I excuse myself from the group and ask Chris to come to the kitchen, under the guise of getting a glass of water to swallow my pills. But in reality it’s probably the only opportunity I am going to get to talk to Chris without Anya superglued to him. As if she needs any help to look more appealing.
It’s almost physically impossible not to walk in Anya’s direction and punch her. Nothing would give me greater pleasure, but it’s not very good seventh birthday party etiquette.
My stomach growls and flips inside me as we enter the sanctity of Sylvia’s kitchen. The time has come, but Chris’ smile prevents me from speaking. Instead, I use my PR smile to cover the fact that nausea has invaded my body.
“Chris, I…”
He sweeps me into his arms. With these shoes we are the same height, perfect for kissing and not getting a sore neck.
“Are you ready for our date night? I even got some ice-cream for dessert — honey and nougat, your favourite,” he says with a smile that suggests pleasurable ways of eating it.
“Chris, I…” My mouth is full of marbles and the words can’t squeeze past.
“Mum’s keeping the boys with her so that we can have the whole night and a sleep-in tomorrow, so we can…” He holds me close and his lean, muscular arms wrap around me as though we are shutting off the outside world. His scent fills my mind with thoughts and feelings I am usually too busy to appreciate.
“So we can what?” I ask, already imagining what we can do.
“So we can take our time, be together, just you and me; no kids, no phones, no work, just us,” he whispers into my ear, his lips teasing my neck. He has the most kissable lips, perfectly formed — I often catch myself staring at them when we talk.
A sigh escapes as his lips brush against mine. Oh God, yes, yes, yes. My body wants to leap onto him, wrap my legs around his hips and disappear into another room. I consider not attending the meeting tonight, what harm would be done? Other than Al cancelling the contract for me to represent all of his clients; the goal I have been working towards for five years, the contract that has placed me on top of the pile of Melbourne’s boutique PR agencies. Damn it.
“That sounds great, but…”
My body tenses up inside Chris’ arms and my eyes are averted to his shoulder. In response he loosens his grip and steps backwards, our bodies no longer touching. He knows.
He sighs, “You’re working? Tonight? But, this is the seventh date night you’ve cancelled in a row.”
The distance between us now is more than just a couple of feet; it’s a separation.
“I’m so sorry, Chris. It’s an emergency meeting. It’s really important, I’ve got no choice.”
“You’ve always got a choice,” he says looking at me. “Tell me, Juliette, am I important?” Those perfect lips are now pressed together in a tight line.
“Of course you are, Chris.” Not that he’d believe it at the moment, in fact, not for about three years.
“Just not as important as this meeting, as your business,” he says.
“Please, Chris, don’t make this a competition.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this before now?”
“Because I was…”
“Never home? Too busy? On the phone or laptop constantly?” He leans against a row of cupboards, his broad hands clenching the bench top.
“I didn’t know about it until I got here. I don’t even know what the meeting is about.” Which is not strictly true, it’s a DUI, but clearly there’s something more to it. “This craziness will only be until the new staff settle in and then…”
“We’ll see even less of you?” he interrupts.
“No, just the opposite.” My voice is full of forced optimism, trying to convince him, and possibly myself. “My role will be one of a general manager, less hands on. This craziness is only temporary.”
He doesn’t move, not a muscle.
“It means more family time, Chris, me home more often. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Juliette, it’s what I want. But what do you want?”
Silence. Not for a long time, but for long enough.
“What do you mean?”
“Our problems aren’t just about what I want, they’re about what you want too, because it seems we want different things.”
Hundreds of small snakes slither in the pit of my stomach, each one twisting and turning in a different direction.
“No, no. Soon there will be plenty of time for us…”
“I’m sorry Juliette, I’ve heard it all before. This just isn’t…”
Cyclone Ethan bursts into the room and interrupts us.
“Mum! I’m sleeping here tonight — we’re camping out in the lounge room, cool hey? Did you see the baby croc? Can I get one?”
Chris holds my stare, his eyes boring into me.
“And Mum, it’s only five weeks to go until the concert. You will be there, won’t you?”
My mind is stuck on what Chris was about to say. This just isn’t… what? Working? How a wife should act? Fair on us? A problem, enjoy your night?
“Ummm…”
“Mum?”
Clearly, Anya is waiting in the wings for the day my world comes crashing down. She may not have to wait too long.
Chris hurries out of the kitchen just as my phone rings. It’s Al. It could be good news. Maybe the meeting has been cancelled?
“Hi Al,” I say, trying to sound professional.
“Juliette, you need to be here earlier. We have a crisis situation unfolding. Get your butt in here now.”
“Oh but…I…”
“I’ll ask you one last time. Do I need to call Sonya?”
