Chapter 13

Sally was back. In many respects, our new life together from then on was idyllic. Sally appreciated every little thing we did together, even the mundane activities like shopping, cooking and washing up. She enthused over our meals.

It was for her the beginning of a new life mirroring that before Tony Mulhern. She was deeply touched that I had never closed our joint accounts until the divorce was started, and even then put the money in a reserved account awaiting the Court’s decision.

We went to friends’ houses and were feted by them as a success story. Sally wanted to do everything with me; it was as if she was afraid of parting from me, except when she needed to go to work. Martin and Elizabeth were ecstatic; they had dreamed of a reunion but had never expected it to happen.

For me life was good; I felt that everything was coming together nicely. Our life together was full of affection. There were all the usual touches, kisses and hugs as we passed each other, or sat together in an evening, and of course in bed. Those signs of love and affection made us feel close.

Except.

Except for one thing, and that thing being fairly central to married life, its absence nearly finished us as a couple.

Those in loving relationships know of that subtle change when loving affection and the caresses associated with it become overtly sexual – when lust climbs into bed with love as it were.

It’s so subtle that most people could not point to any change in behaviour, or any one moment, when it happens, but a little later it is obvious, as hands and fingers begin to excite rather than comfort, and organs begin to react in the time-honoured way: erections and lubrications take the stage. So they know then that the change has happened, and Sally knew early on when.

We had not attempted anything sexual for some days after Sally came back, and she did not seem to be making any overtures in that direction, so it was I who made that first transition. That was the moment – as my loving embrace became sexual, when she froze, and my kiss was fractured.

My fingers had strayed to her sex and had glided along it.

“Please, Caleb,” she said as her body posture told me all was not well. “Can we wait a bit longer for that?”

What could I say? Well, I could have said a lot, but instead I simply felt disappointment, agreed and we went to sleep.

After that, whenever I initiated the subtle change, there was always a rebuff and a myriad of reasons.

“I don’t think the time is right yet.”

“I don’t feel able to go that far yet.”

“Can’t we just cuddle?”

The only thing she didn’t use as a put-off was a headache. It led to our first row since she came back.

“I’m getting tired of this,” I said resentfully. “Why are you always putting me off when I want to touch you?”

“I’m sorry Caleb,” she replied, rather sharply I thought. “I just don’t feel right about it yet.”

“It’s always ‘yet’,” I grumbled. “You need to know I’m getting really frustrated. It can’t go on, love.”

“You men,” she snapped. “You think of nothing else, you’re all the same. So it’s frustrating you, ok, I’ll sleep in the guest room.”

That really knocked me back; it was an extreme reaction, and I reacted badly to it.

“Well,” I muttered. “You’d certainly be the one to know about other men.”

She stared wide eyed at me, and I could tell I had hurt her deeply. She was very angry, got out of bed and left the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Things were tense and silent the next morning. All signs of affection stopped and she left for work without waiting for a kiss. I felt she was getting all the emotional goodies from me, embraces and cuddles, and I was not getting any relief from my sexual frustration. We began living parallel lives. There was little conversation, most of our interchanges were about practical matters. There was a lot of silence.

I did make some attempts to talk about the news on the TV. Her replies were monosyllabic, evasive or she left the room.

Eventually I could stand it no longer.

“You won’t talk, you sleep in another room,” I said. “This is not right. You are denying an essential part of married life. Why are you cutting yourself off like this?”

“You don”t understand. It’s not easy for me after so long.”

“That’s not the reason, there’s something else and I can’t begin to understand unless you talk to me about it.”

“Oh, I can’t put it into words, but I just can’t do it,” she sighed and left the living room and did not appear again all that evening.

I tried to be patient, but after another week of nearly silent co-existence, even though it was no longer an angry silence, my patience ran out. After the evening meal, I asked her to sit down in the living room.

“Sally,” I said. “Things can’t go on like this. You don’t want to come near me, you sleep in another room. I’m not Bryn, but I’m getting the same treatment: all you are at the moment is a lodger. You won’t talk about it. I’ve been patient, but you should realise I can’t go on living like this. This is not how we were before you left, in fact it’s a travesty of it. Perhaps we were wrong to get back together. It’s not working, is it?”

