I wrote this for another contest on Gaia. The aim was to combine two songs (a song of your choice, and one from a list that was given to you); I chose to use Apologise (Timbaland ft. OneRepublic) and Time is Running Out (Muse). This is what I came up with. I'm quite proud of it, and would definitely appreciate some feedback, so if you do read, a little R&R would be nice. Thanks.

Literature and Silver Threads

It’s three in the morning and I can’t sleep. I can’t move either, in case I wake Alex, so, I figure I’m stuck here in the dark, my feet curled up to my chest in an upright foetal position, and with the crick in my neck growing steadily worse. I can hear the gentle whisperings of a tree branch against the window as I sit in silence. There is a wind blowing hard enough that the shutters are rattling a little bit, so I don’t suppose it’s silence, really. Is it? Can you call it silence, when really there is noise? What about if that noise is so slight that it can only be heard because you yourself are silent?

Alex shifts in his sleep and I hold my breath. I don’t want to wake him, because if I do he won’t be pleased with me at all. He’s had a rough day, I know, and I don’t think I could bring myself to disturb him even if one of the kids was sick or something. Instead, I’m resigned to sitting here, in near silence, with a pain in my neck that is making it awfully difficult to even think about sleep. I’m sitting here, and I wonder. How did it come to this? How did we get to this moment, Alex and I? Was it fate, destiny? Or did I really screw up as bad as he says I did? I don’t know, but now I’ve thought of it, it’s hard to get back to sitting in silence numbly. How can you do that, if inside it feels like you’re dying?

It was the middle of summer, and I was free for a little while. I had just dropped my youngest daughter Paige off at her best friend’s house for the afternoon, Michael was at soccer practice until three, and Daisy wouldn’t be home from wherever she was until late that evening. In short, I could do anything I wanted to, and that was a rarity. No kids, no work, no husband, so, now what?

I headed to the park, totally unsure of what to do with myself for the next three or four hours. It had been so long since I’d have any time off it made me feel almost uneasy, and the fact that I wasn’t even with Alex made the whole situation even more disconcerting, and yet- yet there was something there. A little quickening in my step, which I hadn’t noticed for a while, and an extra swing of my arms, that told my heart to beat a little faster. We- my body and I- crossed downtown and walked the distance to the park, enjoying the luxuries that my newly found freedom had to offer. What I was going to do once I reached the park I wasn’t sure, but that didn’t matter. All I wanted to do was relax; no cooking, no cleaning, nothing. Nothing except some nice green grass, an ice cream, and me.

If I were to be totally honest with myself I think I could have stopped what was about to happen. I could have turned around, headed back for the car on Fourth Street and driven back home. I knew I needed to talk to Alex, needed to confront him about things that had been plaguing my mind for the past few months, but I also knew that to do so would require vast amounts of courage on my part, and it was precisely that which led me to the park that day. I was scared.

How do you tell somebody- the man you’ve been married to for fifteen years, the father of your children, your best friend for as long as you can remember- that you don’t love them any more? How can that happen without ruining everything you’ve ever worked for together?

That is why the park was my destination on that summer morning. I was confused, unsure, and the only solace I had in my moment of need was the thought that being close to the children would force me to think more clearly.

It was on that day when my life began to fall apart. Of course, it had been coming for a while, and I know this. In fact, I’d known something had to give for a long time- almost six months- before I finally found myself reaching the breaking point. Sure, I knew it was coming, but that didn’t make what happened any easier to handle, for Alex or myself.

Alex rolls over again, and I hold my breath once more. He makes it so difficult to think! It’s so stifling in here, so warm! I need to go outside for a minute, I need to breath the air, feel that wind on my face and skin. How am I ever supposed to come to any kind of conclusion when all I can hear is his breath, and all I can feel is his hand against my thigh? I always told myself that everything worth fighting for was more important than myself, but recently, that’s just not true. Recently it’s been my turn to be selfish.

“Hello there.” A voice by my right ear startled me. I jumped a little, the ice cream in my hand jolting slightly, almost dripping the Vanilla Whip into my lap. I looked up, half in surprise and half in annoyance, to see a man, his face inches from my own.

“Hello,” I said back suspiciously. I was hoping that the look I gave him would say something along the lines of ‘please leave me alone I’m busy nursing my misery, so go butt in somewhere else’, but I’m pretty sure it came out something like ‘please sit here next to me, I’m lonely and need the company’ instead.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” the man apologised quickly. “I was just wondering if I could come and sit by you, only this seems to be the only bench in the whole damn park that doesn’t have a couple of teenage kids on it.”

“Oh, sure,” I answered without thinking, closely following my words with a mental slap. “Kids.”

“Yeah,” he said. He moved around from the back of the bench where he had been standing whilst chatting with me, and sat himself instead on the wood next to me, leaving a modest gap between our bodies. I smiled politely and hoped that he would go away sooner, rather than later. I had the sneaking suspicion that he wasn’t planning on going anywhere soon though, especially since all his sentences seemed rather open-ended in a way that was leading into a much more interesting conversation. “I’m all for kids, you understand, only I’m not to keen on seeing them down each others throats at such a young age. You’d think they were hungry, or something.”

I studied his face closely, thinking that perhaps he may have been trying to crack an unsuccessfully lame joke, but I noticed almost immediately that he was deadly serious. I couldn’t help but smile.

