Beside Herself

by Elizabeth Laban

  The last thing she wanted was to have an affair, put herself out there, have to look good, have to be in such close proximity to a stranger. She had done that already when she was dating, before she’d met Joel. She was finished with that. But should she? For the first time she really let herself think about Tara. What did she look like? What was so irresistible about her? She pictured Joel naked with another woman. Had Tara run her hand over the birthmark on Joel’s shoulder the way she always did? Had Joel touched Tara’s breasts the way he did Hannah’s? She shook her head, trying to get rid of the images, but they wouldn’t leave her. Instead she shifted her thoughts to herself lying naked with another man. It was an impossible picture to conjure up, and yet was it? Yes, it was totally and completely impossible to imagine; it was ridiculous, really.

  When Joel got back to the table, his forehead sweaty, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sat down gingerly in his seat. No color had come back to his face.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, like the last five minutes hadn’t happened, like he was just continuing the conversation. “Because it sounds awful to me, but at this point I’ll do anything.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

  Hannah was going to say to forget it, that she wasn’t about to stoop to his level, but now she sat up straight and looked at him. He had bluish circles under his eyes, and his skin still had that slightly green look to it. She had the urge to flick her finger at his cheek or strangle him a little, not completely, just until his eyes bulged. She didn’t want to have an affair, not one bit. Though maybe it would feel good to lie on some rose petals of her own and have Joel know about it. But where the heck was she going to find someone to have an affair with? She thought of Lance, the single-dad lifeguard and his Bob Marley soundtrack. She thought of Larry, the man at the bakery who had the most beautiful gray hair and always gave her extra lemon bars. She always wondered what that was all about. Now could be her chance to find out. If Joel could do it, then she could too. Why not? And the best part was that he would suffer. He would know how bad it felt to be on that other end, wondering about another hand touching the person you thought only you would touch in that way for the rest of your lives. Yeah, she was beginning to like this idea. This was a great idea. Not everything had to be so black and white. He broke the rules, so now the rules were ripe for breaking. Plus, she was so tired of being the one wronged. This would let her take charge. She was taking back the power. She leaned toward him.

  “I am one hundred percent sure,” she said, knowing she might send him running right back to the bathroom, but she didn’t even care. She was actually getting used to his throwing up. And if she did end up leaving anyway, if the road to their breaking up could not be detoured, this would make for an easier transition. She would already be back in the dating game. This was smart on so many levels, she thought. Very smart.

  “I’m going to do it,” she said, more confidently now. “I’m going to have an affair.”

  PART TWO—BOOM!

  CHAPTER NINE

  Paramour or no paramour, Hannah needed a haircut.

  “Do you think we can do something different?” she asked Cami, who had been cutting her hair for longer than she had been married. In fact, Cami had cut her hair for her wedding day and her engagement photos. The first time Hannah had left the house alone with Lincoln when he was an infant had been for a trip to Cami’s. It had gone slowly because Cami had kept putting down the scissors to reinsert the pacifier into the crying baby’s mouth. And now that she thought about it, Cami had cut her hair before her first date with Joel, which by Joel’s calculations had been their third date.

  “Sure,” Cami said, lifting her limp hair and letting it drop. “Like what?”

  “You’re the professional,” Hannah said. “Do you have any ideas?”

  Hannah’s hair had looked pretty much the same for the last fifteen years—straight, below her shoulders, without bangs, and brown, though now there was some gray. It was a teenager’s hairstyle; she knew that, but most of the time she put it in a ponytail or a messy bun, which she liked being able to do. She wore it down only after it had just been washed.

  “Should I cut bangs?”

  “Ugh, I don’t know,” Hannah said. “Maybe. Do men like bangs?”

  “I don’t know,” Cami said. “Did you ask Joel?”

  “This isn’t about Joel.”

  “What?” Cami said, standing behind her but looking her in the eyes through the mirror. “What other men do you know?”

  “That’s the big question,” Hannah said. And then she started to cry.

