Page 11

1998

Kaya is half covered by the blanket, one leg and arm under, one leg and arm on top. Her hair is splayed across the sofa cushion; her right breast is exposed. The firelight behind her sends shadows dancing over her skin.

She knows she looks beautiful– he’s seen her lying like this before and told her she’s impossible to leave, that he has to lie back down with her. She remembers that time, her laughing, him telling her she’d be the death of him as his body hardened against her touch. Her husband has never made love to her twice in a row.

She’s not sure her husband has ever made love to her, at all. Not like this.

But her lover is no longer looking at her with lust.

He’s standing in the doorway staring at her, face aghast, abject shock in his eyes.

‘No,’ he says, just one word. He turns and leaves the room. Moments later, she hears the shower.

Kaya stays perfectly still; so still, she can hear her heart pounding in her chest.

I’m pregnant, she’d said. I’m carrying your child.

He’d jumped up as though scalded and fled to the door.

Minutes ago, he’d been inside her, whispering in her ear, the two of their bodies moving in sync.

Now, a valley stretches between them.

Is it mine? he’d asked. What if it’s his?

It’s not. It’s yours. I love you. We can be together.

No.

Kaya is not a fool. She knows what this means.

Another woman might con herself into thinking he’s just in shock, that he can be brought around.

Kaya knows better. She knew it when he rejected her the night she arrived at his door, the night she put his marriage in jeopardy.

In that one word– ‘no’– he’s given her his answer.

It’s only ever been about the sex for him. All the I love yous and the whispers about staying together forever, they were said in passion. They were never meant to mean anything.

The fire is making the skin on her back tingle and the rug and blanket are still warm, but Kaya feels terribly, terribly cold. She sits up, finds her pants where they’d been discarded. She reaches for her bra, her thermal tights, her work blouse and the jeans she brought for the drive home.

She’s dressed by the time the shower stops running.

She’s almost made it to the door when he appears.

‘Where are you going? Wait. I can drive you up the mountain. It’s too cold for the snowmobile.’

He can’t meet her eye.

She shakes her head.

‘I don’t need you to drive me. You’ve been drinking.’

‘It never worried you before.’

‘I was never pregnant with your child before.’

He flinches.

‘We have to talk.’

‘About what? You’ve made your feelings clear.’

‘I don’t know how this happened, Kaya.’

‘You’ve been sticking your dick in me every week for the last six months. It’s called biology.’

His face fills with embarrassment, then irritation.

‘It hasn’t happened for my wife,’ he says. ‘I thought– I thought it was me. And I supposed you were on the pill.’

‘Congratulations. You’re fertile.’

‘Kaya, you need to get rid of it.’

She’s already at the door, her coat on.

‘Kaya, are you listening to me?’

She stops, turns, stares at him.

‘I’ll decide what I’m going to do,’ she says. ‘Whether that suits you or not.’

The scales have fallen from Kaya’s eyes.

He’s standing in front of her, his skin blotchy from the hot shower water. His stomach is a little flabby over his groin; his penis hangs limply between his legs. He’s trying to project anger but sounds desperate, and yet, he thinks he’s in control of the situation.

‘And what about your husband?’ he snaps. ‘What do you think he’ll do to you?’

‘I guess I’ll find out,’ she says, managing to keep the fear from her voice as she turns to the door.

‘Kaya!’ He roars at her. ‘Don’t even think about walking out that door. We didn’t agree to this. We both knew the score.’

He starts to cross the room. He looks so furious, she thinks he’s about to hit her.

She doesn’t wait. She throws open the door and runs.

He’s naked, he can’t follow.

By the time she’s at the snowmobile, her whole body is shaking. I’m a cliché, she tells herself. As old as time. Pregnant and rejected by my lover. Left with the decision of whether to cuckold my husband or deal with my lot alone.

She takes the track towards the lake.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire.