"What's she like, Roger?" I whispered as my love rushed around the house, collecting his belongings so he could speed to London to be with his fancy woman. There was no use pretending I didn't know anymore, yet still, he continued to deny it. The numbness that swept my body in waves told me I didn't care anymore, that our marriage was doomed to fail anyway; that didn't stop me from loitering at the door like an abandoned child as I waited for him to leave.
"What's who like?" Roger groaned, distracted, in a rush to get out of the door. Once, he had been fighting to stay; now, he was fighting to leave.
"Anna" Saying her name at the start of the week felt like a betrayal, although, it wasn't until the last few days that I began to understand the true meaning of the word 'betrayal'. That word reserved for the shattering of wedding vows.
"Anna?" Roger looked visibly annoyed, as though I were bothering him with some trivial household matter. "I already told you, I'm going to London for band stuff" he huffed impatiently. I already knew that to be a lie, having just got off the phone with Chrissy and Veronica, who confirmed their children's fathers were spending the day at home. I swallowed harshly.
"I know" I whispered, choked up. "But I still want to know what she's like" I pressed. Roger turned to face me, gazing upon me properly for the first time in days. It was though he was gazing upon the jealousy, upon the self-doubt, for the first time. He licked lips awkwardly, and I cursed myself for getting lost in his baby blues. But then of course, he had to ruin it all, by, not comforting me, as I expected him to, but instead, offering up: "I thought you weren't going to be that kind of wife" The words stung. We both know I never wanted to be this kind of wife, that I always wanted to trust him, that I always would have trusted him, if it weren't for present circumstances. All I needed was a word from him, a kind, comforting word, to convince myself that I wasn't making it up.
But instead, he made me feel like the crazy and unreasonable one. Looking at the floor, I backed down and placed a kiss on his cheek before he sped off to see his other woman.
Of course, Roger isn't there as I sit down to dinner with David. Despite the meet-up before Lola's recital being his brain-child, the exhausted, suited waiter pulls my chair out for me at the Hilton, not my husband. It is opposite Bowie that I sit, sipping demurely at an Aperol Spritz as I peruse a French menu. My husband, as usual, is nowhere in sight.
My hands shake as the waiter pours the wine. A red vintage, selected by David. My mouth dries, and my brain empties of words to say to him. We used to be friends, once, in the days Queen recorded in the UK. Like everyone else, he faded away, clutching fame and money over friendship. Holidaying in Barbados, rather than with Queen in London, or one of the wives country houses. Eventually, I began to consider him more Roger's friend than my own, too close to my husband to confide in when our relationship fell apart. Through no fault of his own, David ended up being just another face in the crowd.
"What are you thinking of ordering, darling?" David is kind, flashing me that award-winning smile. He must sense that I am a woman in need of it. I clear my throat, diverting my eyes back to my menu. Try as I might, I cannot stop the words all blurring into one.
"I have no idea" I admit sadly. "Roger usually orders for me when we come here" I elaborate. I cannot speak a single word of French, whereas Roger speaks it semi-fluently. I do not mention to David how long it has been since Roger last brought me here.
"I take it that husband of yours isn't joining us, then?" David works out, raising his eyebrows as he sips at his Manhattan. I shake my head sadly.
"It appears not" I mumble. David quickly works out that I have been stood up by my own husband – of course, Roger didn't have the decency to call and explain he wouldn't be here beforehand. There is still the chance he can burst through the doors, apologising profusely for being late, but that would require him to care about the people he hurts.