  Weeks had passed since she’d announced she was going to have an affair, and she hadn’t done anything about it. That night, after they had gotten home from Dr. Snow, to whom they still hadn’t said a word about Hannah’s proposed affair, Joel had come to her with a piece of paper and a pen.

  “Can we set some rules?” he had asked sheepishly.

  “No,” she’d said. “Did I get to set rules before you lay down with Tara?”

  “No,” he’d said slowly. “But can we anyway?”

  It was just the sort of remark she would usually find endearing. They’d stood there, looking at each other. Joel had kept making a move to talk and then thinking better of it. Rules? Hannah had thought. Aren’t they all broken by this point?

  “Well,” Joel had said slowly, lifting the pen as though he were getting ready to write something down. “I’ll start with an easy one. The kids can’t find out.”

  She had continued to look at him for a few seconds, and then she’d shaken her head, finally walking away from Joel and his paper and pen. Just before she’d moved up the stairs, she had turned.

  “Screw you, Joel,” she had said quietly. “Just screw you.”

  “Wait,” Cami said now, coming around to face Hannah. “What’s going on? Why are you crying?”

  “I’m, it’s, ugh,” she said, glad there wasn’t anyone else in the small salon at the moment.

  “Take your time,” Cami said soothingly. “I don’t even have another appointment until after lunch. Mrs. Savage cancelled; she said her cat was too sad to leave this morning.”

  “Oh my God, she still comes in?” Hannah said, wiping at her eyes. “Honestly, I didn’t even know she was still alive. What is she, ninety-five?”

  “Ninety-one,” Cami said. “But the saddest part is that her cat died a year ago.”

  Hannah couldn’t help it—she laughed.

  “That’s awful,” she said. “Sorry, that is really awful. My emotions are all over the place.”

  “Yeah, I can see that.”

  “Joel had an affair,” Hannah said. “I found out about a month ago. Anyway, long story short, it was over when I found out. He said he never loved her. He wants to stay married to me. But it’s been so hard. I’m so mad. I mean, we’ll be sitting there eating pork chops with the kids, and one second I’ll be thinking, Joel was so smart to fry the onions and apples with this, and then literally the next second I will be so overwhelmed with rage that the only thing holding me back from smacking him over the head with the cast-iron pan is not wanting to freak out the kids. But then I can’t eat, and I can barely pretend to carry on a conversation. It is just so bad. I keep getting migraines because I feel so much anger, but there’s no place to put it most of the time.”

  “Yeah, Seth had an affair,” Cami said, just like she was saying, Yeah, Seth likes coffee too.

  “What?”

  “Oh yeah, I don’t talk about it because I don’t want people to think I’m a victim or that I’m married to someone who would rather be with someone else, but yeah, he did. That was, like, three years ago.”

  “And you stayed married?”

  “Yeah, we did,” Cami said. “We had just had Jezebel. Violet was four. It was a hard time in our marriage. You know what they say: the seven-year itch. Anyway, my next-door neighbor told me. She saw him with her—the other woman.” When she said other woman, she used her fi
ngers to make air quotes.

  “But he wanted to stay married?”

  “That’s debatable,” she said. “But I think he believes in hell. And the wrath of his parents. It was a very difficult time. But it’s better now. I don’t even think about it every day anymore. And our family is still our family. We still get to have Thanksgiving dinner together and go to Violet’s softball games together. And when I’m sick, he brings me tea. That was one of the things I was most scared about: What would I do if I got sick and I was all alone with two little kids? So I don’t have to worry about that.”

  Hannah closed her eyes, and the image of her den in the house she’d grown up in popped into her mind. She’d been about ten, and her mother had been sick and lying on the bright-yellow couch. Hannah had known she had to take care of her; there was nobody else. Her father had died the year before, and it was the first time Hannah had had that sense that it was her or nobody—there was absolutely no safety net. She shook her head; she did not like that memory at all. She opened her eyes to find Cami looking at her, clearly concerned.

