Page 17 of The Breaking Point

“And Aiden?”

“I told him to stay out of sight. I don’t care where he is, just as long as he doesn’t screw up and let the kids find out we never left.”

Quinn’s quiet for a second, then says, “You should figure out what you’re going to do before you tell them. Nothing messes with a kid’s head like not knowing if their parents are staying together or not. Trust me.”

Her voice shifts, softer. “My parents’ divorce was a mess. They used me like a pawn. One day they were together, the next they weren’t. Then they were again. Then they weren’t. I had a breakdown before they finally figured out their shit. They're together now, but I stay out of it.”

“I get that,” I say. “The boys don’t expect us back for a week. So I guess we have seven days to decide if this marriage is worth saving.”

I sink into the couch. “I need help. Not therapy, not yet. Help from people who’ve been through this. I need to know what to do.”

Quinn raises an eyebrow. “I’d dial my mom for you, but she’s married to her cheater again.”

I laugh dryly, then pull out my phone and type the first thing that comes to mind: ‘support groups for people who’ve been cheated on.’

A few options pop up. One at the local community centre starts in thirty minutes. I show it to Quinn. “This one.”

“You should go.”

“Come with me.”

She shakes her head. “This isn’t like confronting a couple of frat boys. You need to do this. Alone. Take my car.”

She’s right. I grab her keys and head out. The community centre is in the opposite direction of my house, which makes it easier to breathe. I’m not ready to run into anyone who knows me.

Ten minutes later, I park and grab a cup of coffee from the café across the street. The cup is hot in my hands, as I carry it across the street.

I ask someone where the group is. I don’t say the name out loud, just gesture at the screen on my phone. He points me down a hallway to the right.

The room is exactly what you’d expect, chairs in a circle, dim overhead lights, a faint smell of carpet cleaner. A few people are already seated. I take a chair beside a man who gives me a kind smile.

“I’m Dan,” he says. “New?”

“Kate. And yeah. How’d you know?”

“Not many new faces at the two o’clock meeting.”

People trickle in, finding seats. A woman with white hair stands up and claps her hands once. “Alright. This is a Support Group for Surviving Infidelity.” She smiles. “Or as I like to call it, the ‘My Partner’s an Asshole’ club. I’m Trish.”

No one says “Hi, Trish.” Thank God.

“I know we’ve got a new face today. But let’s start with anyone who wants to share.”

A woman raises her hand. “Hi. I’m Leana. Two years ago, I found my husband in bed with my sister. My nineteen-year-old sister.”

People nod like they’ve heard this before. She keeps going.

“I divorced the asshole. But I stayed close to my sister. She was young. He took advantage. I know that, up here.” She taps her temple. “But in here…” she touches her chest “…it still hurts. I remarried and we moved here recently. My sister visits sometimes. Yesterday, I came home and found them cooking together. Nothing was wrong. But my heart… that woman who walked in on them? She still lives in me. And I hate her.”

She finishes. Another woman starts. “I’m Jackie. My husband has a mistress. He thinks I don’t know. But I do. The wife always knows. I have to stay. For the kids. He has the money. We have a prenup. If I leave, I lose everything including custody. So, I went back to college. But it takes time. Years. Years I have to stay and pretend everything is ok. Just learn one thing from me, never believe a man who tells you to stay home and he’ll take care of everything.”

Trish turns to me. “Would our newcomer like to share?”

Everyone’s eyes turn. My skin feels hot.

“Uh… yeah. I guess.”

“It’s alright, dear. Just tell us what brought you here.”

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