Veiled Affection

Chapter Twenty two

Imagine you are someone untroubled, unbothered, and married. Your wife comes up to you one day and says she wants to divorce. You, completely oblivious of any signs that might have led to such a conclusive statement, are confused. And instead of showing any compassion or sympathy, you get angry. Because what she thought was a well-kept secret, has been under your knowledge for a while now. And the fact that she cheated, to then never tell you about it, doesn't sit right with you.

Throughout the divorce process you try to find out who it was she fucked, but in vain, she keeps her mouth shut. You are divorced now, and it seems your now ex-wife is perfectly fine with it, because she happily fucks someone else. Of course you are not aware of the latter fact, but give it some time.

Imagine all of the above. Such was the concise period of time for my ex-husband. Now my absolute surprise is imaginable when he stood on my doorstep.

It was about a week after Cate and I declared our love for one another. A week long well spend time together. She was gone now, back to take care of her children, when he knocked on the door.

''Hey,'' He simply said, and it was as if it was the beginning of a sentence to come, but he only stood there, silent.

It is weird to say, but he did look different. He smiled, for once, which I thought was quite odd. Not only considering he rarely smiled, but we recently divorced, so why express delight?

Nevertheless I smiled back. It was all a weird scene. I suppose any outsider would think of it as awkward.

''Hi.'' I said, with a clear indication of a stop. I wanted to know what he possibly had to say.

''Can I come in?''

Of course I let him come in, yet I still was rather surprised and curious at what he had to say. Turns out it wasn't the most shocking reason, and he just wanted to get more of his stuff.

''I brought some boxes. They are in my car.''

''You are planning on taking everything everything?''

''If it is convenient, yes.''

Cate wasn't coming over today, I knew that much. I had set myself up for a day of doing nothing, which would also be pleasant. But now that he stood in front of me and suggested to clear out his things, I couldn't send him away. The sooner all of his stuff was gone, the sooner the house felt like mine. And so I set myself up for an afternoon with him.

It started out mundane, on the verge of boring, even. But what was a few hours more dullness compared to ten years? He grabbed his stuff in a couple of rooms and I packed them in the boxes. Other than the questions he asked of where he left certain items, we didn't talk a lot. I didn't care though. The thing I couldn't wrap my head around was his smile, that still persisted on his face. Two hours went by, and we were about halfway when we took a break. It was then, as we sat in the living, that the questions came.

''How have you been?'' He started by asking.

''Fine,'' I lied. I had been doing absolutely wonderful, spending my days with her. Though it wouldn't feel quite appropriate to tell him.

''I finished my book,'' I said.

''You did?'' He looked delighted. ''And you didn't tell me? This calls for a toast.''

''It is three in the afternoon, Greg.''

He got up and walked over to the liquor cabinet. ''A perfect time to start if you ask me.''

He poured us two glasses and we clinked.

''Here is to your new bestseller,'' He said, and I smiled.

''I will cheers to that.''

Why was he so buoyant? I looked at him sitting there on the couch, drinking his wine, smiling, and that was what I wondered. Why did he smile so cheerfully? Why were his manners so impulsive? Why did he act differently from the Gregory I knew?

Pushing my questions aside, I did enjoy drinking this time of day. He never would have suggested something like this when we were together. Whoever this offbeat version of my ex-husband might be, I took a preference towards him. Even more so when at one point he brought up old memories from back in the days. And of all the monotone days I spend with him, he managed to filter out the special moments that stuck out: the time we went on our first vacation together; the moment our neighbors complained of the nuisance and we ended up turning the music even louder; the day we took a road trip of six hours, only to dine at our favorite place. And as more stories were exchanged, more drinks were passed around. 3 o'clock turned into 6 o'clock, and I started to get hungry. And what would have been an internal debate a few drinks ago, now came out without a thought.

''You want to stay for dinner?''

''What are we having?''

Yet again, such a different answer than what he usually would go for. Daring. Bold. I liked it. It reminded me of a certain someone.

''Takeaway?''

''Perfect.''

It wasn't after we finished our meal that we picked up our task of collecting his stuff. The conversation never stopped, and this time things weren't the least bit of boring. I think I saw him laugh more times than in the previous year combined. I actually had a good time with my ex-husband.

Still, he was an alienated different version of my ex-husband, because I couldn't stop thinking about how unlike himself he acted. At one point - when I had drank enough wine - I just told him.

''Why are you acting so strange?'' I asked him. We were standing in the middle of the living room, boxes all around us, when he smiled.

''What do you mean 'strange'?''

''You are so not like yourself right now.''

He snickered.

''You don't know what you are saying.''

''Exactly this! This is what I am talking about. You wouldn't say things like that.''

''Things like what? Are you feeling okay?''

''And there you go again," I sighed. ''I am not used to hearing you talk with such rashness.''

To this he came closer, and his voice deepened.

''How about I act with such rashness?''

I opened my mouth, almost said something. Almost. The rest of my life might have turned out differently if I had. But I didn't.

He leaning in and grabbed my waist, and then he kissed me. And to my great disappointment, I kissed him back.

There are no excuses I can give, no hiding behind a drunk version of myself, or the fact that he was such a different person. I kissed him back eagerly. And everything went so fast after that: boxes fell; steps were taken up the stairs; clothes were taken off; and we tumbled down onto the bed. Not once did I think about stopping what I was doing. In fact for ten whole minutes I didn't think at all. I am just glad I had the competence to fish out a condom from his nightstand.

''Put this on-'' I remember sighing, and he did.

It felt different again than what I had gotten used to, obviously. It wasn't at all comparable to having sex with a woman. With Cate. And I don't know if it felt good. Maybe... I just know that it was over in no time and we both fell asleep.