Page 28 of Such a Good Wife

“I can’t just—So you fuck Lacy and who knows how many other people. I’m an idiot. That’s all there is to it.” I stand up, as if I’m going to leave, and he counters.

“I told you that after many years in a tough relationship, I was newly single, and I haven’t felt the way I did when I met you, never felt that rush—that need to just...be near someone the way I did with you. I meant that. I still mean that. But you’re married.” When he says the word married his voice breaks just a tiny bit.

“I know that.” I sit back down, pulling his glass of wine across the table and taking a sip, buying a few moments of time because this is the last thing I expected him to say and I’m not sure what to do.

“You’re the one with a family, and you’re the one who doesn’t want anyone to know about us. I’d tell the whole world if I could, I’d cancel my trip, I’d be ecstatic.”

“Someone who feels that way doesn’t go sleeping around. I don’t get it. If I were so special, then...”

“I didn’t do anything wrong here. You made your position clear from the start.”

“I know. I didn’t say you did anything wrong. I—”

“Writing is a very solitary life, and I left my friends back in Boston. I met Lacy that night you walked away—walked out of my truck and into the bookstore instead of to my place.”

“That’s not fair,” I say, knowing there was no way I could have gracefully stayed with him, with her standing right there.

“Isn’t it? She said something about wasting money on a babysitter and asked if I wanted to grab a drink. Yeah, we had sex a few times. It was just fun, two single, fucking lonely people who had sex a few times. That’s it.”

“Well, she thinks it’s a lot more.”

“I don’t know how. We said almost nothing to one another. Literally a few words. It was just blowing off steam, just sex.” He rubs his hand over his face and sighs. “I’ll talk to her.”

“Yeah, you probably should.” I feel my face redden with shame. He’s right. I’m throwing a fit. Somehow I’m asking for monogamy from him, which is absurd.

“If you’d given me any signal that I had a shot here, I would never do anything to mess that up. But you made your decision. Didn’t you?”

The blaze of rage that fueled my trip over here is now extinguished by my longing to be touched by him, to feel adored by him again, and to say the right thing so this isn’t over. I’m not ready. I’ve let it go so far beyond just sex.

If I hadn’t come here tonight, he would have left in ten days and I would have remained resentful; his memory would be a fleeting pang of regret now and again, but I did come.

I don’t say anything. The silence hangs in the air. I can hear myself swallow. I stand and walk over to him. He’s leaning against the counter, staring through the window over the sink, waiting for one of us to speak. When he turns toward me, I kiss him, hard and forcefully. He looks shocked at first, then grabs my face and kisses me back, and we fumble our way to the bedroom.

I glance at the bedside clock, making note that I only have two hours with him, maybe the last two hours I’ll spend with him, and we fall into his bed together.

I shower this time, before I leave. As I stand in a towel in his bathroom, fixing my hair back to the way it was, he sits on the edge of the enormous spa bathtub and watches me. I smile at him. I’m holding the image in my mind, trying to collect these memories for when he’s gone. He hands me something.

“What’s this for?” I ask, looking down at a weird-looking phone—some ancient-looking flip phone.

“It’s a pay-as-you-go deal,” he says.

“A burner phone?” I ask, horrified. “I think these are exclusively for criminals.”

“I got it back when I thought you’d show up at my door again. It’s not traceable.”

“I know. That’s creepy.” I hand it back to him.

“It’s a way to stay in touch if you want to.” He sets it on top of my purse. I nod.

Before I slip back out the side door, he kisses me again.

“You know where I live.”

“Bye,” I say, turning quickly to go before I am unable to leave.

***

11

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