I want to tell Jenny that I didn’t actually penetrate Denise because of my love for her. Because the love I have for her isn’t just an easy love, it is deep and significant. I feel it when she is awake and I feel it when she is asleep and when she is asleep she looks perfect to me. As perfect as she was when I first clapped eyes on her.

But what I do not want to tell Jenny is that there is trouble in my veins and that my mild transgression is not only debilitating in its frustration, there is also the fact to contend with that Denise is now making official nasty allegations about me, that I tried to fuck her and it is most unfortunate, her pathetic version of events, she is not even that pretty but often, I find it is the women who have the least that make the most noise. Denise, seemingly, has nothing to lose for making up these lies, lies that are an attack on my very being and my standing as a good husband, father and provider, how fucking dare she. But I’m ready to deny everything so help me God and if the worst comes to the worst I can find a way out.

I want to tell Jenny that I am not a jealous man, that I don’t care about Jerome, that all I care about is the possibility that he might take her away from me, that I am afraid of losing love.

I don’t say anything about love.

Instead I back her into a corner and I make her listen to me as I tell her that it’s her fault that the show didn’t work out for her. I make it clear that if she hadn’t gone to meet Jerome I wouldn’t have touched her art. I’m starting to come across as being aggressive so I go to put on a CD. I choose soft music, gentle undulations of an Italian church choir that I’m particularly fond of because it makes me melancholic. Sometimes it is incredibly uplifting to allow yourself to slip into this kind of a mood. To feel the splendid loss of control.

I sit down on the sofa and listen to the choir. My arms feel as though they are being caressed and I close my eyes, and I imagine that Jenny is running her fingertips along the inside of my arms. Don’t stop, I say silently. I allow the music to do its work. Jenny is close by me, I can sense it. I open my eyes and her hand is almost touching my hand and I reach out to her. Her hand feels cold in comparison to mine and I smile because her heart is warm and I hope that she will forgive me.

This perfect moment.