  “So your hair,” Cami said gently. “I’m going to cut long layers. I’ll make it look great. Are you thinking of stepping out on him? Is that what this is about?”

  “Well, yes,” Hannah said, not meeting her eyes. “I’m embarrassed to even say this, but I was so angry, so completely beside myself, that I threatened to have an affair too. And now I feel like I have to. Also, I sort of want to. I mean, I do and I don’t. But I haven’t dared yet.”

  Cami nodded, her eyes wide, and Hannah had the sense that she thought she was absolutely nuts. She never should have said anything. But in her usual way, instead of backing down and saying less, now she felt like she had to explain. So she told her about the night at the Italian restaurant with Joel and the whole thought process that had led her to the idea.

  “And he said okay?” Cami asked incredulously.

  “Well, he didn’t like it,” Hannah said. “But yeah, he basically said okay. I know it sounds completely bananas. I think so, too, but at this point I think he’ll try anything to stay together.”

  “You’re lucky,” Cami said. “He must really love you.”

  What Hannah wanted to say was, Really? That’s your measure of love? She wanted to add that if he really loved her, really and truly, this would never have happened in the first place. But she let it go. As bad as it was, it seemed better than what Cami had had to deal with.

  “I hope so,” Hannah said. “But the real truth is I was just buying time. I had set my own deadline that I would call the lawyers by a certain point—that was weeks ago—but when I said that about having an affair, in my mind, at least, I pushed that date back. But I do wonder about it, a life without him. I even looked at the real estate section the other day to just get a sense of what’s out there for a single person.”

  They were quiet while Cami washed her hair. It felt good to have someone do something for her. She closed her eyes and tried not to think. They moved across the room to the main chair, and Hannah didn’t say a word. She just let Cami cut. She almost didn’t even care. But when it was done, moussed and blown, she couldn’t believe how good it looked. She knew she wouldn’t be able to keep it up—she never could. Until now, she hadn’t felt she had to.

  “I love it,” she said to Cami. “Do you know any single men about our age?”

  “Actually, Seth’s brother,” she said.

  “No, that’s okay,” Hannah said. “I’ll figure it out. I don’t want to drag you into this.”

  “I think you should find someone today, your hair looks so good,” Cami said.

  “Today?” Hannah asked.

  “Yeah, I mean, is there anyone you’ve noticed, anyone you can go flirt with? What kind of guys do you like?”

  Hannah wanted to say that she liked Joel, or at least she used to, but she was trying hard to change that fact.

  “Well,” Hannah said slowly. “For the purposes of having an affair, I guess I want to find someone who is physically attractive to me, someone I feel some chemistry with, who isn’t a jerk.”

  “That’s pretty basic,” Cami said, nodding. “So go find someone—now, while your hair looks this good.”

  “Maybe,” Hannah said. Now that she thought about it, she was just a few blocks from the bakery where Larry—the cute, flirty gray-haired man—was, the one who always gave her extra lemon bars.

  “Maybe?” Cami asked, encouraging her.

  “Yeah,” Hannah said, standing. “I have an idea.”

  “Please, please keep me posted,” Cami said. “And when I make wishes with Violet tonight—we do that every night and sprinkle a little fairy dust in her room; you know, it makes the wishes come true and keeps the bad dreams away—I’m going to make a wish for you. That you have an affair with some great sex and passionate kisses but that you don’t fall in love with that person. I’m going to wish that you end up staying with Joel. That is my wish for you.”

  Hannah was going to ask, What kind of wish was that? It sounded like a bad one, an already-giving-up one. But she let it go, knowing that Cami had to think that was the best option since it had been her own choice. She was surprised to feel the burn of tears behind her eyes. It wasn’t that she necessarily believed in wishes, but she always loved the idea of them. It was like having someone say they would pray for you. She was never sure if the prayer would actually do any good, but she was always touched by it. She willed the tears away. She didn’t want to have bloodshot eyes when she saw Larry.