She burst into tears and ran out to the guest room. I sighed, did the chores and some office work before retiring early myself.

The next morning there was total silence at breakfast again, and Sally looked wretched, but there seemed nothing I could do. She left for work without a kiss or good-bye as was now usual.

Colette rang me at work.

“You’ve got problems, Caleb.” It was not a question.

“Sally been talking to you?” I said, and that was not really a question either.

“Well, she says she can’t talk to you.”

I thought about that.

“Yes, Colette,” I said flatly, “that’s true. I’ve tried to get her to explain, but she won’t or can’t.”

“Can’t,” she replied. “If it’s any help, she said it’s like an invisible hand stopping her.”

“Not much help that,” I said morosely, remembering the invisible hand stopping her from coming home. If she was reverting to hiding from me, why was she doing it now? I’d accepted her back – hell, I’d forgiven her!

“No,” she said, “but she said it’s not because she doesn’t want you. She’s heartbroken you’re in separate rooms.”

“It was she who left our bedroom,” I snapped. “I had no say in that.”

“Yes, yes,” she soothed. “She knows that, but she’s afraid that if she came back, you’d take it as a signal that she was ready to make love, and for some reason she can’t.”

“As I said,” I grumbled, “that’s not much help. It’s the ‘some reason’ I’ve got problems with. Really Colette, I’m at the end of my tether, I can’t go on like this in a silent house. She’s no more than a lodger. You’ve noticed we’ve not been out together for a while. I’m thinking we shouldn’t have got back together at all.”

“Oh, Caleb, don’t say that! Give her a little longer. All I will say is that later in our talk, when we’d left the bedroom matter behind, she said she felt unsure that you really had forgiven her, or could really forgive her after what she’s done. She feels that there’s a reserve there.”

“In me?”

“I suppose so, but perhaps it’s really in her.”

“There isn”t any reserve in me, Colette, and I have totally forgiven her. How do I get that through to her? I don’t think I can. It’s hopeless.”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “How do you get her to believe you? Words don’t seem to be enough. She’s talking about going back to her therapist. It’s this guilt thing.”

“Oh, yes,” she added. “And she said she feels like she’s got away with it: she’s got everything she wanted back, and she doesn’t deserve it.”

“If she’s got everything back she wanted from our relationship, she might as well go back to her flat and live alone, because that’s what it feels like. The way she is at the moment, I’d be better off without her. It’d certainly be less stress.”

“Go easy on her, she’s still fragile, very confused and riddled with guilt.”

I didn’t reply beyond a grunt, and we disconnected.

I sat for a long time, gradually coming to the conclusion that too much had happened, and that perhaps Sally’s feelings about us pointed to a divide that we couldn’t cross. I felt depressed, but knew that unless something new happened, it would be soon over between us. Then I recalled a comment Colette made – words might not be enough. I came to a decision. I would have to force things.

When I got home early from work that day, I did not make the evening meal as I usually would if I arrived first. I sat in the study and dwelt on my decision. It was time to tell her our new relationship would not work, and I was going to leave her. She could have the house. I felt defeated.

Then Sally arrived and walked into the house. She was wearing her business trouser suit. She smiled at me as she was passing the door to the study, but I looked back her blankly, so she stopped in the doorway puzzled, and looked around her.

“No dinner?” she asked. “We getting a takeaway?”

I simply said “We need to talk.”

Her face fell. Those four words meant an argument, and she knew the topic. I had brought it up often enough. She did not want to hear any more. “Caleb I don’t want–”

“Colette rang me today,” I said, cutting across her. “I learned more from her about your problems than I have from you. You told her more than you told me. That’s wrong, Sally, and it rather hurt my feelings, but no matter. It seems you can’t talk to me, and that’s serious.”

I must have looked dejected, for she looked concerned. I gestured to the door, “Why don’t you go and get changed, then come to the study.”

She stared at me for a long moment, as if trying to gauge my feelings, then sighed and left the doorway.

It was hot, so as I expected she came down in a light flowery sundress without tights. I had moved the desk out and now sat behind it.

She came in. “What is it Caleb?” she asked forlornly, obviously expecting the old argument.

“I think you know.” I said, dully.

