Conversations 18

I felt cold shivers run through the despair within me, and went and lay on our... my... the bed, and thankfully went to sleep.

When I woke up, Shana was sitting next to me on the bed, mopping my brow and checking my pulse.

"I can't have the virus; I haven't left the flat in four weeks. Nobody else has set foot in it."

She nodded. "I know. You spoke to me every day, apart from the last four. You would have told me."

I started to sit up and she pushed me down again. "Honestly? I think it's delayed shock. Another wound I've caused. I managed to turn my sweet, gentle, loving husband into a raging monster. I would never have thought it possible. But then, I never imagined I would ever cheat on you either."

She took my hand in both of hers, bounced it a couple of times and sighed. "I managed to do what should have been impossible. I took a man who loved me completely, and turned that love into a hatred so bad, it made him ill. That's on me. I didn't mean to do it, but I did. I guess I thought that being with so much death entitled me to play with life in its rawest form. Stupid, I know.

"Reg was very good in his seduction, slowly turning the screw -- if you'll forgive the expression -- until it was so tight, I didn't really feel I could refuse. I could have thrown him out of the house, or left and come back to you, or even stayed at the hospital. I had options. But I was stupid and didn't take any of them, and just let him take me instead. He was already fucking Jill, and perhaps I felt left out. It doesn't matter. I was weak, and made mistake after mistake after mistake. If I'm honest they weren't mistakes at all. I didn't go for it, I just let it happen to me. Inertia, I suppose.

"It felt as if I was in a completely different world -- where I didn't have a husband, parents, and family -- where everything was shrouded in fog. Only the wards and the patients were real, the rest was more of a dream. I would come home and eat, fuck Reg, or Jill, or both, and then sleep so that I could get back to the real world, a world that really mattered.

"It's not an excuse, and I'm pretty sure it wasn't a mental illness. It was just a time-out from actual life. I made really, really bad decisions -- mostly to not do anything to stop what was happening. That was a sickness in itself, so I suppose I should talk to the psych guys after all. Those bad decisions lead to me losing the man I loved, although that's not right either. They lead to me throwing away the man I loved."

She patted my hand and kissed my forehead.

"So, if you would please kiss me one more time, I will carry out the first half of your message, and fuck off. I don't think I'll do the 'and die' bit until this pandemic is over. Perhaps I can do some good still. I don't know. The urge is almost dead within me. But we'll see."

"Where will you go?" I asked, the remaining anger at her actions fighting tooth and claw with the dread of seeing her walk away for the last time. My stomach felt like I had an ulcer. It was possible.

"I'll go back to Jill's and throw Reg out of the house. I don't think he'll fight too hard. There's a whole world of stupid cunts out there to fuck. He might think twice about it though, seeing as how I emailed those clips to his wife this morning, with a grovelling apology from me. After realising I hurt you so very badly, I could no longer see why I was reluctant before to hurt him. I guess I'm the pain doctor, going round and hurting men who love me."

"If you can't stay there, come back," I offered. "We're finished, but I won't see you on the street. Shit, the rest of the country would lynch me; they love you guys so much at the moment."

She burst into tears.

"No, I can't come back ever. Not after the things I did, and the things you said. I love you and I get the feeling that you love me, but you don't like me at all. You detest me. Again, that's on me. You would always be the one patient that I couldn't fix - not a heart broken that badly. I took my shining star, and I turned the light off." Her crying was piteous, her heart as badly broken as mine.

"I can't stay here either," I said. "I decided I'm going to buy an apartment."

"It's going to be tough to get a mortgage," she sniffled. "You're on furlough for God knows how long. I'll send what money I can though."

I shook my head as tears threatened to spring forth once again. After all this shit, that little offer of generosity was the one thing that threatened to break me down completely.

"No, don't do that. By then I'll probably owe you a fair bit of money."

She raised an eyebrow.

"My silly game. It's actually day-trading. While you were away I practiced a lot. After I saw the truth, I gave up playing, signed up and have been doing pretty well. You should have enough with your half to buy your own place once the divorce settlement goes through."

"Ah shit," she sighed. "Another thing I got wrong. I can't even pretend to be a gold-digger now. My reputation as a whore and a slut will be ruined."

I gave her a rueful smile. What else could I do? She was hitting herself harder than I could.

I reached to her. She snuggled up to me and I kissed her, trying to pour all the love I ever felt, everything that I had, into it -- trying to show the one person in the world that I loved how badly I would miss her. It felt like she was trying to do the same.

After a while she rose, picked up the suitcase into which she'd packed more of her clothes, blew me a kiss and walked away, sadness evident in every line of her body.

I heard the door close. Death - that was how love in the time of the plague ended.

I was alone. Alone was bad. But it was better than nothing.