Page 25 of Two Wrongs

“And Wren babied you for a month. Why would you repay her for that by cheating on her?” It makes no sense. It’s like his entire personality has changed.

“I don’t expect you to understand. Not everyone is willing to spend decades mourning for a lost relationship. I wanted to see what was out there while I’m still young.”

Staying calm takes effort. My job is to support him. Like Charlie said, Liam is my priority, but listening to him makes me see red. “And Wren? Was she supposed to just wait around while you figured it out?”

“Yes! Why do you care? Isn’t this what you wanted? You always wanted her to leave. Well, looks like you got your wish.” He reaches out to the coffee table and throws a manilla envelope at me.”

Inside are the divorce papers I already knew she had prepared. I’m not supposed to know, of course, and I can’t let my son find out.

“She filed for divorce. Can you really be surprised?”

His hands shake, and his brow is breaking out in sweat.

“Can you go? I want to be alone,” he insists.

Something feels off, and deep down, I know if I leave I’ll regret it.

“Go,” he shouts.

“Liam, what’s going on?” There is more here than the breakdown of his marriage. I’ve dropped the ball as his dad, and went and made it worse by sleeping with his wife.

Guilt eventually wins, and I leave to let him lick his wounds. It’s the least I can do.

10

Wren

An out of town number comes across my cell phone. Usually, I reject numbers I don’t recognize. I figure if it’s really important they’ll leave me a voicemail, and I’ve avoided talking to someone about some extended car warranty on my bucket of rust and bolts. But, I’m waiting to hear from the process server to tell me my divorce papers have been signed.

“Hello, is this Mrs. Hale?” the caller asks.

“For now,” I mumble.

“I’m sorry, we must have a bad connection, I’m looking for Mrs. Wren Hale, wife of Liam Hale. Do I have the correct number?”

I groan away from the phone. “This is she. How can I help you?”

“I’m calling from Wood River Medicine. There’s an issue with your husband’s prescription. We need to have the doctor resend it, but we don’t seem to have contact information for them on file. That’s very unusual, but can happen. However, before we can fill a prescription for a schedule II drug, we have to verify it with the doctor.”

“Awhatkind of drug? What is the prescription for?” Liam has always been a little weird about taking medication. The man won’t even take ibuprofen for a headache, so for him to actually fill a prescription without being pestered by me is pretty remarkable. He almost ended up in the hospital a few years ago when he refused to take antibiotics for strep throat.

I hear papers shuffling on the other end of the phone. “I’m not sure what the inciting event was, but the prescription is for pain management.”

“Uhm, can I ask why you are calling me instead of him?” I ask.

“We’ve been unable to reach Mr. Hale, and while we can’t give out private medical information, we do have you listed as an approved medical contact. Considering this is for pain management, we wanted to make sure Mr. Hale gets his medication approved in a timely manner so he can rest.”

“Thank you for letting me know. I’ll see what I can do.” I don’t wait for them to respond, and hang up the phone. After searching the internet for the type of prescription drug the technician mentioned, I’m concerned to find that Liam is trying to get opioids.

Before things in our marriage turned bad, he was in a minor car accident. Even a minor accident can leave some lingering issues. His airbag went off when the car behind him pushed him into the car in front of him. He had a concussion and whiplash. Neither condition had long term effects, but he was in a lot of pain in the short term, and the doctor gave him pain meds to manage it. It was the one time I didn’t have to push him to take his meds, and the one time I wish I’d stopped him.

His personality changed on painkillers. He started to withdraw, was quick to anger, and he rarely slept. At the time, I worried his concussion was worse than they first thought. His doctor tried to reassure me it wasn’t, but I didn’t believe him. It’s possible the concussion was never the problem, and his use of prescription pain meds was.

It looks like that confrontation I’ve been wanting to avoid is going to happen after all. I grab my keys, and drive across town to go to our old apartment. As much as I don’t want to see him, I need to. I can’t work up enough anger to want something bad to happen to him. Maybe that makes me weak, or just maybe it means I’m stronger than I ever thought.

* * *

Knockingon the door to the apartment I shared with my husband until a couple of weeks ago is strange, but I’ve already caught him having sex once and that was enough.

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