Page 46 of Such a Good Wife

“Did you know in traditional Mexican food they use the whole cow, even the testicles and uterus?”

Collin and I look at one another on this one. I turn to look back at Ben.

“Is that what you’re ordering tonight?”

He looks at me like I have two heads.

“No. This restaurant isn’t traditional.”

Well, I guess he told me.

“Good point,” I say, but before I turn back around, I notice a truck behind us, driving a bit too close.

A flutter of familiarity brushes over me. I pause and squint to take it in. It looks like Luke’s truck. In fact, it is exactly like his, down to the heavily tinted windows and cactus-shaped air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror. I take in a sharp breath. The license plate isn’t the same. Maybe it’s just a coincidence. Maybe I can’t really make out the dangling air freshener shape and I’m just overly paranoid. There are a lot of pickups that look like that, I’m sure.

“What?” Ben asks. Rachel is lost in her headphones, leaning against the car door on the opposite side, paying no attention.

“Nothing, hon. Tell me what you’re gonna order.” I try to distract him.

“Can I get a margarita?”

“You’re a few years away from that, bud.” I smile at Collin, trying to share the amusement in our son’s witty comment, but he can tell there’s something else going on. He’s beginning to catch on to my chronic unease.

I try to shake it off and be present for my family during dinner. A mariachi band plays on a weathered wooden platform in the corner. Ben asks if he can say it’s his birthday so they will sing to him and he can have free ice cream, but he settles for a round of “La Bamba” and the promise of a poquito sundae and seems happy enough.

I push a paste of refried beans around on my plate and listen to Rachel answer Collin’s simple question, “How’s school?” She’s going over every detail.

“Oh my God, so Lindsey Shaw and Celeste Ricke wore the same exact romper to school, and Lindsey told everyone it was Juicy Couture and then she saw Celeste wearing it and everyone knows Celeste is, like, poor, like, no offense, but people just know. Anyway, Celeste said the romper is actually from Target. And then Wendy looked it up, and it was from Target and Lindsey stayed home the rest of the week, she was so embarrassed.”

She starts to scroll through her phone to find a photo for us, and Collin doesn’t ask what the hell Juicy Couture is. He just looks to me to say something relevant.

“Mom,” she says, wanting me to look at the romper photos. “I mean, it’s not funny, but she’s such a bitch, so it’s kind of funny.”

“Language,” I say, without much conviction, and move over to sit next to her in the wraparound booth to look at her phone.

“Sorry,” she mumbles under her breath, and then switches gears. She shows me photos of the scandal, giggling. From where I’m now seated, I can see out the windows on the side of the building where the parking lot extends around. The truck is there. This can’t be a coincidence. The truck is facing the restaurant windows, and whoever is sitting behind those tinted windows can surely see us.

“Mom, she said ‘bitch.’” I am fixated on the truck, and I only partially hear my son.

“Don’t say ‘bitch,’ honey.” I dismiss him, barely paying attention.

“I didn’t. She did!” he protests, and Collin gives him a look to let it go, which he does because the promise of a sundae is still lingering. I need to go out there. I need to see who is behind the wheel, if it’s Luke’s truck. Who would have it? But I can’t. I can’t do a thing except sit here and concentrate on acting normal, keeping calm.

When we finish eating and walk out to the car, it’s dusk. I look for the truck, not that I could do anything about it right now, but it’s gone. It doesn’t matter if it is Luke’s truck or not. The fact remains that someone is following me.

On the drive home, Collin turns the radio from his NPR preset to a light pop station. I wonder if he’s avoiding the news. But when the song ends, it’s the top of the hour and they’re summarizing local news headlines. When I hear Luke’s name, I want to change the channel, but I wonder if it will make me look like I’m hiding something, so I don’t. I wonder though, if Collin wants to switch it off, or if, deep down, he wants to know more—to see if there is any way to connect me to Luke.

“A new discovery has been made in the Luke Ellison homicide case. A witness said he saw an SUV screeching away from the Ellison home around the time the crime took place. The witness did not get the plate or model of the vehicle, but did say it was large and black in color. If anyone has any further information that could help the investigation, please notify police.” The reporter rattles off more news headlines in an unfeeling voice, but I don’t listen. I’m thinking about my Jeep Cherokee. It’s dark gray, not black, but close enough to the witness description to be anxiety inducing.

Collin doesn’t say anything or look over. We’re both pretending that it’s like any other day, listening to any other bits of news headlines. I don’t say anything either, and the news fades into a commercial for a mega sale at Benny’s Used Cars.

At home, I resist the urge to go directly upstairs and check for a message on the burner phone under the bathroom sink. Not just because I’m becoming obsessive, but because I feel suddenly under the watchful eye of my husband. I entertain the idea that it’s my paranoia talking, and maybe he has no suspicion whatsoever, but I can’t be sure. I need to be careful.

I sit on the back deck with Ben to help him with his vocabulary worksheet. It’s a clear night, finally sweater weather, at least in the evenings and early mornings. The overhead light collects moths and beetles. The buzz of flapping wings in the quiet night air makes me look over to the edge of the pool, where a June bug is stuck on its back and trying to flip itself over. It ends up falling in the water, sending a small ring of ripples across the pool surface. Ben, as if by instinct, goes over and, with one finger, lifts the insect out of the water to safety. His natural kindness is heart melting.

A divorce would destroy him. He doesn’t handle change well; he’d be lost and terrified. It’s the last thing I want to happen, but if Collin ever found out the extent of my deception, he would leave, I know he would. At the beginning I thought it was a lapse in judgment that he might forgive, but after everything that’s happened, I’ve left him no choice.

Ben is getting sleepy and irritable, so I tell him we can do the last few questions on the worksheet over breakfast and send him to bed. Inside, Collin is in the kitchen, putz-ing around. He’s pouring a drink, opening some mail on the counter. I need to check the burner phone while he’s distracted.

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