  Once she was outside again in the real world, going to see Larry seemed impossible, or at least starting something with him did. She forced herself to head south on 20th Street. Really, she didn’t have to go even a block out of her way to walk by the bakery. She came upon it too soon, the chalkboard sign in front boasting about a brie-and-fig scone, which did sound good. She walked right inside. Luckily, there was a bit of a line, which gave her time to spot Larry. He looked as appealing as ever, wearing a blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was still helping someone when it became clear that she was next in line, so she pretended to be looking at the menu behind her and let the next person in line slip in front of her.

  “Can I help you?” Larry finally asked.

  “Yes, thank you. How are you?”

  “Fine, thanks,” he said, not quite looking at her. Didn’t he usually make a bigger deal about her coming in? That was how it always seemed to her. “What can I get for you?”

  “Well,” she said, taking her time. She was going to ask for his number at the end of the order. That was her plan. She knew it was crazy; she wasn’t even sure about the details of his personal life, but he didn’t wear a wedding ring, and she just didn’t care. She was ready to do this. Plus, it was likely her hair would never look this good again.

  “I know I’d like a few brie scones, they sound good,” she said, making a show of looking at each confection. “You know what? I’ll take one of everything else.”

  Just as she said the word everything, Larry’s phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and turned away. No, no, no, she chanted to herself. She waited, acting like she wasn’t in a rush at all. She could wait. But it seemed like he was just getting more absorbed in his call. Where were her lemon bars? she wanted to ask. Didn’t he notice her hair? Clearly not, because a second later Larry gestured to the young man behind the counter that he should take over helping her. He moved reluctantly into place, blocking Larry almost completely.

  “One of everything?” the man asked, sounding as bored as a person could sound. He didn’t wait for an answer and began to place one of each item in the box Larry had pulled out. She cleared her throat and looked at Larry one more time. He was turned away and talking harshly into the phone.

  “Sure,” she said, feeling more and more deflated as the box filled up, all the way to the top. In fact, it was so full that it was hard to close, but the man managed, tying extra string around it.

/>   She paid, handing over her credit card while thinking of twenty ways the money could have been better spent, and just as the transaction was complete, Larry hung up the phone and turned around.

  “Hey,” he said. “Did you get any lemon bars in that box of yours?”

  “I did,” she said. “I think.” She looked at him more closely now. He was pretty old. Much older than she had realized. But really, she had barely paid attention to him before; she’d just liked the attention he gave her. Or, to be more accurate, the lemon bars. She thought of what kind of guy she’d told Cami she was looking for—good looking, not a jerk. Now she wanted to add another caveat: not too old. She shrugged and turned, knocking into someone with her unwieldy box.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  “Come in again soon,” Larry called after her.

  I doubt it, she thought. And as she walked out, she had the very clear realization that this was going to be even harder than she’d expected.

  The reason Joel thought of their first date as their third was because he said that from the minute he’d noticed her, they’d been dating. There had never been any “before” or “leading up to”—it just was. If she accepted that theory, it would mean that their first date had been at a now-closed diner on 17th Street. At that time, she’d worked for the Hyatt Hotels chain, dealing with room details, everything from furniture to soap and shampoo. That involved replacing what was broken and constantly updating the rooms so they would be relevant, welcoming, and appealing. That morning she had proposed something crazy, something that was truly before its time, when people were not really thinking about single-use plastic. She’d proposed that the hotel move away from tiny plastic shampoo bottles and put luxury refillable glass containers of shampoo and conditioner in all the showers and possibly even similar bottles of body lotion by the sinks. She’d even had sample bottles made up. She had been shot down—hard and fast. Nothing sounded better to her than a greasy hamburger, fries, and a Coke. So she walked the few blocks west to the small diner and took a seat at the horseshoe-shaped counter with its swiveling stools. It was busy, and she chose the stool all the way in, by the window, with one empty stool next to her. If she was lucky, that would remain empty while she ate.