The Aftermath Gail Schimmel (7 ebook reader txt) 📖

After I spoke to Daniel, I briefly considered actually going on a date with this Rob person. At the very least it would solve the mystery of which is ‘the hot one’. But the truth is, whichever one it is, he’s too young for me. And more specifically, the thing Daniel pointed out is true: I’m married. I know I have the moral high ground here, that if I want to sleep with an entire rugby team I’m actually free to do so. But still. And even though it must be coming, we haven’t spoken about a divorce.

And I’m a mother. I’m not some fancy-free person who can take on a toy-boy. I told Rob all of this, but he seems to have taken my explanation as an invitation to chat because he keeps texting reasons why we should ‘hook up’ – his words, not mine. I’m not even sure if ‘hook up’ means have coffee or have sex. At this stage it doesn’t matter, because I’m saying no to both. But it is kind of flattering the way he keeps at it, without being disrespectful. After all, I am his elder.

So I presume that the new message is one of these things, and my head is pounding and I’m so, so tired, so I ignore it for a bit. But then I think that maybe it’s Laurel, and maybe that will cheer me up, or maybe it’s something really urgent, so I look at it. And it’s Julia.

My first reaction is that I cannot believe her cheek. If she needs to say anything to me, she can say it through Daniel. I almost delete it without reading it, but my curiosity gets the better of me.

After I read it, it’s like I’m feeling so many different things at once that I can’t feel anything. It’s even more conflicted than how I feel about poor Janice’s girls’ night out. There is anger with Daniel. No, not anger – that’s too mild. It is intense, burning rage. But there’s also a streak of amusement in the rage, because it’s so typical of Daniel to try to rearrange the world to suit himself without actually taking the blame. And there’s shame that I’ve been so harsh towards Julia in my thoughts. And pity – pity for Julia, that she’s found herself in this strange hinterland of my marriage. And admiration that she has the guts to send me a message, because that can’t have been easy. Part of me wants to pick up the phone and just chat to her, pretend that nothing’s changed, and have a few laughs. Maybe tell her that everything’s going to be okay.

Instead, I just text her.

Thanks for letting me know. It probably makes more sense for me to keep Mackenzie this weekend, but I appreciate what you’ve said.

I want to say more, and I stare at the message for a long time before I send it. But there’s no point – Julia and I can never be friends again. We must just be civil for Mackenzie’s sake. This is a good thing Julia has started.

Once I finally send the message, I sigh. Now I need to plan a fun weekend for Mackenzie. Before Daniel left, I didn’t feel this particular pressure. Our weekends kind of happened. And in a way they still do, but I’m more aware of the hours. I’m more aware of planning, making sure we’re busy, being the better parent.

After I send the message to Julia, I can’t settle. All evening I’m jumpy with Mackenzie, who then insists on having four stories read to her before bedtime, and after I get her to sleep, I keep checking my phone. I don’t expect to hear from Julia again – and I can see she hasn’t even read the message. For a moment I think it’s because she’s too busy fucking my husband, but then I realise that, given the message, it’s more likely they’re fighting. That should make me feel better, but it doesn’t.

Eventually, despite the hangover and despite feeling tired and groggy, I sit down with my phone and diary and laptop. First, I send out some messages to make arrangements for the weekend. Then, I do some of the work I should have done today. When I realise that sleep is still eluding me, I end up baking scones anyway, and I divide them into batches. Ivy could use some, and so could Liandri. And I can freeze some so that we’re ready for any surprise visits.

When the scones are done, I finally feel ready to go to bed. As I lie down, the phone beeps again. It’s that Rob character.

Just think about it.

That’s the thing, I muse, muting my phone. I haven’t thought about him for hours. I’m knee-deep in surviving my life.

THURSDAY

Helen

I am not one of these people who is always on their phone. I don’t do any of these social media things that people seem so fascinated by, and I don’t have lots of friends who message and WhatsApp me. I have a phone because of Julia, and because the home might need to contact me about Mike – although that has never happened in all these years. But they might. Like if he wakes up – I’d be really sorry to miss that call and only get there a few days later. Can you imagine? So, I have a phone.

But this morning there are not one but three messages for me. ‘An embarrassment of riches’ is the phrase that goes through my head, and then I feel confused that I am regarding this as ‘riches’ rather than a bother and a distraction.

The first message is from Julia. She sent it yesterday but I didn’t notice it. It says that she liked my friends and that she thinks Mike enjoyed the lunch. First, I laugh out loud with delight. At the sound, I look around. When