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“Thank you,” I offer, handing over the finished pile.
“What for?” he asks.
“All of it. You’re a good man, Charles,” I reply, moving to leave. He is. Always was. “Look after it for me.”
“Gray,” he calls, as I reach the elevator. “You should come over for dinner.”
A half smile lands on my mouth. Never going to happen. Hasn’t done for five years since the last time he managed to get me out. Won’t be happening going forward either.
He knows it as well as I do.
“Goodbye, Charles.”
Chapter 7
Hannah
Four days later.
My head hangs in my hands, mind trying to drown it all out as I heave in breaths. I can’t do this anymore, can’t listen to all the people telling me how sorry they are, how much they’ll miss him. None of them damn well care, not like I do. And I can’t process this, any of it. I just want to be left alone so I can deal with this my own way.
The sound of the bathroom door opens, a clatter of heels coming into the large space. I press my own heels on the cubicle door, wedging it closed and hopefully giving me some peace from the constancy of it all. There’s been nothing else since he died, other than my attempt at remembering him at the opera. Doctors, nurses. Time holed up in the apartment, touching his things and trying to work out why, sleeping in his pyjamas. And then this wake we’re at. It’s large and ornate and full to bursting point of people and their partners, children even. It’s everything he deserves.
And nothing I want to deal with.
“Poor Hannah,” someone says. “They were so good together.”
“I know. Although, I don’t know that they were that happy. Still, it’s a shame.” My eyes lift, wondering what the hell that middle bit was about.
“What on earth do you mean, Sally? They were the perfect couple. The real shame of this is that she’s alone now. Why they didn’t get on with having kids sooner is beyond me.”
“Tate says he was having an affair.” My mouth opens, heels scraping slightly at the words.
“No. I don’t believe that. He was devoted to her. I didn’t know them that well, but you saw them at the annual company ball last year, they were perfect. And she’s so attractive.”
“Hmm. Well, she might be, but apparently he’d been seeing Deborah Collier from finance here. That’s why he got the job and that’s why they moved over here from Vancouver. She must have known. All those business trips? It’s not surprising really. I often wonder if Tate is.” My mouth falls open, bile racing up my throat at the continued conversation.
“I don’t believe it at all. I’ve never seen a happier couple. You saw him at the welcome party the other week. He was all over her like a rash.”
“Well, he would be, wouldn’t he? Hardly likely to show anything but. Besides, Deborah wasn’t there so he could act accordingly without her interfering. She’s been in Europe for the week for the Horteen amalgamation. Probably why he was all over Hannah. You know? No sex.”
She giggles a little.
I grip tightly to my bag, trying to stop the sickness and panic rising up in me and not knowing what to think. An affair? No. Rick wouldn’t have done that to me.
“What proof does Tate have? Not that it matters. Can you imagine it if she found out now? She’s just put her husband in the ground and then she finds out he was unfaithful. That would be enough for me to end it all. Good lord what a mess.”
“He said he caught them canoodling at last year’s annual conference. Says he watched them go into a room together at the end of the evening. You know partners aren’t allowed at those events. Easy to get distracted I suppose. And she’s here, too. You think she’d at least have some decency about her and stay away.”
Who the fuck is Deborah Collier?
I listen to them for a while longer, unable to resist the words that are pouring out of both of them. More scattered comments about what Tate thinks he’s seen, more tries to defend Rick by the other woman. I don’t even recognise their voices, let alone know what the hell to think about any of this. And I still can’t fucking process this around me anyway, regardless of this information now coming at me in waves. How is he even dead? Gone.
My throat chokes on unshed tears, part of me not willing to let them break, and then my eyes try to focus on the back of the door. It’s all been a cloudiness of realism since that truck and the sight of him being dragged underneath it. Days drifting passed with nothing and no one, only phone calls I’ve either answered out of necessity or ignored in a haze of alcohol. I can’t cry, though. Won’t. I’ll die if I let the tears come. I know I will. I’ll let it consume me and then I’ll be nothing but a shadow of who I was. I’ll be broken and unable to heal.
An affair?
“I don’t know, Sally. I still say it’s impossible, but I suppose you never really know what you think you do. I’m pretty sure Andrew had an affair early on in our marriage. I let it go. What was I going to do? Let him get away with not paying for the life I’d earned while he ran off with a bimbo? Men. Most of them have nothing other than their dicks in their life.”
