KARMA

17. INTO THE LIGHT

A Note from Ashleigh

This chapter is a mix of old and new.

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MAXIM

I first met Susan Wells at an investments convention in London.

I was charmed by her. She was so different. She was direct, forthright, and honest. She was not afraid to speak her mind. She was not intimidated by me. She was intelligent, she spoke eloquently on topics that interested me. I was intriqued by her brashness, her confidence. She dressed simply, she didn't give a hoot for fashion, nor did she attempt to indulge in meaningless small talk, or show any interest in me. I knew that I was considered a catch, that many women were attempting to catch my eye. But I has never been a womanizer. It was just the way I was. Many single men in my social circle slept with women willing enough, they loved meaningless hook-ups, and changed their girlfriends as often as they changed clothes. Was it an ego thing? To prove that a successful man was more of a man if he subscribed to this kind of a lifestyle? It baffled me. I wanted a relationship like my parents'. Loyalty and fidelity were important to me. My parents had been married for more than thirty years, and they loved each other dearly. I wanted a marriage like theirs. A love that had evolved with time, matured like fine wine, and strengthened into an unshakeable, unbreakable bond through the passage of years.

I believed that Susan was the woman for me. She displayed all the qualities that I admired: confidence, boldness, strength, independence, honesty. I liked her a lot. I did not love her --- but that would come later, I was certain. I had never been in love before; frankly, I did not know what falling in love was; it was an alien emotion to me. Work was my priority; it took precedence over everything. Susan was very attractive in her no-nonsense work attire, with her bright auburn hair, and her curves. There were women who were far more beautiful than her, but I wasn't a man to go for looks. Beauty fades, Max; it is strength of character that endures through the ravages of time. Find a good, honest woman. A marriage should be built upon a strong foundation, not on looks. My mother had taken to nagging me about getting married. You are thirty-three years old, Max. It's high time you got married.

Susan and I got together. We lived together for six months in my penthouse in London. The sex was good, not great. That, too, would get better, I told myself. I liked her, she was good company. I proposed to her. She accepted. We married, but we didn't invite anyone. Susan told me she liked the thought of scandalising everyone with a whirlwind marriage. I laughed. Why not, I thought. I called my parents on the phone, told them about my sudden, startling marriage. My mother was shocked, but delighted. My father wasn't too happy; he had wanted a big wedding for his only son. Publicity for the heir to the Chamberlain fortune was not what I desired, I told my father to appease him. I didn't tell him that it was Susan who had wanted a quiet, secret wedding.

Everything changed after the honeymoon. Or specifically, after she invited her parents to a dinner at the penthouse. Her father was a nice man, but her mother got on my nerves with her falseness and her grating laughter. Susan got more and more sullen as the evening wore on, and when the dinner finally, thankfully, ended and her parents had left, she became a totally different woman. Silent. Withdrawn.

She insisted on having sex in the dark. I complied.

She started to distance herself from me. I asked her why. She said that she was adapting to being Mrs. Maxim Chamberlain. It was hard, she said, but she was trying. Please understand, Max. I'm not used to your world, or your friends, she said, looking remote. Give me time.