“Well, I’m glad somebody finds it funny,” he remarked, yet a smile had come to his face as well. It was then that I noticed how handsome he actually was; chiselled features, olive skin, a mop of dark curly hair, and eyes the darkest green I had ever seen.

“It’s better to laugh than to cry,” I admitted truthfully, suddenly hoping that he didn’t think I looked too-- actually, I didn’t really know what I was hoping for when he looked at me, probably just that he wasn’t looking at me. I had walked out the house that morning in the oldest pair of jeans I owned, some creased dark t-shirt from the bottom of the ironing pile and a sweater that looked as though several cats had tried to pull it to pieces, and honestly I think I must have looked as though I had just woken up.

“That’s true,” the man said with a small laugh. “My mother used to say that all the time.”

“Mine too.”

“I’m Benjamin,” he offered, raising his hand for me to shake. I took it in my own, surprised by the roughness of his skin, and then replied.

“Alison.”

“Alison,” he muttered, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “That’s a pretty name.”

“Oh, don’t!” I cried with a mock display of disgust. “Don’t flatter me! You know as well as I do that it’s possibly the worst name ever given to a child-”

“No, seriously,” he cut in. “I like it. It’s my sister’s name.”

“Oh,” I mumbled, feeling very ridiculous indeed. “Well, now I feel clever...”

“Don’t,” he laughed. “Really.”

There was a quiet moment then, where neither of us spoke. I looked out across the grassy expanse of parkland before us, taking in the sight of the smaller children on the swing sets and the little climbing frame. When I glanced back to Ben I saw he was watching me, and I could feel a colour rising to my cheeks. There was something about this man that made me feel- uncomfortable? Well, not really. It was like the freedom paradox again, the feeling of some strange quickening of the heartbeat that left me feeling nervous and more confused than before.

“I should be going,” I said in what I hoped was a very matter-of-fact kind of voice. “Really. I have to get home, to my husband.” I don’t know what made me say it, especially in that way, but I suppose it was the fear that this man might actually be nice to me, take me away from all thoughts of Alex and the kids, and leave me feeling like me again. Like Alison.

“You do?” he asked, disappointed. “Just when I thought we were getting on really well.” There was that glint of mischief in his eyes again, and I paused, half stood above the bench, wavering between the urge to leave and the pulling magnetism that this stranger emitted.

“I really should-” my voice wavered a little, and Benjamin smiled knowingly.

“Come on, come for a coffee with me. I’m buying. Tell me more about yourself.”

“I-”

“And please, don’t think about refusing. You’ll hurt my feelings.” He grinned, and I nodded.

“All right then.” How could I say no to that?

I remember he took me to a small cafe on a little back street not far from the park. It was warm, gloriously scented with coffee and cake, and the whole place reminded me of my living room when I had been growing up. I love that place. It’s possibly my favourite place in the world, at least, my favourite public place...

He asked me about myself, about Daisy and Michael and Paige, and he even asked me about Alex. It was the closest I had ever felt to being home again- and I know that doesn’t make sense, but I know what I mean. When I am with Benjamin I can relax. I am no longer a mother first and then Alison. I am no longer Alex’s wife, Jennifer’s sister, or even the owner of Jibble, the dog. When I am with Ben I can be me again, without worry, without fear, and without that pain in my gut that tells me something is wrong. Is it any wonder I took the easy way out?

“Hey, listen,” Benjamin said to me suddenly. We were still sat in the cafe, curled up on a sofa by a window overlooking the street outside, the park ahead of that. “I was wondering- you said you had to pick Michael up at three, right?”

I nodded.

“Well, maybe, if you’ve got time- and of course if you don’t think it too presumptuous of me- would you permit me to show you something? Only, I’ve found that, much like me, you seem to have a passion for the written word.”

“A passion?” I laughed. “More like a high school fling if nothing else. I don’t get time to read these days, I’m so busy. What with Alex, and the kids, and work- where did you want to take me, anyway?”

“Well, if I told you I’d ruin the surprise.” His eyes twinkled, and I couldn’t help but feel as though there was nothing sinister about him whatsoever. If he’d asked me at that moment I would gladly have walked the length of the world for him. I couldn’t describe it; it was a swelling sensation in my breast, like I could fly, sore over the earth without a second thought, and all this for a man who I had just met, a man whose last name I didn’t even know, a man who could probably kill me if he wanted to. I didn’t care why I felt that way, maybe it was the combination of the struggle I had felt with Alex recently, of the freedom of the park, of the comfort of the coffee shop. Maybe it was love. I’d never believed in love at first sight until then, never thought that anything so ludicrous could be true; sure, it happened in movies, it happened in books, it happened to the celebrities on the front of the glossy magazines Daisy bought, but never did it happen to ordinary people like me. Married people, women with children.

“It’s only half one,” I said carefully. “I still have an hour until I need to head to Michael’s practice. Can you show me in that time?”

Benjamin nodded. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to make you late.”

“You know, it’s funny,” I began to say. “I’ve never been like this with anybody before. I’ve never- I would never- getting into conversations with strangers and then accepting to go places- it’s not something-” I couldn’t seem to communicate the thoughts that were in my mind, they came out as a jumbled mess of words and awkward pauses. I smiled apologetically.

