THE AFFAIR (5 page)

“It’s me,” I answered him as I glanced hastily at the sink to tell if he’d eaten. He hadn’t. There were no dishes. And God forbid that he would have washed them after he was done.
Where had that thought come from?
I wondered. My husband had cheerfully done the dishes for twenty-six years. So had I. Washing dishes together had always been a time of bonding for us. Besides thinking of it as one of our chores it was something I liked doing. Immersing my hands in hot soapy water while Larry dried, I always felt that I was cleansing something more important than dishes.

Now it puzzled me that the thought of doing dishes was enough to bring about irritation. Of course it was easier thinking that than thinking about what I’d just done. That I’d just committed adultery. It was then that I took in a deep breath and released it. Well at least I hadn’t had an affair. A one night stand didn’t make an affair, did it?

“How’s your friend, Peaches? I don’t recall hearing you mention her before.” Larry asked me with concern in his voice.

“There’s a good reason for that.” I turned toward him wanting to tell him the truth, wondering what he would say. Of course I was aware that in part what I would be doing would be transferring my guilt to my husband. It was then I wondered if I’d done what I had in order to punish my husband.

“Did you make yourself a sandwich?” I finally asked.

“Nah, I wasn’t too hungry. I thought I’d wait for you. You know I don’t like eating alone.”

With my head in the refrigerator I sighed, knowing there was a lot of truth in Larry’s statement. Like I said, we needed each other. But I had needed him six months ago to help me keep my promise to an old lady. He hadn’t. Now I was tired of being needed to fulfill my husband’s wants. “Larry, you’re used to me taking care of you. What if I were dead? What would you do?”

“Stop talking crazy, nothing’s going to happen to you. You’re just still thinking about that nightmare. Hey, do we have any pickles?”

I reached back in and grabbed the pickles, opened the jar, stuck my fingers in without benefit of a fork and handed the pickle to my husband, who looked at me as if I’d suddenly grown two heads.

“Are you all right?” Larry asked.

“Why, because I didn’t use a fork?” I almost smiled at him then.

“Well, you’re acting funny, like maybe I’ve done something to you. Are you angry with me about something, or are you just angry at men in general because of your friend’s husband?”

I decided to ignore that question. “I thought I was going to die today.”

I noticed he took exactly two bites out of the sandwich I had placed in front of him before he acknowledged my statement.

“You weren’t in another accident, were you?” He perused my body as though it were a legal brief. “Couldn’t have been too bad, you look fine to me.” He dismissed my statement and continued eating.

His lack of concern only served to irritate me further. “No, I wasn’t in an accident. I was sitting at home wondering what to make for dinner, when this feeling came over me that I had the power to die. All I had to do was will it and it would be so.”

Larry took a drink of soda and another bite of his sandwich. He had a smile on his face.

“I don’t think you have any control over when you die, Mick. It’s not in your hands.”

There now, I’d been firmly put in my place. As an attorney his thinking was practical and analytical and I’d always succumbed. Now I wanted him to listen, to give some credence to my feelings.

“You’re wrong. I believe we all have that power. I’m sure others have willed themselves to die. I’m telling you, today I had that control. All I had to do was will it. I had to will myself not to.”

“Then do it now. Let me see.”

I knew he was teasing me, but he hurt my feelings just the same. “Larry, would you like to know what I really did today?” I asked.

He was laughing at me now. “I went to the store and got rained on. Then I met a stranger in the parking lot. I went to a hotel and made love with him.”

I wasn’t stupid. I was only going so far with this. I knew Larry wouldn’t believe me, but just in case I didn’t want him armed with the information to find my afternoon lover.

Larry started laughing then. “That’s great. You go to bed with a stranger you met by chance, named Chance. Am I supposed to believe that?”

Curiosity got the better of me then. Was I so predictable that my husband didn’t believe it was possible for me to commit the act? Did he think no one could possibly want me?

“Larry, are you laughing because you don’t think another man would find me attractive?”

“No, honey, I’m talking from twenty-six years on the job experience. You with another man? I don’t think so. And I’m damn sure you wouldn’t go to bed with a stranger. If you don’t want me asking questions about Peaches, just say so, but something so ridiculous I don’t believe.”

“Honey, what’s wrong with you? Don’t let your friend’s problem wreck our night. We have a perfect marriage. Be thankful. Don’t try and invent problems. Stop talking crazy.”

“Why don’t you ever hear me?”

“Why are you trying to start a fight? I always listen to you.”

I thought about the five kids we’d had that I hadn’t wanted. “Sure, you listen the same way you listened when I told you I didn’t want kids.” He sobered instantly, his laughter stilled by the memory of my last pregnancy.

“That was post-partum depression. You’re as happy as I am that we have a large family.”

“Larry, I’m not. I never was,” I all but shouted.

