#FreewriteMadness and #NaNoWriMo – Day 3 UpdatesteemCreated with Sketch.

in #freewritemadness5 years ago (edited)

Day three of #NaNoWriMo / #FreewriteMadness, and I'm maintaining a steady momentum so far – I have my fingers crossed that it will last! I'll respond to the @freewritehouse / @mariannewest weekend prompt tomorrow, but today I have ended up using a prompt that was offered to the Dublin NaNoWriMo-ers by one of the Municipal Liaisons for the area:

"How, exactly, did you think that having an affair would help our marriage?"

Portions of this story were written before November. It starts off from Emma's perspective – she has just spent the night with Derek, and her part occurs at the end of that particular chapter. The story then switches to a new chapter, written from Derek's perspective. As with my previous posts, I will italicise the paragraphs and sentences that were written before #NaNoWriMo began and exclude them from my total word count for the day.

___________________________

Emma lies still in the darkness, unable to wipe the smile from her face. Derek is dozing now – his arms wrapped around her, his chest lightly rising and falling against her back – and she is revelling in the sensation of his warmth. His strength. His solid presence. She isn't comfortable enough to fall asleep yet, though. She's incredibly thirsty. Well – she smirks to herself – that is understandable: a lot of strenuous physical activity will tend to have that effect! She'll just go down to the kitchen and get a glass of water...

Once she is standing up, no longer wrapped in Derek's arms, she shivers. It's cold tonight. Derek's heating must be off at the moment. She did bring her dressing gown with her, luckily – but where did she leave her bag again? Oh yes, that's right: it's in the corner of the room directly opposite the door. She wraps it and ties it around herself and begins to make her way down the stairs, cautiously feeling her way through the dark. She would prefer not to switch any of the lights on right now: there is something about the silence and stillness of night that soothes her. There always has been. She was never one of those kids who had to have a nightlight on in order to be able to sleep, or anything like that...

In the kitchen, she pours herself a glass of water and stands by one of the countertops for a minute, enjoying the utter tranquillity that surrounds her.

Click.

She looks up sharply, her heart pounding. What's that? It sounds like ... she can hardly believe it, but it sounds like the click of someone placing a key into the front door. Her blood runs cold as the door is prised open.

Oh God, somebody has broken in. Her phone is upstairs, so she can’t call Derek. She dares not shout his name.

Oh no ... please God, no. Footsteps. Coming down the kitchen, right towards her. She could almost cry. The kitchen door opens – the light is flicked on – and Emma flinches. She feels as though she might faint in terror.

As her eyes adjust to the light, she begins to make out a face that she has only ever seen in gossip magazines, back when the headlines were ablaze with the scandalous news of how Derek Fitzmaurice’s wife had left him for ‘an Italian stallion who made millions from his gallons’ (this is no joke – Emma remembers catching sight of this ridiculous headline in some red-top or other). The other man was a businessman who specialised in selling wine, wasn't he? She and Derek haven't even gotten around to discussing the whole fiasco properly yet ... but they'll certainly have no choice but to confront it now. There she is. The infamous Anne-Marie.

The two women can only stare at one another, stunned, for a few moments. Even in her dazed state, Emma finds herself thinking: Thank God I put on my dressing gown. If she hadn't done that before venturing downstairs, the humiliation would be too much to endure right now.

Anne-Marie's confusion eventually clears. She begins to look Emma up and down, from head to toe, with undisguised distaste: even a small flicker of derision. ‘Who are you?!’

Emma is at a total loss as to what to say. Her throat is dry. ‘I … I’m …’

'Emma?' At this point, they both hear Derek hurrying down the stairs. 'Emma! Are you alright? I thought I heard the door open –' He soon bursts into the kitchen, still tying up his own dressing gown: he must have just put it on.

He sees his wife, and his eyes go cold.

‘Anne-Marie.’

They all stand there, frozen, for a second or two, before Emma strides past them both.

'Derek. I’m going to get dressed, alright?'

'Emma, I –'

She doesn't hang around waiting for the rest of his reply – she practically sprints up to the bedroom, determined not to let him follow. She wants to be alone right now. Once she's back in there, she closes the door and leans against it for a moment, her eyes closed. She cannot forget the awful expression in Anne-Marie's eyes: it seems to be seared into her brain. The judgment. The disgust. Even that awful hint of derision. She should never have come over tonight, it was clearly a terrible idea...

