Free Three Wishes by Liane Moriarty Page B

“Oh yes, we both speak fluent French! Naturellement! We had a year in Paris, you see.”
    But he’d missed out, and it had taken weeks to recover from the sour disappointment. And now here they were trapped in their stale, same-old Sydney lives. The only difference was a girl with shiny black hair and fresh young skin.
    Cat turned away from the window to look at Dan. “Did you kiss her good-bye?”
    He let go of her hand. “Oh, Cat, please no more, not tonight.”
    “Because you called a cab, didn’t you? What did you do while you waited for it? Did she stay in bed or did she get up and wait with you?”
    “I don’t understand why you can’t leave it alone,” said Dan. He was looking at her as if he didn’t know her, as if he didn’t even particularly like her. “You’re actually getting pretty fucking boring, Cat.”
    “What?”
    The rage was a glorious relief after the apathy. It went straight to her head, like tequila.
    “I can’t believe you said that.”
    She had a vision of his head snapping back as her fist slammed into his chin.
    In a sudden rush of movement she leaned forward, so that her seat belt pulled tight against her and tapped the taxi driver on the shoulder.
    “Can you believe he said that?”
    “I was not listening, sorry.” The driver cocked his head politely toward her.
    “Oh, Jesus, Cat.” Dan bunched his body up into the corner of the cab, as if he were trying to disappear.
    “We’ve been married for four years,” she told the taxi driver, becoming more exhilarated with fury with every word. “Everything’s going well; we’re even trying to have a baby. And then, what does he do? He goes out and has sex with some strange woman he picks up in a bar. He tells me this while we’re eating spaghetti. So, fine. That’s fine. I’m trying to deal with it. He’s sorry. He’s very fucking sorry. But you know what he just said to me?”
    The cabdriver had pulled up at a red light. The streetlights illuminated his face as he twisted around from the steering wheel to contemplate Cat. He had a black beard and smiling white teeth.
    “No, I do not know,” he said. “You tell me.”
    Dan groaned quietly.
    “He said I was boring because I keep asking questions about it.”
    “Ah, I see,” said the driver. He glanced over at Dan and back at Cat. “This is very painful for you.”
    “Yes,” said Cat gratefully.
    “The lights have changed, mate,” said Dan.
    The driver turned back around and accelerated. “If my wife unfaithful to me, I kill her,” he said enthusiastically.
    “Really?” said Cat.
    “With my bare hands, I hold them to her neck and I squeeze.”
    “I see.”
    “But for men, it is different,” he said. “Our biology, it is different!”
    “Oh, for God’s sake!” Cat put her hand on the door handle. “Stop the car. I can’t stand either of you.”
    “Pardon me?”
    She screamed at him, “Stop the car!” and opened the car door to reveal the ground rushing by beneath them. Dan reached over and clenched her upper arm painfully hard. He told the driver, “You’d better pull over!”
    The driver swung the steering wheel and slammed on the brakes to an enraged chorus of horns.
    “You’re hurting my arm.”
    Dan loosened his grip. “Do what you want. I give up.”
    Cat climbed out of the car, while Dan looked straight ahead, his arms folded, and the cabdriver watched with wary eyes in the rearview mirror. Gently, precisely, she closed the door behind her.
    She wondered if she was going mad.
    It felt like a decision she could make. One small step over an invisible line and she could choose lunacy. She could lie down right now in the middle of Sydney and scream and kick and throw her head from side to side like Maddie having a tantrum. Eventually someone would call an ambulance and stick a needle into her and she could sink into a mindless sleep.
    The cab pulled away from the curb in a mature, sober fashion so Cat could see just how childishly she’d