I spent the rest of the day plotting. None of the bitches could tell Dave if they couldn’t contact him. All I had to do was isolate him from them. I would cancel our old email account, saying that spammers had discovered it. By getting home before Dave every night, and never leaving him alone, I could intercept any mail and if any of the bitches came around, I’d run them off. There weren’t any company functions coming up so I was safe there. I think my lying skills were up to telling Dave that John had requested he stop coming in to the office and distracting his workforce. Yes, I could do that.
That only left Dave’s cell phone. I could make it disappear, but he could just replace it and get the same number. That number was my Achilles heel and I knew it. The solution my desperate brain came up with was a uniquely 21st century one. I spent the rest of the afternoon online, entering every competition I could find and registering on every website I could access. All using Dave’s name and number. Ever wondered why they ask for phone numbers? A good proportion are just looking to match names to phone numbers. These they sell to anyone that will buy them. Hopefully, within a week, Dave’s phone would be so inundated by charities, pollsters, and general time wasters, that when I suggested he get a new phone number, he’d jump at it.
Convinced I’d done as much as I humanly could, I went home to prepare for Dave’s return. Now that I knew he could possibly know, I watched him like a hawk. He came in and kissed me like normal and rabbited on about his trip while he packaged up the fish and put some in the freezer. My wonderful, naïve husband, I swear, was absolutely normal. I felt overwhelming relief. You know what it’s like when you go to the doctor for some entirely routine tests, then go back to get the results and are nervous about what you’ll hear. Well, that’s what I felt like. The doctor had just told me that I was going to live. After the relief came the extreme fatigue, common when relieved of long held stress. I fell asleep on the couch but was roused as I felt Dave lift me up and carry me to the bedroom. I remember luxuriating in that feeling of anticipation you get just before sex, but I must have fallen asleep again. The next thing I knew, Dave was waking me, saying if we didn’t hurry, we’d be late for work.
It’s been three weeks since I last put pen to paper. I’ve re-read it and can’t believe what a delusional load of crap it is. Since then, my life has descended into nightmare and I’m completing my record, I think, in a vain attempt to stay sane.
For the rest of that week work had been very uncomfortable. I could no longer look on my colleagues as anything but threats. The only exception was Peta, but she was away that week. John just treated me with contempt, barking orders at me whenever he wanted anything. The only thing that kept me going was the thought of going home and snuggling with my Dave.