Her Perfect Life

by Rebecca Taylor

  “Don’t cry, Mom.” He buried his face against her.

  She hugged him harder and kissed his head.

  “Mom?” Paige called from her room upstairs. “Are you here?”

  “Yes!” Eileen called back.

  “Sara, I have to go,” Paige said, presumably into her phone. “Ryan!” Paige yelled, pounding with her fist on her brother’s bedroom door. “Mom’s here!”

  Eileen closed her eyes and smiled; it was good to be home.

  When Paige and Ryan came down, all three of her kids led her into the kitchen. “Dad made dinner,” Ryan said. “We’re supposed to let you relax.” He escorted her past the kitchen and into the dining room, where the table was already set for five. With the Easter tablecloth and paper-towel napkins folded beneath the silverware.

  “This is quite the reception,” Eileen said as Cameron pulled out a chair for her and Paige delivered her a glass of red wine. “And the house is so clean,” she noticed.

  “Dad said you shouldn’t have to come home to a pigsty and we had to help him clean up,” Cameron confessed.

  “Well, you did a great job. It’s like a maid came.” She smiled. “Where is your father?” she asked before taking a small sip of her wine.

  “He just ran to the store,” Paige said. “But he said he’d only be a minute and to go ahead and get started.”

  Eileen’s chest hurt, but she smiled anyway. “Okay, let’s eat then.”

  They were halfway through their plates of lasagna when Eileen heard the door to the garage close. Her heart beat hard against her chest, and her arms and legs felt weak. She didn’t want to do this, face him, feel this way. She tried to swallow her bite of noodles, cheese, and marinara sauce, but it stopped halfway down her throat. Eileen grabbed her glass of wine and took a large drink to wash it down.

  “You’re home!” Eric said, entering the room with his arms wide and a large bouquet of flowers wrapped in cellophane from the grocery store.

  “Yes,” Eileen said, swallowing hard one more time and wiping her mouth on her paper towel.

  He was standing right next to her seat, his arms still wide. After a few seconds, she realized he was waiting for her to stand up and hug him. Her kids stared at her, waiting for the normal response.

  Eileen stood up and managed to hug Eric while evading eye contact. “I’m so sorry, honey,” he whispered in her ear before kissing the side of her head and releasing her.

  Eileen nodded and sat back down as Eric rounded the room to his spot at the head of the table. The kids finished off their meals, being obviously careful to behave, not fight or bicker. Each one picked up their own plate, carried it into the kitchen, rinsed it, and put it in the dishwasher without her saying a word.

  “Can I take your plate?” Ryan asked her.

  She smiled at him. “Thank you, yes.” It wouldn’t last more than a week before they’d go back to their normal, id-driven little selves, but she’d ride the sympathy wave while it lasted.

  “And we’ll get your bags from the car,” Paige added. “Come on,” she directed her brothers, who, amazingly, didn’t argue with her.

  It was nice to see that, when the situation was dire, every one of her kids had the capacity to behave like human beings. It made her feel like she’d done at least something right as a mother.

  When all three of her kids could be heard heading upstairs, dragging her suitcase behind them, Eric refilled her wineglass and then his own. She watched the bright burgundy liquid cascade against her glass and then settle into a placid pool of alcohol that she was going to leave there. The last thing she needed tonight was another drink.

  Eric picked up his glass with one hand and placed his other on top of hers on the table between them. “Are you okay?” he asked and took a drink. “How is Simon holding up?” He squeezed her hand. She could feel his eyes on the side of her face, searching her expression.

  She turned to face him. “I don’t really want to talk about it right now.”

  “Of course.” He nodded. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m here for you.”

  Eileen pushed her chair back and stood up. “I’m going to unpack and get ready for bed.”

  “I’m sure you’re exhausted,” he said, still searching her face, reading her reactions. Like on the phone two days ago, he was trying to determine what she knew. Dave must have approached him again.

  “Yes. I’m pretty tired.”

  “I’ll be up in a minute. I just want to turn on the dishwasher, put some things away.”

  Eileen nodded.

  “Did you notice the house?” He smiled, so proud of himself for the work. “The kids even helped.”

  “Yes, it looks nice. Thank you.” So great to know that all this time you’ve been completely capable and only unwilling to help out with our lives. She headed for the stairs, the revelations of the last week weighing on her all at once, her legs like anchors dragging.

  In her room, the kids left her bags next to her dresser. She didn’t feel like unpacking right now; she’d do it in the morning. She picked her tote up, carried it to the bed, and pulled her cell phone from the small pocket she was now always careful to keep it in.

  She pulled up her contacts and found Simon’s number.

  I’m here, safe at home. Call me if you need anything, even just to talk. Anytime, seriously.

  She placed her phone on the bedspread beside her and stared at the envelope in her bag. Eric was trying to read her, because he had no intention of telling her. He was trying to figure out if he was going to get away with this. Maybe he had promised Dave to do as he asked and stay away from his wife.

  Never mind that they worked together and saw each other every fucking day.

