Page 70 of Absolution

Jackie doesn’t look away. “They’re with Marianne.”

“Oh.”.

She shifts slightly, sitting straighter. “I thought we should talk.”

“Oh.” My mouth goes dry. The way she says it, calmly and directly, puts me on edge.

Silence stretches between us.

Setting my beer down, I lean forward. This talk has been a long time coming.

“Okay,” I say.

Her eyes flicker, something unreadable passing through. “Where do you go at 11 a.m. on Tuesdays?”

I blink. That’s not what I expected. “What?”

She leans back, folding her arms. Her voice doesn’t rise, but it cuts. “Is it a woman you’re keeping? A mistress? A hooker?”

My stomach sinks. “No,” I say quickly. “No, it’s not like that.” I pause. “It’s Nina.”

She scoffs, bitter. “Nina.”

Before she can spiral further, I blurt, “She’s a therapist.”

Jackie stares at me, stunned.

“What?”

I swallow, shifting off the couch and lowering myself to the floor in front of her. I take her hand before she can stop me.

“I’ve been seeing her since I came back from New York,” I say quietly. “Because I was afraid, I was turning into him.”

Her eyes narrow. “Turning intohim? Your dad? You mean also screwing women half your age?”

Her voice cracks, and she rips her hand from mine like my skin burns her. “Yeah,” she says. “I know about that.”

I don’t speak. I stay kneeling, ashamed, unable to deny it. She shifts, standing slowly, putting the couch between us.

“Nothing to say?” she asks, arms crossed. Her eyes are gleaming but not wet. “You’ve got nothing?”

I get up too, slowly.

There’s so much I could say, excuses, timelines, guilt, defences. But they don’t matter anymore. I’m done lying. Done pretending.

So, I meet her eyes and say, “Yes.”

She flinches. For a second, she looks like she can’t decide whether to cry or throw something at me. But all she does is turn away, like she’s trying to steady herself.

I stay there, unmoving, watching the woman I married hold herself together better than I ever deserved.

“I think we should try marriage counselling,” I say quietly. “I’ve changed.”

Jackie turns slowly, her face blank. “You changed,” she repeats. “Like you changed twelve years ago?”

I open my mouth, but no sound comes.

“What?” she says, her voice rising. “Is that what you told yourself? That you changed? While you were out screwing another woman and I was at home, going into labour alone? While I lost our son alone?”

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