Does he? Does he need to call my rival? I look at Chris in the backyard, talking animatedly to Rob as Lauren places her hand on his shoulder. Clearly he’s angry with me, and he deserves to be. But at the same time, don’t I have the right to pursue my goals too? Especially the ones I’ve worked my arse off for five years to attain?
“No, Al. I’m on my way.”
“So, you’re heading back to work, Jules?” Rob asks as I head back into the group.
“Rob, she’s got to work. You know that,” says Lauren, nudging Rob in the ribs.
Chris has his hands in his pockets, staring at the ground and scratching at the grass with the toe of his shoe. He hasn’t looked at me once.
“Yes, it’s an emergency. I have to leave now…”
“An emergency? How can you have a PR emergency? Will someone be Photoshopped to death?” laughs Rob.
“Rob!” Lauren openly slaps him, her brunette ponytail swishing behind her. “You know Jules’ commitment to her work. Bad PR happens all the time, not just during business hours,” she says as she nods in my direction.
“That’s right.” I give her a half smile. “Thanks Lauren.” It’s nice to know that someone understands the pressures.
“Oh well, you’ll be missing out on a great night,” says Rob. “Lauren and I have managed to talk Chris into coming out on the town with us seeing as Mum’s having all the kids. Sure you don’t want to change your mind?”
“If I could, I would, Rob. But I have to work now. Chris, could you walk me out, please?”
“Mum! Mum! Look, I’ve got a blue tongue lizard — isn’t he cool?” Ethan asks as he strides over, a stunned lizard poking out of both ends of his hands.
“Hmmm, he’s cool alright,” I say, performing a yoga backbend in order to avoid being in close proximity to the lizard. “Listen, gorgeous, I’ve got to go now. I have to work.”
His little face drops so far it almost smothers the lizard in his paws.
“But you just got here. Why do you have to leave early all the time?”
Chris couldn’t have scripted it any better in support of his argument. It leaves me feeling like the world’s most neglectful mother.
“You’re going to have a great time with Gran tonight. You won’t even miss me.” I smile and hug him, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“I always miss you,” he says, burrowing into my waist.
It’s fortunate my sunglasses are so huge because they hide the tears welling in my eyes.
Chris walks me out to the car. Our journey is silent.
We pass Anya at the end of the driveway; her car is parked in front of mine in the street.
“Off so soon, Juliette? Feels like you just got here,” she smiles at me, the venom dripping from her fangs.
“Yes, unfortunately,” I reply as nicely as possible, still obsessing over what Chris was about to say before Ethan’s interruption. This just isn’t….?
“That’s a pity. We really should get together Juliette, you know, seeing as our children are such good friends. Maybe a coffee at Diego’s sometime?”
I imagine myself clawing Anya’s picture-perfect face off and choking her so hard that her head actually falls off like a Plasticine blob. It’s immensely gratifying. Shame it’s only in my imagination.
“Yes, that would be nice.” Poker face on again. Keep friends close and enemies even closer.
“Wonderful, I’ll look forward to it. Have a good night.” She moves back to the party at the pace of a sloth.
“You won’t change your mind about working tonight?” Chris’ usual velvet tone is replaced with a crispness that is new to me.
“I’m sorry Chris, but it’s an emergency. I’ve got to go.”
His nod is as crisp as his voice. Not wanting to part on these terms, my arm reaches out to him but he’s already turned away, his eyes on Anya loitering in the driveway.
“Anya, wait,” he calls. She stops and turns around. “Lauren, Rob and I are going out tonight, why don’t you come along? Mum’s going to have all the grandkids, she wouldn’t mind Molly staying as well.”
An electrical current passes through my body, moving up the spine and central nervous system, catapulting my brain into an instant state of ‘what the?’ Did he just ask her out? Because that can’t be right; surely no man, in his right mind, would ask another woman out in front of his wife, the mother of his children, the one he promised to forsake for all others. Have I suddenly become invisible? Can he not see me? Why would he do that?
“Oh Chris, that would be lovely. Thank you. You know, your mother is so kind to look after all of our children by herself. What a wonderful grandma she is.”
They walk slowly down the driveway, in no hurry to return to the party, chatting to each other quietly. Anya smiling at Chris and Chris smiling at Anya, looking as though they are on a first date. Which, apparently, they are.
“Hmmwpggdbye.” It’s incoherent but is all my brain and mouth are capable of. But it doesn’t matter because he isn’t listening anyway, not while Anya’s waffling on about how wonderful Sylvia is.
Something tells me that we just had that moment in our relationship; the one when the energy between us changes and becomes cold, distant, when it starts to die. For the first time in our eight-year marriage, I question the validity of my trust in Chris.