Heart Burn

For years, our friend Jean has been having an affair with a married man. According to her, it’s been the perfect arrangement.

            “Oh? How so?” Amanda once asked. In the world according to Amanda, life’s too short to be wasting it on second-hand anything, and that includes men.

            Jean delicately adjusted the ruffles on her Miu Miu blouse before answering. “Well, for starters, I don’t have to deal with him 24/7. I get the best bits of him. Because we see each other so infrequently, there’s no drama. I don’t have to nag him to not leave his clothes around, or brush his hair. We don’t squabble over bills and children like other married couples.”

            A small crease formed over Amanda’s forehead. “But, don’t you want to get married?”

            Jean laughed. “Are you kidding? I am such a commitment-phobe!”

            “But you’re kind of committed to him now, aren’t you? You’re not seeing anyone else…”

            “Yes, but I can also get rid of him when I get bored.”

            For her part, Saffy has never understood the whole situation, though her point has less to do with the practicality of the affair and more to do with Gerald himself. The first time she spotted them together in Parkway Parade, she speed-dialled Amanda.

            “Oh. My. God. That’s Gerald?” she breathed heavily into her phone.

            “Why, what’s wrong with him?”

            “Well, for starters, he’s twice her size and half her height! And he’s bald!” Saffy added, as if this were a crucial fact.

            “Apparently, he’s amazing in bed!” Amanda said.

            “He’d better be, because he’s also cross-eyed! Here, I just snapped a picture. I’m sending it to you now!”

            Much later, Sharyn said Saffy had missed her calling in life. “Ay, why you waste time in HR, hah? You become private eye, better! Wah, so daring, anyhow take udder people picture!”

            “I really don’t see the attraction,” Amanda said, passing Sharyn her phone with the picture of Gerald and Jean.

            Sharyn squinted at the screen. “Is OK, what? He not Richard Gere, lah, but then, hor, Richard Gere oh-so don want Jean, ah, I tell you!”

            “I’m so glad I’m not your enemy, Shazz,” Saffy told Sharyn, who turned a bright pink.

            The break-up, when it came, took place over the Sunday champagne brunch at the Ritz-Carlton. According to well-placed sources – ie, Missy Chan, Jean’s second best friend, who happened to be sitting three tables away – Jean let out a little scream, stood up, and tossed a glass of Louis Roederer Brut into Gerald’s face, and stormed off in a cloud of black Prada.

            “Very drama!” Missy confirmed in her best Katong Convent accent the next day over coffee with Saffy and Amanda. “The best part was that Gerald just continued to sit there and finish his plate of prawns! Such incredible poise! I can see what the attraction was, now.”

            For her part, Saffy has been spending long nights at Jean’s. “She alternates between raging fits and crying,” she reported after the first night.

            On Facebook, Jean has posted cryptic messages like “Never trust anyone with anything precious!” and “Stabbed in the front, and yet, I’m not surprised!!!”

            Of course, this has invited floods of responses, mostly ranging from “Hope everything is ok, babes!” to “Oh, no! What happened?!”

            “I wonder how she thought all this was going to end,” Amanda mused, her long tapered fingers scrolling through Jean’s feed. “I mean, it’s not as if he was ever going to leave his wife.”
            “Why, ah?” Sharyn asked innocently.

            “She is the daughter of - ,” and here, Amanda mentioned the name of a prominent Chinese steel tycoon.

            Sharyn’s eyes bugged. “Oh, issit? Wah, she know or not her husband got affair with Jean all dis time?”

            “She’s been having an affair with a musician!” Amanda said, all her years of prowling the gossip channels of Weibo and WeChat finally paying off.

            “Aiyoh, liddat why dey want to marry?”

            It’s a question that has haunted the girls.

            “That’s something the wedding magazines never talk about,” Saffy observed darkly. “It’s all marzipan wedding cake and Swarovski-speckled tulle, but no one ever talks about the affair and the heartache.”

            “Maybe someone should do a magazine and call it ‘Divorce’!” Amanda said.

            Saffy says it’s a genius idea. “We can get Jean to write a regular column on affairs. It’ll sell like hot cakes!”

            Ever practical, Sharyn wonders who the advertisers would be. “Confirm cannot get Lo-lex for back cover, one! Then, how?”