Page 98 of Come Fly with Me

“You seem even more devastated by this than I am. Do you want me to play “Love is a Battlefield” and start singing into a serving spoon to help you get over this?” I ask, teasing Carrie and her dramatics.

“No, I want you to get back together with him because he’s perfect for you. I know you don’t feel like that now, but think about how much he supported your life, how much he rooted for you. And I don’t want you to be sad,” she adds, tossing back the last of her wine and generously refilling her glass.

“I’m not sad. I’m disappointed and angry, and sometimes I really start to hate myself, but like always, I’ll get through it.”

“What’s worse, the fact that he lied or that he’s married?”

I take a second to think about Carrie’s question because at this point, I’m not even certain why I’m still angry.

“I think it’s both and the fact that I just don’t know if what he says is true. Is his marriage really over or is it just what people tell the other woman? I can’t ever be that girl because once I was the wife who was cheated on. There’s nothing worse.”

“I think I’m a pretty good judge of character, and I don’t think Jake just goes around sleeping with women and lying to them about being married. I think his marriage is over,” Carrie states, her words slurring a little as she empties the last of the wine into her glass.

“I think you’re a little bit drunk.”

Carrie rolls her eyes and laughs a little, motioning to the glass and the bottle of vodka still on my counter.

“What did she look like?” Carrie asks, seemingly out of nowhere. “We should look her up.”

I chew on my lip a bit, knowing I’ve thought of doing this exact thing for a while now, but feeling like that shows weakness. And not just that, I worry about what I might find.

“She’ll be easy to find,” I say, playing it off like I don’t really care. “She works for the Department of Defense.”

“Then I’m totally looking her up.”

Giving it only a moment’s hesitation, because I’ve had far too much to drink and because it doesn’t feel as pathetic with someone else participating, Carrie and I begin drunkenly searching the Internet for Jake’s wife.

It only takes us about fifteen minutes to find an email address for Margaret Hendricks with a picture of her on a stark white background.

“That’s her,” I say, pointing to the picture in front of us. A staged professional headshot that is obviously required as part of her inclusion on the DoD’s website.

“She’s pretty,” Carrie says, and immediately slaps her hand over her mouth. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“She is pretty,” I admit, a lump forming in my throat as I try not to let my thoughts run rampant.

“We should email her and ask her if she and Jake are really getting divorced. That would totally ease your mind. And if they’re not, then she’ll say it and then you can move on, and you won’t have to deal with this anymore,” Carrie rambles, her words all running together.

“No way. That is a terrible idea.” I’m shaking my head, my hands flying wildly around, but Carrie doesn’t seem to give a shit, shooting off an email before I even have a chance to see what she’s typed out.

“Carrie, I’m seriously going to kill you,” I say but still secretly curious about how this is going to go down. “What did you say to her?”

“I asked her if her marriage to Jake is over and I told her you wanted to talk to her. I gave her your phone number.”

“No, you didn’t, did you?” My heart is suddenly racing, a nervous anxiety filling the room as I chug my glass of wine.

“I did, because what’s the worst that can happen?” She gives me a questioning look, her shoulders shrugging. “She says she’s still married and he’s her husband? So what, you already think that, so that would just confirm things and you can move on. If she says they’re getting divorced and she never loved him, then it’s a win-win. You can go running back to Jake and have awesome make-up sex.”

Carrie holds her hand up for a high five, waiting on me to celebrate with her, but just as I’m about to come around to her side, my phone rings out.

“Holy shit!” I yell, Carrie screaming out loud as if someone has just scared her to death. I grab for my phone, but when I see it’s an unknown number, it only takes me a second to realize it’s probably Maggie. “I’m not answering that!” The phone continues ringing in my hand and I toss it on the table, grabbing a dishcloth and throwing it over it.

This whole thing is really getting ridiculous. Drunk me and sober me are two different people and right now I hate drunk me, because as the phone lights up under the dishtowel, I can’t handle it.

And I find myself answering it.

Thirty-Four

Jake

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