Right. Right. She seizes her bag. She'll get her things together this very second and try to leave this place with some semblance of her dignity intact.


Alethia Counselling

~ Derek ~

Derek gazes, dumbstruck, at Anne-Marie. He doesn't know what to think. What to say. His mind is numb with shock. What on Earth is she doing, showing up at the house like this without a word of warning?

Emma abruptly moves towards the door. 'Derek. I'm going to get dressed, alright?'

'Emma, I –' he begins, but she is already halfway up the stairs. He is momentarily torn – does she want him to follow her, or would that be a bad idea right now? He has no idea. Okay. First things first. He rounds on Anne-Marie.

'What were you thinking of, Anne-Marie, coming over here like this? And at this time of the night?!'

'I've just come from the airport, Derek. I got a late flight from Venice, and I checked into a hotel nearby, thinking I would wait to come over here in the morning. But I couldn't stand it! I just had to see you now. I had to let you know –'

'You couldn't have called me first? For fuck's sake, Anne-Marie...'

'I've left Ernesto.'

'Wow. Well, isn't that generous of you.'

'There's no need to be so bloody sarcastic, Derek. I regret ever becoming involved with him. I really do.'

'And I'm supposed to ... what? Throw a goddamn party?'

'Oh Derek ... I know it'll take you some time to forgive me. I made a huge mistake, and I can't even begin to express how sorry I am. But –'

Derek suddenly hears a soft creaking noise behind him. Emma has reappeared: fully dressed, carrying her bag, tiptoeing past the kitchen door, clearly intending to sneak out of the house without saying anything.

He follows her down the hall. ‘Emma! Emma, come back.' He takes her hand. 'You were going to sneak out without a word?'

‘Well, what else was I supposed to do, Derek? Bid a cheery farewell to you and your wife?’ She wrests her fingers from his grasp and pulls the front door open.

'Emma, stay here. Please.'

She walks to her car and gets into the driver's seat. As the door slams shut behind her, Derek runs over to the car and knocks firmly against the window. 'Emma!'

Her car engine keeps stalling as she repeatedly turns the key. It sounds, for a few seconds, as though it is about to crank into life, before rapidly petering out. Emma leans back in her seat, massaging her temples, clearly exasperated by this.

Derek will not give up. 'Emma, please,' he yells, through the glass. 'I'm begging you ... hear me out.'

At last, with a sigh, she winds her window down. 'What is it, Derek?'

'Don't go. I'll get her to leave. I know this has come as a shock. I didn't know she was going to show up here tonight! I really didn't.'

‘I don't care about all that. I'm leaving because this is fucking humiliating, Derek. Do you think I had any intention of coming over here to be looked down on by your wife –’ once more, she tries to get the ignition going, but yet again, it fails. ‘Oh, why won’t this bloody thing start?!’

'Is the battery dead?'

'No, it's just a bit temperamental, that's all...'

‘Look ... Anne-Marie hasn’t a leg to stand on, if she wants to start judging you.’

‘Stop, Derek. Don’t badmouth her to me, don’t tell me all about how terrible she is and how she never understood you or any of that crap. I’m not interested. I really don’t care.’

'She "never understood me"?' Derek repeats sharply. 'Do you really think I'd use that line? As though this is some kind of tawdry affair, and I'm feeding you a pile of crap to justify it? That is not what this is, Emma. You know it isn't.'

Emma looks away from him, closes her eyes for a moment and heaves a deep sigh. ‘I'm sorry, Derek. I just ... I have to go. Can't you understand that? Whatever you two are talking about in there, it has nothing to do with me.’ She turns her key again, one more time, and the engine finally roars into life. Derek hurriedly moves to the front of her car and stands right in front of it.

Emma glares at him. 'Oh, for God's sake, Derek. Move out of the way.'

'Not unless you agree to stay. Please. We can work this out, we can talk –'

'You're being ridiculous.'

'I just need you to know –'

'Move out of the bloody way!'

Her voice has a distinct bite to it now, and Derek knows, somehow, that continuing to hold her up would not be a good idea. He moves away from the car, but can't quite bring himself to give up just yet. ‘Emma, listen to me: I really am so sorry about this. I had no idea she was going to turn up here tonight. Give me just a few minutes to get her to leave, and then we can talk. She says she’s staying in some hotel nearby at the moment. I will drive her back there myself, if I have to, and then I swear to you, the two of us can sit down and –’

‘No, Derek. I’m going,’ she says firmly, and her car begins to move. Before long, she is out of the driveway: never once glancing back at him.