“You don’t normally make a habit of getting into potentially difficult situations with strange men?” Ben asked. I nodded.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it,” I replied, relieved that I hadn’t made a complete fool of myself.

“Me either,” he said. “Not the men part,” he added hastily. “I mean- I don’t normally invite strange women into potentially difficult situations.” I laughed.

“Well, since that makes two of us, why don’t we go now and continue chatting so we’re not strangers any more?” I suggested in a way which would have horrified me if I were speaking to anybody else. My voice was so playful, so unlike everything that I had been used to.

“Sounds like a plan.”

We took my car, and his. He reasoned that he didn’t want to make me uncomfortable by having complete control over me in such a small space, since I didn’t know him that well yet. It made sense, so he sat in his car and I followed him in my own, though I have to admit I wasn’t particularly happy about being separated from him so soon. It was as though he could disappear at any moment, slip out of my life exactly the same way he had slipped into it; out of nowhere, going nowhere, completely accidental. I'd never felt that way before about anybody, and I haven't felt it since.

We drove deeper into the city, someplace I hadn’t been for a while, and into a more residential area. The houses were built up heavily, lined in uniform rows, red brick and orange, and brown and white. I watched carefully as we passed street signs and recognisable landmarks, just in case; not that I thought I would need to use this extra knowledge, but it’s better to be safe than sorry, I always say.

Eventually we pulled up in front of a medium sized house, larger than many of the ones surrounding it yet smaller than some I had seen on the drive up there. It was square, simplistic and neat, made from reddish brick with thick blackened timbers running the length of the upper floors in a horizontal cross section. We pulled onto the driveway, which was big enough for three or four cars to slip onto, and climbed out. The warmth of the air was magnified by being pushed in so close with the other houses, and it seemed tropical for a moment, like the breeze would bring with it a sudden freak rainstorm at any random moment.

“Here,” Ben said, taking my arm and leading me in towards the door. “I just want to show you one thing, it shouldn’t take long, and then you can pick Michael up from football.”

“Is this your house?” I asked, for lack of anything better to say. Of course it is, what a stupid question.

“Yeah, it’s the family house. Alison and I share this place together. It’s big enough, and neither of us have got any other family so we might as well stick together.”

“Makes sense.”

“Come on then, let’s go inside.”

The inside of the house was more beautiful than the outside had suggested it could possibly be. The furniture was antique; the paintings lining the walls were expensive and tastefully chosen. I wandered around feeling as though this place was forbidden; it felt like a museum, full of wonders and dangerous artefacts. I loved it; possibly all the more because I knew it belonged to him. He led me up a large central staircase, climbing two stories until we hit the top. He led me down a hallway, long and thing, winding far away from anything I had seen previously, and then we hit a dead end. I raised one eye in confusion, and Ben laughed.

“Watch this.” He reached out and pushed a small button at the end of a bookcase that lined the wall. Then he pulled me backwards a little as he glanced upwards, towards the ceiling where I assumed the attic was situated. Within seconds a small square panel within the ceiling began to move, a mechanical whirring the only sound in the muffled quite of the hallway. Soon, where before there had been nothing, a thin staircase had emerged. “We had it put in after our father died,” Ben explained. “Mum wanted some place to store all of his books; they were cluttering the hallways and just generally getting in the way, so Ali and I converted the loft space. Come on up and have a look.”

He gestured that I should go first, and when I refused (I’ve never been too fond of heights) he moved in front of me and told me to place my hands on his hips as we climbed. Once we reached the top, he pushed his arms through the small gap to help me through, and then ordered me to close my eyes.

“Go on,” he said. “Just for a few seconds, then you can look.”

I did as he asked and closed my eyes, standing in the entrance to what I assumed would be some kind of miniature library or something. To be honest, I did feel a little foolish, stood in the middle of a stranger’s house with my eyes closed, and with no idea what was really going on.

“All right, you can open them now.” Benjamin was back by my side again now, and as I opened my eyes his face was the first thing I saw. His eyes were alight with pleasure as he watched my reaction. I glanced around the room carefully, and was shocked by what I saw; to say that the loft conversion was a miniature library would have been the largest understatement of the century.

Every wall was lined to the ceiling with shelves, each one filled with book after book. Some big, some small, all of them packed tightly along the pine wood shelves. Ben informed me that they were doubled up, too, since there were actually too many books to fit. Books lined the walls from floor to ceiling, and lay scattering in haphazard piles all across the carpet beneath the shelves. I smiled and began to wander about the room, trailing my fingers along the spines of ancient books, and those volumes that I thought I might never see again after my college years.

“Wow,” I breathed, unable to communicate the feelings of past and raw adventure that this mass of literature produced within me. “This is amazing!”

“Isn’t it just?” Ben laughed. “I love it up here. I spend most of my time up here actually.”

“I would too,” I agreed. “It’s beautiful.”

“Like you,” Ben whispered with a wink. I felt my heart lurch in my chest as my lungs struggled to expand enough for the air I needed to breath. I had never felt this way before, not even with Alex. The only way I can think to describe it is the feeling you get when at the top of a Ferris Wheel; first there is the excitement, the joy that you feel as the world slips away from beneath your feet, and then, more slowly, there is the breathtaking fear once you reach the top that you might fall. There is so much distance between you and the ground; it feels as though you can’t breath for the fear and excitement together in one. That was how I felt; I was scared, excited and alive, so alive!

