Had we come from a less conventional lower middle class background, an early divorce would have been the solution but the very word sent Jeremy into uncommunicative shock. I contemplated trying an affair but the practicalities were difficult. From time to time Jeremy seemed to consider sex his duty and we would go through the motions of a joyless fuck. If I wanted an orgasm I was more likely to achieve it by masturbating.
Outside the bedroom we coexisted uncomfortably. Mirroring our sex life, our work attitudes diverged. Jeremy left the firm saying he didn’t like the pressurised atmosphere and joined a bank where he has the possibility of becoming an assistant manager sometime in the next ten years or so. Meanwhile, I relished the challenges and after a series of promotions was put in charge of corporate finance.
That was the situation when a puncture brought Nikos into my life. Some instinct led me not to tell Jeremy, but I did nothing for more than a week. Then, one morning after Jeremy had come with a satisfied grunt while I had been still some way short of release, I took out the card and rang. It proved to be a direct line to Nikos.
“Do you remember a damsel in distress?” I asked.
“Sandra,” he said. “This is a pleasant surprise.”
Not only did he remember me, he remembered my name. As before, I was immediately at ease, responding to his charm. When I asked if I was interrupting anything important, he insisted that talking to me was preferable. Had I remembered his invitation to dinner? Of course. Hesitantly, I said that choosing a date might be complicated.
“I noticed you were wearing a wedding ring,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Is that something you would like to talk about?”
The question was so direct, leading us into tricky territory when we scarcely knew each other, I had no idea how to reply. After a pause I said, “Yes. Well, it might be.”
“I think I understand. It would be wrong of me to press you. For the moment, let me just say I am in this country for the next twelve days. If you would care for dinner in that time, please telephone. Will you do that?”
“Would any evening suit you?”
“I will ensure that I am free.”
“You are very kind,” I said. “I’ll try.”
“Thank you. Drive very carefully.” The line went dead.
That evening I invented a corporate affairs dinner for Jeremy’s benefit. I couldn’t guess what I was getting into with a man who was probably thirty years my senior but I had to find out. When I telephoned to fix the date, Nikos mentioned a time and named a restaurant my firm avoided because of the prices.
We sat at a secluded table where a discreet head waiter took our orders, served and melted quietly away. We made small talk until the main course arrived. Then Nikos said, “Forgive me – but do you wish to tell me about your husband?”
In the light of our earlier telephone conversation, I was no longer surprised. I had already formulated an edited account of our relationship to which Nikos listened in silence.
“And sex?” he asked. “Is that a problem, too?”
“Yes. It’s a problem.”