Ah, so there are layers.
“Why don’t you start with Ashley Budd,” I manage to say. “Are you having an affair with her?”
I nearly cringe, waiting for the worst.
“No,” he says. “I’m not having an affair with Ashley.”
“With someone else, then?”
He shakes his head. “No, Ally. I’m not having an affair. I swear.”
I exhale. Was Roger right, that it’s not what I’ve been imagining? It’s been hard for me to meet Hugh’s eyes, but I force my attention there. His expression is bleak, at odds with his seemingly reassuring words. Is he in trouble at work? I wonder. Has he gambled away all our money? Been going to see hookers?
“Then what is it?” I ask.
“Itisabout Ashley, in a sense. After I ran into her at that event, I took her to lunch. And then for a drink a week later.”
“Why?”
“I... I admit, I was attracted to her. I’d never felt that way in law school, but I did suddenly that night at the lecture. I tried to ignore it, but it was hard. I ended up seeing her a third time. For drinks again.”
I wince and have to fight the instinct to shut my eyes, like I’ve just watched a hubcap fly off the car ahead of me on a highway and hurl itself toward my windshield. But another part of me muscles in and takes control. That part is clearheaded and dispassionate, processing the information as if I’m listening to a midday market report.
“Is that why you were so weird around Sasha? Because she knows?”
I’m thinking suddenly of the orange roses, how Hugh trashed them while they were still fresh. He didn’t want any reminders of his deception blooming in front of him.
“Ashley didn’t admit anything to Sasha, but it’s clear she had suspicions. And she was playing some kind of nasty game by bringing Ashley up to both of us. Like she wanted to hurt you.”
Pot, kettle, black.
“So are you going to see her again? Do you want to?” I say, hating the questions as they spill from my lips.
“I’m not sure what I want, Ally. Things have been so tense between us.”
“And you’re really not sleeping with her?”
“No, but... I kissed her. After we had drinks the last time. I swear to you, though. It never went any further than that.”
Of course not, I think.He was probably too busy—and guilt-stricken when I became unhinged shortly afterward. That episode must have seemed to Hugh like the bad karma ambush from hell.
“I don’t get it,” I say, jumping from the chair and pacing behind it. “Why, if you’re fantasizing about screwing another woman, pick a fight with me that Monday night about having—”
And then it hits me. Maybe he started the fight to illuminate our differences, drive a wedge further between us and lay the groundwork for a split—or at least help him feel less sorry about lusting for Ashley.
Ormaybethe fight was neveraboutbabies after all.
“Hugh,” I say. My heart aches like a hand that’s just been burned. “What was our Monday argument really about?”
He lowers his head and rakes his hair with his fingers.
“Not about kids,” he says finally, his voice breaking. “You... you saw a text from Ashley on my phone. You were upset and wanted to know what was going on. I told you exactly what I shared with you just now.”
I stare at him, disbelieving for a moment. “Are you telling me you’ve been lying to me all this time, Hugh? About the fight?”
“You were in such a bad way when I met you at the hospital. I didn’t want to make it worse for you.”
The revelation is crushing. I think of the endless frustration and torment. The endless questions I’ve had.
