Eva Mazza - Sex, Lies & Stellenbosch

She hadn’t felt this brave for as long as she had been alive.

Jen and Pete were in the lounge talking when they heard John’s car pull up. The car doors slammed shut, and John and Brigit’s raised voices carried across the vineyards. He was shouting that Brigit was to turn down the inheritance Lee had left her. She was screaming back at him that she would do no such thing, that she was old enough to make her own decisions and that the inheritance was a kind gesture, proving to her how much Lee had valued her as his goddaughter.

“Bullshit! He’s trying to make a point. That’s what he’s doing. At my expense. The conniving son of a bitch!”

Jen jumped from the couch and ran to the entrance hall with Pete on her heels, ready to try to rein in John’s temper.

“ Why ? Tell me?” Brigit shrieked. “Is it because you can’t afford to buy me an apartment? Does this make you look…?”

There was a loud smack as John’s hand connected with Brigit’s cheek.

Everyone stood stock still for what felt like an age, until Brigit cried out, “You’re a monster, that’s what you are. Don’t you lift your hand to me again, ever!” Jen followed as she ran to her bedroom, but Brigit managed to slam the door before Jen could stop her. Knowing Brigit, Jen thought it best to let her be. She stormed back to the hallway.

John glared at Jen. “Look what the cat’s dragged in,” he sneered. “To what do we owe the honour?” John motioned to Pete. “I see you have your lackey with you. Why don’t you fuck off too!”

“I will not have you speak like that to Pete, do you hear me?” Jen spoke calmly.

“Or what?” John challenged.

“Or it will be your loss; unless of course you want to turn your children against you too.”

Pete gave her a look that said, I’m here if you need me , then turned and left the room. When she heard the kitchen door swinging shut behind him, she knew he had retreated to his cottage.

Jen went back into the lounge, her lounge, which had been photographed all those years ago for an interiors magazine. It was a beautiful cream and pistachio-green affair, with a marble coffee table as the focal point. I’ll definitely take that , she thought with affection. She had salvaged it from a junk shop and brought it back to its original splendour. Suddenly she was seeing everything in terms of what she would take with her when she left. The couches John could continue to slouch on, but the armoire, too, would find a new home with her. It had been her grandmother’s and had been handed down from her mother to her. It had originally been a depressing dark wood but Jen had lovingly repainted it using a French paint technique that was bizarre and sacrilegious at the time, though she’d noticed over the past few years that this had become quite a trend. She had breathed life back into that old cupboard, antique or not. That had been the crux of the magazine article: how Jen had managed to bring modernity into an old farmhouse, on a very small budget.

John had followed her into the lounge. She could feel him seething, but his anger no longer had an effect on her. She sat down on one of the couches and crossed her legs, imagining that she looked almost regal with her arm outstretched across the back.

“I’m here because I’m going to Lee’s memorial service tomorrow.”

“You’ve come to your senses,” John snarled, “after causing unnecessary crap and embarrassment.”

“Yes, I have. With some help, I came to the conclusion that it would be disrespectful of me not to pay my last respects to Lee. And it would be ridiculous to avoid the service because of your affair◦– with Frankie, I mean. After all, the two of you should be hiding your shameful faces, not me.”

“That fucking son of a bitch told you, didn’t he? He was always out to get me, because he wanted you and you chose me instead.”

“You have clearly underestimated me, John. Give me some credit. I’m not that stupid. I didn’t need Lee to tell me. You, on the other hand, are a very, very stupid and careless man. I was bound to find out. All I needed was to open my eyes. For some pathetic reason, I’ve had them shut for the duration of our marriage.”

“Aren’t you the brave one suddenly? Sitting there all smug and self-righteous? Do you think I don’t know about you and Lee? I rescued you, you fucking whore. Who knows who Brigit’s father is? Maybe you can shed some light on your daughter’s true identity, huh? All I know is Lee would never have married you if you were pregnant. I did! And I raised her as my own.”

She’d expected John to fight dirty and had prepared herself for the abuse that would be hurled her way.

“I slept with Lee. I’m sorry I kept it from you, and I’m sorry if I hurt you. We were stoned and drunk. We were also young and impulsive, and one thing led to another. I admit that keeping it a secret was partly to protect you, but it was mostly to protect me. I was vulnerable, and the thought of living in a community that regards unmarried mothers as outcasts was frightening for me and shameful for my mom. But know this: I always wanted you, John.”

John smirked.

“I did! I had resolved to tell you about Lee and face the consequences. But then I found out I was pregnant. Mom was afraid that if I said anything to you, you would leave me. Even if Brigit was yours. I was afraid.”

Jen was not weepy; she did not place blame. She just wanted to speak the truth. She wanted no more secrets, no more lies.

“I tried to be the best wife I could be. I committed one hundred per cent of myself to our marriage. To us.”

“You’re such a clever bitch, aren’t you? If I had left you, knowing you were pregnant, can you imagine what everyone would have thought of me? They would never have believed that innocent Jen would fuck another guy. My reputation was already blemished by the pregnancy, so I had to marry you to show people that I was a decent human being. But don’t think I’m going to forgive you for trapping me, you cunning…”

“Say it, John. That word seems to roll off your tongue so easily. Do you even realise how jarring it is? I heard you use that word on your own son, and now it looks like it’s my turn. Say it. Come on, I know you want to.”

John narrowed his eyes at her, weighing up the challenge.

“You cunning cunt,” he said after a moment. “There, I said it. And it feels good.”

“Lovely. You feel vindicated. I’m happy you do, because I will be divorcing you, John. After the service tomorrow, I’ll be packing my things and moving out. Leonard Mazwai, my attorney, will be serving you with papers for an interim divorce settlement. He’ll make sure I live in the style to which I’m accustomed. He will also ensure that I am justly rewarded for the pain and suffering you have caused.”

John snorted. “You’re fucking delusional. You’ve been watching too many chick flicks, baby.”

Jen got up. “I’m not your baby. And don’t undermine chick flicks. It’s antagonists like you who make the chick flick so popular. Oh, and just a friendly reminder of your huge financial gain when you married me. A little reimbursement at this point would be good.” She now looked at him, really saw him. His fists were balled, and he looked like a bull ready to charge.

“Goodnight, sleep tight,” she sang cheerily, though shaking with anger. Jen walked out of the lounge and down the passage. She stopped at Brigit’s bedroom and knocked quietly on her door.

“Brig?”

“Leave me alone!” Brigit barked. “I don’t want to speak to you or Dad.”

Then Jen did something she couldn’t remember doing since Brigit had been a child. She put her foot down.