A Week With Ray Summers

Eleven

 I was still breathless in the morning. I’d never had sex like that before. The sort of sex that left you aching, yearning. The sort of sex that actually made you feel sexual. Made you appreciate your own body; revel in its beauty, its worth. No part left untouched. It was all new to me. 

 But as good as it was, I couldn’t forget what I’d done to Jamie. I’d cheated on him, and I’d never forgive myself for doing that to someone. Someone I was certain I still loved, even if not in the way I used to. I knew it was wrong, what I’d done, and I knew what I needed to do. I had to come clean, and end it, before anything else happened. I knew I couldn’t make it right. I’d made it all wrong the moment I realised my feelings for Ray. But I could make it better than it was.

 I dressed quickly and called a taxi. I stood outside, waiting for it. The cold morning air was sobering. It brought me back to the real world for a while. I was a few inches off the ground whenever I was with Ray; I needed to touch the floor for a while. Stop living the high life and face up to facts.

 I’d always thought Jamie was “the one.” If I didn’t, I never would have moved to Liverpool with him. I thought we’d have a church wedding, despite neither of us being religious, with me in a white dress and him in a tux. We’d honeymoon somewhere hot (I wanted to do Vegas, but Jamie wouldn’t hear of it) and then settle down, have a career, three kids and a pet rabbit. We’d have very ordinary, but happy lives, and it all seemed reasonably appealing.

 But Ray would do Vegas. Hell, we’d move there permanently. Forget rabbits, we’d have Barnaby, and gem incrusted goblets filled with a never ending stream of champagne. It would all be concerts and sex and Cirque de Soleil; and we’d probably die young, but we’d die in style. We’d be remembered. We’d have an imperfect, chaotic life that never wanted to stand still.

 I never really thought that was our future. I didn’t even know if we had a future, but I was just certain, suddenly, that my future wasn’t with Jamie. And it made me sad. It scared me; all my plans were gone. But maybe it’s a good thing. Maybe you don’t need a rule book; maybe you should just go with the flow for once.

 The taxi arrived, and I gave the woman my address. It occurred to me that it wouldn’t be my address for much longer; I’d have to move out. It was Jamie’s house. Where will I go? I didn’t expect I’d move in with Ray. At least, not right away. Maybe I can stay with Emma…

 “Good night?” the taxi driver asked, chewing gum loudly.

 “I’m a little hung over, to be honest.”

 “Doesn’t surprise me. You reek of the drink. Must have been a hell of a party, in that big house.”

 “It was,” I admitted “I don’t think my boyfriend will approve, though.”

 “Well, you don’t listen to him, honey. You’re young. You need some freedom.”

 You don’t know how right you are.

 I tipped the driver a little more than usual and got out. I stared at the house for a while. My home. Or it used to feel like it was. I used to look forward to coming home. Eating dinner at the table with Jamie, then watching the news together, or a film, or both reading my new article together. It seemed a long way in the past after that week. That week, it felt more like a place I was forced to stay in; like being in a hotel miles from home. I longed to feel a sense of home again. But I knew I wouldn’t again in that house.

 The worst part was waiting for Jamie to come home from work. I started packing some of my things, stripping my half of our bedroom bare. I debated over some of the things; was it OK for me to take Jamie’s shirt, the one I wore for bed? I decided it wasn’t. I left it folded neatly on my side of the bed.