The intruder

The following is a work of fiction from one of our wonderful community contributors.

Twelve years we’ve been together. She said she’d always love me. Never leave me. But she was lying. I know she was because I can tell that he is now all she cares about. Not that she has said anything, but I can tell. I asked her about him, and she said he was a friend from work. But every time she mentions his name she has this dazed expression. Also, she is later and later getting home from work. I want him gone, and I want her back like the way we were together before he intruded. Just the two of us. The feeling of safety in our everyday domestic living has gone. I try giving her more attention, making her laugh, telling her I love her, but nothing seems to release this grip he has on her.

They seem to be together all of the time. Oh yes, they invite me also, probably so I won’t get too suspicious, and sometimes I go. But to tell the truth, it is so difficult acting as though I don’t know of their affair that I only go with them on the odd occasion. Then I stay at home imagining the worse. Which is better? Seething with anger at the lover in the midst or not knowing what they are doing?

The latest lure is skydiving. He is an experienced parachutist, she is learning from him. The thought of him being so close to her in the tandem jump makes my stomach lurch. I hate him. I hate her for doing this to me.

She is about to do her first solo jump. He has been teaching her how to pack her chute. He says everyone has to pack their own. They are setting off early in the morning so have their gear near the front door. He is staying overnight in the spare bedroom. I’d dearly like to go in and kill him, but suddenly I have a better idea. This morning I watched them packing their chutes, and he lectured her on what could go wrong if this or that wasn’t done properly. In the middle of the night, when they are both asleep I creep downstairs to ensure his life will end in the morning.

“Do you want to come with us today Frank?” she asks. I nod, I wouldn’t miss this. I am even rather jovial and friendly with him on the journey. I notice the eye contact and sly smile they exchange – the intimacy of lovers.

I do feel a bit guilty at the airfield. But the deed is done, and I couldn’t very well fess up now. Besides, he will soon be out of our lives. I have to keep thinking that. I stay in the office at the airfield imagining how he will feel when dropping out of the plane, showing off to her, then realising he is doomed.  Will his last thoughts be of himself, her, or will he realise I have got the better of him?  I do hope it will be of me, and that he realises, as the ground gets ever more close, that I have known all along and am not as innocent and naïve as he thinks.

The radio operator at the airfield goes into a bit of a panic, so I know my plan has worked. I can hear sirens in the distance and wonder if it’s the ambulance for him or police coming to arrest me.

Now she is here in front of me, looking wretched. Tears streaming down her beautiful cheeks, sobs confusing her breathing.  Her arms go out to me for comfort. I hug her. I don’t know what to say. “It’s Ok Mummy” I whisper to her.

What did you think of Jeanette’s short story?  Did you see the ending coming?

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