‘Best Mates’ by Andrew Thompson
"I think she's having an affair, Bri."
He drops this little nugget on me when we're about halfway up. Give or take. I'm up front, sweating buckets because of the extra weight in my pack, and he's behind. The going's pretty steep and rocky now, so things were challenging enough without his bringing this one to the table.
"Who?" I ask, playing dumb.
"Jenny! I think she's seeing someone."
"Don't be so stupid, Chris. Jenny loves you. You've been together since school. What the hell makes you think she's got a fella on the side?" I don't slow down. The light is starting to fade now, and we need to make the ridge and get the tents up before nightfall.
"It's just, well, she's acting different. All happy, like. I know something's up with her."
"Your wife's happy and you find that unusual then?" I've always thought that little Jenny Watson should have done a lot better than Chris. I was at school with the pair of them. A real looker was Jenny and she still is. She can certainly do better than this one. I stop, briefly as the weight on my back is digging in and turn around to him. "Is the thin air getting to you or something?"
"I'm gonna check her phone. When I get home."
I whistle through my teeth and stomp on. We've slowed right down now due to the steepness of the rocks, and it takes another good ten before we find a suitable spot to camp. Twenty yards of flat rock. I walk across it and whistle again. At the end is a sheer drop of about one hundred feet to the rocks below. Nasty.
"Jenny's a nice girl, Chris. You should trust her."
Trust. I think again about all the missed opportunities in my own life. Times when I fucked things up royally or just didn't have the stones to go for what I actually wanted. At the age of forty it's hit me hard. I know what I've always wanted, deep down, but I'd reconciled myself to it. Until two months ago.
"She hides her phone and looks guilty, Brian. I mean, what's that all about?"
"I'm sure it's not that serious, Chris. Just because you don't know chapter and verse about anyone and everybody she texts, it doesn't mean she's sleeping with them. Get a grip of yourself."
"I'll check her phone. I know her code."
I get my backpack off, blissful for the release. For a moment I feel so light that I could fly. Chris dumps his own down and starts unpacking it. I do the same, getting out my tent, the food and the camping stove.
"Just get your shelter up and I'll get the food on."
We get set up and not before time as within the hour the light has all but gone. Chris's battery-powered lamp and a couple of torches is all we have to see by as we eat a bowl of lukewarm disappointing stew. My appetite has gone anyway, as Chris won't shut up about his wife.
"It must be someone nearby, Brian. I mean, you know we only socialise with you and the others at the pub. Jenny never goes out. Well, hardly ever. Have you noticed anything odd about her?"
"No." I don't want to talk to Chris about his wife, so I get up and walk around the clearing. I don't go too near the edge though, as it's pitch black down there now. "Word to the wise, Chris. If you need to pee in the night, don't stray too far from your tent."
"I'll check her phone, Brian. When I find out who it is, he's fucking dead."
"Chris, she's your wife. Let's just say, and I'm not for one minute suggesting that she might be, but let's just say that Jenny is having an affair. Well, is it really that big of a deal? If you love her, shouldn't you really just be asking yourself why she might want to do that?"
He snorts derisively.
"Brian, you're not married. You don't understand."
"Understand what, Chris? Empathy? Compassion? You don't need to be married to spare a thought for what somebody else might be feeling. What they might be going through? She'd hardly be doing it just to get at you, would she?"
"I'll kill him, Brian."
He has always been like this. Chris Barrett has the emotional depth of a brick wall and a roughly similar intelligence level. Jenny could have done so much better, but she was young when they got married. They both were. I don't think either of them knew what they wanted back then. Maybe I am the lucky one after all. I've always known what I wanted.
"Don't you want her to be happy, Chris?"
It's a dangerous question, but I've known Chris since we were eleven years old. Trudging to the school bus, kids having each other's back against the bullies. Bunking off to nick sweets from the corner shop. I'd keep watch and distract old Mrs Sheldon while Chris did the business. Happy times, they were. Innocent times.
"Her code is 2556."
I move away from the edge and go back towards the tent, scraping out stew into the waste. I've lost my appetite big-time. Chris is still eating away like he's never seen food before. I've kept myself in good shape for a long time, probably from always being single. Chris used to be good-looking but now he has a beer belly and the beginnings of a double chin. As soon as he married Jenny, he seemed to think that no more effort was required. I know precisely how much he takes her for granted.
He's bent over his stew, head down like a pig at the trough. I get the hammer from my pack and it's over quickly. Two hard blows to the head, like I've been practising. The drag to the edge is easier than I expected too. Chris's body disappears down into the darkness without a sound, his arms flapping about. Almost like he's waving goodbye. I get out my phone and message her that it's done.
We chat for an hour, in the darkness.
Because it really is serious.
Andrew Thompson wrote this story in response to the prompt “It’s not that serious”, as part of July’s Just Write! short story competition.
