She put a kettle of water on the stove. Kristi sat down at the small table by the window. Soraya found she couldn’t join her, so she stood next to the stove, waiting for the kettle.
“We’ve been worried about you.”
She didn’t have to ask who. The women’s Bible study. Kristi was here representing the group, clearly.
“I appreciate it. But ... there’s no need to worry about me.”
“We’ve been praying for you.”
Which meant talking out loud to God about her, as they sat in a circle listening intently to glean all the possible details of why she so desperately needed prayer.
They would never gossip, of course.
Soraya clenched her back teeth together.
“Thank you.” Even though her smile was wide, she could hear the tension in her voice.
“David texted me,” Kristi said.
Did he text you his penis?
Somehow she didn’t ask that question. Somehow. But it felt like the floor had fallen away, and the frightening thing was she actually had no idea what he had texted Kristi, because she didn’t know him.
The husband she thought she had would never have sent photos of his naked body to anyone else. Never. But David had. He wasn’t the man she knew.
He could have sent Kristi anything.
A photo of his penis, a shared location halfway around the world, because maybe he had decided to leave everything behind. A selfie with a person he had just murdered. Genuinely, it could be anything.
“He texted me,” Kristi repeated, and Soraya realized she had just been sitting there with a smile frozen on her face and hadn’t responded at all.
She wasn’t going to. Because Kristi had come here. She was the one who knew what she wanted. Who knew why she was here, and what David had texted. Why should Soraya have to play a part in a performance she hadn’t agreed to be cast in?
“He wanted me to talk to you about the separation.” Kristi sighed, like she was talking to a child. “Soraya, you have to go back to him. He’s your husband. He made a mistake.”
“He did make a mistake,” Soraya said, her lips barely moving. Maybe she was still smiling. Maybe she was snarling. She had lost feeling in her face, so she couldn’t really say. “He directed a text intended for someone else to me. Then I found out who he really is.”
Kristi tilted her head to the side, the faux compassion on her face so apparent to Soraya it nearly choked her. “That’s not who he is. He’s a good father, a good husband. He volunteers on the sound team at church, he is so good. He was tempted. Satan comes after people who are doing the Lord’s work.”
Soraya was about to say something—anything—to stop this recitation of her husband’s supposed virtues, but Kristi pressed on. “Think about the internet. It’s filled with women trying to tempt good men to sin. There has never been a point in human history where men faced greater temptation. Now, with the push of a button, they can be in easy contact with someone looking to fulfill their fantasies.”
Soraya blinked. “But you have tolookfor it.”
For a moment, Kristi’s eyes went blank. Soraya could see she’d said something Kristi didn’t have an instant response for in the preplanned script she’d come with.
Then Kristi’s eyes lit up, as if a flash of inspiration had just hit her.
“If a man is looking for it, it means he’s missing something.” Kristi stared at her meaningfully. “It’s up to you to fulfill your husband’s fantasies.”
Soraya huffed. “I can’t do that if he doesn’t share them.”
They had sex at least three times a week. That was a lot, she was pretty sure. Not that she sat down and compared notes with anyone, but it seemed like a reasonable quantity of sex.
He never asked what her fantasies were.
An uncomfortable feeling began to bloom in the pit of her stomach.
She didn’t know what her fantasies were.