He stands there helplessly, not knowing what to do. He has to go back inside, though – it's freezing out here.

Anne-Marie is standing indignantly at the front door, her arms folded. 'So you run out of here, while I'm mid-sentence, to attend to your bit on the side?' she snaps, as he wearily trudges past her. 'Well, that's nice, Derek. Really nice. Classy.'

'My bit on the side?!' he exclaims. 'Would you ever listen to yourself, Anne-Marie? You have no right to say that about her.'

'I hope you haven't introduced her to the kids.'

'No. No, I have not.'

'Where are they tonight, anyway?'

'They're with Moira.'

She glares fiercely at him for a few moments, before relenting and allowing her arms and shoulders to drop. 'Okay, Derek. Look ... I know I let you down. I can't blame you for wanting someone else to pass the time with, I suppose ... but tonight, let's just talk. Let's work things out.'

He shakes his head incredulously. 'Anne-Marie, this is ridiculous. I don't have the energy to talk. I want to go back to bed.'

'Well ... okay then. We can talk in the morning, if you like. But right now, I don't want to go back to that hotel. Can I stay here instead? I'll sleep in the spare room.'

No, Anne-Marie,' he says shortly, 'you certainly cannot stay here tonight. The kids will be coming back here tomorrow afternoon, and the last thing they need is to see you here. How long before you go away again? Haven't you messed with them enough already?'

'The kids will be back in the afternoon? Funny,' she snarls, 'I didn't see you taking that into consideration when you decided to invite her over here tonight.'

'Emma was going to leave before they got here, of course. She knows not to cause them that kind of uncertainty. She has a son of her own.' Derek can hardly speak – he can hardly breathe – so bowled over is he by his wife's sheer hypocrisy. 'You’re in no position to lecture me about this, Anne-Marie.'

'I made a mistake, Derek, alright?'

For a few moments, he simply stares at her – her silhouette, vaguely illuminated by the light from the kitchen – and finds himself becoming unexpectedly tearful. After all of his dreams – all of his hopes that she might, one day, return to him – here she is: his Anne-Marie. The woman he used to love, dressed in expensive clothing that Ernesto must have given to her. And he cannot bring himself to summon up any of the love that he once had for her. Swallowing the lump that has suddenly arisen in his throat, he asks the one question he has always wanted to ask.

'Why, Anne-Marie? Why did you do it?'

'I thought ... I thought if I just explored a bit, maybe it would help me feel more secure in our marriage.'

'How, exactly, did you think that having an affair would help our marriage?'

'We married so young. I had never dated anyone before I started dating you, and as awful as this sounds ... I suppose there was some part of me that regretted it. I wanted to put an end to my doubts. I thought –'

Derek closes his eyes. His head is starting to spin. 'You know what? I have a headache, just standing here listening to this. I'm going to bed.'

As he turns away and begins to traipse up the stairs, he hears Anne-Marie calling out to him, confused, 'well ... what do you want me to do?'

'I don't care,' he replies flatly. 'Stay here. Go back to that hotel. Do whatever the hell you want.'

___________________________

The non-italicised text in this post adds up to 1,847 words. Time to update my official NaNoWriMo and Freewrite Madness tallies!

I want to end this post by giving a shout out to everyone else who has signed up to the fit of absolute lunacy invigorating creative challenge that is #FreewriteMadness. 😇 Make sure you go and support their work too! I have limited voting power (damn my not-quite-plankton but not-quite-redfish status 😉), but will upvote as many posts as I can per day.

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Wow, I just caught myself holding my breath. Nice writing..Now to proceed to the next part. :)

and the plot thickens...

😱😮😵
The drama of it all!

Smooth! I'm impressed!
And I love the closing lines (with a Scarlett and Rhett vibe that's to die for):
'well ... what do you want me to do?'
'I don't care,' he replies flatly. 'Stay here. Go back to that hotel. Do whatever the hell you want.'

Keep going--as you already know, you're on a roll!

Thank you @carolkean. You know, I hadn't actually realised how similar that last moment is to the Scarlett/Rhett scene, but now it's all I can see! 😂 I love it.

#NovMadFan Bruni says, good thing they don't live in Texas, she would have shot him. Great story, very scandalous. 👏

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