By Candida

Ore, dressed to kill, was sure she was going to have a good time at a close friend’s 50th birthday. For once, David, her husband had agreed to come too because Jane, the celebrant’s cousin has been good friends with both of them, helping David as much as she could with his construction company. “Jane was pleased to see us and excitedly ushered us to her table”, said Ore. “We made for some empty chairs on the table when I saw a murderous pair of eyes bu4rning into mine. The eyes belonged to Ibiye, a once close friend whose husband I’d slept with. She has never forgiven me for it. “We don’t want any home-wrecker on this table’, she hissed, bristling with hostility.”We’re all respectable people here and prostitutes are not welcome!’

“I cringed. David was so embarrassed he turned to leave. What could I do but hang my head in embarrassment. You see, three years, Ibiye and I were very close and she visited us at home freely with Kenneth, her husband. It was Ibiye who dubbed David and I `the love birds’ and I relished in the compliment. She was chatty, confident and one of my oldest friends and I were thrilled when she got married shortly after I did. Their house was a few minutes drive from ours and we were always socialising together. But came this fateful day when Kenneth visited alone, looking glum. `I’ve had a row with Ibiye’, she sighed. `Nothing I do ever seems to be right”. I felt sorry for him and assured him he was free to talk to us any time he felt like it.

“After that, Kenneth often came around miserably revealing their latest arguments. Over the next months, David and I started having problems of our own. I’d always enjoyed a drink, but recently my boozing had been escalating. `Can’t you cut back now the kids are growing up’, David would ask, resentful. But though I wanted to, I just couldn’t seem to stop. Then one night, when he was out, I sat watching telly, nursing a bottle of my favourite wine when the doorbell rang. Getting up to answer the door, I had to grip the sofa to keep my balance. It was Kenneth, clutching another bottle of wine. `Can I come in?’ he asked. `Of course’, I slurred, sozzled.

“As we continued with his wine, he explained he and Ibiye had rowed again. `I don’t know how much more I can take”, he said. We kept talking but in our drunken haze, our lips suddenly locked. Soon, we were tearing off each other’s clothes, tumbling on the sofa. Our frantic love-making was over in minutes. Yet as we hurried dressed, through the booze-drenched fog, I felt guilt churning in my stomach. I’d cheated on the love of my life. And with a family friend! As Kenneth hurriedly left, I sank back onto the sofa and more or less passed out. When, I woke the next morning, I vaguely recalled David helping me into bed. As he walked into the bedroom, thee was a murderous look on his face. I must have muttered a confession during the night. What on earth had I done?

“When he returned from work that evening, I was very apologetic. `I was drunk’, I wept profusely. `It was a mistake’. He wanted to know if I fancied Kenneth but I told him truthfully I didn’t. But that only made what I’d done all the more stupid and pointless. My husband was inconsolable and barely spoke to me. My drunken confession may have soothed my guilt, but it had broken his heart. I was so ashamed I couldn’t look him in the eye. I felt so stupid, so selfish. Thank God Kenneth didn’t get in touch. But when Ibiye phoned reminding me of a party we were to attend together, I lied I had a fever. I was too ashamed to face her. Instead I turned to the bottle once more and even that couldn’t wash away my torment, Ibiye still trusted me, but I’d betrayed her n the most horrible way.

“A few weeks after, another good friend called and we both hit the bottle. To this day I can’t remember what devil got into me to `confide’ in her about Kenneth. The next day, Ibiye was round at my place telling me what atrocious lies the friend had been telling her about me and her husband. When she saw I wasn’t outraged she looked at me, confused. `We were both drunk’, I told her. `It didn’t mean anything’. It was as if I’d punched her. `You’re lying’, she snapped defiantly. So I rang Kenneth, putting the phone on loudspeaker. `I can’t go on like this’, I said to him. `Ibiye needs to know the truth’. `No! Don’t tell her!’, he begged. I hung up as Ibiye cried hysterically. `You trollop’, she raged. `You’re dead to me’.

“David was furious I could be so thoughtless. It was then I realised how selfish I’d been. In another drunken moment I’d confessed all – and now I’d torn my friend’s life apart. I knew our friendship was over, so I just prayed she and Kenneth could work things out. For the next couple of years, I had to focus on salvaging my marriage. So, I lavished David and the kids with love. I`I think we can survive this’, David finally said. `But promise you’ll never betray me again’. I did. It was the least I could do, and I kept my promise and drastically cut out booze.

“We didn’t have contact with Ibiye and Kenneth until we ran into Ibiye at the birthday party. After yelling at us, she stood up, refusing to share the same table with me and telling the other ladies with husband around to hang on to their men or they would be snatched by me! David said we should leave and I agreed. Ibiye’s hisses followed us. I apologised again to David but he said Kenneth was guilty too. It takes two to tango. Thank goodness I am off booze now. It made me cavalier with my own life – and nearly ruined two families. What happened at the party was a sobering realisation and I’m determined never to touch another drop.