by Curtis Bunn
Stephanie’s heart pounded. How could he know the details of her night with another man?
“Where are you getting this from?”
“From you. Well, to be specific, from your e-mail. You liked e-mailing Charles and he, for some reason, liked to detail what happened. I give you credit. You did tell him that you loved me.
“Because I had hurt you, I didn’t say anything. But I was devastated and hurt and felt betrayed and all the emotions you shared with me. So, yeah, I do understand what it’s like to be cheated on. And it’s not a good feeling.”
He had too many specific details for Stephanie to deny the tryst.
“Why didn’t you say something, Willie?”
“I figured I deserved it. I wasn’t fooling myself; I knew I hurt you bad. I was almost glad you did it because learning that lifted a burden off me. I felt like we were on an even playing field, even as I struggled with the actual cheating. It’s complicated when you forgive your spouse for the ultimate betrayal. You want peace, but the distrust is powerful.”
“We have to start over, Willie. I can’t even believe this, any of this. I feel so bad and so. . . I don’t know. . . embarrassed. Look, I never told anyone, and I wouldn’t now.”
“For the record, I stopped reading your e-mails because nothing good was going to come out of continuing to read them. And I didn’t play tit-for-tat. I’ve been faithful. I know I work some crazy hours sometimes, but I have been faithful.”
“That’s all I needed to hear. I admit that I have had my doubts at times, all based on the past. But I trust you.”
They hugged, but Stephanie wondered about her husband. She was angry that he went through her e-mail, but confused as to why he would not confront her on what he found. She figured there was about a five percent chance that a man would learn his wife cheated on him and not say anything about it. Maybe not even that much.
He said the guilt from his cheating allowed him to feel like she was due to cheat on him. She understood that, but still struggled with him not saying anything—until now.
“How could you not let me know what you read in my e-mail, Willie? It’s hard to imagine that you would be able to do that.”
“It wasn’t easy. I was hurt. But I felt guilty for years before I read the e-mail. I either had to accept it as getting what I deserved because of, you know, what I did. Or I had to blow up our marriage. You can believe the second thought was the strongest. But I went into our daughter’s room. She was home visiting. I looked around the room and every photo she had either in a frame or on her wall was of the three of us. The family means everything to her. I couldn’t do that to her. And it would have been hypocritical of me after I begged you for another chance and you gave it to me.
“So, I got over it. . . the best I could. Well, I guess I’m still getting over it.”
Stephanie nodded her head. Slowly. All that and she thought her cheating with Charles for months was a secret. She had deleted the text messages immediately, but was slow to trash the e-mails. They were there long enough for Willie to learn of her affair.
After their first encounter, the messages escalated from suggestive to salacious, including naked photos. Stephanie discovered she liked taking nude photos of herself.
She surprised Charles with a photo in her bra. His response encouraged her to send a topless picture the next week, then a full-body naked one and various poses in various stages of nakedness. Sending them excited her, made her feel free and dangerous. She assumed Willie had not seen those. They would have prompted him to explode.
Stephanie had stored the images in a Folder marked “Fashion” in her desktop in the office at home. She knew Willie had no interest in that. She appreciated the images so much that she could not bear to delete them. But her conversation with Willie let her know she had to get rid of them. Fast.
“This is not a place I expected us to come back together as a couple, but I’m glad we have,” she said. “I’m grateful for you being here, for not tearing our family apart even though you had every right to. It says a lot about how much you love your family, how important it is to you.”
“Yeah, let’s not get so mushy right now that you don’t forget something: I’m not having any more shit out of you. That Charles guy, I better not see him or hear his name ever again. It took everything in me not to punch him in his damned face. It’s one thing to know he exists. It’s another to see him right there lying to my face, like I’m a fool. I showed control last night I didn’t know I had. I prayed on it—and you know I don’t call on God for much—as you slept. I wanted to leave your ass. I wanted to hurt you. Bad. But I remembered how you felt, how I made you feel, and that’s the only thing that kept me from believing I got what I deserved. It’s the only thing that kept me here.
“You know my boy, Donald. He cheated on his wife at least twice and she caught him and he begged her to stay, and she did. Then a year later, he caught her cheating and divorced her as fast as Steph Curry gets off a jumper. Even though he was a consistent cheater, he couldn’t take knowing she cheated once, and their marriage ended. I couldn’t do that. Part of me wanted to, though. I can’t lie. Bottom line: We’ve got some work to do to get back to right.”
Stephanie promised Charles or any other man would never be a concern. But her immediate goal was to officially end it with Charles and to delete all traces that they had a relationship.
“Can you stay here for another hour or two?” she asked Willie. “I want to go home and shower and change. Then I can come right back.”
“Yeah, go ahead. You probably need to sleep, at least a nap. You look tired. Between me and Terry, we’ll keep Toya company.”
“Okay. Thank you. . . for everything. Be back no later than two hours.”
They hugged and she stepped into the northern California sunlight that forced her to scramble in her purse for her sunglasses. The ride home was bumper-to-bumper, but it allowed her time to think about how she would end it with Charles without hurting his feelings.
