With Shannon, it wasn’t about what I could give her or how I could take care of her. She didn’t need anything from me and wasn’t demanding my attention like Natalie sometimes did. It was easy. Natural. Maybe that was what I was craving, a break from trying so damn hard to keep everything perfect.
It wasn’t that I didn’t love Natalie. I did.I think I still do.But somewhere along the way, I lost track of what mattered. I didn’t know if I was chasing the wrong things, or if I just got too comfortable with how things were. Either way, it had been a long time since I’d really looked at her, really noticed her.
I didn’t want to hurt Natalie. I didn’t plan to, but with Shannon, I felt something different. Something I didn’t expect. Nothing had happened yet. But it could. I knew it could. If I was willing to cross that line.
I think, deep down, Natalie knew something had changed, but it was like she didn’t care enough to question it. Or maybe she was just…preoccupied. Sometimes she talked to me like she was there but not really present. I didn’t know if it was because of what was happening with me, or if it was something else entirely.
She seemed to be doing her own thing more and more. Not that I minded, really. It made it easier to avoid the conversations I knew we needed to have. But I didn’t think I was fooling her. She knew. She had to. The distance was palpable, even if we didn’t acknowledge it.
I used to think I had all the answers. I used to be the steady one, but now I was just trying to hold everything together, even as it started to unravel. When I came home at the end of the day or from a trip, she was there, just like always.
She smiled at me, told me about the kids and her day, and I did the same. We talked about the trivial things we’d always talked about, that families share, right? But it was not the same. We were not the same.
I didn’t know if I could fix this. I didn’t even know if I wanted to, but I knew one thing. I wasn’t the only one slipping away.
CHAPTER 19
IS IT REALLY JUST BUSINESS?
NATALIE
Our weekend felt like a rerun, familiar, flat. I took Bebe to gymnastics, and Jason took James to baseball. We ran errands, our usual busy Saturday routine. Jason and I divided and conquered, as always. We were never the family to roll into Costco together, grabbing samples and debating brands of frozen waffles. We moved in parallel lines.
The division between us was more than practical. It was ingrained, almost reflexive. On Saturday night, as I folded laundry while Jason answered emails, I found myself wondering when this divide had started.Was it after James was born? When Jason’s traveling ramped up? Had it always been there, growing so slowly I didn’t notice until it felt like a canyon between us?
On Sunday, we both took the kids to a movie. But Jason and I barely spoke, and there was no real warmth between us. We were just going through the motions. The theater was cold, the popcorn overly salty, and the kids bickered about which slushieflavors to mix like it was a high-stake decision. In the back of my mind, I kept thinking about this Shannon, this woman I had never met and hadn’t even given much thought to until my sister asked me. But now I had her memorized. I wondered if he thought about her as much as I did.
And then I thought about my “business” dinner with Will, the kiss on the cheek, the blurry line I was starting to cross. Perhaps Jason felt the same way about Shannon that I felt about Will. Annoyed with the awkward silence growing Sunday evening while the kids were off playing, I decided to go out on a limb and try to grasp at any sort of connection we could find. Maybe if Jason could see me as more than just a housewife, I would be more interesting to him like Shannon.
While Jason sat at the kitchen counter checking emails and I finished the dishes, I told him about some new fabrics and art for Will’s house.
“I found a beautiful piece of art the other day for a house I am helping design. It has been so nice to stretch my creative muscles again for someone else’s house.” I began. Taking a breath and realizing that sharing this part of me could be good. Maybe the more I opened up the less he would need from someone else. When I went to start telling him how I was going to tie the piece into the space with the fabrics he interrupted.
“Oh. Fun. I am so glad you found a hobby to keep you busy.” Jason responded half heartedly while continuing to work on his phone.
I shouldn’t have been surprised but I couldn’t help it. Did he just gaslight me about my previous career calling it ahobby? That was it. I tried. I was done for the night.
I nodded even though he didn’t even see me since he hadn’t looked up from his phone. I set down the dishes I was finishing and walked right out of the kitchen.
By Monday morning, Jason flew out to his office in Chicago. We said goodbye without a kiss. I acutely felt how stale things were between us, as flat and flavorless as a bottle of wine left open too long.
Later that day, when I picked up the kids from school, I saw the nanny collecting Will’s children. They dragged their feet and threw tired glances at one another as if silently agreeing this wasn’t ideal. They probably felt the same way I did, wishing it was Will standing across the lot, with his easy smile that ignited something warm and traitorous deep inside. I was getting addicted to those little moments with him, brief flashes of connection that gave me a quick rise.
Wednesday morning I went to Pilates with Camille, feeling stuck in a funk I couldn’t shake. My body moved sluggishly, as though mirroring the fog in my mind.
After class we grabbed some green juice and sat outside the juice bar on the patio. I stirred my drink, watching a tiny woman in oversized sunglasses wrestle a French bulldog into a designer dog stroller. This was my life, I thought. This.
Camille took a sip of her green juice, observing me with her soft, assessing gaze.
“You are quiet today,” she said, “Something is…off, no?”
I hesitated, then said what I was thinking, or maybe brooding about. “I think Jason might have something going on with a colleague of his in New York. I may be jumping to conclusions, but…I have a gut feeling.”
Camille tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing with quiet focus. “Who?” she asked.
“Her name is Shannon,” I said, watching the traffic go by. “Meredith did some digging and found her photo.”
“And?”
