I continue watching, and then things skip and then I see it, I see them outside his yellow house, the lanterns flickering on thered-roofed stucco.Beside them is the Recreation Grounds baseball stadium, the sounds of a cheering crowd filling the summer air.They disappear inside his house.
I want to see more.
I want to see what he does with her.
I want to see how he fucks her.
I want to see what makes him a better lover than I am.
I want to watch it all.
But her memories skip again, flashing faces, flashing bodies, and I’m starting to get dizzy, as if the nausea she gets with her headaches is seeping into me.
I withdraw.
Back, back, further back.
Until I’m standing in our bedroom and taking my hand off her face.
She stirs below me, and I hold my breath, waiting for her to wake.
She doesn’t.She continues to sleep, not knowing all that I’ve seen.
I’ve seen too much and not enough.
I vow to never do that again, never read anyone’s memories without their permission.
Because now I know the truth.
And now I have to fix this.
I quietly back away from her, let her sleep away her headache, lost in her memories.
I grab my coat.
I head downstairs and out the door.
The cool fog meets my face as I cross Mission Street, the dayalready sliding into night as it does so quickly here in November.I don’t know what my plan is, I just know I have to talk to Ray.The man who stole my wife.
On the other side of the street is a row of houses, including the yellow stucco one from Marie’s memory, just a little out of sight from our house, just enough so that I wouldn’t see her enter during all those nights with her “friends,” with her “uncle.”She had her affair in the open for anyone else to see but me.
I haven’t thought about what I’m going to say.It’s not enough to yell at this man, to strike him, reprimand him.I’m not here to make him pay, I’m not here to ask him why.
I’m here toknowwhy.
I stride over to the door and knock on it.
A tanned man with dark chestnut hair opens the door.
His face falls once he sees me.
“Expecting someone else?”I ask him pointedly.
He frowns at me, thick dark brows furrowed together.God, he’s handsome.The thought strikes me like God is smiting me from above.
“Mr.Crane,” Ray says uneasily.“Can I help you?”
“You can,” I say, surprised at how even my voice is.“Can I come in?I’d like to discuss my wife with you.”
