How to Kill Your Husband (5 page)

“What he's doing to you ain't right.”

“I might be wrong,” Claire said. “I don't want to go through all of this, the deception, lies and suspicions. I don't want to think about George like that and then find out I'm wrong.”

“Sounds like you don't want to know if you're
right
,” Melanie said. “You're going to be okay with that, him having another woman? Don't get me wrong, Claire. Some women
can
live like that. Just as long as they man don't bring home no diseases, and they don't never
see
his mistress.”

“I'm not like that.”

“If you are, it's cool,” Melanie said, continuing to bait her. “Long as he keeps giving you expensive gifts and stuff…”

“No,” Claire said. “I'm not like that, Melanie. If George is cheating on me, I'm going to kill him—I swear to God.”

“So that's why you don't want to know?” Melanie guessed. “You don't want it to ever come to that? Ignorance is bliss, girl.”

Claire shook her head. “Stop talking to me like that. I'm not sharing George with another woman. And I'm not
ignorant
. I already know he bought my necklace for some other bitch, and I know someone named Kim cares a lot about him, probably loves him.”

“But you don't want to get to the bottom of it?” Melanie asked.

Claire shot daggers with her eyes, and then her features softened. “I thought I did,” she said. “But the more I think about it, I kind of don't…”

“It's hard,” Melanie said.

“You don't know.”

“Yes, I do,” Melanie snapped. “I knew you
before
you met George. I helped you get dressed for the prom.
I
was the maid of honor at your wedding. I know how long y'all been together. I know how much you sacrificed for him; you gave up your whole career. You could have went to college, Claire, but he made you his
housewife,
moved you all around the world with him so you could stay home and raise
his
kids.

“Now he's all successful, and you work part-time at an insurance company. I know you're worried about what kind of life you'll have if you lose him. But more than that, you're worried about how much it's gonna hurt if you're right. I know exactly what you're going through, Claire. Don't ever think I don't understand.”

Claire sighed and a lone tear fell from her eye. She dabbed it with a trembling knuckle and stared at her friend, for the first time really. Melanie was loud, obnoxious and violent; pretty much all things you'd expect from a
hood chick
. But she was also smart and beautiful, caring, and understanding—the kind of person Claire would need to lean on if her suspicions turned out to be valid.

“I don't want to do it while the kids are here. I might freak out if I find something, and I don't want them to see me like that.”

“Do you want to do a stake-out?” Melanie suggested. “We could go up to his job next time he says he's working late.”

“You're crazy.”

“If you really want to get to the bottom of it, I can help you,” Melanie offered. “Rodney doesn't do nothing all day. He can stay home and watch Trevon sometimes. We can go tomorrow if you want.”

“Go do a stake-out?”

“If you want.”

“Tomorrow
is
his poker night,” Claire mused.

“Prolly ain't no damned poker night,” Melanie guessed. “Do you ever smell him when he gets in?”

Claire shook her head. “I'm usually asleep.”

“Next time he comes in all late and shit, put your face up to his neck and take a good whiff,” Melanie suggested.

“All right,” Claire said.

“So we're doing the stake-out tomorrow?” Melanie asked.

Claire shook her head. “I don't think so. We'll see.”

Melanie was about to start arguing again, but the smell of confections lured one of the rug rats down the stairs. George Jr. crept like an Indian on the warpath, and the women pretended not to see him until the last moment.

“
Argh
!” he screamed, jumping from around the corner with a plastic Conan sword in hand.

“
Ahh
!” the girls screamed in unison.

“I got you!” George said.

“Yeah, baby. You got me,” Claire said.

“You got me, too, little man,” Melanie agreed. “You're a big
sneak
, just like your daddy.”

* * *

Claire was in dreamland when George Sr. made it in that night, but she awakened when she heard him flush the toilet in their restroom. She feigned sleep until he crawled into bed with her, and then she rolled over and pressed her body close to his. George lay on his side with his back to her, and Claire spooned him pleasantly.

“You still awake?” he asked.

“I just woke up when I heard you,” she said. “What time is it?”

“It's almost one,” he said. “It was a bad night.”

Claire scooted up on the mattress so she could kiss the back of his neck. While there, she stuck her nose under his ear and took a long, healthy sniff as advised.

After a sixteen-hour shift at work, George somehow came home smelling like a rose. Well, technically he smelled like Irish Spring soap, the Moisture Blast
scent to be specific, but
smelling like a rose
was how Claire planned to describe it tomorrow.

“You already took a shower?” she asked. She planned to get up and check the tub if he said
yes
, but George wasn't going to get busted so easily.

“No. I'll take on in the morning,” he said.

Claire rolled back over the other way with the weight of a dump truck on her chest. She didn't think it was possible to remain completely silent while crying, but that night she found there's a lot you can do if you give it your all. George wasn't even bothered by the continuous hitching of her sorrow-laden shoulders.

