Later that night, I am putting Donnie to bed, but my mind is full of everything I have learned about the Weekend Club.
"You okay, sweetheart?" I ask my son, smoothing his hair back from his face as I sit on the edge of his bed. He nods.
"Yeah," he replies, stifling a yawn. It’s always difficult to get him into bed – he's at that age now where he wants to be around for every little thing, wants to make sure he’s not missing out. After spending most of this evening trying to get him tired out – reading, playing, catching up on the little bits of homework his teacher assigned – I don’t know how he can keep his eyes open.
"You get some sleep," I tell him. "You’ve got classes tomorrow, don’t you?”
He pulls a face. It’s hard for him to socialise with other kids, sometimes. Teachers have pointed out to us before that Donnie doesn’t always read social cues. So we are on a hybrid system, where he stays home some days and goes in on others. That way he’s less exhausted by socialising. But he doesn’t like the days he has to go to school.
"I know, I know," I say, pulling the covers up over his little chest. "But you’re going to learn lots, aren’t you?”
"Yeah," he agrees. I feel like he’s saying that more for me than for him. I kiss his forehead again, head for the door, and flick out the light – and, for a moment, I stand there and watch him in the half-darkness.
I feel a little guilty. I’ve been trying to keep myself distracted with Sean and with Donnie all day, but my mind has been wandering – to the Weekend Club. I keep going back to it, clicking on the link and scrolling through before I close it again and try to push it to the back of my mind.
But it’s still nagging there. And I want to talk about it – want to talk about it with the one person that I know needs to hear it.
Closing Donnie’s door, I return to the dinner table, where Sean is clearing up the last of the dishes. He smiles at me as I approach, and I manage to smile back. Oh, God, why am I so nervous right now?
“Something on your mind, Jazz?” he asks. I take a deep breath and nod, sitting down to pick up where I left off with the liquid-courage glass of wine that I poured for myself earlier.
“Yeah, actually. Do you want a drink?”
“Am I going to need one?” he shoots back playfully, cocking an eyebrow at me.
I steel myself. “You might just.”
“Didn’t realise how scandalous this was,” Sean remarks, and he goes to pour himself a glass of red before he joins me at the table. He doesn’t seem fazed. Honestly, he must have known something was coming all day, given the way that I have been acting. I’ve been doing my best not to give too much away, but I’m not sure how I’m meant to approach this without just diving in and coming clean about the truth.
“What’s on your mind?” he asks. He sits down at the table and slides a hand across mine, squeezing lightly.
“I’ve been… looking into something,” I confess.
“And what might that be?” he asks. Oh, where do I even start? How do I even begin to tell him I have been obsessively poring over everything I can find online about the Weekend Club? That I still don’t entirely know if we should go for it, but that my curiosity is getting the better of me to just the craziest degree?
“It’s been hard since you lost your job, right?” I ask him.
He nods. “Of course it has.” I know that he’s trying to put on a brave front, but it can’t be easy not to have his regular work. And he’s a social guy, always has been. Work used to be his main way of socialising. Now that’s gone.
“For me too,” I say. “Working from home. You here all the time. Donnie here most of the time. I just feel… stifled.”
“I get it,” he says carefully, as though he is worried that he is walking into a trap. I want to tell him that he has nothing to fear, that I am not going to do anything to undercut him. I just want him to know that we’re on the same page, that I totally get that life hasn’t been the easiest in the last few months.
“I came across something lately,” I admit. “Something that I thought, well, might be of interest to you.”
“Oh, yeah?” he asks, perking up and taking a sip of his wine. I need to frame this as a bonus for both of us. I just have to approach it in the right way. If only I’d paid more attention in those marketing classes I took in college, I might have known how to sell this to him…
“It’s something called the Weekend Club.” I say the words as though they are almost hallowed, and he raises his eyebrows at me.
“And what’s that exactly?”
“It’s kind of what it sounds like,” I explain. “It’s a club that connects people with other people, and they can hang out together every weekend…”
I’m not getting this across in the best way right now. I bite my lip and slow down. I need to make sure I am being clear with all of this. I don’t want him to think that this is something that it’s not.
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“It’s for people like us,” I correct myself. “People who enjoy exploring the world. And meeting people. Adults who want to go off on new adventures with new people.”
He eyes me for a moment. “Are you talking about swinging?” he asks.
“Not… exactly,” I hedge. “Okay, it works like this…”
I dive into it as best as I can.
The Weekend Club was put together a few years ago by a couple looking to make new friends outside of their marriage, people with whom they could escape their real life for a while before they came to their jobs and their families and their kids. And soon, it turned out, there was a large chunk of the population that actually loved that idea, and the club grew and expanded to cover most of the country.
It started off with simple friendships, matching people with similar interests and experiences so that they could find the perfect friend to go rock climbing or art viewing or whatever with. But, with that kind of connection came something deeper, and it didn’t take long for the Weekend Club to become more… experimental. The only rules are simple: you have to sign up with your spouse, so both of you are on board, you have to attend every date with a totally open mind.
“So, you know, if you end up meeting someone out there that you really like, then you can do something about it,” I explain. “But if you don’t, you can just hang out and make a new friend.”