She stood opposite me across the desk even though there was a chair next to her. I wondered why she chose to stand. Perhaps she didn’t intend to stay. She stared at my face and looked worried. She made as if to speak but I was already talking.

“As I said, Colette rang me today. and after talking to her, I reluctantly realised that we have reached an impasse. Time after time I’ve told you I’ve long since forgiven you completely, but either you refuse to believe it, or can’t accept it. The result is that I’m now in the same position as Bryn Price, as I’ve said before, you are a lodger here: you’ve taken to sleeping in the other bedroom all the time, as you did with him.

“In fact I’m worse off than Price, because you were running back to him, and – don’t deny it – you would have been in his bed that same night, wouldn’t you?”

She now looked more worried and uncomfortable, and was casting about for an honest reply, I was sure, but I continued.

“So it seems you want all the benefits of living here: you want to be back in your own home and close to your friends, but I wonder where I fit in, if at all. Every time I ask you to become a true wife again, you make excuses. You even cut off the hugs and kisses when I complained, and left our bed, to make sure we couldn’t have sex. You don’t talk to me. This is not married life, Sally, and I won’t stand the frustration any more.

“It’s an insult to me, a deep insult. What did I ever do to deserve this? You are frustrating me beyond my capacity to stand it,” I went on. “I can’t live like this.”

She leaned forward, and made as if to speak again, but my gesture silenced her. She fidgeted a little where she stood.

“You told Colleen there was something stopping you. Like a hand pushing you away from me. Well, you would know all about that wouldn’t you? You had months of that in Wales. You told her there was some reserve in me, but there isn’t. It’s all in you and it’s not going away.

“I’ve told you again and again, I’ve forgiven you. That life is over, past and gone. I’ve even found to my surprise that I can trust you completely,” I went on, my voice becoming even softer. “And that’s when you’re now behaving as if you have another lover and don’t need me at all!”

She jumped, “Caleb that’s not–

“That’s what I’m saying: I’m certain you’ve not got a lover – I really do trust you, and I accept the reasons why you were doing what you did, and why you left, all of that. But it’s hopeless. You know you’re forgiven, you know you are trusted, but you won’t accept it or come back to me as a true wife.

“So sadly, I’m beginning to think – no, I’ve accepted, that it will never happen. We will never be truly husband and wife again, and so I think it’s over between us, Sally. Or rather it never really started again for us, not fully, not freely.

“I didn’t go through hell for over a year on your account to get to this. I think we should part. Since you are apparently completely happy living here like this, you can have the house. I’m moving out.”

She sucked in a frightened breath. “No, Caleb, please!” She leant over the desk towards me, an anguished look on her face. “I can’t face that.”

“Then you need to find a way to get over this, you’re the one causing the problem. You said you’re thinking of going back to Masters, but there’s been enough talking, and talking isn’t going to solve it this time. I’ve already got over what you did, but you’ve got to find a way to get over it, and come back to me. But what can you do – I mean what are you able to do? Nothing. So I’m going.”

Now she looked very afraid, indeed terrified. I remembered Colette had said Sally had felt everything had gone her way since she returned, and she felt unworthy of any of it. She told her she didn’t deserve any of it. Well, things weren’t going her way any more. I could see the shock in her eyes at this sudden, for her, development, the life now facing her...

She sank into the nearby chair and sagged. There was long silence as she gazed into space. Then I saw a look of understanding crossing her face. I had ground to a halt, my body mirrored hers, I felt defeated as well. I looked and felt thoroughly vanquished. We had failed.

Then she stood, turned and began to leave the room. Was she running again?

“What–?” I began.

“I know,” she said. I saw a determined light in her eyes, as if she’d found an answer. She didn’t share what she ‘knew’ but walked rapidly out of the door.

“Where are you going?” I called after her retreating back, but she did not answer and I heard her climbing the stairs. What should I do now? I wondered, but I did not get a chance to do anything as she immediately came quickly down again.

She held one of her leather belts in front of her, like an offering, in her hands.

“Caleb, I know now what must be done. I love you so much it hurts, and it hurts even more that I can’t give myself to you. It’s because I am guilty and I’ve not been punished. Thanks to Catherine Masters I just understood something about myself and perhaps it will set me free to be your wife again. Oh God, I hope so; I couldn’t bear to be separated from you again.