“Yes, you are. You’re just saying that because I didn’t take you seriously when you said you had the ability to close your eyes and die.”

Yeah, you know me,
I thought
. You know me so well that you don’t know that for the past six months I’ve been dying inside from having broken my promise to Viola. You know me so well that you’ve forgotten how important it is for me to keep a promise. And you know me so well, that you’ve never asked me why I never wanted children. I don’t know why, but one of my greatest fears was that if I had children that something would happen to them. You know me so well that you don’t believe I almost died today. You don’t believe I cheated on you and somewhere in your world, I’m this paragon of virtue, this perfect mother. Oh yeah, Larry, you know me.

My head felt as if it were about to split wide open. For a senior medical sales rep, it sure didn’t seem as if I was being treated that way. This was the third shift in territories in the past year and once again, my load had increased.

A quick inspection of the new maps and new doctors I had to call on made me groan. This added territory would add at least another hour to my already busy day, maybe more.

For a nanosecond, I thought of quitting. Larry had been pushing me to quit for the last five years. As a prominent attorney, he made more than enough money to take care of our needs and our wants.

So why did I work? To preserve my sanity? Even when the kids were small, I worked. The idea of staying home cooped up with crying babies and their constant demands was not my idea of fun. I had been determined that even if it took every dime I earned to get someone else to care for them at least eight hours a day, I would do it.

My job gave me more than enough freedom to be able to take off for every school trip, every kindergarten play. For every scrape and bruise they received I ran home immediately. I never felt I cheated them out of anything. But for my own mental well-being, I needed to work.

My mother couldn’t believe that I’d rather work than remain at home. I remember the thousands of times as a child that I had wished she worked. Then I would not have had to hear her continuous complaints about my father, complaints she never had the courage to voice to him. She never spoke up, never rocked the boat.

I knew what she thought of me, of my working. She was from a generation where the woman stayed home. She had done it. She thought I should also.

Despite my feelings of having been forced into motherhood, I always played my part to perfection. I did everything that was expected of me and then some. What did it matter if my heart wasn’t in it? I was the only one that knew. No one had to know the fear that was in my heart with each new pregnancy; how it almost paralyzed me when I first held my babies, thinking they would die in the night. My one clear memory of joy at being a mother was when my eldest, Erica was a baby and I was breastfeeding her. Then being a mother had made me happy until I remembered that if God knew how happy I was she would be taken away. And with each subsequent birth I’d successfully shut those happy feelings away. Those times had almost made me deliver myself into the hands of the doctors with their lab coats and electrical shock treatment. What happened to me during and after pregnancy wasn’t normal and I knew that.

Anyway, I looked down the list at the five new doctors, dreading having to pass first an interrogation by the receptionist, then the nurses. I’ve been a sales rep long enough to know that if you’re not nice to the staff you’ll never be allowed in to see the doctor.

This meant I would have to stock up on treats from the grocery store, probably Hershey’s kisses. They always worked. I stocked my bag with what felt like a ton of pens and notepads, grateful the bag was on wheels.

Today would be mostly courtesy calls for me to feel out the doctors and staff. My regular clients I could push back. Larry and I had dinner plans. I’d promised him I would be home early.

Dr. Morgan’s name was the last one on the list. I could feel the tension begin in my shoulders. I sat for twenty minutes waiting. The staff, cordial but not overly friendly, had directed me to a chair then dismissed me. I was beginning to wonder if they’d forgotten to give the doctor my card. That happened a lot.

Then the smiling face of a plump nurse ushered me to the doctor’s office.

His head was bent over papers. It had been almost a month since I’d made love with Chance, but I knew the moment I entered the room it was him. I glanced behind me for the nurse who had already left. I stood there waiting until he finally looked up and smiled at me, not looking in the least surprised.

My cheeks were burning. Never in my entire life had I ever been more embarrassed. Chance had gotten up and was walking toward me smiling. I started praying.
God, don’t let him touch me
.

He walked past me to the door, closed it gently, then came back to me. “Do you believe in fate now?”

His eyes were teasing. I didn’t want to be teased. I’d almost convinced myself that I had dreamt of meeting him. That I’d never done the things I had. Now here he was standing before me. Real.

“Do you mind if I sit?” I didn’t wait for an answer. My legs were so spongy that I couldn’t have remained standing if I had wanted to.

He perched his hip on the corner of his desk, waiting for me to answer. “I’m married, Chance. I told you that. If you’re looking for an affair, I can’t. I love my husband.”

The sound echoed inside my head and I wondered if I had shouted. “I have a good marriage. I’m not about to ruin it.” My hands were hurting from gripping the arms of the chair. I forced myself to look into his eyes with a defiance I didn’t feel.

“I don’t recall asking you to have an affair. I merely asked if you believed in fate.”

“How can you believe in all this nonsense? You’re a man of science.” As I asked, I was fighting to still the pounding of my heart.