The Text

 Kat threw her phone onto the sofa and watched it bounce off onto the floor, she left it there went it to the bathroom, sat on the toilet and let the tears roll down her face and drip onto the floor. With her knickers round her ankles she swore to herself that this was the final straw and that she’d end the relationship, but she knew deep down that she’d sworn that to herself many times before and here she was sitting on the toilet crying. It’d been 3 years and she was still playing the other woman, still being let down at the last minute more often than not.

She heard the phone buzz on the hardwood floor of the living room but she had no intention of answering it, she wouldn’t let the bastard have the satisfaction of smooth talking her way back in to her affections. She’d make him stew for a while, not let him build his bridges yet.

Of course she’d known he was married at the outset, so she only had herself to blame. He’d spun the usual yarns, Claire doesn’t love me, Claire doesn’t understand me, we’re only staying together cos of the kids. She’d loved it at the start, the naughtiness, the illicitness of it all. She also liked the fact she had a relationship without the responsibilities; she had all the good times and none of the man flu. But now it was getting troublesome; despite trying not to, she’d only gone and fallen in love with the ‘roach, she’d told herself not to but that was easy said that done. At the beginning she was glad when he had gone but now she missed him when he wasn’t there, at the beginning it was all about the sex but now she wanted company, reassurance, companionship.

She was washing her hands as she heard the phone buzz again, this time telling her she had a text. No doubt a corny apology she thought to herself. She went through to the kitchen and opened the bottle of wine she had in her fridge for precisely these occasions. But these days she found herself replacing the emergency bottle far too regularly for her liking.

She took her glass through to the living room, flicked on the TV and settled on the sofa, scooping the phone up along the way in one graceful movement. She still had it. What soppy nonsense would the amoeba have come up with today she wondered.

But it wasn’t his number, it wasn’t a number she recognised. She tentatively opened the message and immediately wished she hadn’t.

Hi Kat, thought you might like to know I know about you and Tim.

Shit it was from Claire, Kat felt butterflies in her stomach. She’d dreaded this moment. Tim had obviously cancelled because he’d been caught. Kat wondered if to read on, what vitriol would Claire be spewing via SMS. She took a deep breath and carried on.

but do you know where he is tonight?  I thought you might like to know about Tim and Ella. Stay tuned.

What did she mean? Who was Ella? What was Tim and Ella? Why stay tuned? Kat felt uneasy, who the fuck was Ella? How the hell did Claire have her number? Her phone buzzed again, this time an MMS. The penny was beginning to drop for Kat. She looked at her new message and there was the unmistakable figure of Tim draped over a woman that was neither his wife nor his mistress.