A White Picket Fence

by Laura Branchflower

  Phil: On my way. We’ll spend the night at your place and leave for New York on the 8 a.m.

  Kim: I might be in the shower. If I am, join me…

  Lina opened the next text:

  March 22, 4:30 p.m.

  Phil: Can you meet me in the apt at 5 p.m.? I have an hour.

  Kim: Of course

  March 23, 11:00 a.m.

  Phil: Lunch?

  Kim: Yes, where?

  Phil: Apt at noon

  March 24, 10:30 a.m.

  Phil: I can come by at noon for a couple of hours. Good?

  Kim: You can have me for lunch

  April 5, 8:52 p.m.

  Phil: I’ll be at your place at 7:30 tomorrow morning. First meeting isn’t until 10 a.m.

  Kim: I’ll be in bed. Let yourself in and wake me up with your tongue.

  The texts blurred together as Lina read about one clandestine meeting after another, sometimes two on the same day. There were twenty-four texts in all, and in each one Phil was the pursuer. Tears began to fall from her eyes. She didn’t know how long she lay in her bed, but when Phil came into the room some time later, she was no longer crying.

  “What are you doing in bed?” His shoes clicked against the hardwood floor as he walked towards his wardrobe. “Are you sick?”

  Lina rolled onto her side, curling into the fetal position before closing her eyes and turning her face into her pillow. She heard him cross to the bed, and then the mattress was shifting as he sat down beside her. “Are you okay?” He ran his hand over her back.

  “No, I’m not okay.” Her voice was muffled by the pillow.

  “What’s wrong? Lina?” He gripped her shoulder, attempting to turn her over, but she shrugged off his hand.

  “Don’t touch me!”

  He came to his feet, looking around the room before crossing to her dresser and picking up her purse. “Tell me what she did.” He began to riffle through her purse. “Tell me!”

  “Look at my phone,” she said. “Just look at my phone.”

  She heard the sound of her cell phone sliding over the wood of the dresser and then silence. After several seconds she turned over and watched as he flicked his thumb over her phone display, his lips pulled into a thin line, the side of his jaw clenching and unclenching. His eyes shifted back and forth over the display as he read the texts. When he finished, he clicked the side of the phone, darkening the display.

  “You pretended to leave for New York on Sunday nights so you could spend the night with her. You were sleeping in another woman’s bed thirty minutes away while I was alone in this one.”

  “What’s the difference, Lina? Whether I was with her here or in New York?”

  “There’s a difference. You know I can’t sleep alone! I’m suffering, and you’re down the road fucking someone”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I didn’t know you left the house early so you could go to her apartment before work.” She pushed herself up on her elbows as she glared at him. “Where are you going with my phone?” she cried out. “Give me my phone back.”

  “I’ll give it back after I delete the messages,” he said over his shoulder.

  “You’re not deleting them. They’re my messages.” She followed him into his wardrobe and held her hand out. “Give me my phone.”

  He took off his suit jacket and hung it up before reaching for the knot of his tie. “She’s just trying to hurt you. You shouldn’t have read them.”

  “Well, I did read them, and now I want to read them again.”

  “Why?” He began to unbutton his shirt. Their bodies were less than a foot and a half apart. “Haven’t you been hurt enough?”

  “More than enough, but reading those texts made me hate you, and I want to keep hating you.”

  “Tough.” He shrugged out of his shirt.

  “Give me my phone.” She tried to slip her hand into his pants pocket, but he gripped her wrist, taking the phone from his pocket with his free hand, turning his back on her and blocking her with his body as he began tapping on her display.

  “What are you doing?” she screamed. She pulled on his arm. “It’s my phone. You have no—”

  “Here.” He turned around, gripped the back of her hand and placed her phone against her palm.

  Lina stepped out of the closet and looked down at the phone as she quickly opened the texting icon. “You deleted them! You had no right to delete them.”

  “You’re letting her win,” he said. “This is what she wants. This is exactly what she wants.”

  “This is your fault,” she whispered as she turned from him. “This is all your fault.”

  She crossed back to the bed and pulled back the comforter before lying back down. She listened to drawers opening and closing as he changed clothes and then to the sound of the bathroom door closing. She knew Kim sent the messages to create conflict between them, but knowing it didn’t stop the feeling of deep betrayal gnawing at her from the inside.

  “Honey, it’s just more details about an affair you already knew about,” Diane said over the phone the next morning.

  “I know, but when I think of those texts, I feel like I don’t know him. It’s like the man I thought he was doesn’t exist. I don’t know the Phil who would write those texts.”

  “That’s not true. You’ve been with him for twenty-four years, and you want to redefine who he is because of a four-month lapse in judgment. You have to stop fueling it with your thoughts. He’s a good man who made a mistake. You need to forgive him.”

  Adele wasn’t as forgiving. “He’s such a selfish bastard. He shouldn’t just get away with this. You need to fuck someone else. I’m serious.”

  Lina laughed through her tears. “You’re insane.”

