Raymond and I were teenage sweethearts but we drifted apart and over the years I heard that he got saddled to a young country girl at 24. As for me, I was making a successful and exciting career.
Our paths met again at a corporate function and although looking a little tired for 27, to my eyes he was as hot as ever. We got along like a house on fire and I could sense he was also drawn to me. I pursued him shamelessly over the coming weeks and eventually he relented. It seemed that the fire and excitement I brought into his domesticated, mortgage-burdened life helped him experience some of the light-hearted fun of his youth and he got a completely new lease on life.
At another function six months later I met his wife Sally. Try as I might to avoid her, she naively took an instant liking to me, issuing a stream of invitations to visit her. I eventually agreed and although I was highly uncomfortable at first, over time I developed a real affection for her and no longer thought of her as merely some kind of sweet and innocent backwater girl, which she certainly was, but also as a woman of intelligence, generosity and strength. I saw the home she had created, her adorable children and how much Raymond doted upon her. I began to feel absolutely sickened with myself. Raymond, too, was maturing and coming to realise how childish he had been and that it was time to grow up before he lost everything that mattered. We ended our affair amicably a few months later, vowing never to let Sally know how we had betrayed her. My relationship with them both turned into a true and lasting friendship.
But tragedy ended their marriage after 15 years. Sally called me one night, sobbing that Raymond had been killed in a car accident. I immediately went to her and we cried together for hours. As her family lived far away, she had no one to help her, so I offered to stay for a few days. Aside from needing emotional support, it soon became apparent Sally didn’t have a clue as to the family’s financial and legal matters, as Raymond had taken all that upon himself. I said that I would look into all their papers and help sort things out, which would allow her to attend to her children.
One afternoon, when Sally had taken the children out, I came across some papers I never would have believed still existed — sexy love letters I had written to Raymond more than 10 years ago! Raymond must simply have forgotten about them. I was highly ashamed and became panicky. I had to get rid of them, and fast, as Sally would be back any minute. Sally was meticulously tidy so I neither dared hide them nor throw them into the rubbish. Without thinking, I ran downstairs to the kitchen and threw them into the stainless steel sink. I snatched the cigarette lighter from my handbag and began burning them. Things went fine for a minute or two, until the last letters sent a flame that leaped up into Sally’s filmy kitchen curtains. The whole lot caught fire instantly. I yanked the curtains off their rod and into the sink, burning my hands. I ran water all over them and managed to put those flames out, but parts of the window frame had also caught fire. I was desperately trying to pat the small flames out with my burnt hands when Sally walked in, pushed me aside, threw open a fire blanket and quenched the flames. She raced me to the bathroom and gave me first aid, before calling an ambulance. Before it came, I insisted on going back into the kitchen ostensibly to look over the damage with Sally but really to ensure that not a trace of a letter remained. Thankfully, that was the case.
I told Sally I had been smoking and apologised profusely, promising to pay for all damages. She wasn’t in the least concerned about her property, only about me. It had been an exceedingly close call, both for Sally’s house and for her memories of Raymond. I ultimately got burned for my behaviour, and deservedly so, but I am so thankful that Sally didn’t.
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