“New friends, huh?” he remarks. “Not like we don’t have plenty of those around here.”
I catch my breath. He knows what I am getting at. Yes, the chance to make friends is a start, but really… Really, there is a part of me that is already beginning to buy into the luscious fantasy of spending time away from my real life with a lover whom I will never have to worry about running into at the pub when I least expect it.
"Are you getting bored with me?” He asks, and I shake my head at once.
"No, no, it’s not that," I promise. "It’s just...both of us used to be so adventurous, right?
"Yeah, we did," he agrees, and I can see a little wistfulness in his eyes. "And this Weekend Club is a way for us to try that again?”
“What do you think?” I ask him. He knows what I am pitching to him now. And, honestly, I would never have come to him with this in the first place if I wasn’t relatively sure that I already knew his response.
Before we met, the two of us were known around our groups as the – well, I won’t call it sluts, because that seems a little cruel – but two people who didn’t often spend nights alone. It’s interesting, actually, given the way we came together, as though we sensed kindred spirits in each other. As though, having a past, we knew that we would understand our urges to get out there and meet new people and occasionally share a roll in the hay with them.
Of course, we’ve been monogamous since we got together properly. He’s an amazing lover, that’s for sure. When we both had our own separate lives, it was even more exciting to come home to him, to know that he was waiting there for me so that we could steal into bed together and fool around.
But now, with a kid, and with spending all our time around each other, I feel like he can hardly be surprised that I am interested in the world outside these doors.
“What does this mean, exactly?” he asks carefully. He is dancing around coming out and saying just what is on his mind, I am sure of it. Maybe he doesn’t want to seem too enthused at the idea. Maybe he’s worried that I might take offence, or something, if he’s too keen.
“I thought it could be a way for both of us to take a little break,” I explain. “I mean, we always had lives outside of each other, didn’t we? And it feels like we’ve been… stuck here, just the two of us now, for a long time. Don’t you want to see what’s out there again?”
He runs his hand over the ring on my finger, the barest touch, as though once again making sure it’s there – that I really did mean everything when I said that I would be with him forever. I did. I still do. But that doesn’t mean I don’t think our relationship might benefit from a little… well, something a little more.
“I mean, I can’t say I haven’t thought about it,” he confesses as he runs his fingers through his hair and narrows his eyes. “But that’s a very different thing to…”
He trails off. I know what he means. His eyes search mine for a moment, like he’s looking for an explanation.
“Is this because you don’t want to be with me anymore?” he asks softly. I shake my head at once.
“No, no, it’s never been about that,” I assure him. “Never! Okay? Seriously, you’re the only person I can ever imagine being married to. You’re such a good partner to me, and you’re such a good father to Donnie. I want to grow old with you!”
I have to stop myself before I go any further. I am starting to get a little emotional just thinking about how much I care about him, just how little I would want to do any of this if it wasn’t for having him by my side to keep me company through all of it. He’s more than just my husband – he’s my best friend.
“No,” I repeat, finally. “No, it’s not because I don’t want to be with you anymore. You’re always going to be the one I want to come home to.”
“But you want someone else to go out to?” he asks.
I nod. “I think so. I know it might sound crazy to you, and I totally get it if you don’t want anything to do with it. I’ll delete all that search history from my computer and I won’t even think about any of it, I promise you that – ”
“No,” he interrupts quietly, as though it is all just sinking in for him right now. He shakes his head, looks up at me. “No, I don’t think I want you to do that.” I bite my lip. Is he being serious? Because if he is… “As long as I’m always the one that you’re coming back to,” he adds.
“And as long as I’m always the one that you are, too,” I reply. He grins. I can tell that side of it is just starting to sink in for him, the fact that he would actually get to take advantage of this the same way that I would. That maybe there is more out there for him than he has previously imagined, and maybe, just maybe, he can have a little fun.
“You always will be,” he promises me, and he takes my hand and brings it to his lips, brushing them over the band on my finger as though affirming this is where his heart still lies.
“So… so you want to do it?” I ask. He raises his eyebrows at me.
"I know it’s going to be a lot," he admits. "And I don’t want to let it get in the way of anything we have here. If it does, we stop it right away, okay?”
"Of course we do," I promise him. "We come first. Our family comes first."
He eyes me for a moment, and then, a small smile spreads up his face.
“I mean, it’s got to be worth a try, doesn’t it?” he remarks. I have to inhale deeply to keep from letting out a little cry of excitement. I didn’t think it would be this easy. I thought I’d have to do a lot more convincing.
I slide out of my seat and onto his lap. Is it just me or is he looking hotter than he has in a long time right now? I reach for my glass of wine and touch it against his. The sound rings through the room for a moment.
“Sounds like we have ourselves a deal, then,” I murmur. He slips an arm around my waist and tugs me a little closer. The corners of his mouth have curled up into a smile, and from the way he is looking at me right now, I am sure he is feeling everything I am.
“Sounds like we do,” he agrees. With that, he lowers his mouth and lets his lips caress mine, so that I can taste the red wine mingling between us. And I am sure that this night is going to be one to remember – or at least, that he is going to do everything he can to make sure that I know all the reasons I am coming back to him.