CHAPTER FIVE

AGITATION

“So, if you're not too busy sometime maybe I can call you.”

Claire cocked an eye at the man standing in front of her desk. It was Cordell, an employee of the United States Postal Service. Cordell was about forty years old. He was light-skinned with short, curly hair. Claire thought he was of mixed cultures, most likely black and Hispanic. Cordell didn't have any facial stubble, and his postal uniform was generally clean and free of wrinkles. Claire always thought he was handsome, but that was the last thing on her mind this morning.

“Huh?” she said, snapping out of a fog she didn't know she was in.

“I said maybe I could call you sometimes, you know, if you've got time…”

Cordell had his mail basket propped on his hip. He wore short sleeves today, and Claire saw that his forearms were well toned—and hairy. He had his shirt open midway down his chest, and she could see a tuft of hair poking out there, too.

“I'm sorry,” Claire said. “I must've been daydreaming for a second. What are we talking about?”

Cordell grinned. “We're talking about
physical attraction
,” he said. “I was telling you about how I come in here every day and see your pretty self sitting there. And every day I come up with an excuse not to talk to you. But today I decided to say
the hell with it
, ya know?”

“The hell with it?”

“You're a beautiful sister,” he said. “You're tall. You've got long legs, an
awesome
body, pretty face. I know you got that ring on your finger, but I also know most women aren't happy with the man they're with. I'm hoping you'll at least consider my offer.”

“Your offer?”

“Damn, baby. You really weren't listening to me?”

“I'm sorry,” Claire said. “I've got a lot on my mind. I saw you come up to my desk, and I knew you were talking about
something
, I just—okay, I wasn't paying attention.”

The mailman laughed politely. “Okay,” he said. “Fair enough. What I was saying was—”

“Wait,” Claire said. “Are you hitting on me?”

He smiled. “Something like that.”

“And did you say you
know
I'm married?”

He nodded. “I see your ring.”

“So why are you still trying to talk to me?” Claire wanted to know.

“Just 'cause you're married doesn't mean you're happy,” he countered.

Claire sneered at him. “That's messed up,” she said. “I see you walk in here every day. I don't know you, but I figured you're a hard-working guy. You're handsome, and you've got a pretty good job. I thought you were a good dude.”

“I am a good dude.”

“No, you're not. You're running around here hitting on
married women
. How many marriages have you ruined? You're
disgusting
. Don't you know what it means to stand in front of God and all your family and say
Till death do us part
? Isn't that sacred to you?”

Cordell's smile fell. He tried to back away, but his retreat was thwarted by his own mail cart. He stumbled into the buggy and dropped the envelopes in his hand. Claire stood and berated him further while he picked them up.

“You're probably married yourself, aren't you? You probably got a wife at home, and you make her cry every night while you go out and do whatever the hell you want to do. Do you think women are objects you can treat however you please?”

“I'm, I'm sorry, ma'am…”

“Your mother is a
woman
! Your sister, aunt—your grandmother is a woman
just like me
. Do you want people treating them like that? Don't you care anything about their feelings?”

Cordell scooped up the last of his envelopes. He threw them on his cart and rolled quickly in the opposite direction. “You have a nice day, ma'am.”

Claire stared after him with a hand on her hip until Becky stepped in her line of sight.

“Claire?”

Claire stared at her friend, but it took a few seconds for her features to soften.

“Huh?”

“Are you doing all right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You just cursed out our mailman,” Becky informed her.

“I didn't curse.”

“Everybody's looking at you,” Becky reported.

Claire scanned the room, and her co-workers quickly looked down at their keyboards. Some of their desktops were empty, but they stared at the wood anyway.

Claire sighed. “What time is it?”

“Time for our break,” Becky said.

The clock mounted at the front of the office indicated it was still a few minutes before ten, but no one gave Claire and Becky a hard time when they exited the building.

* * *

It was cloudy that morning, and that fit Claire's mood perfectly. Today she wore black slacks with a long-sleeved, black button-down. She had her hair down, but there was nothing flashy about her. Her slacks were a little tight, however. Maybe that's what attracted the perverted postman.

Claire stomped around the side of the building and made her way to Provincial's abandoned smoking section with Becky quick on her heels. Becky took a seat on the concrete bench, but Claire preferred to stand. She leaned with her back against the building and her hands in her pockets. A steady breeze ruffled the hair on her forehead.

“You're still upset?” Becky asked.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Claire said. Becky was queen when it came to stating the obvious, but that wasn't nice. Claire immediately felt bad about snapping at her. “I'm sorry.”

“Is it George?” Becky asked.

Claire nodded. “I think you're wrong about him not cheating on me.”

Becky's mouth fell open, and it looked like she would be the one crying this time.

“Claire, why would you say that?”

“I told you about the necklace and the card, right?”