  Dave wanted to move on with his life and his wife. Put this affair behind them and go back to whatever their marriage had been before—or at least, whatever Dave had believed it to be before.

  Eileen could understand wanting that. She had three very good reasons to consider doing exactly that herself.

  Her phone buzzed, and Eileen turned it over to see the screen. It was Simon.

  Same goes for you. Hope everything is okay. You’ll make the right decision either way.

  She turned her phone back over and placed her palm on top of it. The right decision. Eileen sighed; what did that mean? She tried to imagine these choices: staying and pretending; storming out the door; screaming at Eric in a fury of rage and horror and hurt.

  How could he do this to her? To their family? And not once, not some drunken, one-off mistake that he confessed to Eileen from his fucking knees with promises to never, ever let it happen again. No, he and Lauren were in a relationship. She made herself say the words out loud, so they hurt exactly as much as they should. “Your husband is in a relationship with another woman.” She closed her eyes and saw them together, naked and alone. When she had shown Simon the pictures, his observation had gutted her.

  I don’t say this to hurt you more, it’s just, that look of adoration on his face.

  Had Eric ever looked at her that way? When they first met? When he slipped an engagement ring on her finger? No, she didn’t think so. Not the day they got married and not even after she gave birth to their three children.

  It wasn’t just about her anymore. What would her kids think if she left their father? What would they think if she didn’t?

  “What would you think, Eileen?” she whispered to herself. Always knowing, never trusting, forever suspecting that every business call, late night, and out-of-town trip was only an excuse for him to be with Lauren.

  Eric was going to come upstairs any minute. She could undress, wash her face, brush her teeth, and get into bed. She could pretend she didn’t know anything and that nothing had changed.

  Or she could not.

  The question was the outcome. Which version of herself did she imagine be
ing tomorrow morning? Next week? Six months from now?

  Ten years?

  She could hear Eric’s footsteps on the stairs. She stood up. In the moment and pressed for time, Eileen found that her instincts took over.

  Eric walked into the bedroom with a smile. “What’s all this?” he asked as he moved closer and looked at her standing next to the bed.

  She said nothing. She just waited.

  The smile fell off his face as his brain processed what he was seeing. He took them in all at once. Every single picture of Eric and Lauren—Eileen had laid them out in a grid across their bed, for easy viewing.

  She watched her husband avoid looking at them. He stared at the floor near his feet. “You said it was insurance papers.”

  “I lied,” Eileen said.

  Eric took a breath. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t.” She held up her hand. “Just get what you need and take it to the spare room. And tomorrow, you need to find yourself somewhere else to live.”

  “Eileen, please let me explain—”

  “Honestly, I think these pictures speak for themselves. I want you to leave.”

  “What about the kids?”

  “What about them? And don’t you dare throw them in my face after you go and do this!” She pointed to the evidence. “What about the kids here?” She held up one picture then put it down. “Or what about the kids here?” She picked up another. “Were you thinking about the kids in this one? How about here? Or here? Or any of the fucking times you decided to put your dick inside Lauren Andrews? Get out of my bedroom.”

  He stood there for several more seconds. Looking at the floor, then to her and the photos, he swallowed. Finally, when he realized there wasn’t anything he could say that erased the pain spread across their bed, he turned and left.

  Chapter 30

  Eileen

  Ten months after Clare’s death

  “Go, Paige!” she shouted. “Take it, there you go, there you go…all the way now! That’s it! That’s it!”

  Eileen watched her daughter hammer the soccer ball into the corner of the net for her second goal of the day. She sat back in her chair and smiled as Paige raced back up the field, her teammates giving her high fives and side hugs as they repositioned themselves for another kickoff at center field.

  “She’s the terminator today,” Eric said next to her.

  “I know! That training clinic’s made a huge difference, I think.”

  He nodded in agreement before turning his attention back to the game.

  It had taken her four months to stop hating him. Six months to have a somewhat normal conversation with him. And nine months to forgive him.

  It would take another two months before their divorce would be final. She had overheard that Dave and Lauren were also divorcing, and Eileen couldn’t help herself from imagining that Lauren and Eric were still seeing each other, but she didn’t really want to know. She had almost twice asked her daughter if she knew if her father was seeing anyone.

  But she didn’t want to ever put any of her children in that position.

  It still hurt, especially thinking that Eric and Lauren might now be together. Together at last with no spouses to get in their way. Some days hurt more than others; some days she still dissolved into a torrent of tears, convinced she’d made the wrong decision that day she returned from California. But the more time that passed, the less tears there were. Maybe it hurt a little less every week.

  One day, she hoped, it wouldn’t hurt her at all.

  The biggest problem was that she still loved Eric. That, and now knowing the facts: he had never loved her as much as she loved him.

  The whistle blew, ending the game. Paige’s team won by one point, and the girls were chanting and jumping up and down on the far side of the field. “So I’ll swing by and get the kids at five?” Eric said, shoving his folding camp chair into its canvas carrying case.

  She nodded. “See you then.” She watched him sling the carrying strap over his shoulder and turn to go, but after a few steps, she forced herself to focus again on Paige. It was still painful to watch him walk away.

