They Do, I Don’t
by Susan
Murphy
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BLURB:
Her
once happy life in tatters thanks to a cheating husband, lackluster career and
a wrinkling face, Viv no longer believes in love and happiness. In fact, she
hates them both. The problem is that as a marriage celebrant, gleeful love is
what she has to deal with every day. With 10 hilarious and tragic weddings (and
a funeral) to get through before she can give up being a celebrant, can she
prove that love and happiness are the pathetic hopes of the naïve, or will fate
intervene and show her that what she secretly craves could be right in front of
her?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
EXCERPT:
Hey sexy, wot
you up to, I’m at a party tonite call me if you can get away, was the first
thing I saw when I opened the messages on Peter’s phone. My legs buckled and
gave way as I slid to the floor. I took a large swig from the wine bottle I was
clutching.
When you came
into the office today I saw you lookin at me. Trust me you'll want what I got.
She can’t even
spell. I felt sick. I stood up with a wave of determination and dialed the
number.
“Heeeeey,” she
made a pathetic attempt at a sexy voice.
“Who the fuck
is this?” I screamed down the phone that shook in my hand. The gasp she
expelled before she hung up said more than any words could have. I rang again,
my heart pounding louder than the dial tone. No answer. Pressing again and
again with frantic fingers, I knew full well she wouldn’t pick up, but I needed
her to know that I was onto her. I dialled until my fingers hurt.
Fury and rage
ignited every cell of my body as adrenaline pumped through my veins so
forcefully that I could have lifted a car. Could I lift a car and throw it
through the bedroom window onto Peter?
Inhaling deeply
I straightened in an attempt to compose myself. My thoughts went to the kids.
Natalia was working a night shift at the café and the boys were away at a
soccer training camp. I marched to the bedroom and switched on the light.
“Who is she?” I
asked in the calmest voice I could muster, determined to get as much
information as possible before I killed him.
Peter’s eyes
squinted against the sudden bright light. His mouth dropped open as his eyes
adjusted and he saw the phone in my hand. When he didn’t answer I threw the
phone onto the bedside table next to him, feeling satisfied when it sent the
lamp crashing to the floor. I stared at the pieces, feeling as broken as they
were. It felt good to hear it smash. What else can I break? I turned my
attention to the expensive aftershave bottles, feeling satisfaction as they too
fell to the floor in pieces.
“Answer me you
gutless wanker, who is the woman sending you dirty messages?”
Peter pulled
himself up to a sitting position. “Someone from the office.”
“Someone from
the office? Who from the office?”
“Daniella.
She’s one of the payroll girls,” he muttered.
“There are only
four girls that work in the whole place, and you had to start screwing one of
them.”
“I’m not
screwing her, we’ve just been flirting – that’s all.”
“You expect me
to believe that?” Holding up the phone, I began reading aloud the sordid
exchanges between them.
“I’m telling
you,” Peter pleaded. “I know it sounds bad, but we haven’t done anything. It’s
just been messages and flirting.”
“I don’t
believe a word you’re saying, you lying piece of shit. After everything we’ve
been through together, our kids.” The last word caught in my throat as I
thought of our three children. ”How old is she?”
He was silent.
“How fucking
old is she?” I hissed, the force burning my throat.
“Twenty-two,”
he mumbled.
I launched
myself onto the bed with waving arms, thrashing and growling, primal sounds
rising from the depths of my darkest places. Peter was yelling for me to stop.
He grabbed my wrists and brought my arms in tightly, restraining me easily. I
must look like a lunatic. Even in the throes of the deepest anger and rage, I
was actually wondering how I must look? Is that normal? I was distracted
momentarily, long enough for Peter to look at me with a puzzled expression,
wondering why I had stopped.
“Calm down,”
Peter pleaded. He increased the pressure to hold me off. Exhausted and out of
breath, I slid back off the bed and onto the floor.
Peter’s stunned
face stared at mine. I wondered if he thought I was losing it. Was I? The air
in the room seemed to thicken and I gasped to fill my lungs. My chest heaving,
I leaned back against the sliding mirrored door, utterly defeated.
The gravity of
what he’d done was beginning to sink in. My shoulders felt heavy. “Twenty-two,
Peter? Natalia is nineteen! How can you even look at her and not see someone
who’s your daughter’s age?”
“I know,” was
all he could say.
“And what about
the boys? They’re sixteen. How the hell are you going to explain this to them?”
He wouldn’t
even meet my eyes.
I suddenly had
a thought. “Don’t tell me that this is where all that money’s been going?”
Peter had been making a lot of unusual cash withdrawals lately, but when I
asked him about it, he always had some excuse. “Have you been using our money
to buy her gifts or flowers or to pay for motel rooms? I swear to God I’ll kill
you Peter.”
“No, I haven’t.
I haven’t bought her anything.”
“So where has
all the money been going?”
He was shaking
his head, “I can’t”.
“Can’t? What do
you mean you can’t?” I demanded through clenched teeth.
“You’ll hate me
even more.”
I let out a
hideous snort. “Are you serious? How could I hate you any more than I do right
now? You might as well get it all out so that at least I know what I’m dealing
with.”
His silence was
intensifying my already bursting frustration.
When he finally
spoke it was little more than a whisper, “I’ve been gambling.”
“What? What did
you say?” I stepped back.
“I’ve been
gambling. That’s where the money’s been going. I haven’t been working late into
the middle of the night, I’ve been going to the pub to play pokies.”
I felt like I
had been hit by a ten-ton concrete block. I slumped back to the floor, stars
circling before my eyes as my lungs emptied. Breathe, keep breathing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Susan Murphy is a civil marriage celebrant based in South
Australia. With more than eight years experience, she’s had the pleasure and
blessing of conducting ceremonies all
over the country including weddings, baby naming’s, commitment ceremonies,
funerals and anything else that has been requested by a client. The stranger
the better!
With a passion for words and a determination to one day (even if
it was from the nursing home) become a writer, she made a fateful decision to
attend a Masterclass with the amazing Fiona McIntosh, and from there 'Confetti
Confidential' was born.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GIVEAWAY:
Susan will be awarding an eCopy of They
Do, I Don't to 3 randomly drawn winners via rafflecopter during the tour.
Thanks for hosting!
ReplyDeleteIf you could do anything you wanted right now, what would it be?
ReplyDelete