by Brown, Tara
“Of course.” He forces a polite expression. “I’m here if you need anything.”
I turn rigidly, hoping he sees the genuine gratitude. “And vice versa. I know I don’t seem capable this week, but I am actually. If you need anything, I’m here.”
His smile creeps back, lighting him up once more as the doors open to our floor. “Thanks,” he says as though he’s struggling not to laugh.
“Are you mocking my capabilities?” I follow him out of the elevator.
“Of course not. I would never.” He is. He puts his key in the lock and glances back, pasting on a flirtatious grin. “I was picturing all the ways you could help me out. Or rather remembering.”
“You’re disgusting.” I gasp and pull my own keys out. He is still laughing at my reddened face and shocked expression when he closes his door.
I lean against mine when I get inside my apartment, shaking my head in disbelief.
A traitorous thought creeps about in my mind.
What if?
It’s a dangerous game to play with one’s heart but my head does it anyway.
What if I’d married Sam instead?
What would our life look like right now?
The journey takes a fantastical trip through possibilities and happy endings and not being cheated on.
But only one small part of my brain is fantastical. The rest is quite realistic. And the sad fact is Sam and I have too much history. There’s a truth he doesn’t know and can never know. It was the end of all those years ago, a decision I’m afraid is unreversible.
The final destination in the journey into sadness and disillusion is Rod. I can’t believe he hasn’t tried to contact me.
Without thinking, I cross the room to my laptop and open it, clicking on Facebook and checking his profile. He hasn’t unfriended me and is tagged in at least a dozen pictures from the New Year’s Eve party we were supposed to go to. Elaine is in the pictures too, minus Brent. She and Rod don’t seem to be together in the pictures, but rather are purposely as far apart as possible. His mustache is curled up like the villain he is.
He went to the party as if nothing had happened?
I click on his profile again, seeing his status has been changed to single. Weirder yet, he has likes on it. I click to see who liked it. His mom, Elaine, and his sister-in-law Kari. It burns a bit, I can’t deny it.
I close the laptop and slide into the chair next to me.
“Happy New Year’s,” I whisper to no one.
Chapter 9
January 1, 2020
New Year’s Day, I wake to an empty bed. Rod has already left for the city to do the work he said he had to do. Work I’m assuming involves banging Elaine in the mall parking lot.
I get up, determined and ready for my mission.
In my pajamas, with a cup of coffee in hand, I march through the house and start the search.
I check his iPad, computer, and everything else I can think of. His Facebook account has nothing. Her email doesn’t autofill in his email account. And his drawers, office, and the garage have no sign of cheating. No receipts or pictures or mystery phones. I go over his schedule with a fine-tooth comb and his appointments match his calendars.
He’s quite good at this.
Sitting in his computer chair in his office, I tap my fingers against the leather armrests and contemplate.
A knock at the front door and the sound of it opening snatches my attention from sleuthing. “Hey!” Shawnee calls into the house.
“Hey, in here!” I shout at her but don’t get up.
“Well?” she asks when she gets to the office doorway, not bothering with “happy New Year” or any of that other nonsense. “How was the party? Did Elaine say anything to you?”
“Not a single word. Not even a hello. She pretended I didn’t exist.”
“Guilty bitch,” Shawnee whispers. Her honey-brown eyes narrow. “What have you searched here?”
“His iPad, laptop, work computer, Facebook and email accounts, and schedule. I even broke into his bank account on this computer and searched that but found nothing. Not a single expense that couldn’t be explained.” I wrinkle my forehead. “Though I will say, his Christmas gift for me from the jewelry store, a pair of earrings that seemed rather plain at first glance, were incredibly pricey. Beyond that, there’s no proof he’s having an affair.”
“He bought two things at the store. Something for her and something for you to cover for it,” Shawnee says.