“Yeah, but I thought we said—”

“No,
you
said it didn't mean anything. I went along with you because that's what I wanted to hear, but I can't keep lying to myself. George is working late all the time. He goes on
business trips
at least twice a month, and sometimes he's gone for over a week.”

“He's always been like that,” Becky said.

“I know. And I'm starting to wonder how long he's been cheating on me, how many times, how many,
God
, how many women?”

“Why don't you just ask him about the card?” Becky suggested.

“ 'Cause he's a liar,” Claire snapped. “All men are liars. George came home at one o'clock this morning smelling like a rose.”

“He brought you flowers?”

Claire was mad, but she couldn't help but laugh at that. “No, Becky. He didn't bring me flowers. He didn't smell like roses
literally
. Damn, I thought that was a good analogy.”

Becky knitted her eyebrows in confusion.

“He smelled
clean
, girl,” Claire clarified. “He left the house at seven-thirty and didn't come home till one in the morning. And he smelled
clean
—like he was fresh out of the shower. I got real close to him so I could make sure.”

“Maybe he took a shower at work,” Becky said. “Don't they have a gym there?”

“Yes, they have a gym.”

“You know he likes to work out.”

“Why are you defending him?”

“I'm not defending him, Claire. I just don't want you to jump to conclusions and make a mistake you'll regret. If he's not doing anything and you run up and throw all of these accusations at him, he's not going to like that. It may hurt him. He might resent the fact that he's working so hard, and all you're worried about is him being with someone else.”

“You're right,” Claire said. “That's why I'm not accusing him of anything right now. Even when I smelled the soap on him this morning, I didn't say anything. Unless I know for sure, I'm keeping my mouth shut.”

“That's good,” Becky said.

“But I am going to find out for sure,” Claire said decisively. “I'm not going to live like this. It's too hectic. I'm stressed out.”

“That's why you cursed out our mailman?” Becky asked with a giggle.

“Girl, he was hitting on me. He saw the ring on my finger, acknowledged that he knew I was married, and still hit on me. What's this world coming to?”

“Get out of the Dark Ages,” Becky advised her. “Everybody cheats nowadays. Just 'cause you're married doesn't mean another man can't call you. It just means he can't call
at certain times
.”

“Is that the way people really act?”

“I'm no statistician,” Becky said, “but I'll bet at least half of all married people have cheated on their spouse at least once. A quarter of them probably do it on a regular basis.”

Claire shook her head. “I don't believe that.”

“It happened to me,” Becky said. “Trent cheated on me with
four
different women, and they all knew he was married.”

A year ago Becky couldn't talk about her ex husband without crying. It was good to see how much progress she had made. Claire wondered if she would one day have to get over George like that.

“I may have been fooled,” Claire said, “but it's over now. My blinders are off. I pray that everything will be okay, but if George is cheating on me, I'm going to
catch him
and
expose
him. He had a pretty good life going there. He could come and go as he pleased. But until I find out what's going on, I'm going to be on his ass like white on rice.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I'm saying I'm not taking anything he says for granted anymore. My friend thinks I should follow him tonight, and I think I'm gonna do it.”

Becky shook her head. “Claire, you're going off the deep end.”

“Am I? Or am I taking control of my own life? I've been doing what George wanted for a long time, Becky, since high school. I gave him freedom to take care of whatever he had to do, and if he used that freedom against me…” She shook her head. “I, I can't even think about what's going to happen.”

“So you're really going to follow him?”

“Wouldn't you?” Claire asked. “If you had a chance to catch Trent sleeping around, wouldn't you want to do it?”

Becky nodded. “By the time I found out, he already had another apartment and half of his stuff moved.”

“George isn't moving
shit
out of my house,” Claire said. “I'm going to know before he
thinks
I know.”

“Who's your friend?” Becky asked. “Who's going to help you follow him?”

“You remember Melanie, the one who came to my Christmas party last year?”

“The one you said you knew since high school?”

“Yeah. The stakeout is her idea.”

Becky smiled. “Can I go, too?”

Claire chuckled. “You want to help me follow George around?”

“Yeah. I wish I had friends to help me when I went through this. I still hope you're wrong. But if you're right, I want to be there for you. That's the worst feeling in the world.”

“I told you I was going to kill him if he's cheating, right?”

“You're not going to kill George,” Becky said with a snicker, but when she looked up Claire wasn't smiling at all.

* * *

When they got back inside, Claire called Melanie at her job to tell her it was on.

“Biotech Industries…”

“Hey, girl. This is Claire.”

“What's up, honey? What you doing?”

“I'm at work,” Claire said, “about to go to lunch.”

“We should hook up for lunch sometimes,” Melanie said.

“That would be cool,” Claire said. “Except you work in
Grand Prairie
.”

“We could meet in the middle.”

“If I drove to Arlington, I'd have to turn right around as soon as I got there,” Claire said.

“We could—”

“Melanie, I didn't call to chit-chat.”

“Oh, well. What's up, then?”

“
It's on
,” Claire said.