The Aftermath, Gail Schimmel [sneezy the snowman read aloud .txt] 📗

she says. ‘I’m sleeping with the netball coach.’ She indicates a slightly butch woman standing on the sidelines of the racetrack holding a flag – and carefully not looking at Laurel. ‘You want to talk about not knowing who you are any more? I can talk about that all day.’ She laughs. ‘Unless Sandy calls. Apparently when Sandy calls, I’m unable to talk sense about anything.’

I’m staring at her open-mouthed. ‘Really? Or are you just trying to shock me?’

‘Are you shocked?’ asks Laurel.

I’m still not sure if Laurel is baiting me. ‘Of course I’m shocked! You don’t expect to sit down next to a virtual stranger and discover she’s doing the netball coach.’

Laurel throws back her head and laughs. Her salt-and-pepper hair catches the sun, and I’m suddenly aware of how careful my appearance is. Sandy-the-netball-coach turns to look at us, and I can see instantly that Laurel isn’t lying.

‘Oh my God,’ I say, nudging her. ‘It’s true. You devil.’

‘So,’ says Laurel, ‘if your sheep can spare you, want to go grab some supper tonight and talk about how we don’t know ourselves?’

I look at Laurel. ‘You know what? That sounds like a good idea.’

Julia

When I get home, I’m in a good mood for a change. Working with people other than Gerald always energises me. I decide that we won’t eat at home – we’ll go out for once. I book a table at Tortellini’s, which everyone is raving about, and I message Daniel to tell him. And Daniel’s home when I get there, which is also a pleasant surprise. But Daniel is all glowering and sulky, and even though I try to lift the mood by giving him a glass of wine and telling him to put his feet up (feeling like I’m Claire), he stays grumpy.

‘Want to talk about it?’ I say.

‘About what?’

‘About your bad mood.’

He sighs, and does seem to relax slightly. ‘It’s Claire.’ He closes his eyes and puts back his head. ‘She’s so unreasonable.’

I feel a curl of hope begin to unwind in my chest. I’ve been very careful not to push Daniel, not to ask him when he’s going to start his divorce proceedings. I tell myself it’s enough that he’s moved in with me, that it will all happen in good time. But it bothers me that he’s never mentioned it in the five months he’s been living with me, that there’s been no talk of divorce and us getting married. He’s lucky I’m not one of those people who feels strongly about being married when my baby is born – especially under the circumstances – but I still think about it.

Quite a lot.

But obviously it’s now happened. Suddenly it feels as if this is what all my anxiety and ambivalence has been about: I need Daniel to commit to our future by divorcing Claire. Once that happens, I will feel fully committed to Daniel.

I sit down next to him, and put my hand on his leg.

‘Did you talk to her about the divorce?’ I ask, trying to make my voice gentle.

Daniel opens his eyes. ‘What?’

‘Is she being unreasonable about the divorce?’

‘What divorce?’ says Daniel, his brow furrowed.

‘The divorce you need to get so we can be together properly,’ I say. I don’t want to say the word ‘married’. I don’t even really need us to get married. But I’d prefer it if my live-in partner and the father of my child wasn’t married to someone else. I like the sound of that in my head, so I say it aloud: ‘I would prefer it if my live-in partner and the father of my child isn’t married to someone else.’

Daniel looks at me like he’s never seen me before. ‘Oh,’ he says. ‘Of course. Yes. That’s reasonable.’

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I think so. So will you talk to her?’ Because clearly he hasn’t.

‘Yes, I guess I will. I guess I have to divorce Claire.’ He sounds a bit incredulous, so I nod as if I’m dealing with a very small child.

‘Good,’ I say. ‘I’m glad we’ve got that cleared up.’

I wait a moment to see if Daniel wants to talk more, but he’s closed his eyes again, so I get up and go to change for supper out. But there’s a spring in my step that wasn’t there before.

It really has turned out to be a very good day.

Daniel

I don’t want to divorce Claire.

Holy Christ, I don’t want to divorce Claire.

How did this happen?

WEDNESDAY

Claire

I wake up with the most shocking hangover, convinced that the noise coming from next to my bed cannot possibly be the alarm. I’ve only just fallen asleep. But Mackenzie is squirming next to me, and then emerges from under the duvet.

‘School time!’ she says brightly, which sends a shooting pain through my right eye. This would be the one morning of all mornings that she has decided to be perky first thing. ‘Time to move it, move it.’ She’s stealing my lines.

I went out for dinner with Laurel just like she suggested. I could have asked Daniel to have Mackenzie for the night, but that felt too complicated so I arranged a babysitter instead. Which meant I could stay out late. Which I did. And now I have the most monumental headache. I consider phoning Daniel to fetch Mackenzie for school, but after last night, that would be awkward.

We started out at a lovely Italian restaurant I’ve been wanting to try. I wasn’t sure how much I’d be drinking, and it was in a part of town I’ve never been to before, so thank goodness I took an Uber. I was scared we’d arrive at dinner and have nothing to say to each other and the rapport of the afternoon would be gone; I was scared Laurel would regret inviting me and write me off as another sheep. I haven’t, I realised, made a new friend since Julia. And look