Warmed Up the Marriage
Lucy, listen… Richard said carefully, fiddling with his mug. What do you think about open relationships?
Lucy blinked up from the bills on the table, startled. Excuse me? Are you serious?
He shrugged, forcing an even tone, though his eyes darted away. Well, why not? People do it all over Europe you hear about it constantly. They say it keeps the marriage exciting. Sweet, really… Like, you always said that a little bit of chocolate on a diet does no harm makes you less likely to binge later. Same idea, dont you think? Bit of variety and all that.
Lucy exhaled, slow and cold. Comparing a fling to a bit of chocolate. That was either breathtakingly daft or jaw-droppingly shameless.
Richard, she began quietly, If you want to leave, just go. I wont keep you here, but dont drag me into whatever this is, please.
He puffed up, defensive. Come on, Lucy! Dont bristle like that. I love you, you know I do! Its just… well, were not exactly setting the bedsheets alight these days, are we? We barely talk about anything besides Tesco orders or the electric bill. Its all a bit bland. We could use a jolt. I wouldnt stop you doing as you please you could meet someone, have a bit of fun. Wheres the harm?
She narrowed her eyes. He was lying she could see it now in the restless drumming of his fingers on the oak. It wasnt a question of maybe or sometime soon. If anything, it was overdue.
Richard, her voice was low. Have you already found someone? Is this about your conscience?
Oh, here we go! He flung his hand as if flicking away imaginary dust. If I had, do you really think Id ask you first? Honestly, this is just classic Lucy. Youre such a throwback. Never mind forget I said anything.
He left the table with the aggrieved dignity of a wounded saint and stomped into the next room. Lucy remained, simmering in the kitchens warm lamplight, her thoughts a heady swirl of past and present.
Twenty-five years. She had given him her best endured endless money trouble, ruthless redundancies, late nights he once sold as overtime but now seemed tinged with something else. And there he was, well-fed, content, offering her complicity in the slow death of their marriage, all packaged up as spicing things up. Relief, maybe. Yes, what a tidy little word.
That night, they slept in separate rooms for the first time. At least, she lay staring into the gathering darkness, counting the steps that had led them here. Once, Richard brought her armfuls of tulips, slaved away at the foundry to give her a dream wedding, absolutely beaming when their daughter was born. Now she almost wished hed just walked away.
Where had they first gone wrong? Was it when she stopped wearing lipstick around the house, or the year he forgot their anniversary and blamed a project deadline? Did it really matter now?
On one hand, divorce called to her like a cold autumn wind, cutting and final. Yet half a lifetime doesnt vanish with a signature not when theres a shared history, routines woven through every day, a sense of security, however faded.
Their daughter, Emily, had left months ago. Old age loomed ahead, and for all Richards failings he had stood by her in tough times even helping her mum out with a bank loan once, something few men would do.
Mingled hurt, fear, anger. Did Richard think shed never find anyone? That she was just a frumpy old bird, doomed to boil chicken stews and knit for future grandkids while he paraded himself until he tired? Absolutely not.
Fine, she announced at breakfast, startling him with her clear voice. Your way, then.
What do you mean? He eyed her, confused.
Ill try your open relationship. See how you like it.
Richard nearly choked on his tea. Not quite the eruption hed braced for.
Right… Well, maybe youll enjoy it, he managed. By the way, Ill be late tonight.
She felt the old pang in her chest. So soon…
That evening was drab and numbing. Lucy stared at her reflection in the hallway glass tired eyes, creases at the corners, skin not as perfect as it once was. But her figure was still trim, her hair thick, a spark of beauty still there. Maybe the problem was Richard.
Other men certainly seemed to notice her. Like Andrew, the head of accounts in her office, transferred from the Manchester branch a month before.
Handsome, silver at his temples, a playful glint in his eyes and a voice roughened by laughter. Hed been attentive straight away, holding doors, complimenting her shoes, bringing her coffee. Hed asked her to lunch, even suggested dinner last week.
Lucy, Im on a diet. Its called married, shed joked.
Marriage is a ring on your finger, not a prison tag, Andrew had grinned. Still, as you wish.
But if Richard wanted her to get out there… why not?
She pulled out her phone and typed, Evening, Andrew. Is your offer of dinner still good? Think Im ready to bend my diet a bit tonight.