I feel like that right now, as I sit here in the darkness. I am surrounded by the darkness, and the fears that I have harboured in my chest for the past two months. Nobody has ever made me feel like Ben does, and when I am with him I care about little else, but now? Now when I am lying in bed with my husband, sickened by his touch and scared that I shall wake him if I move, it makes me wonder if it is all worth it. Is it? Is anything really worth it? I don’t know. When I am with him I think so, but when I am here it makes me unsure. Alex has been here for me nearly all my life, he’s sat with me through two stillbirths, held three of our children when I was so tired I could drop, and he’s left me alone when I needed him to. It’s only recently that I haven’t been the same way with him- what am I doing wrong?

Eventually I decided that it was time I had to leave. Reluctance was filling every fibre of my body, every vein was pumping all the harder to keep me mobile, when all I wanted to do was to sit down, by the loft window that looked out over everything, and do nothing at all.

“It’s almost three,” I said quietly, my voice a mere whisper in the padded security of the library. Ben nodded sincerely, his face was cool, calm, emotionless, yet I knew he didn’t want me to leave yet either. I smiled at him apologetically, trying to push all of the feeling from my chest into it, and finding that it only made things worse. There was a lump in my throat, and already I was dreading the return to normality. I didn’t want to go back to being Mum, wife, drone. I wanted this passion, this freedom more than anything; like a hunger was clawing at my heart from the inside, and I was going to be torn to shreds. That’s how I felt. I felt like I was going to die from this new pain. It had made me more alive than I had ever been, and yet it would surely kill me if it carried on unsatisfied, wouldn’t it?

“And you have to go,” Ben whispered sadly, his voice soft. “I suppose you can’t get out of it- only, I’m really enjoying being with you.” It was forward, and yet I only wanted to comfort him. I should have been embarrassed, annoyed, but it made me feel all the more attracted to this man-- a feeling I knew shouldn’t come so easily to a woman in my position.

“I know,” I said, aiming to comfort. “I know, I feel like that too, but if I don’t go I’ll be late.”

“Sure, I know. You’ll- Can I see you again?” It was in that moment that I knew I had to make my choice. This man knew about my commitments, my situation; he knew how I felt, he knew how to read me as though I were a book. In this moment I could either say yes, or no. Surely it should have been black and white? Simple, easy to choose? It wasn’t. More than anything I wished I could say nothing, just walk away and say absolutely nothing at all, but I knew I couldn’t. This man, this stranger, this lover was all I wanted in the world; yet, why was it so hard to just say yes? It wasn’t just Alex that was holding me back, or the children, I think more than anything it was the thought that things were too easy. Ben was too easy. Life was too easy. Since when had everything been easy?

“Yes,” I said after a moment of thought. My voice was so quiet I could barely hear it in the muffled air around us. Ben smiled at me then, a moment of pure illumination in the growing gloom. I smiled back, felt my heart crack open and poor emotions I had never felt into my veins, and then I turned away and headed back for the stairs. Ben accompanied me to the car, and stood waiting as I walked away.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I told him anxiously. “You’ll be in all day?”

“I’ll be waiting,” Ben assured me. “I’ll be here, all day, for you.”

On the drive home I could think of nothing but his hand on my arm as he helped me up the stairs into his library. I could see nothing but his earnest eyes, full of hope, and the soft contours and colours of his face. I could do nothing, feel nothing but the turmoil, and I almost drove past Michael’s football pitch in my dream-like state.

I feel like that now: cold, empty without him. I know that when I am with him I am safe, but all this time I spend away from him? It feels like torture, like somebody is ripping my insides out, or scratching at them with a pencil. At first I thought it would be okay, it would go away the more I saw him, but I was wrong: it got worse. In fact, every time I saw him the feeling in my chest disappeared, only to return once more when he had gone, twice as bad as before. I hate it. I hate the way he makes me feel, the pain- and yet, it’s a nice feeling too, in some ways. Paradoxical, I know, but that’s how it is.

Alex is touching my thigh again and I have to breath deeply to stop from lashing out. I have to get out of here, seriously now. If I stay I’ll do something I’ll regret. With steady, deep breaths I try to slide my body away from Alex. His hand drops from my thigh onto the mattress, and I breath a sigh of relief when he doesn’t wake. I’ve done it.

Every second that passes feels like an hour, but I know I have to do it. I have to go, get out of the house for a few minutes. I need to feel the fresh, sharp air inside my lungs and I need to inhale as deeply as possible! I need to be able to think in peace.

I saw him again the next day, and the one after that. After dropping Paige off at nursery and making sure the kids got to school okay, I took the day off work and drove into town, the way I remembered. I was less hesitant this time, well aware that my time was even more limited than before, and that I had to let him know how I felt. I had to tell Ben of the curious tugging that was in my chest, the pain that gripped me at night when I was supposed to be thinking of nothing but love for my husband.

He was waiting for me, as he had said he would, sitting by the front door. He told me he’d taken to sitting in the living room, at the front of the house, in a large armchair reading a copy of Oscar Wilde’s ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’ half-heartedly as he waited for the sound of my car on the gravel.

