I STILL LOVE YOU, BUT...

CHAPTER 8

AMANDA

"What the fuck, Amanda..." Colin says again, but this time, his voice is broken.

His eyes are filled with anguish --- I recognise it, that familiar darkness. I saw it that afternoon I stood in front of the bathroom mirror at the Flying Horse Inn. The broken girl, tears streaking down her cheeks. Plunging her face over and over into the ice-cold water at the porcelain sink. Standing under the pounding shower days after in my silent house. Rubbing my skin raw, dousing it with soap, scrubbing it.

But nothing could take away the smell.

The water got hotter and hotter.

But the stench of rotten betrayal clung onto my skin, seeped into my pores, dirtied my blood. No amount of rubbing or scrubbing or lathering could erase it. Even when a trip to the doctor had cleared me of any STDs, the dirt remained. I breathed it daily. In and out, in and out, in the empty house filled with the sound of my breathing, its silent rooms, the shadows of dust piling, the tokens of my husband's deceit and betrayal. Everywhere I looked --- the walls, the wardrobes, the cabinets, the tables, the bed --- everything seeped with his betrayal; it shrank the space, clogged the air. I could feel the weight of it around my nose, in my ears and throat. Choking me. Drowning me. The sadness, the pain, would creep up on me some nights, as I huddled, sobbing into my pillow, curled up into a ball, alone in my bed in the flat darkness. A bone-deep ache that made my insides hurt, my throat tight, the thoughts swirling endlessly, feverishly, in my head, How could you, Colin? How could you? How could you?

There were several pictures of Colin and me standing on the mantelpiece. The largest was one framed picture of us together: our wedding photo. We stood in the church doorway, Colin looking straight at the camera, while I smiled up at him. He looked like a husband should: handsome and strong and protective and content. Faithful. He looked like a man who would stay true to his wife forever, a husband who would never break his vows. I looked very young in the photo, my white face glowing in a shaft of sunlight. I was just twenty-one, like a child, my body impossibly slender in the narrow wedding dress. I looked happy in the photo --- I was happy, it was the happiest day of my life; I was marrying the love of my life.

How wrong I was.

I had been wandering around in a make-believe world for four years with my eyes half-closed.

Everything had been a lie.

He had destroyed all my happy memories. Thinking about the good times was like peering through a thick curtain; a grimy, ashy fog had settled on it, and everything good had been obscured. Colin had made sure of it.

I made a small pile of dry leaves in the backyard. I flicked on the switch of the lighter. A single blue flame shot out. When the flames shot up into the night sky, I tossed the wedding photo and the rest of the photos into it. I sat back on the damp grass and watched them burn, the edges curling up and blackening into ashes.

In the morning, there was nothing left, only a pile of gray, powdery ash.

The next day, I contacted an agent.

Three months later, I sold the house.

Colin takes a step toward me.

There is a liberal sprinkling of white in his temples, even more than the last time I saw him. Once, I had thought the premature graying made him look distinguished.

Now, it only makes him look tarnished.

My Prince Charming turned out to be a hideous toad in disguise.

"What are you doing, Amanda?" Hoarse. "Why are you --- with," he spits out the word, "him? He's your boss --- Jesus, Amanda, you work for him --- " his voice is rising. "You can't do this --- "