This wasnt about revenge she simply wanted to feel like herself again, like a woman, not some background fixture in Richards life.
The rest of the night was a strange blur of nerves and excitement. Andrew was the perfect gentleman, drawing out her chair, topping up her glass at just the right moments, really listening as if she were the only person in the place.
A guilty pleasure, but thrill too, basking for once in someones quiet admiration and not the humdrum of laundry and Richards muddy boots.
After dessert, Andrew leaned in. Would you like to come over? We could pick up a bottle of wine, find something fun to watch… keep this going.
She nodded. Somewhere, an inner voice urged her to stop. But then she remembered Richards face, so casual in shoving her away.
When they got to Andrews, her phone started buzzing like mad. Her husbands number. Once, twice, three rings. She declined each, but it wouldnt stop.
Hello? she answered coldly at last.
Where the hell are you? Richards voice snapped down the line. Its ten oclock! Theres nothing in the fridge, Im starving, and youre off God-knows-where! Have you lost your mind?
She was stunned. Andrew quietly tiptoed out, sensing their row. The magic of the evening shattered.
Well, Im on a date, Richard.
A date? Youre on a DATE?!
She kept her tone frosty. Did you want it explained with hand puppets? You said try open relationships. Meet someone. Well, here I am. Having a go. Problem?
A dreadful silence, broken only by his ragged breathing.
You… Youre seriously with another man? I was JOKING, Luce! I was TESTING you, cant you tell? You just couldnt wait, could you? Played the wounded wife for a day and ran straight into someone elses arms!
Her thoughts spun, lost.
And who were you with tonight, Richard?
No one! Just at the office, he huffed. Thats it. Listen… leave your key, or Ill go. Were done. Divorce, Lucy. Thats my line in the sand.
He slammed the phone down. Lucy stared at the beige walls. Her pride curled up and died.
Everything alright? Andrew emerged.
Yes. Well. Nothing, really…
Lucy, he glanced at his watch, I think you should go sort things at home. Its not the right moment now.
The fairytale splintered. He was just a man, after all, sensible enough not to get dragged into someone elses soap opera. She couldnt hold it against him.
She probably shouldve filed for divorce right there. That thoughts always late in coming.
Lucy never went home that night. She checked into a Premier Inn and lay awake through the small hours, realising that nothing would ever be the same.
Three years passed.
Time, like steel wool, scraped away the debris. Richard moved on with alarming speednew girlfriend before the ink dried on the decree nisi. She vanished right after the joint flat sold, taking his share of the money with her.
Things fizzled with Andrew; they became polite strangers in the office corridors, nothing more. Lucy learned a sharp truth: the men happy to be your lover will melt like fog at the first whiff of life partner or lean-on-me.
But Lucy didnt look for anyone else. Alone in her bright new flat, she discovered vast reservoirs of time and energy resources once devoured by the effort of keeping Richard content. She dedicated mornings to swimming, rid herself of back pain, signed up for French classes, chopped her hair short, changed her wardrobe completely.
Most importantly, she became a grandmother.
Emily had her first baby just half a year ago. When the whole divorce scandal broke, shed blamed Lucy at firstRichard played the victim so well, feeding their daughter tales of betrayal and heartbreak.
But in time, truth finds its way out. When Emily finally visited, determined to look her mother in the eye, she saw not the straying wife her father described but a tired, honest woman. Lucy told her everythinghow it was Richards suggestion, how hed checked out of their marriage long before. Emily, now a wife herself, understood.
She took sides with Lucy, especially after Richards new lover surfaced.
Now Lucy sat at Emilys kitchen table, cuddling her wriggling granddaughter. Tiny Sophie gripped her finger, eyes bright with promise.
Dad rang again, Emily muttered, rolling her eyes. Wants to visit, see Sophie.
And what did you say? Lucy asked evenly.
Told him wed be out of town. I just never want him filling her head or dragging you into things again. He either slags you off to me or tries to get me to play matchmaker. Im on edge whenever hes aroundI just want him far away, with his precious freedom.
Lucy kept quiet, clutching Sophie a little closer.
Richard got exactly what he wished for complete freedom. No one to demand time or attention, no wife to bother his evening TV. But, as he tasted true liberty, he learned just how bitter and lonely it could be. By then, it was far too late.