“I’ve missed you,” he said. I smiled and stepped close to him, breathing in his scent. It was like I was in a separate world, one of books and instant romances. I felt like I could relax here, I could do anything I pleased without the same consequences.

“I missed you too.”

And that’s how it always was, every day. I started going to see him in the evenings, and we’d sit for hours at a time in his library. The room would be lit only by the small electric lamps on the walls, the light cast was orange and created huge shadows, and we would read to each other. There was something sensual about the experience, something forbidden, something that for my whole life had been out of reach until now.

I had known him for almost two months when it happened; something which I could only have imagined in the early hours of the morning, when Alex was all I could feel. Up until that point, it had always been emotional between us, close contact was a taboo topic that neither of us dared stray near to, and even hand-holding was prohibited unless Ben was helping me reach something, or other such little incidents. Up until that point you could have said Ben and I were friends, close friends.

The library was just beginning to get dark, the evening gloom creeping across the carpet through the large open windows. It must have been quite late, eight or nine in the evening perhaps, and we had been together for hours already.

“What did you tell Alex?” Ben asked me suddenly, a question which he normally saved until I was about to leave the house. I glanced up at him, a little surprised. Was this a hint that he wanted me to leave?

“I- He thinks I’m going to the gym, and then to the library,” I said. I felt my voice began to shake a little, fear creeping up inside of me. Surely he wouldn’t send me away? I didn’t think he would, not Ben-

“So he thinks you’ll be gone for a long while?” Oh, now I see where this is going...

“I told him not to wait up. We have all night, within reason.” I smiled at him.

He patted the sofa by his side, running his fingers along the small space he had left between us both when we sat down to read. I glanced up into his face, curiously questioning whether it would be a wise idea to step over that boundary of confidence both of us had created. It took another few seconds, but the look on his face was so calm, so welcoming and sure that I couldn’t help myself. Before I could even think what I was doing properly my body had begun to respond. I moved closer, inch by inch, felt his hand brush mine and then the cool silk of his shirt slip against the bare skin on my arm. I shivered.

“Are you cold?” he asked me. I shook my head.

“No, I’m fine,” I answered quietly. It was almost like a dream, almost as if we were two swimmers caught under water, communicating only by the looks that passed between us. We were weightless, floating in space, without the need to breathe, or speak. I gazed into his eyes, the cool calm pools of green drawing me in, closer, and closer, until our faces were inches apart.

He whispered something that I didn’t quite catch, a whisper for the sake of noise, and then we closed in. It was as natural as breathing, as walking or talking, or living. His lips were warm against mine, soft and sensuous, and in that moment I forgot everything. My whole life became an insubstantial picture book of badly drawn cartoons. They were pointless, meaningless, except for where they led me. If felt as if I had spent my whole life waiting for this moment.

“Are you sure?” Benjamin asked me softly. The sofa was tickling my back but I fought the urge to wriggle out from underneath him. His hair was flopping onto his forehead, the loose curls cascading down the side of his face like a waterfall of good, brown earth. I smiled at him sincerely.

“Yes,” I breathed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so sure in my life.” It was true.

The kitchen is cooler than our bedroom. There is a window by the sink that Alex must have left open a small margin, since there is a cold breeze that’s snaking it’s way into the room. The tiles on the floor are uncomfortable against my bare feet, but I guess I don’t mind much. It’s better than the damn cramping heat that I feel upstairs when I’m with Alex in bed.

I wander around the kitchen for a while, running my fingers over things just to calm the heavy beating of my heart. It is as though I am waiting for something, some sign or hidden meaning that is sure to make itself known to me any minute. I doubt that it’s true, but these days who can tell? I thought I would never feel this way about anybody, I thought it was a romanticised gesture of literature, this swelling in my breast, this heavy constant thudding of anxiety in my heart.

I suppose some of the worry is that Alex will find out. He’s been acting rather strange lately, like he knows something he doesn’t want to, or that he isn’t supposed to. I can’t guarantee that he knows, it’s just, I’d rather not think about it in case he does.

I circle the kitchen once more, and come face-to-plastic with the phone. I glare at in, uncertain and wary. Is it too late? Will I wake Alex? The kids? Is it worth the risk? All I know is that if I don’t speak to him, confess the feelings that are burning these holes in my heart, I don’t know what I might do. It’s like being surrounded by hundreds of people who know the answer, but being the only one who understands the question and unable to communicate. I honestly don’t know what to do any longer; the guilt is eating me, but so is the hatred, the pretence of this perfect life and all the mendacity surrounding it!

That was the first time we made love. As the world outside was spinning in its steady predictable pattern, my life was twirling out of control. The room was warm, still heated by the sun which had long since set, and the air smelt of books and paper. I could feel him around me, everywhere; he was in the air I breathed, taking over my brain and body simultaneously as his lips pressed against mine in a passionate expression of undying love.

For not one moment did I doubt what we were doing. How could I when it felt so right? It was almost as though I had spent my whole life waiting for this, and now it was here my body was determined to get out of it as much as was possible. Sure, I had slept with men before, men other than Alex. Before we were married I dated three or four other men- but nothing was ever like this. There was no fire eating away at my logical and rational sense, there was no pleasurable suffocation in feelings I didn’t even know existed. With them, as with Alex, everything was always about procreation. They were all about the pleasure, of course, but me? I didn’t know the meaning of the word! This- now this was pleasure.

