Woman Last Seen(75)
This morning he looks completely different. There is no point in kidding herself. She couldn’t if she tried. It’s as though the scales have fallen from her eyes about everything; now she knows what deception her best friend is capable of. His eyes search her face, but not in a lust-dazed way; his eyes have a sadly all-too-familiar morning-after hardness. He wants to know when she will leave. Whether she will leave without a fuss. That look used to make Fiona feel ashamed, then it made her despair. Now, her despair has stiffened to something closer to resentment. She shouldn’t have slept with him. He doesn’t care about her. He does not see her as a girlfriend, a lover. Not even a mistress or a temptation. She means nothing to him. She leaves.
Without a fuss.
Like he wants.
Fiona doesn’t know how to tell Mark about her involvement with Daan. It is too weird, too much. She hadn’t asked to be in this position—she just found herself in it. Honestly, she had started to suspect Daan might be involved with someone else around Christmastime, their second hookup. The suspicion hung about in the shadows of her mind. The infrequency of their dates, the way he never let her move around the flat; they fucked in the kitchen and then she’d leave. His casual, dismissive way with her was hard to ignore completely and especially during the season when everyone was supposed to be merry and bright. She hadn’t wanted to confront him. Like a child, she thought if she ignored her problem, it might go away. How could she have imagined who his wife was? She could never have imagined her best friend was married to two men. Who did that?
Fiona should have confessed to Mark that she already knows Daan. Now she has complicated things by promising she will find out more about him and report back. She is getting herself into hot water. If Leigh has taught her anything, it is that lying is not the answer. Fiona should try to avoid that as much as possible; she should tell the truth when she can. Obviously, there was no real need for Fiona to go to Daan’s to find out more about him. She was already able to tell Mark that Daan is affluent, charming, accomplished, that when he speaks to you it is as though a spotlight is being shone on you and you are standing on the stage at Carnegie Hall. Established, important, spectacular. Had Leigh felt that? Of course, she must have. She had been his leading lady for years. And Fiona? Well, Fiona had been nothing more than a chorus girl, no matter what she might have once believed or hoped.
Daan has been a delicious secret that she has nursed for five months now. A secret that she brings out whenever she is alone, to be examined gently, carefully. Furtively. She’s never spoken to Leigh about him. She has wanted to, on about a hundred occasions. She wonders now what would have happened if she had. Imagine if she had mentioned that she was dating a rich Dutch man, would Leigh have blanched? If Fiona had photos of Daan, and had shared them with her best friend, would Leigh have broken down? Confessed? Fiona doesn’t have photos of Daan, though; the photos went only one way between them and there were no occasions when it would have seemed reasonable to take a couple shot.
Fiona had not mentioned Daan to Leigh when they first hooked up because she knew Leigh would have been dismissive, even supercilious. If Fiona had confided the details of her relationship with her friend, Leigh would have insisted on saying that Fiona was nothing more than a booty call and heading for trouble. Fiona knew Leigh would have concluded that her rich mystery man was probably involved with someone else because, in truth, all the indicators were there. Leigh had done that before. She believed in tough love and never had any problem with telling Fiona if her lovers were losers or likeable. She didn’t hold back.
Fiona had always struggled with Leigh’s brutal dismissals of her romantic involvements. It was humiliating, patronizing. Leigh seemed a bit smug; she clearly enjoyed playing the happy wife, able to dole out advice, offer guidance to her hapless single friend. Fiona used to have to bite her tongue. She wanted to demand, “What do you know about it? Dating has changed since you met Mark.” But she didn’t, because while part of her felt belittled, hurt, another part of her hoped Leigh did know more than her, and might somehow magically guide her to the happily-ever-after. But it has turned out that Leigh was a liar, a cheat. She really was only playing being the happy wife. Leigh was far from the perfect wife and mother, the perfect friend that she portrayed. She had no right to offer advice. Her life was a sham, a fraud. She had caused so much pain and confusion.
How could Leigh do what she had done and not tell Fiona? They were supposed to be best friends. All those years. All those lies. To think Fiona had felt bad about keeping quiet about her thing with Daan for a few months. Sleeping with a man who she suspected was involved with someone else was hardly a moral crime in comparison. She hadn’t even planned to keep quiet about that forever, only until whatever they had was a bit more established. Just until it was robust enough to withstand Leigh’s skepticism and scorn.
Daan. What is she supposed to think about him now? Having sex with him, actually sleeping with him last night was a mistake, it has clouded her judgment again. Stopping over was so much more intimate than a hookup. She now knew what his breath smelled like in the morning (annoyingly still attractive). It had been something else feeling his warm, rhythmic breath on her neck as he slept.
Still, she has to look at the facts. Daan isn’t a faithful husband. Should she tell the DC that? Is it relevant? She doesn’t want to be drawn into this quagmire. But if it helps the police build a profile of Daan then she probably should tell.