6
THE LIES
BECKY
Iwas driving down the road, fuming, and listening to some Lincoln Park while my phone was on airplane mode.Hedidn't need to reach me. I did need out of that house and away from that supposedconversation, if you could call it that. I was shaking with adrenaline and something sharper. Something I didn't want to think about yet.
In the distance, I saw a storm rolling in fast, and with it came the formerly wonderful memory of when Carter and I first met.Was it really that long ago?Sometimes it felt like it was only yesterday. The image of him dripping wet onto the concrete floor of his garage while petting my dog is one I could always bring to mind.
I blinked and saw headlights heading straight for me. I swerved quickly back into my lane.Jesus, I really am an idiot.Realizing I was a safety hazard, I turned into the nearest parking lot, took off airplane mode, and pulled up a number for comfort and clarity.
"Hey, baby girl, what's going on?"
"Hey, Dad," I choked out, before I broke down sobbing.
?????
My conversation with my dad went well, after I was done being a sniveling mess.
Ihatecrying. It seems like such a useless action because I can never do anything else even remotely productive while crying. For example, I sat in my car, in a random parking lot during a rainstorm, forover an hour.All I accomplished was bringing down my average miles per gallon on my car by running my air-conditioning in an idling vehicle.
I also managed to get red, swollen eyes and a runny nose.
It wasn’t until I got off the phone with my dad, immediately putting it back into airplane mode, that my tears dried up and I began to actually get my shit together.
I had to go about this situation methodically, logically, or else I’d let suspicion and emotion dictate one of the most important decisions of my life. That’s just not who I am. I originally planned to spend the day prepping for one of my favorite traditions Carter and I established a few years ago; our binge-and-veg-a-thon with our favorite, fantastical, cinematic masterpiece playing in the background.
The tradition began because of a conversation at a bar. My new coworkers introduced the place to me after a particularly grueling teacher initiation meeting at the end of my first summer here. My new middle school team accepted me into their fold with open arms and an open bar tab. I did my wild years in college, so I didn’t turn up, but I did enjoy a margarita on them while playing pool. That’s where I saw Carter for the third time.
He slipped easily into conversation with the rest of the teachers, and we eventually came together, chatting about everything under the sun. He made me laugh until I cried. Despite the laughter, Carter noticed I was down, and when I explained why, he told me it sounded like I needed a spa day or something. I responded that a marathon about somewhere magical, cheese, ice cream, and chocolate were more my style, he apparently took it to heart.
The following weekend, the weekend before school started, he invited me over for dinner and movies. Before I could comment about my desired relationship status, he cut in and simply asked me to trust him. I did, and he delivered with my favorite new tradition.
I reminded him last week that this was the weekend for our shenanigans, but for some reason, I think he forgot. Because, you know, other priorities. The following week was the start of teacher flexdays and teacher workdays. Something about the final weekend before teacher responsibilities became priorities has always made me a weird excited-yet-melancholy.
This year, though…he hadn’t said a word to me about it.Because he had plans for dinner with another woman that superseded any traditions he used to have with me.
That thought brought me back to the present. The current situation we were in was crap, and I hated to sit and do nothing. So, I made a plan right there in an empty rain soaked parking lot with dried streaks of tears on my face.
?????
First thing on my mental agenda for the day was to pre-approve the inevitable guilt I was going to have if all of this ended up being completely innocent or out of his hands. I decided sleuthing for the truth was going to be an “ask for forgiveness” situation if that were the case. Besides, hediddo things wrong even with the information I already had available to me.
He was having dinner with a woman who was not family or his fiancé.
He was traveling with a woman who was not family or his fiancé.
He had not talked to me about this woman who was not family or his fiancé.
He had hidden at least one message from me in his texts with a woman who was not family or his fiancé.
If it walks like an emotional affair and quacks like an emotional affair, then it is an emotional affair. If not more…
Logic told me the extent of this affair would dictate the direction and potency of my response.
If finding evidence was going to be time-consuming, then I would take my time. However, I wasn’t going to let my life revolve around him and his betrayal.
?????