I have to call him. I have to hear his voice. I don’t think I can last much longer. If I’m not careful my senses will go wild, my desires will spiral out of control and before I know it I’ll be out of the door and in the car. If that happens I don’t know what I’ll do, it would ruin me I suppose. Alex would be sure to find out. If that happens I shall have to cry to Ben, and Alison when it all falls apart, and for a fleeting second it occurs to me that Ben might not want me if I am available. I push the thought away, forcefully, fearing that I shall cry out. I whimper a little, the feelings in my chest threatening to overtake my body in a fit of rage; they scream ‘Do something! What are you playing at, thinking you can live your life like everybody else does?’

I shake my head. There is nothing for it. I can’t rein myself in- I’ve tried, and I’ve tried, and yet I’ve failed- I’ve got to call him. The pale ivory plastic gleams at me in the moonlight, the soft light that filters through the kitchen blinds. I shiver a little, my bare feet pressed heavily against the cool tiles beneath them, and then I take a deep breath. It steadies me a little, thinking that soon I will hear his voice, warm and comforting in my ear, and this is all I need; this image of warm, soft light and the musical tones in his voice- they are all I need to tell me that it is okay. Everything will be okay.

“He’s totally smitten, you know,” Alison said with a smile. Her boyish bobbed hair was dark, swinging with the smooth line of her jaw as she nodded her head slowly. “Completely, utterly smitten. I’d describe him like a little boy at Christmas time, but I don’t think I ever saw him so excited at Christmas either.”

I felt the colour begin to rise in my cheeks and lowered my head, embarrassed. “Do you really think so?” I asked softly. “Does he really feel like- like that?” Alison let out a tinkle of laughter, her whole face shifting as she smiled.

“Yes,” she replied. “Of course.” She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and then glanced out of the window. It was warm outside and rays of the warm, golden light were falling through the window and dusting her lap and hair.

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you,” I said softly, unaware I was really speaking until I heard my voice curtail at the end of the sentence. I blushed again, unsure why I was going to say this, but deciding to say it anyway: “You look a lot like your brother.”

“I do, don’t I?” Alison laughed again good-naturedly. "Lots of people say that, really.”

“I’m not surprised.”

The conversation was a little stilted, slow, as both of us sat in the front lounge, waiting for Ben to return from a trip to the shop. It wasn’t that we were uncomfortable, more that I couldn’t relax until I had seen his face, and Alison seemed to feel the tension.

“He won’t be long, you know,” she said quietly. The change in her voice made me look into her face, study her expression more closely. She was still staring out of the window as she spoke, her gaze was distant, yet I could tell she wasn’t unfocused; she was watching, waiting for him.

“I’m sorry. I’ve embarrassed you,” I said quickly. “I don’t mean to be so anti-social, it’s just hard to concentrate.”

“I know,” Alison said without turning to me. “I know how you feel.”

“Do you?” I asked, suddenly realising that my voice was a little colder than I would have liked it to be. She turned from the window, one hand falling from her lap onto the side of the sofa. Her gaze was strong, steady, and she met my eyes easily. They were the same green as Ben’s, filled with warmth and laughter, and yet, there was sadness there. I felt immediately awkward, shifting in my seat. “I’m sorry,” I apologised. “I didn’t mean- it wasn’t-”

“It’s okay. It’s hard.” She smiled at me, again, and almost instantly her expression was warm and welcoming again. The sadness receded quickly, yet I still felt as though there was something she had wanted to say to me. I considered for a moment, that it could have been a confession, a secret, some long-lasting desire that she wanted to share. It never occurred to me that the sadness could have been for me, for what she could see was about to happen...

“Ben, it’s me,” I say softly, my breath catching as I try and speak quietly. I clear my throat, as silently as possible, and take another deep breath to steady the racing of my heart.

“Ali,” he says. “What’s wrong? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” I blush deeply, suddenly understanding what I have done. “I just wanted to hear your voice. I’m sorry. I don’t know really why I called.” Silently I think he is wondering the same thing.

There is a short silence, and then: “It’s all right, sweetheart. You do know it’s half-past three, though, don’t you?” I nod my head, and then realise that he can’t see me.

“Yes,” I answer. “I just- it’s- I need-” the words won’t come out again. I’m stammering, my voice rising in pitch by the word. I hear Benjamin making soothing sounds down the phone, clicking noises with his tongue and ‘hush’ that slides over me easily.

“It’s okay, Ali. Calm down. There must be something, something the matter.”

I nod my head again. “Ben,” I begin, calmer than before. “I need to see you, to talk to you, to be with you. I can’t take it here; it’s tight, hot, claustrophobic. I need to get out.”

“Tonight?” Another silence. I hear him sigh then, and imagine him rubbing his hand over his face, the stubble rubbing against his almost equally rough skin like sandpaper. I see him close his eyes, his face still peaceful with sleep. “All right Ali. All right. Can you leave the house?”

“Yes.”

“Meet me at the park.”

“Yes.”

