Lover at The Door

An eventful Sunday, last one.

Tense from word go. At the end of Saturday - which was quite successful on the whole - I made a fateful comment: 'Thank you for today. I think we've done a good job [at some point she nearly spoiled everything, but then - a miracle! - came up to me, apologised and suggested we try anew - thanks be to Heaven!]. But [see the ominous clouds on the horizon?] if you want me to stop making allusions to your affair, do not go over the top when communicating with him [a thunder splits the sky] when I'm around.' We listened to some records - classic pop and rock I want our daugher to know - that day. Her eyes take on that cold hateful veil and she announces: 'With this, you've ruined everything!'. The first of everything was the following day.

Before she went out to Mass (we're church-going, would you believe?), she already lets me know she hasn't forgotten my admonition when she unthankfully thanks me for the espresso. I asked the previous day that I'd like to take them for a long walk across the nearby small wood and when they're getting ready to leave for church, I want a confirmation we're going afterwards. 'I'm not sure we'll want to go anywhere with you today. It depends on Sara anyway', she says when closing the door. 'No, it depends on you', I don't manage to repy in time.

A few times during the day she looks at me in a strange, intensive and - this was my impression that she dismissed later on - warm way. Does she need me? We walk (see below) down the street towards the park and she starts singing and hopping with our daughter. When I laugh out hartily seeing them happy in front of me, she wiggles her bottom. 'Oh, women!', I exclaime. This is where our happiness peaks that day.

We fall out - a slight mistake on her part and a big one on mine - when walking and we return home separately. (I'm too tired to tell that story). At home there's a whole gumet of moments, but it all ends with an grand operatic finale.

At some point in the evening, the mixed bag of emotions, words, disappointments and stress takes its toll. She's cold and distant - nothing surprising, but again I foolishly expected her disguise will last the day, while mine so often doesn't - and texting from time to time. 'To him', is my thought naturally.

I sit on the sofa and declare: 'You know what? I'm going to text him and ask him to talk some sense into you, so that you become possible to get on with. If he doesn't do it - I'll tell him - I'll let his partner know about the thing you two have got going. What do you think?' 'Don't do that', she sits up. It turns me on: I am noticed! I didn't know if I really wanted to do it then, but within seconds I decide that they've grown too comfortable with the situation - their constant texting to and fro - and some tension and apprehension will do them good. We agreed some rules some time ago to make life bearable for our daughter's sake, although both of us have broken them repeatedly. I decide it's time to bring her a bit more to attention. She asks me again, and genuinelly, not to send hm the ultimatum, but I fire the text away. I change the wording though and wait for his reply.

Within seconds she receives a message. And we move up a gear.

... to be continued