You'd Still Be Here(Theo Simms) If only I’d treated you better...

It had happened again and each time I felt more and more guilty. I should have just gone straight home from work. Never cheated, never slept around. But I just couldn’t stop. The lies. The deceit. Maybe it was the fear of commitment? I should never have said “I do” when I knew I wasn’t ready. For better, for worse, ‘til death do us part. This marriage had been tainted from the start but she was too sweet to see it. I was just stuck in this vortex of emotions and actions, viciously leading me astray and resolving in me treating her as much less than she was. A queen. I cared about her, of course I did, but I couldn’t stop taking her for granted. Being too controlling over her and telling her what she could and couldn’t do while I did exactly what I felt as and when I pleased. I couldn’t even think of the last time she had been out with friends and I’d simply said “ok” and there I was, driving home from ‘work’. I thought about what I could, what I should tell her. But it had got to the point where we both knew what ‘work’ meant. That typical cliché of a line, “going out with the boys after work”, had been used so many times I was certain she knew what I had been doing, but every time she tried to accuse me of something I would lie my way out of it or make her sound ridiculous.

If only I’d manned up and faced you, face-to-face, and told you the truth.

As I pulled up on the drive I checked myself in the mirror for make-up marks on my collar, a previous culprit leading to my accusation - “I was just saying bye to some of the girls at work” would be my feeble lie. Doesn’t really explain the abundance of lip-stick, foundation and perfume that I’d be covered in; I'm not that good at my job. – I was all clear. A quick spray of the Bleu de Channel that she had bought for me and I was ready to face her. I don’t know why this time felt any different from the others. It had become standard procedure. Perhaps it was just down to the ever building guilt that had been non-existent for so long. The walk to the front door in the midnight rain felt never-ending as if my cloudy conscience was trying to stop me from continuing to live a life of lies. But as I put my key in the door and turned to unlock it, it was as if I was locking away the truth, and once again, I routinely unlocked the clear conscience of the character I become, the act I put on, to ensure my wife that I am not the cheating, dishonest husband that she thinks I am.

If only I didn’t have pathetic excuses and stutter every time you asked a question.

“Hello? I'm back.”

“I'm in the kitchen”, an empty, emotionless voice replied.

As I lean in to kiss her she turns and goes to walk away.

“What’s up?”

She stops. Silence.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Who did you say you were out with?” she replied sternly, her back still facing me.

“I...I...was with...”

“Who were you with?!” She shrieked as she turned and faced me with a malicious glare. “Who the hell are you going to tell me you were out with this time! I'm sick of your crap! I want the truth. I can't take this anymore.”

In a way, neither could I.

“Don’t be stupid.” I desperately replied. There was panic in my voice as my eyes avoided hers. It was as if my guilt had finally taken over and counteracted the character I had been putting on for so long. The act was up.

“I know. I know you’ve been cheating.” She began to cry, “How could you do this to me!” she screamed at me as she ran out of the house in hysterics.

I couldn’t even look at her. I just stood and listened as the front door slammed and the roar of an engine took her speeding away.

If only I didn’t ruin your world.

My mind was spinning. I thought for hours about the life I had essentially given up. No doubt about it, there was no coming back from this. It was over. As I sat with my head in my hands, my phone rings with the worst phone call of my life...

She had crashed.

She was so beautiful. I leant over the bed and looked down at her. There wasn’t a star in the sky that could outshine her pacific blue eyes and they twinkled just like them as they began to fill with sorrowful tears. The tears fell like the rain outside; the same rain that had washed away my shame so many nights and mornings when I had eventually returned home. Now, she would never return home and unlike the rain, her tears were like daggers; each one that fell felt like an individual stab of punishment, convicting me of a life sentence of guilt. Guilt for not telling her the truth. Guilt for my pathetic excuses. Guilt for ruining her world. Guilt for breaking her heart. As her heart pumped its last generous gesture to the woman I had been so selfish towards, I fell to my knees.

If only I’d treated you better...you’d still be here.

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