  “No. Everyone else is. Phil needs to know what this feels like. That’s the best way to ensure this never happens again.”

  Dorm-supply shopping with Megan provided an effective distraction for much of the day, but as soon as they returned home and Megan ran off to see friends, Lina once again found her mind returning to the text messages. Phil may have deleted them from her phone, but he hadn’t deleted them from her memory.

  A Rumi book sat on the kitchen island, and she flipped it open, her eyes traveling over the inscription inside the cover. “To Katie (My favorite 16-year-old)—I hope this book will come to mean as much to you as it has to me. All my best, Nick Drayton.” Lina covered her mouth as tears clouded her eyes. He’d given Katie Rumi to read. She recalled the words he spoke to her on Monday. I would never have cheated on you, Lina. And he would never have sent another woman those texts.

  Is it possible to be with someone for twenty-four years and not really know them? she texted him.

  When her cell phone rang at a few minutes past 4:00 p.m. her first thought was Nick, but instead it was Phil. “How are you?” he asked.

  “I haven’t received any surprises via my phone, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Her voice was cool.

  “I’m sorry. I would give anything to undo this.”

  “Well, you can’t. Why are you calling?”

  “To tell you not to hold dinner. It’s going to be a late night.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll see you tonight—no later than 10 p.m.”

  “Bye.”

  “Lina?”

  She slipped into a chair and sighed deeply into the phone. “What, Phil?”

  “I love you. Please don’t lose sight of that.”

  She tilted her head back and stared up at the ceiling. “It’s hard to remember when all I can see are the words you texted her. Goodbye.” She ended the call, and it immediately began ringing again. “Leave me alone, Phil,” she bit out. “I don’t want to hear your voice right now.”

  “Fortunately for me, I’m not Phil.”

  Lina closed her eyes when she realized it was Nick on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry, I thought—”

  “That I was Phil. I caught that.”

  She blushe
d. “I’m not usually like that, it’s just—”

  “You don’t have to explain. I have some things I need to say, but I don’t want to do it over the phone. Are you free?”

  An hour and forty-five minutes later, Lina stepped into the entrance of the Wine Bar, a cozy restaurant about fifteen minutes from her house. She’d changed into a skirt, wedge heels and a sleeveless black silk V-neck top, her loose hair falling around her shoulders, her only jewelry a silver chain with a diamond pendant at her neck and her wedding ring on her left hand.

  She saw Nick as soon as she stepped into the dimly lit bar, and he came to his feet as she approached. She felt the now-familiar surge of awareness as she met his eyes, and then he was pulling out her chair. As she took her seat, she could smell a hint of soap and the lavender of his aftershave.

  “Thank you,” Lina said after a waitress set a glass of Chardonnay before her moments later.

  “So, how are you?” Nick’s eyes roamed over her face.

  “I’ve been better,” she said before taking a sip of wine. “How are you?”

  “I’m going to be blunt.”

  “Okay.” She set down her glass and sat up straighter in her chair.

  “I don’t like your husband,” he began, his eyes meeting hers, “which undermines my ability to be unbiased when I’m talking to you.”

  She was surprised by his candor. “Oh.”

  “This is why I was hesitant to respond to your text earlier. You shouldn’t trust any advice I give you in regard to him.”

  Something happened. The air of tranquility normally surrounding him was absent. “He said something to you,” she guessed. Of course he’d said something to him. Phil saw him as a threat to their family.

  “This isn’t because of what he said to me yesterday, although his manner of communication certainly doesn’t advance my opinion of him. I felt like I was transported back to high school or a B movie—cool jock warning me with the threat of bodily harm to stay away from his girlfriend.”

  Lina’s cheeks heated. “He didn’t!”

  He shrugged. “The warning was about his wife, not girlfriend, but yes, he did.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Your husband doesn’t intimidate me, Lina. I’m here talking to you, aren’t I?”

  “Did he threaten you?”

  “He did, and while I have no doubt he would probably like to leave me in a hospital eating out of a straw, I don’t believe it’s ever going to come to that. He was upset and resorted to adolescent posturing.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said again because she didn’t know what else to say.

  “Please don’t apologize for him. You aren’t responsible for his actions, but I think it’s important you understand when you text or talk to me about him, I’m going to say what I think as a man, and I suspect you’re looking for the response of a therapist.”

  “I want your opinion. I value your opinion.”

  “Lina,” he began, smiling slightly as he dropped his eyes to his drink. “You shouldn’t value my opinion where he’s concerned. My judgment is a bit impaired, and it’s more complicated than just not liking him.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He met her eyes. “I’m attracted to you.”

  23

  “I’m so sorry,” Lina said as waiters swarmed their table to clean up her spilt wine. “The glass just slipped out of my hand.”

  “I’ll get you another wine,” Nick said.

  She let her eyes drift over him as he stepped to the bar, taking in the play of muscles in his upper back, visible through his shirt, and then her eyes dipped lower, lingering on his butt. She quickly looked away when she realized she was thinking about how nicely it filled out his jeans. It was as if his declaration had given her permission to look at him in a different way.

