The woman’s voice came through the speakers. “Earlier this evening we received a very generous donation . . .”
“ . . . quite frankly, really selfish,” Bill continued. “You’re not acting like the woman I married, and you haven’t been for a while.”
“. . . fifty thousand dollars . . . ”
I gasped.Fifty . . . thousand? Done? Leaving?
“. . . an anonymous attendee.”
The room erupted into applause, but I sat gaping as Bill plastered a smile on his face and stood.Hewas threatening to leaveme?
I knew without looking where David sat in the room; I couldn’t help that. It was as if I had a sixth sense that felt only him. I turned to him without thinking. He sat rigidly still and motionless as he watched the stage. Anonymous? It couldn’t have been more obvious to me. David was the generous donor.
My gaze returned to Bill as the ovation concluded. “What are you saying?” I asked under my breath.
“Never mind.”
My throat dried. Bill wasn’t supposed to leave me. Not ever. That was our silent agreement—we wouldn’t be one ofthosecouples. Yet I knew I was the one who’d driven us this far. I was a different woman than I’d been months ago. I’d been losing control, acting on emotion, rationalizing away my behavior . . . I was descending into the madness that had always lived in me, and Bill knew it.
“Are you threatening to leave me?” I asked.
“No, but I’m frustrated—”
“You’d end our marriage just like that?” I asked. “I—”
“No, damn it!” he yelled, pounding his fist on the table. A roomful of eyes turned to us. Bill stared down and seemingly tried to regulate his breathing. He lowered his voice so only I could hear. “Never mind what I said, but put yourself in my shoes. You’ve been nasty to me for months, and I’ve had it.” His voice raised an octave as he sliced his hand through the air. “I’ve had it up to here with this, and you need to get it under control.”
From under my lashes, I glanced around the room. Everyone had looked away—everyone but David. My eyes darted back to my husband. “Bill—”
“Don’t,” he said. “This is embarrassing. We can discuss it later.”
His never-ending patience had hit its limit. Bill, unperturbed as he was, rarely got riled. But when he did, it was a combustion—an explosion of all the things he tucked away.
In that way, we were similar. I’d learned to shut off my emotions early on, and Bill’s parents had covered his up by keeping him busy. They’d instilled in him that feelings were frivolous, and it was more worthwhile to focus on tangible things like work and having a family.
Bill and I had chosen each other for the same reason. For me, Bill was a practical choice who never tried for more than what I gave. In turn, he never had to dig too deeply. Because maybe he knew that if he did, if I did, we’d each uncover things that would change everything. And for him, things were fine as they were. They had been for me, too. Were they still? I wasn’t so sure anymore.
“Eat something,” Bill said, motioning at my plate. I pushed it away. “Eat,” he coaxed gently as if he hadn’t just threatened to leave me and then taken it back. “People are staring.”
I picked up a fork and took a bite of grilled chicken to appease him, my jaw tingling as I chewed.
“Thank you,” he said.
Nobody was staring anymore. Just David. I felt him watching me, and I wanted to scream at him to stop. I couldn’t focus with his gaze glued to me, reminding me relentlessly that he was there—just sothere.
Tears sat heavy behind my eyes, but I lifted my chin and smiled through the rest of the evening. I could not go moments without remembering what I had just done behind Bill’s back, but I swallowed it until we were home in bed.
Once Bill was asleep, I climbed from between the sheets and onto the floor. My chest stuttered fiercely as I walked to the bathroom. When I hit the cold tile, I eased the door shut behind me and doubled over my knees, unleashing a violent storm of scalding, shame-laden tears. My hands dragged through my hair, snagging on tangles. I gagged through my sobs, heaving against the hollowness.
I’d never done anything so reprehensible, so hurtful in my life. Bill trusted me, and I’d shit on that. I deserved every one of David’s harsh words. I wanted to wish it all away, turn back time and start over. But I couldn’t bring myself to wish that. As awful as everything had been, there had also been David.
* * *
Bill was already out of bed when I awoke, and a mouth-watering aroma floated into the room. I put on a robe and sleepily padded into the kitchen.
“Hey,” he said, plucking bread from the toaster. “Hungry?”
I nodded and sat down cautiously.