“Oh God, you’re right.” My stomach turns as the realization I’m way out of my league slaps hard. I type in “Peoples Jewelers” on his computer and click on the website. When I find the earrings, my whole body tenses. “They’re sixty-nine dollars on sale for the month of December,” I gasp, feeling resistance when I try to get a large breath. “He spent over three hundred in there.”
“Sneaky,” she mutters and begins pacing the sizable office, tapping her finger against her chin. It’s her thinking tapping. “If he’s that smart, which I didn’t give him credit for being, there’s a chance you might not find proof.”
“But we know they called each other. We heard the phone call.”
“Yes, and that can be deleted from the phone”—she turns her head sharply—“but not from phone records. Do you have access to your cell phone bills? The actual hard copies?”
“Yeah, I think so.” A shiver of nervous energy creeps over me as I log into the account he takes care of with his share of the bills. I would make a terrible spy. “We don’t get the paper bills.” I click to sign in but it autofills with his name and password.
My fingers dart around with the mouse until I find what I’m looking for and print the bills for the last three months.
We sit and watch them print, not speaking. I don’t know what to say. I’m an idiot, might be a great start. But truthfully, I never imagined it was this bad. I thought he and Elaine might have kissed a few times or maybe flirted heavily. It didn’t occur to me that they were having a full second relationship.
The moment the printer finishes, she leans over the desk with me and types in a yoga studio. She prints the schedule.
“What are you doing?”
“In case he searches the printer for last job.”
“Oh,” I say unaware that was a thing. “Why are you so good at this?”
“Dateline.” She takes the yoga schedule out of the room while I clear the browser history in the computer, except for the yoga studio.
When I get to the kitchen, she’s stuck the decoy schedule to the fridge. I write down Brent and Elaine’s numbers from my phone, grateful for once that Rod’s and my contact lists merged a few years back with an accidental cloud situation neither of us understands to this day.
Shawnee slides my bowl of stocking chocolates toward us and we slowly devour chocolate-covered cherries from Purdys while we comb over the records for his cell phone.
She circles with red pen and I with black as we hunt for Elaine’s cell number and the house phone number for her and Brent.
“He talked to her five times this day and the last time was hella late. One in the morning? Who is talking to someone at one in the morning?” Shawnee turns the paper, making a swish noise, so I can see the date and time.
“That’s the last week of November. I was out with you and Liz at the Nutcracker ballet. Remember we went for drinks afterward, but Liz couldn’t have anything because she just figured out she was three months pregnant.” I bite my lip and try to recall that day with more clarity. “He had takeout left on the counter,” I say and stand, a memory slapping me in the face. “There were two plates. He said Brent came over and hung out for a bit, but I bet it was her.”
“What a slimy piece of shit.”
My eyes are drawn back to the page. “Yeah, look. He talked to her in the morning three times. Then in the afternoon once at four thirty. Then not again until one in the morning? They were organizing her coming here and then at one in the morning, she called on he
r way home, probably to double-check something.”
“Like the dishes in the sink,” Shawnee says.
“Yup.” I lean on the counter and consider if this is enough.
“Are you surprised that this affair is more than a kiss in Mexico?”
“Yes,” I admit too easily.
“Are you upset or relieved to know your marriage is officially over?” she asks.
“Maybe both,” I whisper and our eyes meet. We stare and I see the emotion in her from my terrible admission. “I mean, when I married him, I loved him. But now there’s no denying that we’re ten years in and I’m nowhere near where I wanted to be. I want kids and pets. He’s allergic to animals and I suspect hates kids.”
“He totally hates kids. Have you seen him with your niece and nephew? He’s awful,” Shawnee adds. “But is this enough proof for you? The jewelry store receipt and phone records don’t lie. You know that man bought far more than he gave you. But it’s also Rod. If you attack him, he’ll say some shit about your birthday gift and way to ruin it—”
“He totally will. He is good at this. Better than I gave him credit for. I feel sick. Do I even know him?” The thought pinches in my belly.