  Her weekly talks with Simon had been more helpful than she could have ever imagined. They spoke every Tuesday at 9:00 a.m., her time. As a co-executor for Clare’s estate, Eileen had been grateful to have the new job and all that she needed to learn to perform it; it helped to keep her mind occupied. Plus, it gave her and Simon a good excuse to check in and be there for each other.

  “I still miss her,” he admitted just last Tuesday. “Sometimes I pretend she’s still out at the house working, unwilling to leave, and all I need to do is jump on a flight from JFK to San Francisco and she’ll be there, sitting in her office writing.”

  “That’s probably normal…at least I think it should be. Have you decided about going to see anyone yet? A therapist?”

  “No, I don’t think I’m ready. I think I’m afraid that if I do, they’ll tell me I have to stop pretending she’s just somewhere else. Anyway, enough about my grief. How are you holding up?”

  “It’s two steps forward, one step back. For some reason, this week, I really miss him. Almost like I’m telling myself that what happened was no big deal, even though logically I know it was.”

  “It’s because the divorce is getting closer to finalized. Your comfort zone is trying to talk you away from the cliff’s edge.”

  “That’s it,” she said. “That is exactly it. Part of me wants to run back into that life we had, lies and all, and just bury my head back into the sand.”

  “Except you can’t put the toothpaste back into the tube. Do you honestly think, even if you could somehow go back, you would ever unsee those photos?”

  “No,” she said, sighing. “And I don’t really want to go back. I just really miss that false sense of security I was drifting around in. It was comforting and familiar, and he always knew what to do when the toilet leaked or the internet went down. I hate figuring out that stuff on my own.”

  “Hire a good handyman,” Eric said. “Speaking of the divorce, did you guys settle on a number?”

  “I suggested three million, and he agreed.” She had figured one million dollars for each of the three amazing, wonderful, loving children she got out of him.

  “He agreed? Okay, I’m stunned, and you were right.”

  When Eric had first learned about the inheritance from Clare, so soon after learning that Eileen knew about Lauren, he had insisted that he wouldn’t try to take any of that money in the divorce. Simon didn’t think that would last. “Come on, Eileen, be serious. Do you honestly think he won’t try to come for half? How good is this lawyer you’ve hired?”

  To be honest, she didn’t really know herself if Eric would change his mind once some of his guilt wore off. She felt like it was probable, given his long affair with Lauren, that she didn’t know her husband as well as she thought she did.

  But he never asked her for a dime. It was only last month that she had decided she actually wanted to give him something. Not half, no. But enough money to be generous and fair, and to indicate she didn’t actually hate his guts. He was always going to be the father of her children.

  “I’m just happy that we’re getting closer to winding the whole mess up. I think it will be a relief when it’s finally all said and done.”

  And heartbreaking. She knew signing those papers was going to open the wound back up.

  Paige was heading across the field toward her, sweaty and smiling, arms linked with two other girls from her team, their huge soccer bags bouncing on their backs.

  “That was a great game, huh?” someone suddenly said next to her.

  “Yes,” Eileen said as she turned toward the voice on her left. She sucked her breath at the sight of him. “Oh, God,” she breathed. It was Samuel Cramer, witness to her husband’s sex pictures and her dru
nken rock-bottom behavior in the San Francisco airport and receiver of a misdial outside her mother’s care facility.

  “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.” Samuel gave her a huge smile.

  “Ah, nothing.” She waved her hand. “I only meant to say, yes, it was a great game.”

  His daughter was on Paige’s team, and Eileen had carefully avoided him and thus further embarrassment since the beginning of the new season. Now here he was, right in front of her. He looked relaxed in his jeans and T-shirt. His arms were a bit muscular, she noticed, and his dark hair, windblown and a little messy, fell across his forehead. He was tall, over six feet for sure, broad chest, bright brown eyes. Samuel Cramer was a very attractive man. She hadn’t seen this last year. Or maybe she hadn’t cared to see it.

  “So.” He shrugged. “Does that work for you?”

  Eileen suddenly snapped out of her personal appraisal. “What? I’m sorry.” God, he must think she was a complete idiot. “My mind.” She laughed and pointed at her head. “So scattered right now.”

  He laughed, not at her, but in a sweet way. Like he found her adorably hilarious…or something. “The girls.” He nodded in the direction of the three who were quickly approaching, one of which Eileen could now see was Kimmy, his daughter. “They have cooked up ordering Chinese food and having a sleepover at our house. Is it all right with you?”

  “Oh! Yes! Of course. That will be fun…except—” Eileen sighed. She suddenly remembered that it was Eric’s night and he was picking the kids up later. “I’m sure it will be fine. I just need to check with her father. It’s his night. But I’m sure he won’t mind.”

  “Ah, say no more. I completely understand. We’ll just keep the plans loose until we know for sure.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll give you my number so you can call when you know.”

  “Oh.” She waved her hand. “I already have it,” she blurted before she remembered to be embarrassed about the time he gave her the number. Eileen cringed inside at the thought of her causing the escalator crash last year.