  “Are you okay?” Nick asked when he rejoined her, placing a fresh glass of wine on the table

  “Yes, I just…have I been…did I do something?”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong, Lina. You were being authentic. It’s all on me. I let my professional wall slip.”

  She felt a million different emotions running through her. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say.”

  “I’m not looking for a response.”

  They both looked up as a waitress appeared beside the table. “We need another five,” Nick told her before returning his attention to Lina. “Do you have time for dinner?”

  She knew she should say no. Phil would be furious if he knew she even spoke to him, but the pull she felt towards the man across the table at that moment trumped all else. “Yes, I’m on my own tonight.”

  As they looked over their menus a band began playing a James Taylor song, and Lina felt herself begin to relax. “I feel comfortable around you,” she admitted. “I have since the first day.”

  He didn’t comment as he continued to scan his menu.

  “Do you feel like you’ve known me longer than eight months?” Lina asked.

  “I don’t really think in terms of time.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Lina.” He set down his menu. “There’s no need to analyze this. I told you so you would know I’m not a safe confidant for you. That’s the only reason. I know you’re still in love with your husband.”

  She let her gaze stray to the band. “What does this mean for us?”

  “It should mean I sever all communication with you.” He shook his glass, his eyes tracking the swirling liquid. “But frankly I don’t want to.”

  “So we can be friends?”

  “Yes, we can be friends.”

  After the waiter left with their order, Lina told him about the text messages she received from Kim. “Seeing his words written to another woman—knowing he was sending her texts while he was in the house with me. It was powerful in a very bad way. I hated him.”

  He began tapping the fingers of one of his hands against the table as he watched her, his eyes unreadable.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking he doesn’t deserve you.”

  “You are?” Tears came to her eyes. Maybe he was right. Maybe she didn’t want to hear what he had to say. “You’re wrong, though,” she whispered. “You don’t know him.”

  “I know enough. At a time when your family was in crisis and you needed him most, he was seeking comfort with another woman.”

  Lina blushed. “He made a mistake.”

  “He doesn’t deserve you.”

  “That isn’t true.” Anger bubbled in her chest. “And your judgment is impaired. You told me I can’t value your opinion, remember?”

  “Oh, I remember. But it’s true.”

  “I like you better when you’re talking like a therapist.”

  “Maybe you don’t want to be my friend after all.”

  “Maybe I don’t,” she agreed. She knew she should get up and walk out of the restaurant. He’d crossed the line, and it was disloyal to Phil to stay, but as she met his eyes she knew she’d regret leaving. She didn’t understand exactly why, but she wasn’t ready to walk away from him. “You don’t understand.”

  “You’re right. I don’t.”

  “He saved me,” she whispered. “Without him, I don’t know what would have happened to me.”

  He brought his eyebrows together. “What do you mean, ‘saved’ you? Saved you from what?”

  She could feel her palms begin to sweat. “Something happened to me when I was sixteen—to me and my younger sister, Shiloh. It’s not important what, but Phil saved us. And then his family took me in because Phil refused to leave me. He was only seventeen years old, but he sacrificed everything for me. He had a scholarship to Duke, but he gave it up and went to Maryland instead because he didn’t want to leave me.”

  Nick watched her in silence for several seconds before speaking. “Without more details, I’m operating with one arm tied behind my back. Would you give me a little more?”

  “It’s not im
portant. Just know that he saved me.”

  “Tell me this. Did you at least receive counseling after this trauma? I’m assuming it was a trauma.”

  “I tried. I went a few times. It didn’t help. Only Phil could help. I only feel safe with him.”

  “Feel or felt?”

  She considered his words. “I don’t know. He’s with me.”

  “Lina.” He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. Although the look in his eyes was only one of concern, she still felt a tingling of awareness all the way up her arm. “You are a strong woman, not a traumatized sixteen-year-old. You don’t need anyone. When we are with someone because we think we need them, the dynamics of the relationship change. It isn’t healthy for either of you. I’m not faulting you for what you did over twenty years ago, and frankly I don’t have enough facts to give a true assessment, but if that event serves as the foundation of your relationship, I’m concerned.”

  “It doesn’t,” she said quickly, maybe too quickly, because the truth was she didn’t know whether it did or not. “I loved him before it ever happened.”

  “You were a child.”

  “I loved him from the moment I saw him.”

  He pulled back his hand as the waiter arrived with their food. “Maybe we should talk about something else.”

  Lina found her appetite as Nick steered the conversation away from Phil. She learned he was a lifelong democrat, loved classical music and, in addition to his love of sailing, was also an avid hiker.

  “Like serious hiking with tents and no facilities?”

  “I prefer modern accommodations.” He set his fork and knife on his almost-empty plate and pushed it towards the edge of the table. “I’m fond of air conditioning, showers and soft beds.” He sat back as the waitress picked up their plates. “Would you like coffee?” he asked.