LatinosUSA

Another day goes by and still I procrastinate.  I cannot erase the scene from my mind.  The wedding takes place in three days and my knowledge of her affair tortures me.

During an urgent business trip to Sydney, my hotel suffered a kitchen fire and they transferred me to another of their hostelries in the city.  I arrived late and, as I waited for the receptionist to complete the necessary paperwork, I glanced through a glass partition into the bar and was surprised to see Jacquie.  Her eyes gazed into those of the person who was so very obviously her lover.  I tried to convince myself I was imagining the scene.  My eyes swept the room again, but they returned to see the pair rise to leave and the way they entwined their fingers destroyed the doubts I had attempted to create.  My throat constricted, making me cough.

I planned to call my brother from my room and tell him what I had seen.  But then, would he thank me?  I knew he was enjoying his last days of freedom, so why shouldn’t his fiancée do the same?  Except it wasn‘t the same from my viewpoint, even though my wife tells me I have old-fashioned ideas. 

My wife, Pauline, is already home when I return to Melbourne on the wedding eve.  I sort my laundry, put things away and, while in the bedroom, make the call to my brother that I have inexcusably delayed.

His best-man answers.  “Sorry, Joe can’t speak right now.  He’s spread-eagled on a billiard table, the blue ball between ’is teeth,” the man tried to suppress his laughter, “and his wrists and ankles handcuffed to the pockets.  Some stripper’s standing over ’im, doing her thing.”

“Will you ask him to call me?”

“I thought you were supposed to be here.  Aren’t you coming?”

“Naw.  I had to go to Sydney for an emergency and I only just got back.  I’m knackered.  Just have him call me, will ya.”

“Ya think?  He’s already three sheets to the wind.  Talk to ’im tomorrow.”

Tomorrow.  Tomorrow will be too late to limit the damage to our lives; too late to prevent a public spectacle.  My cowardice is as harmful as my secret.  “No.  I really need to talk to him now.”

“I’ll give him your message,” the man said with scant sincerity, “but I wouldn’t hold my breath if I was you.”

Although there is, for me, an element of a condemned man’s last meal, Pauline and I eat a light supper and share a bottle of rosé while we relate details of our time apart.  I postpone telling her of what I saw in Sydney, not wanting to break the mood.  It feels good to be home together and I realise just how much I love her.  We leave the last of the wine on the table and head for the bedroom.  As I climb the stairs behind her, I shake my head in a futile attempt to erase the Sydney scene from my mind.  I put my hand on Pauline’s backside and she reaches round to cover my hand with hers.  A wave of love rushes through my body and I know with certainty that I need to be with her until the end of time.

The morning re-awakens the secret.  As I dress, I wonder whose lives are about to change forever.  My stomach feels empty, save for gurgling gases.  I call Joe once more, but he doesn’t answer the phone.

“Hey, bro,” my brother greets me at the entrance to the church.

“Back atcha.  Whatchou been up to?”

“Same ole, same ole.  Nailing everything I could get my hands on.  Gotta go out with a bang, so ta speak.”

“Yeah, it’s a hard life.  What about Jacquie?  She allowed the same freedom?”

“Of course!  What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.”

“If you say so.  There’s something I have to tell you.”

“Later, bro.  It’s time.”

“Yeah, but you need to hear this.”  The best man gently places one hand on my chest whilst propelling Joe into the church with the other.  “Joe!”

“Later, bro.” 

Jacquie and Joe stand before the priest.  “Does any person here know of any cause or just impediment why these two persons should not be joined together in matrimony?” the cleric asks. 

My knees feel weak; I may not be able to stand.  As I rise, Pauline grabs my jacket and tries to pull me back to my seat.  “What on earth are you doing?” she fiercely whispers.

Everyone turns to look at me and my gasses rumble like a gathering storm.  “I…er…perhaps we should…erm…could I have a word with my brother?”

“Sit down,” Pauline hisses, repeatedly tugging on my jacket. 

“I did say there was something I had to tell you, Joe.”  My voice sounds lame, even to me.

“I’m not interested!”  He spits out the words with considerable venom.  The best-man whispers something in his ear.  “You been drinking?” Joe asks.

Pauline grabs a chunk of my buttock and tries to dig her nails in.  I wonder if she’ll break some and say it’s my fault.  I think of my inadequate performance in the bedroom last night and my gasses expand.  “Not a drop.  You do need to hear what I have to say.”  I look down at Pauline, see the fear in her eyes and feel a rush of love for her.

“No I don’t!  What the priest said is just tradition.  Siddown!”

The priest gives Joe a look but says nothing.  I do as my brother asks and the embarrassment I feel at having caused the scene and then capitulating is acute.  Pauline, relief on her face, squeezes my hand but I still feel alone.

When most peoples’ attention is focused on the bride dancing with her twelve-year-old sister, Joe invites me to the bar for a scotch.  He puts his arm around my shoulder.  “So, big brother, what was all that shit about?”

“I saw Jacquie in Sydney.  She was with a woman who was obviously her lover.” 

He looked at me and then snorted a false laugh.  “That’s it?  That’s old news.  That was a final romp to say it’s been fun but it’s over.”

“So you knew about it?”

“Well, I…”

“Well, what?”

He retrieved his arm.  “Yeah, I knew about it.”

“And ya never thought ta tell me Jacquie’s affair was with my wife.”