That reminded me— I should have thanked Harvey for taking me to the hospital yesterday. I don’t think he saved my life, but it sure felt like it. I’m sure it was never his intention to unsettle me, and I’ve been treating him unfairly.Next time I see him I’ll try to be nicer, I thought to myself.
That evening, refreshed from a long nap, I seemed almost like a new person. I was ready to move forward and trust in my husband. In a couple of months we would try for a baby. I’d pretend Harvey never mentioned a thing (I was sure he was being paranoid and grabbing at any little thing) and plan what I should take to St. Thomas.
Oh my gosh, the trip! How were the four of us going to go on this vacation together if Harvey was insisting upon being so goddamn suspicious? He might ruin the whole thing. I hadn’t even spoken to Natalie since the dinner— not that I’d tell her any of this. If their marriage fell apart, it wasn’t going to be because of me. She would tell me about it in due time. Though come to think of it, she hadn’t called me either, and a whole day had passed since the miscarriage. Surely, Harvey told her. It concerned me that my best friend, who is usually so attentive to things like this, hadn’t checked up on me. She must have plenty on her mind with work and, obviously, her crumbling marriage.
I did laundry, which involved washing the bloodstained sheets. When I got weepy, it was much easier just to throw those in the trash. I went online to order another set of sheets in a nice color to match my pale blue curtains in the bedroom. By the time Greg came home, it was eight o’clock.
“Hi, babe,” I greeted him.
“How are you doing?” he asked, kissing the top of my head as I sat in bed with the laptop.
“Not bad. Much better than I thought I would. Only some slight bleeding,” I said. Nothing like what I’d bled into the bed sheets yesterday. Thank goodness for that mattress protector. That also went in the trash.
“Good. What about dinner?” he asked.
“I was thinking of ordering in something? Chinese?” I suggested.
“That chicken we ate last time— order that,” he said as he undressed. I Googled the number to the restaurant and ordered the chicken and a few other things.
“Should be here in 40,” I said, popping my head into the steamy bathroom. He loved the water as hot as could be.
“Do you want to jump in here with me?” he asked.
“I already showered, babe.”
“You can still come in and have fun with me,” he said. We normally had a healthy sex life. Due to his long hours, it had been quite a few days, if not a week, since we’d last had sex, but the doctor warned us to wait two weeks now. I remember because I was disappointed when I thought about how we’d be in St. Thomas during this two week period.
“Don’t you remember? No fun for two weeks,” I said.
“Well you can still give me a blowjob or something,” he said, and not in a joking way. I don’t think I’d ever been more stunned. It wasn’t so much that it might be a vulgar or insensitive thing to say to your wife that had miscarried a day ago. That was bad enough. Unfortunately for him, I long ago told him that I’d never go down on him due to a bad prior experience. No way, no how. It would not happen, and he should never bring it up again. He had agreed and even promised that it would never be an issue or be brought up.
We’d been together for many years, living with this promise of his, and he chose now to tell me to give him a blowjob? It was so unlike him, so unlike the way he ever spoke to me that I froze. I didn’t know how to respond. I wasn’t even sure if I should say something, afraid that I might blurt out something like-Who’s been giving you blowjobs lately? Natalie?
“It was a joke, Audrey,” he said when I remained silent.
“Funny,” was the only noncommittal thing I could muster as I left the steam filled room.
My brain was about to explode. It’s possible no one else would understand this, but this was a promise he made me years ago that he now broke. Now when I was broken inside. It was a callous move, but more than that, it was out of character, and that’s what scared me. Did he mean to talk like that in there? Or was it an unconscious slip, something he would tell his skanky lover? I couldn’t handle it right now. I had to get out.
I put on the same dirty workout clothes I had worn earlier because they were the first things I saw, slipped on my sneakers, and left the house. It was dark out and I’d never run at night, but now I ran. I knew I shouldn’t exert myself. It was against the doctor’s instructions. But the doctor didn’t tell me what I should do when I suspected my husband was cheating on me. The run kicked my ass much quicker than I thought, and then I turned and walked home.
I hadn’t decided on what I should do or say to Greg next. All I wanted now was the truth, but I couldn’t just come out and ask him— not if it was something he’d painstakingly hidden for months. He might think he could grovel his way out of a one-time fling born of a random night of desire. But a months-long affair with my best friend? That was something he would deny, deny, deny. I had no proof, but I needed it one way or the other.
I managed to avoid speaking to Greg that night since I complained of not feeling well. He apologized for his earlier comment, looking me in the eye, but my intuition was all out of whack, and I tried not to make any more eye contact. The next day Greg had a golf thing with coworkers. The second he left the house I was on a mission. Ransacking every drawer he came in contact with, I searched for any possible proof of his betrayal. His underwear drawer contained only his underwear. His suit pockets empty except for lint. Even his laptop computer contained a G-rated search history. Either he was being coached, or he really wasn’t cheating on me.
Greg wouldn’t know how to hide an affair this well. He barely knew how to hide my birthday presents from me. I’d always find a receipt or the actual gift ahead of time. Or a bank statement. His credit cards! I dashed to the computer and logged onto our bank account information, searching line by line for any suspicious transactions. He used his own card many times for business dinners that were later refunded by the company, so I couldn’t very well question all of those restaurant charges. The country club, cell phone, market, gas station— everything looked commonplace. Not even a porn site on his computer or charged to the card. Is it possible I had the only guy in America that never watched porn? Was he deleting his history?
By this time, the lack of proof was making it look even more like someone was coaching him on how to be sneaky. If ever I knew a sneaky person, it was Natalie. Tenth-grade dance after she flunked a test— Natalie told her parents I would tutor her that night. Instead she went to the dance to meet up with her boyfriend Kenny, whom her parents disapproved of. She called me and asked me to conference call her parents and tell them it was fine for her to be over at my house that late and she should just sleep over. I agreed to do it after rehearsing with Nat a few times. That was just the first instance that popped into my head, but I guarantee there were at least a hundred more stories like that.
I was rifling through the dirty laundry looking for clues (this was how low I’d sunk) when there was a knock at the door. I was not expecting anyone and walked over annoyed at whoever was interrupting my search. One look in the peephole showed Jeanette and— yes, Natalie. They had food in their hands. Groaning, I opened the door.
“Audrey we’ve been calling you all day!” Natalie said. At least she wasn’t out put-putting with my husband right now. I hadn’t heard my phone. Must be on silent.
“How are you feeling?” Jeanette inquired. Bad news travels fast, I guess.
I stepped back so they could follow me in and closed the door. I sent a quick prayer to whatever God was above to let their visit be nice and short.
“Much better. I guess Harvey told you.” Looking at Natalie, I tried very hard not to let my disdain show, but it was difficult. I’m usually very cheerful, so I tried to put my “work voice” on. It’s what Tammy and I call how we have to speak on the phone in our customer service job, even when the customer on the other end is screaming and dumb as rocks.