“And the truth is, he bought those gifts on the twenty-second of December. He is a last-minute shopper. He didn’t buy you a birthday gift. And why would he? You’ll be in Mexico for the week.” Shawnee’s reasoning is sound.
“The phone records are hard to explain though. He can try to say it was him and Brent but all I would have to do is ask Brent. It’s not like he’ll cover for him with his wife,” I point out but my tone isn’t convincing. This isn’t the smoking gun I wanted.
“Nope.” Shawnee shakes her head. “He’s busted. But is he busted enough for you to be satisfied?”
“I’m a bit numb right now. But yes, it’s enough. I need to figure out how to leave and where to go,” I say, sensing the tightening in my chest.
“I’m so sorry you’re in this situation at all,” Shawnee says and hugs me. I squeeze back, gripping her. “You don’t deserve this.”
“No,” I admit. “I don’t. I might not be the best wife but this is bullshit.” My words become harder to say as the affection makes me feel it all more. “But he’s going to be home soon. You have to take these to your place.” I let go and sweep the papers into a single pile and hand them to her. “He can’t see them. Not until I know what the hell I’m doing.”
“I know, you need a plan,” Shawnee says with an eye roll. “You’re so analytical. God forbid you just leave.”
She’s right.
My analytical brain is already doing a pros and cons list. I’m not listening to it yet.
“I love you.” She hugs the papers. “Text me later?”
“Okay. Happy New Year.”
She laughs. “This is going to be your best year ever. We’ll figure this out. You aren’t alone.”
“Thanks,” I say and walk to the front door.
“I’ll call Liz on my drive home and update her,” Shawnee warns me.
“Of course. Tell her I’ll talk to her when I can. I don’t want him to know anything. Not yet.” It makes me sound lame and maybe I am. “Love you.”
“Me too.” She kisses my cheek and walks out, papers in hand.
The moment she’s gone, I burst into action, going over every inch I already did. This time I’m tidying and making sure things are where they should be.
My mind is whirling with my pros and cons list as I go.
Pros first, if I leave now, I could move into the city and be closer to work. Forty minutes each way in heavy traffic is annoying. I wouldn’t have to pretend to still love him and believe his lies. I could return my ticket to Cancun and Cuba and go to Kenya with Shawnee’s family. They’ve been inviting me for over a decade, and somehow, I have never been able to make it happen. And I can get a pet. A cat. I’ve wanted one forever.
The reason I couldn’t have one is a lying, cheating sack of—
Perhaps, I should do the cons before I ask myself why I married him at all. Some things should not be psychoanalyzed on New Year’s Day.
Cons. If I leave now, I won’t be able to humiliate Rod and Elaine by catching and outing them. I would be the cold and unfeeling one who left and gave up, and Rod could play the victim. Rod would get away with making me a fool for the last however many years.
The idea of him being able to play victim burns in me.
My heart says end it, walk away, start over fresh.
But my brain whispers, not yet. I’ve made it this long with my head in the sand. I can make it longer, fully aware of the game being played.
Chapter 10
January 29
“Is Rod in Mexico with Elaine?” Shawnee blasts in my ear when I answer the phone. It’s her first phone call of the day, and she didn’t start with “happy birthday,” so I have to assume there’s a Facebook status I don’t know about. All of us have taken to an unhealthy amount of creeping. Even Brent messages me with screenshots now, though Rod and Elaine unfriended him after some spicy remarks were made on the New Year’s pictures.
“I don’t know. Did you see something?” My stomach aches when I think about it all, but the effect of these fucking horrible updates is diminishing. I am genuinely losing interest in what Rod does.
“Yeah, his Facebook is a stream of pictures with him and Elaine partying up with Miami Vices in hand. The usual crowd is there minus you and Brent. What a bunch of assholes!” She is frothy and not slowing down. “I hope their plane crashes. No, you know what? I hope they get this weird Covid thing.”
