Part I
And so it was. That she was having. The Big A.
She couldn’t even get herself to say it out loud. The word. But it had crept up on her. Slowly but surely. That unkeenly attraction.
It was not like she didn’t know what it was. She was familiar with the letter ‘A’. The alphabet that had peppered her school life. Every subject in school had earned her a grade A. It was exactly what she expected, and what was expected of her. But an ‘A’ in adult life? She was not so sure.
He was two years younger than her. Big. Uncultured. Uncouth, even, possibly. Not her type. He was rough and unpolished. Wore a gold chain, & one of those ridiculous ion-izing metal chains – you know, that kind that would magically remove all pains and aches. He spoke more dialects than he did English. Could barely string together paragraphs without making a grammatical error. Was probably more familiar with ‘F’s than ‘A’s in school. He who was not career-minded. Who did not have a good certificate. Who did not come from the string of polished school that the people in her social circle did. Who did not know what sparked a global crisis. Or what ‘productivity’ meant. Who thought that the ‘opposition’ should be voted in. Just because.
The first time. They had a week-long training programme together. It started innocuously enough. Lunch, day after day. Trying out new restaurants. Places that he’d never been to – she knew. That were not in his league. That were not within his reach. That he called ‘pretentious’. She brought him there; & she signed for them. She considered the trail that would be left behind – when the statements reached. But she really couldn’t care. & she never thought that it’d culminate in The A.
& so on it went. She knew about the wife. In fact, she knew the wife. He knew about the husband. In fact, he knew the husband.
But it didn’t stop. The A just grew. It took on a life of it’s own. Neither dared to ask questions, because both knew where it would lead – or rather, where it wouldn’t lead.
Then they were sent to Geneva. On a business trip. 14 days.
“My wife went through my phone. Yesterday.”
“What did that throw up?” Surely they were careful enough not to say anything over traceable records.
“Nothing.”
“Uh-huh….?”
“She saw your number on my last dialled, and asked who you were.
I said you were a colleague, who was working on the Megatower project with me.”
“That sounds pretty alright,” she had said, mentally running through all the plausible scenarios, and ruling out anything serious.
“Then she asked why you were going to Geneva with me. I told her it was ’cause there were some decisions that I might not be able to make alone.”
They flew the next day.
He was sent off by his wife, who was carrying their 8-month-old.
“Be safe”, she had said, while pacifying the baby, and waved him off.
She had turned up at the airport alone. By cab. A limousine cab. A pre-booked black limousine cab. Which was driven by a mainland Chinese female driver.
“Have a safe journey ma’am,” the cab driver had said as she unloaded her luggage at the airport.
Part II
They decided it was time to stop. 2 months on. They had their share of fun. & pleasure. & sneaking around. & near misses. Too near, in fact.
The wife had asked again.
“Who is she? The Geneva colleague?”
“Just another colleague, why?”
“Nothing.”
When he told her about the conversation, she had thought, “women never say ‘nothing’ for nothing”. But she had kept it to herself. Then she initiated the break. And kept the distance. They went about their thing. She moved to another role. They stopped talking. And that was the end of it.
Part III
She had heard, through the office network, that his wife was expecting their second child. She thought of him, sometimes. The big hands. The guffaw. The gold chain. Yes, even the gold chain which she used to laugh at. But she never made any effort to contact him.
And then she ran into her. The wife.
It was innocent enough. She was buying groceries. Alone. The shampoo, the toothpaste, the toilet rolls… 1 packet of chocolate milk, a bunch of bananas for the husband… Ooops.
It was almost like in the movies. She had knocked over a carton in her haste, and a hand reached out to stop the pile from tumbling over. Just almost. Because she snapped out of her reverie and focused on the face in front of her.
“Hi,” she stumbled out, while raking her mop of her hair with one hand. She winced as her long fingernails raked the corner of her scalp.
“Hi! Haven’t seen you around in a bit,” the wife had said, almost too casually.
“Yeah, I’ve been… busy.”
“Oh yes, of course. Well I shan’t hold you up. Best be on your way. Need to go pick the kids up, now that the husband is no longer around.”
“Oh!” She couldn’t contain the surprise in her voice. “Where’s he gone?”
Part IV
She was in his arms again. The big, sturdy arms. Fingering the golden chain. Almost dream-like.
“So how’s it being the mistress again?” he teased. “You know I’d never leave my wife for you. Not my first, nor my second.”
But this was the path that she had chosen. The alternative path, the secret path, the illicit path, the pleasurable path. This was the only path she had ever wanted.
