Page 14 of Such a Good Wife

We hear her trudge back to her room and close the door.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I heard someone in the kitchen earlier, and the TV was on. I was sure it was you a couple hours ago, so when I heard the door open, I thought it wa...I don’t know.”

“Rachel always comes down for TV when she can’t sleep. God, Collin. A little overboard with the gun, don’t you think?” I say, and he sits at the counter and sighs.

“I thought I heard something last night too.”

“Really? Like what?”

“I don’t know. You were asleep. I checked on Mom and the kids. Just a noise. Something.”

“You should have told me.” I take off my earrings and pull up my hair while we talk, trying to appear normal.

“It was nothing, apparently. But when I thought I heard it again tonight, I was trying to protect us. It’s after midnight. I had no idea it would be you.”

“Sorry. We all just got to talking and I didn’t even notice how late it was. I wasn’t gonna call and wake you.”

“No, it’s fine, just...God. You scared the shit out of me.”

“Likewise. Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.”

We both sit there a moment.

“Well, if you’re not gonna shoot me, I’m gonna take a shower. We all went to Stella’s so I reek like cigar smoke.”

“Yeah, okay,” he says mindlessly, already busy putting the gun away and getting ready to go back to bed.

I sit on the floor of the shower while the water pours over me. I try to cry as quietly as possible. If the last hour of emptiness and regret is any indication of how the coming days will be, I’ve created a kind of hell for myself. But just underneath the weight of my insurmountable shame, I feel the rush, the pleasure, the lust.

***

6

IT’S SATURDAY. A couple weeks have gone by and I tell Collin I skipped out of writing group the last two weeks because I’m working on a big story and I need a little time to write it before I share it with the group. I said I could spend the next couple Thursdays just writing and that I’d go back to the group in a few weeks. I couldn’t go back until I knew Luke’s reading series was over. He was only meant to be there one more Thursday, but I couldn’t chance it. I had given him my number, but I told him never to contact me after I left his house. He promised. And he hasn’t.

This morning Ben is in the pool with Pink Panther floaties on his arms. He’s whipping the surface of the water with a pool noodle, which has Rachel yelling at him and guarding her phone. She lies on a beach towel, tanning herself. Ben seems upset the last couple of days. He’s withdrawn and agitated, and I can’t help but think he senses my sins—my active role in potentially destroying my family, but I don’t really know why he’s on edge. It could be anything.

I’ve wheeled Claire out to sit with us, but she stares off until she falls asleep sitting up in her chair. I dab the drool on the side of her mouth with my breakfast napkin as I clear the outdoor table. Rachel sees this, then looks away, swallowing hard. I give a breezy smile like it’s no big deal.

“Will you eat this watermelon if I leave it out?” I call to Ben.

He doesn’t answer. My hands are unsteady. Before I drop the plates I’m carrying, I stop and take a deep breath. Collin is lounging on the other side of the table with his feet resting on a kids’ foldout chair. He looks up from scrolling through news stories on his tablet.

“You okay, hon?”

“Oh yeah. Yes. Of course. Just clumsy today.”

I realize that I lack the ability to know if my guilt is transparent. Am I forcing prolonged eye contact with Collin for fear of involuntarily avoiding it? Is my voice strangely high-pitched, am I trying obviously hard to be upbeat and excessively friendly?

Collin doesn’t really seem to be aware that I’m acting shifty. Maybe I’m not. Then again, what does that say about me, that I could do something this unforgivable and not be crippled under the weight of it? It’s strange how incapable I am of having a clear idea if I’m playing the role of the person I was only weeks ago with any authenticity. For a moment I think about confessing to him. He’s the kind of man who would probably forgive me. Not that it wouldn’t be the cruelest thing I could ever do to him. The fallout would be too devastating to even think about.

It seems kinder to promise myself to never do anything like that again, and keep Collin’s world intact.

“Why don’t you let me get that,” he says, as I come back to clear the coffee cups. “Relax a little.” He pulls me down on his lap playfully and kisses me.

“Eeew,” Rachel says, covering her head with a towel.

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