“Look, I knew when I married you that you were still dealing with shit from your childhood, even though,” he paused, holding up his palms, “it’s been years. I knew that you had . . . issues that run deep. But I’m only beginning to realize just exactly how heartless you are.”
I had a horrified feeling in my chest. There it was, my pedestal: teetering underneath me, tipping . . . and falling, crashing to the ground and smashing into a million pieces.
He shook his head at the floor. “What did I do to deserve this? Haven’t I been good to you?”
His words delivered a sharp chill to my spine. “You do not deserve any of this. I am so sorry. I made a terrible decision.”
“Decisions,” he corrected. “When was the second time?”
I felt my jaw working side to side nervously.
“You said it happened twice. When was the second time?”
“When you went fishing with Hugh.”
“That was two weeks ago.”
I nodded.
“I’m assuming that was also the architect.”
My mouth dropped open. “Of course. I’m not running around town with anyone I can find.”
“Why him? Why did it have to be him?”
“It didn’t have to be anyone. It just – happened.”
“Who initiated it?”
I made a soft noise as I stalled, racking my brain for a response. “I guess he was the first to vocalize it.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“He initiated it, but it was my choice in the end.”
“Did he know you were married?”
“Yes.”
“A real class act. I guess when you have money and looks, you think you can do whatever the fuck you want.”
Despite the blatant slap in the face that David had delivered only hours earlier, my instinct was to defend him. I bit my cheek and nodded instead.
“I’m going to make sure he knows that isn’t the case,” Bill said. “I could sue him for this, you know.”
“Bill, please. I’m here, ready to take the blame. It’s not worth involving David; he knows what he did was wrong.”
“You talk to him?”
“I just meant that – ”
“When was the last time you talked to him?”
“He knows that you know. Because I told him.”
“Today.”
My heart squeezed. This would never work if I wasn’t honest. “Yes. After work, before Gretchen’s, I stopped by his office to tell him.”
“Did you fuck?”
“No!” I cried. “I just told him it was – I thought he should know.”
He turned away to lean his elbows on the counter and massage his face.
I edged closer to him and put my hand on his back. “It didn’t – ” I paused. When was the time to be honest, and when was the time to lie? I struggled with myself for a moment as I stared at his back. “It didn’t mean anything, Bill. You and I can start fresh from here.”
“I don’t know what to do,” he said into his hands. “How am I supposed to move on from this?”
“I don’t know. I wish I did. It’s something we have to do together.”
“I think you should sleep on the couch tonight,” he said without looking at me.
“That’s fine,” I agreed softly.
He pushed off the counter and left the kitchen.
Later, I pulled linens down from the hall closet. When I passed by the bedroom, I heard him crying. I flattened one hand against the door and the other over my heart.
I flipped against the abrasive couch. I wondered how long it would take us to move on from the affair – until I realized that we might not ever. It would always remain there between us, no matter how much time passed; a permanent mark on our life together. I had never truly grasped the irrevocability of my betrayal until now. This would never go away.
I wanted to regret those moments with David, but I couldn’t bring myself to. During the months after our night in his apartment, I had chased every detail away when it threatened. Remembering was torture.
Now, alone in the dark, I fought to remember. Suddenly, forgetting the details scared me. I clung to them like pieces of shattered glass so I could glue them back together. Like the way adoration filled his eyes when he looked at me. Chills lit over my body as I remembered the way that look would melt into lust. I let that look warm me on the cold brown couch.
~
“Why?” Bill asked the next night.
He’d insisted on picking me up from work, but hadn’t spoken to me until now. I didn’t know what time it was as he perched on the edge of the couch, rousing me with his one-word question. Why?
I rubbed my eyes and examined his silhouette in the dark. I sniffed the air. “Have you been smoking?” I asked, the words grating from my throat.
He shifted. “Just answer the question.”
“Why . . .” I repeated. I didn’t think I could ever explain it. Even if I was courageous enough to try, it would never make sense to him. “I was attracted to him. When Davena died, I felt . . . threatened. Scared. Life is so momentary. I didn’t know it at the time, but I panicked. I was attracted to him,” I said again. “That night, he was there.”
“And I wasn’t.”
I wanted to reassure him that if he had been, things might have been different, but it would be a lie. The events leading up to that first night had made me reckless. But it would have happened anyway, I knew. The proof was there every time I was near David – my hidden yearnings came to life in his presence.
“Things were perfect before,” he said into the darkness. “This will change everything.”
“Bill,” I said, hedging. “Things were not perfect.”
“We’re happy, though. I don’t hit you, I don’t call you names. We eat together almost every night, we have good friends, we don’t fight. When was the last tim
e we fought?”
“I know that to you, it doesn’t make sense. But there are,” I proceeded carefully, “other things that played a part in all of this. You put so much pressure on me about the future.”
“But you knew this was coming. The house, a baby – you knew.”
“And because I knew, I feel guilty that I’m not ready.”
“I can’t believe we’re discussing this once again.”
I sat up against the arm of the couch and flipped on the bedside lamp. “Don’t dismiss my feelings.”
“What am I supposed to do? Tell you that it’s okay you don’t want kids? That it’s okay to continue living like college students in this shoebox? Sure, honey, let’s wait until we’re forty to decide. No, Liv. It’s unacceptable. It’s impossible. You don’t know what you want.”
“I’m not saying I’ll never want those things, but I don’t feel that way now. And when you tell me what I want and ignore my concerns, I shut down.”
His voice sounded far away when he responded slowly. “I hope you aren’t trying to turn this on me.”
“I’m not, but you asked why I did this. I’m telling you that sometimes, I don’t feel that I have your support.”
“How can you say that to me? I’ve always supported you. You’re the one who is emotionally unavailable.”
I cocked my head. “And you love that. It means not having to deal with the real issues.”
“I love that? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Yes, you do,” I said boldly. “The truth is, you see what you want to see. It’s easier to ignore the problems.”
“What problems?”
“Problems between us. My issues growing up. My fear to open up, to move forward in this marriage.”
“Hang on a sec. You’ve told me several times that you hate when I ask questions. You hate talking about your parents’ divorce.”
“Then make me tell you!” I pleaded. “God, Bill, all those times I brushed you off, you never cared enough to try harder. Things are always enough for you, and they aren’t for me.”
“This doesn’t make any fucking sense. You don’t make any sense. Give me one example.”
“I’m not playing games – ”
“Tell me!” He pounded his fist on the coffee table, his words tearing through the silent night. “You want me to ask questions, well I’m asking. Tell me!”