First, though, she had to erase all e-mail and photos. She cursed herself for not erasing all evidence. She was fortunate Willie loved her and was remarkably, almost unbelievably, reasonable. But she hated that he knew what she had done. She vowed to earn Willie’s trust by working as hard as he had worked to earn hers. But she knew he would always have doubts about her, and that pained Stephanie.
At home, she dropped her purse on the couch in the living room and made a beeline to the office, where she logged into the computer and located the files that had damning evidence of her infidelity.
Before deleting, she read each e-mail and viewed each photo, and the reminiscing prompted her to realize she did not want to let Charles go. Their tryst was fun and exotic, and it made her feel good. But the revelations with Willie gave her hope that he could become the man she needed and their marriage could become fun and exotic.
She smiled at the thought of having two men truly interested in her for the first time since college. That case did not work out so well, with each guy finding out about the other—and walking, leaving her without anyone.
Stephanie admitted that Charles did the most for her physical and emotional needs, but he was unavailable. And the only way to move on was to say bye to Charles. That was not going to be easy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
THE LIE SHALL SET YOU FREE
JUANITA
They got through the early part of the week without their issues or suspicions coming up. Both were relieved. But both were wary of what would come out of the meeting with Dr. Fields.
At the session, she asked how they had been.
“We’re here,” Maurice said.
“What’s that mean?” Dr. Fields asked.
“Yeah, I want to know, too,” Juanita said.
“It means that we are still together and still willing to work on it.”
“Is that it? There’s nothing more to that?” Dr. Fields wanted to know.
“Well, the truth
of the matter is that we’re good, and we’re wondering if we need to continue coming here.”
“You’re the one who brought up coming here again,” Juanita said.
“So we can tell Dr. Fields to her face that we’re ending it.”
“You surely can do whatever you like,” the therapist said. “I think we’ve made some real steps, bumped up against some boundaries and have grown to understand each other better.”
“That’s what we have done more than anything: grow,” Maurice said. “I won’t speak for my wife, but I think we’ve matured with open conversation.”
“Give me an example.”
“Okay, like, we went to a big party last week. Got dressed up and had a good time. But while we were there, we ran into one of Juanita’s old boyfriends.”
“How did that make you feel?”
“Not so good, but probably because I didn’t learn it from her. When she went to the bathroom with his date, he told me. Well, he didn’t say the words. But he said the code words, like ‘You’ve got a good one’ and ‘You’re lucky. I’m still searching for my perfect lady.’ Those kind of compliments were his attempt to tell me they were close and I shouldn’t take her for granted.”
“Isn’t that a leap?” Juanita said. “You don’t know the man, so you don’t know if he was trying to tell you something or actually giving me a compliment.”
“That’s true,” Dr. Fields said. “But why did you come to that conclusion and not the alternative? There had to be something more than a feeling.”
“I can answer that,” Juanita jumped in.
“How would you know?” Maurice asked.
“I just do. And he felt that way because he needed to feel that way.”
“Explain,” Dr. Fields said.
“My friend was on a date with a woman I had just met, and Maurice acted like he had just met her, too. But he hadn’t. I’m not guessing or insinuating what their relationship is or was or whatever. But it was enough for him to take leaps with my friend and me because he felt guilty about his own stuff.”
Usually, Dr. Fields would interject. This time, she swung her head toward Maurice.
“How could you come up with all that? You’re a mind-reader now? I found out that we worked in the same building, so I guess I have or could have seen her before. But you’ve taken it to another place.”
“So, you’re telling me you’ve never been to her house?”
“Her house? No, I haven’t. Why would you say that?”
He knew, unless she had photos, she had no proof. Gloria certainly would not admit to it.
“How do you have him at her house, Juanita?” Dr. Fields asked.
“My friend told me. He dropped her off there several weeks ago and you were standing in front of her house on Capitol Hill.”
“Ridiculous,” Maurice said. And he was convincing, too. He had used the five days between the party and the session to devise a counter to Juanita’s inevitable claims. “Impossible.”
“Impossible, Maurice? Impossible?”
“I tell you what’s not impossible; the fact that you saw your old boyfriend the other night for the first time in years. That’s impossible.”
Juanita had prepared for the inevitable, too. She was ready. “What? How do you get that?”
“He’s a massage therapist at Massage Envy in Bethesda. You went to Massage Envy in Bethesda for a massage. And you’re telling me you didn’t have a massage by him? Too much of a coincidence. In fact, like Freud said, there are no coincidences.”
“Actually, there are coincidences, as far as I’m concerned. And in this case, the coincidence is that I went to a Massage Envy and it turns out he works at one. But I did not go to the Massage Envy where he works. I went to the one at Potomac Yard. I told you I wanted to go to that one in Bethesda.”
“Bullshit,” Maurice said.
“Dr. Fields, is it okay if I make a phone call? I want to call the Bethesda location and have the receptionist check for Maurice to see if I have ever been there. They have the records.”
“Maurice,” Dr. Fields said, “do you need her to go through that length to believe her?”