“See you soon, darling.” There is a small bleep as the line goes dead, and then nothing. I stand for a few minutes in silence, breathing deeply and marvelling at the peace which is now spreading through my body, inch by inch. For just those few, silent minutes I think of nothing, nothing at all; no Alex, no kids, not even Ben. I just close my eyes, let the moonlight filter against my skin, and think of nothing.

There is a pair of jeans hanging on the radiator that I’ve just washed, along with one of Alex’s shirt and a pair of underwear. Hurriedly, yet with as much stealth as I can muster, I slip the knickers and jeans on under my nightdress and quickly exchange the dress for the shirt which I know is far too big. I don’t bother with a bra, though I know I should, instead I run for the closet under the stairs and pull out a jacket and a pair of trainers that belong to Daisy.

It doesn’t occur to me what Alex will think, if he wakes up and finds me gone, nor do I pay attention to the fact that it is almost a quarter to four in the morning. I haven’t slept since last night, and I’m beginning to feel a little tired, but I don’t care. I’m going to see Ben; I’m going to see Ben, and talk to him, and he will comfort me and make it all all right. Like he always does. And Alex never has to know.

Outside the air is quite warm. There is that breeze still, and I think of our bedroom window, bolted against the worst of it. Almost immediately my hair is blown back from my face, so I pull it back, out of the way and into a ponytail. My car is parked in the garage, where I left it earlier, and Alex’s car is blocking the drive. Cursing under my breath, I slip back instead, drop my key off in exchange for his, and then tiptoe back outside, as quietly as I can. The door closes behind me with a small bang, and I cringe as the noise seems to echo out into the blackness of the night.

The moon is full tonight, as round as a plate, or some such thing. I’ve never been really good with describing things like that, and after years of nothing but these little domestic items, soon everything even vaguely round turns itself into a plate, or a bowl, or the shape of the pancakes I cook for Michael on a Sunday morning.

The sound of the car starting makes me jump, and I hold my breath for fear I may have woken somebody up, despite the fact that doing so won’t change anything. The tightness of the air in my lungs makes me calmer though, and soon I am driving off the drive, sliding the car slowly onto the street and away into the night.

By the time I reach the park, Ben is already there. He is stood under the tree nearest the car park, his arms folded against the breeze yet his coat is open at the chest, exposing the soft olive skin and curling dark hair. I smile when I see him, a whole mix of emotions building in my chest. I’m not sure whether to laugh out in joy, or break down into tears. I climb from the car quickly and cross to him.

“Ben,” I say. “Oh Ben.”

He opens his arms out to me, drawing me closer until my head is pressed against the soft cotton of his shirt. I can hear his heartbeat.

“Are you okay?” he whispers, as though he daren’t break the silence around us.

I nod my head against his chest, feel my hair come loose, and then as though a wave has been taken down inside my head, my emotions bubble to the surface. Ben’s arms tighten around me as he realises, and this movement makes my cry, the tears coursing down my cheeks.

“Oh Ben!” I say, my voice is reaching an uncomfortably high pitch but there is nothing I can do. “What’s going to happen?”

Ben makes the ‘shushing’ noises again, stroking the top of my head softly. I hear his heart flutter a little, and he stiffens. Then he speaks and his voice is slightly strained: “D’you remember the first time I met you?” I nod. “I thought you were an angel, a hallucination of some kind. There was something about you, immediately, and I knew we were meant to be together. It sounds corny, like something out of a romance novel, doesn’t it?” I nod again. “Well, that’s what I thought too, and- and it was too good to be true when you took me up on that coffee. It was true what I said: I’d never done that before, never even thought about it. I missed a meeting with my agent, when I took you to see the library.” I look up, tears in my eyes but my mouth fixed in wonder.

“I didn’t know that,” I say softly. “I wouldn’t have- I would never-”

“No,” he stops me. “No, you see, I’d rather have been with you. I loved you from the moment you said ‘Hello’.” I smile at him.

“I though you were a rapist.” He chuckled.

“Tell me, Ali,” he said slowly. “Why tonight?”

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I don’t know. Everything was fine today- well, not fine, but bearable at least- and then tonight, all of a sudden, I couldn’t take it. It hurt. I wanted to see you, to be with you, to feel you by my side. I couldn’t sleep; I couldn’t even lie still and pretend to sleep. Alex-” I said his name falteringly, my lips forming around the word as if it were some kind of taboo. “Alex. I think there is something that he knows, that he won’t say. What if he finds out?”

Ben is silent. His heart flutters again, and his chest seems to withdraw from my ear rapidly. I look up in alarm, and see that he is no longer looking at me. I pull away from him, from his arms, and follow his gaze. There is a light up ahead, in the parking lot, and my heart leaps in my chest. I can feel Ben by my side, and time seems to stand still.

There, directly in front of me, only a few feet forwards into the darkness, there is a figure. It is tall, male, and familiar. I find that I am shaking, my hands fall to my side and I breathe heavily, my chest heaving beneath Alex’s shirt.

“Alison.” His name from my lips is shocking, but deep down I suppose I expected it. He steps closer, and I can feel Ben’s warm hand gripping at my own in reassurance. I squeeze back once, twice, though I feel anything but reassured.

“Alex,” I say quietly, my voice steadier than I would have imagined it could ever be. Alex comes closer again until there is only about a foot between us. His gaze flickers from my face to Ben’s and then back again. I can see his jaw working, whether in anger, frustration or confusion I can’t tell, but any way I look at it I know I’m in trouble. “It’s not what it looks like,” I add quickly, though all of us know that it is a lie.