“No, you don’t,” I say as I put my things in my purse and get ready to leave work for the day. “Then we’d get bad karma for wishing it. They deserve each other.”
“Has he spoken to you yet?”
“Nope,” I admit with a laugh. “It’s getting comical now. His ability to avoid our office is something to be studied. There’s a pool here on when he will finally show his face. I took April Fools’ for my wager.”
“What a pathetic coward,” she says with a snort. “Well, happy birthday. Do you need a ride home?”
“No, thanks.”
“Are you ever going to get a car?” she asks.
“Maybe one day.” I wave at Simone as I leave my office and hurry to my sneaky exit out the side of the building. I don’t want to listen to any more “happy birthdays.”
“It’s freezing out. How can you keep walking all the time?”
“Well, I have to walk. The insurance stuff isn’t over yet. Brent’s legal team is handling it. They’re terrifying. And because I was stopped, the other guy was entirely at fault. The adjuster said my car had stalled and he hit me. I tried to tell her that wasn’t what happened, but she refused to listen. She knows Elaine and is not a fan.”
“Oh snap. Seriously?” Shawnee asks.
“Yup.” I wrap my coat tighter and rush across the parking lot to the sidewalk. The snow that fell a couple of weeks ago is slushy with the rain we’ve been having, but at least the freezing rain hasn’t hit again.
“And you still don’t want to do a birthday dinner tonight?”
“No,” I say. “We can do it on the weekend. It’s just us and Liz and James and Brent. Mom and Dad have a cold. They don’t want to give it to anyone.”
“Fine, but I don’t like it. You shouldn’t be alone on your birthday.”
“It’s fine. I have plans for a hot bath and eating the entire Deep’n Delicious myself in front of the fire while watching Sense8. It’s going to be awesome. Lit even,” I joke but the sad truth is my energy levels have not come back since the accident, and I’m still having dizzy spells. I haven’t even returned to eight-hour days at work. I do six though they pay me my normal salary. I’m lucky.
“You suck. I’ll see you Friday then.”
“Okay. Bye.” I end the call.
But it’s not all bad news for my body. My walk home is much faster now than it was in the beginn
ing, I almost never stop for a breather. Since Linnie and I have been seeing each other every week, my other wounds have healed. She thinks I’ll be normal after eight weeks of physio.
When I get home, I take the stairs, something recommended, something I hate. I’m wheezing and sweating when I reach the eighth floor, trying not to pass out from the dizziness.
“Why—is—that—not—getting—easier?” I ask God and heave as I wipe sweat from my forehead.
God doesn’t answer.
I think we’re taking a break right now.
She’s clearly pissed at me about something.
I open the door and step inside—
“Surprise!” a crowd of people shout and jump, shooting confetti and glitter at me. It sticks to the sweat on my face. I scream and jump myself, a delayed reaction. My heart cramps with the shock and exertion and my head pounds instantly.
“Happy birthday!” Shawnee shouts and runs at me. Liz is right behind her, waddling more with the baby belly that’s popped out.
My heart is racing and I’m staring, mouth agape, wheezing still with glitter stuck to my sweaty face.
“We got you, didn’t we?” Liz asks, far too pleased with herself.
“Happy birthday, darling!” Mom rushes in, kissing the side of my face. “Why are you so sweaty? Or is it raining outside?” Mom turns and stares at the wall of windows and the darkening sky. “It’s not raining.”
“Just sweaty, Mom,” I admit.
She fades into the background as a tall, handsome face catches my eye. Sam’s here.
Of course he is.
He offers a wave and a smug grin. I wave back sheepishly, terrified of how I look.
“Why don’t you go get freshened up and we’ll get dinner started?” Mom shoos me from the doorway.
Dad steps in the way and grabs my good arm and pulls me in. “Happy Thirty-seventh.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“You didn’t know?”
“I believed all the lies. You and Mom with the flu and Liz had something with the kids and the sad fact I have no friends,” I say.
