Page 68 of Such a Good Wife

She turns her phone to show me the photo of the conversation. That morning at 10:43 a.m., she says, see you tonight, with a kiss emoji. He writes back, is the plan still to meet before, around six? All I can think about as I read this is how the police think the murder took place a couple hours before the anonymous call—my call—at around 9 p.m. that night. Why were they meeting before the charity event if they’d see each other there?

If you’re still sure, she replies. It will only give us an hour or so, and he answers, That’s enough time. See you then.

I release the breath I’ve been holding and shake my head.

“Can you send me all of these?” I ask, and Lacy forwards all of the messages to me as I drive her back to her car. I promise to let her know what comes of it. There must be a way to get it in front of Joe’s superior and frame it in a way that casts undeniable doubt on his character for not disclosing that he’s in a romantic relationship with the victim’s wife. I drive home, almost giddy, armed with this new power, but then when I pull into the drive, I see that Collin is still sitting in the kitchen, his head slumped low. He’s moved to the table, and the whiskey bottle sits half-empty next to him.

I hesitate before I quietly open the garage door that leads into the kitchen and put my things down. He lifts his head from his hands, his bloodshot eyes, rinsed with tears, meet mine.

“So where did you really go tonight?”

***

29

I DON’T TURN THE LIGHT ON. Only a slice of moonlight illuminates the kitchen, faintly.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“It’s like you’ve been lying for so long, you don’t even know how to tell the truth anymore.” He doesn’t look at me when he speaks.

My resentment wrestles with my guilt as I feel the sting of this accusation. It doesn’t matter that he’s right, I still feel irrationally angry that he’s saying this to me.

“I was with Lacy.”

“So, you’re not having another affair, then?” He says it flatly, as if we’ve already argued about the subject for days and he has no fight left.

“What? No! Collin, wha—”

“I want to save you from whatever ridiculous excuse you’re about to make because it’s just embarrassing for both of us.”

At this, I sit. I slink slowly into the chair across the table from him.

“How did you know?” I whisper.

“I’ve known all along.” There is a long silence, then he continues. “The night the kids FaceTimed you and you were late getting home. That’s when I knew.”

“How?” My voice breaks a little and my face reddens with shame.

“We thought we’d surprise you and come up to the bookstore when your group was ending.” He pauses, closes his eyes a moment. “I saw you. In your car, in the parking lot. At first, I almost pulled up next to you so the kids could see if you wanted to come to dinner, see, we were running late and figured your group might be finishing. But something about the way you looked, so disoriented, told me not to stop, not to let them see.” He looks at the ground while he speaks. What I wouldn’t give if he’d have stopped that night. I would have made an excuse and maybe said the rest of the group had left early. Maybe it would have been the scare I needed—to be so close to being caught that I wouldn’t have done anything wrong.

“Collin, I...”

But he continues, not wanting me to speak yet.

“The kids were glued to their phones, so I followed to see where you were going. I saw you walk into the woods. There’s a path to that rented mansion. It really didn’t take much to find out who lives in the place.” He fills the empty glass in front of him. He doesn’t offer it to me, but I pull it toward me. I hold it, looking down, shamefully, into it. He continues.

“I looked at your phone one night while you were sleeping.” I exhale audibly when I hear this.

“You searched his name a hundred times. You kept his book poorly hidden. You acted like a completely different person, secretive and paranoid. Did you really not notice how strange you came off?” He spits the last part in a loud whisper because he can’t yell—the kids are sleeping—then he stands, abruptly, and twists his body away from me. He leans both arms, elbows locked, against the edge of the counter and hangs his head between them. Saying that I’m sorry feels so far from being enough.

“Why didn’t you say anything before now? You seemed happy, normal. You never acted different...I...”

“One of us had to! I thought it would stop. I gave you the benefit of the doubt because I ruined your life, or so it feels like half the time. You’re the one who didn’t get the career you wanted.”

“That was my choice,” I start to say, but he doesn’t hear me, he’s talking to his hands, shaking his head.

“I feel guilty for all you have to handle with Ben and my mom. What you gave up. I could see where maybe someone like him might be exciting, so I made it my job to love you through it. To trust you to do the right thing and not let it destroy us. But you didn’t stop.”

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