“Alison,” he says my name again, and Ben grips my fingers a little harder between his own. “What-? I don’t- I don’t understand.” The moonlight is reflecting off his hair, making it look downy and soft in comparison to Ben’s. He is fair; his eyes are dark enough that I can’t see what he might be thinking.

“Alex, I- I don’t- I can’t- we can’t- I’m-” I take a deep breath, knowing that this time it won’t steady me. “It’s not what it-”

“Don’t Alison,” he cuts me off. “Don’t bother. Just don’t. I saw you- before- I saw you and I followed you. I heard you last week, I saw you tonight. Christ Alison! Christ!” he cries, his voice breaking.

“I’m sorry.” It is the only thing I can think to say. Ben is behind me still, caught in the crossfire. I resist the urge to turn to him, to turn and tell him that I love him. I love him more than anything, I think. It is a different kind of love than one feels for their offspring, this tender, tugging pain in my chest. It feels as though there is a hook, in my heart, linked loosely to a thin silver thread. I can see it in my mind, the thread, it connects us both, our hearts together as though they have always been that way. With Alex that thread is gone, it was never there, it was string, man-made and clumsy.

I feel Ben take a step back, and almost cry out for the thread is growing slack and my heart is being pulled in too many directions. I whimper a little, but don’t turn around.

“I’m sorry,” I say again into the silent darkness. For a moment there is nothing, nothing but the awkward tension that fills the air like a poisonous gas. I hold my breath.

“Sorry isn’t good enough,” Alex whispers. “Sorry doesn’t cut it Al. It’s too late for sorry.” I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off for the second time tonight. “It’s me or him, Al. Me or him.” His voice is cold, and suddenly I am glad I can't see his face all that well, or I may begin to cry. My bottom lip trembles, and the moonlight isn’t on my side, for Alex sees me and shakes his head. “All that we’ve worked for, Al, these years. All that hard work, all those year of love- did they mean nothing to you?” I shake my head in bewilderment, feeling suddenly that there is a hair in my mouth, and wanting nothing but to reach out and pull it away. Like Alex.

‘Go away’ my mind says. ‘Please, go away. Leave me. Can’t you see that he makes me happy?’

“And what about the children?” he asks me then. I shiver, my heart leaping again. “What about them? What about me?” I shake my head again. Alex seems to get angrier, he crosses his arms quickly, and I feel the thread in my chest tighten again as Ben moves closer. Ben lays a hand on my shoulder.

“Me, or him.” Alex spits the word as though it is not fit to be spoken aloud, as though he would thrust it from his tongue as quickly as possible.

This time I do glance back. Ben’s eyes are shining in the light, and I am reminded of the first time I saw him. The mischief is gone now; replaced by a sadness I never knew possible. I gaze into his face, for help, for reassurance- I don’t know. He nods his head, slowly at first and then more so. I turn back to Alex, my hands quivering like leaves in an autumn bluster.

“You,” I say softly. At first I don’t think he has heard me, and fear that I may have to say it again- I don’t think my heart could cope. I’m sure it would break!

“Good girl,” he says then. He turns away, slowly, as though it takes all his energy to do so, and something inside of me breaks. Tears begin to roll down my face again, and I turn to Ben one last time. He pulls me to his chest once more, encircling my face with his bear-like hands.

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” Ben whispers, his voice hoarse, full of emotion.

“Yes, I have,” I say. “Truth is, I’d do it again though. I don’t regret- I don’t regret any of it.” He smiles then, though I can see it takes effort, and lowers his face to mine. Our foreheads are touching; his skin soft and wondrously warm against my own.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I’ll always love you,” I whisper back. He presses his lips against mine in a brief parting kiss, squeezes my fingers once more, and then steps away.

“Don’t forget me,” he says, and suddenly I am aware of how cold it is without him. I nod slowly, trying to keep my face straight and calm.

“I won’t.”

“Remember,” he says then, as he is about to walk away. “Remember what our mothers used to say: it’s better to laugh than cry.” I want to reply. ‘Wait for me,’ I want to say. ‘Wait for me, don’t let go. Don’t let the silver thread go slack. I need you’. Instead I am silent, only nodding.

I see him smile, or possibly it is a trick of the light, but I hope not. I close my eyes and nod, bite my lip, and when I open them, all I can see is the darkness. It has almost swallowed me whole, and all I can think is how cold I am.

I hear the car start behind me, the headlamps growing brighter, and wearily, I turn around. There is little comfort to be had in this direction, or any other for that matter, but I know that Ben was right. My children are important.

I also know that no matter how bad it seems now, as soon as they leave home, I will be free.

I smile to myself though it hurts my face, and head for Alex’s car. My car has already pulled from the lot, yet this time I don’t feel lonely. I smile wider.

Surely, things can only get better. Right?

I wonder how it came to this. This moment in time. And then I brush the thought away. I have to get home, now. I’m exhausted.

And as I’m driving away, there is only one thing. One thing that I keep saying aloud, over and over until the words become nothing but meaningless sounds against my tired ears. “I just hope he waits for me. Won’t he wait forever? He will...”

Won’t he?