you didn’t think I had the gumption? Not me, not the good little trophy wife, bet you thought I would just be happy to lap up the successful lifestyle.
Did you expect that I would just keep myself and our home looking like something off the pages of a glossy magazine, and that would be enough for me? Well it wasn’t, for some unknown reason I expected love and a family. I expected a husband who would hold me close every night and make me feel I was the centre of his universe.
Yes, I followed you. Night after night I sat unnoticed in bars and restaurants. I was that invisible stranger in the hotel as you and your companion made your way to the bedrooms. I watched and noticed, as one woman became more prominent, your “special one.” If only she knew. It was about this time I noticed someone else, a man, who was always there too, hovering in the background.
So one evening I approached him. “I’m not trying to pick you up,” my voice sounded hollow even to me. “But I have noticed we seem to be frequenting the same places and it made me wonder if it was for the same reason.”
“It is,” his voiced rasped. “Your man and my wife are having an affair, it’s killing me to watch but I can’t keep away.” He looked up at me and I saw the thin pale face, the red-rimmed eyes and a sort of haunted look that I recognised in my own features.
“It’s grim. I’ll leave you to your pain.” I turned to walk away.
“No, please stay, take a seat, they won’t notice us. I could do with some company, if you dont mind.”
That was the beginning of my new life. Tony, that’s his name, and I began to meet and talk, we were so desperate for comfort and eventually we found it in each other’s arms.
Tony and I are off to start a new life. I haven’t told you any of this in the note I’ve left. Why should I? Instead being a dutiful wife I have written, “Penalty clause, no bonus due.” You’ll work it out.
Flash fiction will be a regular item in The Irish Times. E-mail a story of no more than 500 words to flashfiction@irishtimes.com