“I know what I heard her say. She didn’t say anything about Potomac Yard.”
“I know I didn’t. But I didn’t say I went to Bethesda. Said I wanted to go there. But he doesn’t believe me, although he cannot name one instance in all the years he’s known me when I lied. Not one. But you can call on your own time the Bethesda location and the Potomac Yard’s and get your answers.”
Juanita had used a made-up name when she’d checked in at the Bethesda location. And she had Brandon that week put her in the system at the Potomac Yard location, where he once worked, for the same day. She believed Maurice would call for his own peace of mind.
“If you want to make those calls, Maurice, you can do so. But I believe we have to talk about this lack of trust that I’m hearing.”
“I’m not saying I don’t trust my wife. I’m saying that whole thing with her ex-boyfriend and not telling me seems fishy.”
“Fishy? Why would I stand there while he’s in my face and say, ‘This is my ex-boyfriend’? That makes no sense. But here’s also what doesn’t make any sense: Instead of dancing with me, you suggest that he dance with me. We hadn’t even danced, but you want me to dance with another man?”
“Why did you suggest that, Maurice?”
“First of all, we did dance. How can you forget that? And my wife loves to dance. I’m confident in who we are to each other, so dancing with another man wouldn’t bother me. Since her friend was there—and I didn’t know at the time that they used to date—I thought it was fine for her to dance a few songs with him. I didn’t see the harm.”
“As you say, bullshit,” Juanita responded. “You had Brandon dance with me so you could spend time with Gloria, the woman you supposedly had laid eyes on for the first time.”
“Again, you’re acting like you’re a mind-reader.”
“I may be sweet and kind and innocent and all those things you’ve said about me over the years, but my eyes are open. I’m aware of the things that are important to me. So as I danced, I also watched. And you all jumped right into some intense conversation.”
“Of course, we talked—we were standing there together.”
“Talked about what?”
“I can’t remember now. It was small talk—”
“Looked like at least medium talk to me.”
“Medium talk? What’s that?”
“Something above small talk, a conversation between two people who are familiar with each other.”
“So you’re saying what, exactly, Juanita?” Dr. Fields asked.
“I’m not saying anything—except that I find it hard to believe that they worked in the same building for a long time and never saw each other.”
“Maybe we did see each other, in passing. I don’t recall seeing her. And she said the same.”
“Again, this comes back to trust, doesn’t it?” Dr. Fields asked.
“I have had no reason not to trust Maurice. I haven’t. But that doesn’t mean I believe what he’s saying right now.”
“So how would you describe where your marriage is at this very moment? I specify right now because couples tend to give an overview answer when I’m looking for your thoughts on things in this moment. Juanita?”
“I would describe it as tenuous. It’s not rock-solid at this moment because we both have these ideas about each other that we’re being dishonest. And it’s not like lying about who drank the last glass of wine. It’s about other people and presumed involvement with other people. I don’t like how it feels right now.”
“I don’t either. I feel like I have been a good husband—”
“Wait, Maurice,” Dr. Fields interjected. “Let’s not get into an overview of your performance as a husband. Let’s stick to this moment.”
“Okay, well. I don’t see the marriage as dire as she does. I don’t see it as t
enuous. I see it as challenged. We’re definitely at a different place; talking to a therapist shows that. Not talking about our concerns until we get here shows that. But I don’t see anything of the deal-breaker variety going on.”
“Interesting,” Dr. Fields said. “There was a potentially deal-breaking concern in a previous session—the subject of sex and passion. Anyone interested in taking that on?”
“I will,” Juanita said. “Not a lot has been happening.”
“Saturday night, remember?” Maurice said.
“First of all, Saturday night was four nights ago. Nothing since then. And the fact that he’s okay with that is my concern. But not only that, on Saturday night, that was not passion. That was sex for the sake of having sex.”
“Why would you say that? I didn’t feel that way at all. I considered it us reaffirming things after a night that was sort of off-balance. We didn’t talk about these things that bothered us, but we could both feel there was something going on. Questions. So, for me, it wasn’t only sex. It was reaffirming.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that. But do you know I cried.”
“What?”
“While we were having sex, I cried.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I didn’t feel any passion. We came in here and talked about my need for passion and what I have gotten is still not passionate. It’s you getting our rocks off, with no real effort or interest in pleasing me.”
“Well, what do you want? A vibrator?”
“That would be nice. Yes, a vibrator during sex would spice up our love life.”
“What? Dr. Fields. . .”
“What, Maurice? Your wife is telling you what she wants. I think you should be listening.”
Juanita had had it with the prim-and-proper façade.
“Nothing wrong with toys to enhance our love life. And we can talk about other stuff at home. But the bottom line is that we have to spice this thing up. Let loose. Relax. Don’t be so uptight. Don’t treat me so delicately. Don’t be afraid to ask for what you want. Do things we haven’t done before. Do you know, Doctor, that we’ve been to exotic islands and never made love on the beach? Or at minimum on our balcony overlooking the beach? We’ve never made love on the floor in front of the fireplace. That’s what I want, what I need. Adventure. Passion.”
