Page 37 of The Affair
It was fair comment. There was no point in denying it. She said nothing, glancing down at her food and helping herself automatically to some peas. The silence stretched, like claggy pizza dough, and she knew she had to answer him. But she also knew that whatever she said would be only a fraction of the truth. She hated herself for the deception.
Taking a deep breath, she began: ‘OK, well, you’re right. I’m not finding it easy.’ Devan’s face showednothing, so she ploughed on. ‘I know you’ve been struggling for a while … and that’s nobody’s fault. But it’s been hard for me too, Devan. I tried to pass it off, knowing you were in a bad way, but still … I’m only human, and so many months of rejection felt pretty personal …’
He slowly shook his head. She didn’t know whether it was in denial of her words, or discomfort at what he’d put her through. But he said nothing, so she went on, trying to stop her tone escalating with the hurt she couldn’t help still feeling. ‘Then one day I come home and everything’s changed, literally overnight. You’re all loved up. Your backache has mysteriously vanished and you want me again. You organize a surprise party behind my back – something you’ve never, ever done before. Which is lovely, but it’s not fair to expect me to fall instantly into line as if the last two years never happened …’ She trailed off.
‘For God’s sake, Connie,’ Devan spoke quietly, but she could hear the weary frustration in his voice, ‘I was trying to be nice … You’re making me out to be some sort of monster.’
‘I’m not. I’m just trying to tell you howI’ve been feeling.’ Resentment almost made her add, ‘This isn’t all about you, Devan.’ But she held her tongue, hating how peevish she was sounding.
Devan took a mouthful of wine and set his glass carefully on the table, as if he were trying very hard to control himself. ‘OK. Well, obviously I’m really sorry it’s been so difficult for you,’ he said, the wordssounding sincere, but the edge to his voice telling her something different. ‘But I think we have to share the responsibility, don’t you?’
Connie frowned at him. ‘For what?’
Her husband sighed. ‘Honestly, Connie, you’re so bloody stubborn. I don’t know what to say that I haven’t said a million times before.’ He stopped, looking quizzically at her, as if it were her turn to speak, to tell him she really did understand … and was ready to comply. When he saw she wasn’t going to respond, he went on, in a voice full of patience, ‘Surely you agree that we should have made a plan for our future. I couldn’t settle to my life without knowing how things were going to pan out over the next few years. You talk about fairness, but what I was asking wasn’t so unreasonable, was it?’
Although part of her still seethed, she accepted that what he was saying was probably true. But she knew, too, that she’d often tried to help him find something he could settle to, and had not been heard. The fault perhaps lay in lack of communication on both sides … and that he hadn’t taken responsibility for his own life. Instead, he’d made her feelherretirement was the solution to everything. But she was on the back foot, now, weakened by guilt and without the energy for a coherent defence. ‘Please,’ she said, looking him directly in the eye, ‘let’s not do this any more, Devan. If you want me to retire, then I will.’
Her words fell like molten lead in the hot room, shocking her as much as Devan. Connie realized shewas trembling. Something had snapped, like the painter on a boat in a storm, wrenching her away from the shore. She knew her guilt over Jared had partly provoked it. But she was also aware of an overwhelming desire to change the narrative, move on from this interminable dichotomy.
Clearly taken aback, Devan was eyeing her suspiciously.
‘Are you serious?’ he asked evenly.
Riley, sensing the tension, came up to her and laid his head in her lap. She stroked him absentmindedly, barely conscious of where this was taking them, but feeling out of control and angry. ‘If that’s what you want,’ she said stiffly.
‘It’s not just about whatIwant, Connie.’ Devan’s voice was gentle. ‘Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.’
Connie clenched her teeth. But her voice was level as she said, ‘I can’t have this conversation even one more time, Devan. It’s destroying us both.’
The room was very quiet, the impasse rendering them both immobile. Riley had given up and was curled in his bed again. The chicken stew was cold in their bowls. The rain poured down.
Her husband’s hand crept over hers and she allowed it to rest there. But she could not let go inside. In the ensuing silence, she listened to her breath: short, tight little gasps as she realized what she’d just agreed to.
‘I love you, Con,’ she heard Devan say.
That was the tipping point. She closed her eyes and reminded herself that this was home. This was herhusband’s hand over hers. This was safety, warmth, familiarity, history. Over thirty years of it. If she had to compromise, she would. She just hoped the resentment would go away.
‘Connie?’ Devan was staring at her. ‘We can sort this out, can’t we?’
She gave a small nod of acknowledgement.Let it go, she urged herself.Accept the olive branch, such as it is. If she didn’t, she realized the chasm between them would widen so much that neither would be able to vault to the other side.
‘You still love me, don’t you?’ His voice was tinged with anxiety now.
‘Of course I love you,’ she whispered, the words springing from somewhere deeper than conscious thought.
The meal she had put together so absentmindedly, her thoughts elsewhere, lay untouched on the table as they sat on in weary silence. Devan got up but seemed not to know what to do next. She saw him eyeing the wasted food. ‘It’ll do for tomorrow,’ she said.
The silence continued as they packed away the stew, cleared the kitchen and made their way slowly up to bed. Connie wanted to cry, but not to have to explain why to Devan: it was for the sheer weight of her betrayal and of everything that had gone wrong between them.
But as Connie climbed into bed, catching her husband’s tentative smile in the half-light, her heart softened.I love him, she reminded herself. As she reached to kiss him, she managed to stop any thoughts of Jared.He was another time, another place. Tonight, she was here in the room with Devan. His embrace was tender and comforting. It was about a long-held familiarity, a potent reminder of all that he meant to her … how precious that was. And Connie gave herself up to it without question.
As she lay sleepily in the darkness, she knew there was still a great deal between them that they needed to face. Lying quietly in each other’s arms, feeling the soft kisses he laid on her forehead – not asking for more – had brought her back to Devan’s side for the first time in months. She hoped they could build on that now.
A few days later, Connie watched as Neil grimaced, his bare feet meeting the cold rock. It was six in the morning and he’d swung by Connie’s house just before five. Although it was early August, the air was cool and the clouds heavy with impending rain. Just how they liked it. There was no adventure to be had plunging into a river in the blazing sun with half the country for company. As usual, Neil had brought coffee in insulated cups and Connie had nursed hers, still half asleep, as Neil drove his 4x4 south along the M5. Neither spoke during the journey to the river, the silence peaceful between friends.
The river, full after a week of rain, was rusty-brown and frothing as it roiled over the rocks that spanned it. This place was called Salmon Leap – for obvious reasons – and was one of their favourite wild-swimming haunts.
‘Looks a bit fierce,’ Connie commented, as shestripped off her clothes and laid them on the grass. They swam naked – one of life’s great pleasures – so they always arrived early, hoping not to put any unsuspecting fisherman off his cheese-sandwich breakfast, but the riverbank was deserted.
