THE VIRTUOUS CON

by Maren Foster

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “We can’t. Not now.”

  He stepped out of the shower and quickly began getting dressed. I followed him and grabbed my towel.

  “Hey!” I said. “I’m really sorry.”

  “Whatever, not like it’s the first time.”

  I grabbed his hand and tried to pull him toward me but he pushed me away.

  “Why are you even married to him? Do you actually love him?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “It always is with you.”

  “Look, he isn’t right for me. I know that.”

  “Then why did you marry him?”

  God, I want to tell you so bad, but I can’t. Not yet.

  “You were wrong about him. He isn’t the guy you think he is,” he said.

  And Julia isn’t who you think she is either! “What do you mean, he isn’t who I think he is? Who is he?”

  He shook his head. “Too late now, never mind.”

  Do you know that Nate’s a rapist? How long have you known?

  “Oh, come on,” I begged. If you do know, then you didn’t bother to warn me before I married the guy. Can I even trust you anymore?

  “No,” he said, and turned to leave.

  “I could say the same thing about Julia,” I yelled after him.

  I got dressed and poured myself a glass of wine. I can’t believe that just happened. He does still want me after all these years! I turned on some terrible ‘90s chick flick that I’d seen a million times.

  Lying in bed alone, I tried to fall asleep but my mind wandered to Adam. I had always been a romantic, and I knew that for all of his pretending otherwise, so was Adam. It was the way he looked at me, watched me, and the way he had always held my hand. I thought back to the shower. I couldn’t forget the look in his eyes when I said no. Does he really love me? Then I began to wonder about the kind of relationship he and Julia had. Am I wrong about him? Are there others? Am I simply another fleeting pleasure amongst the spoils of their bizarre arrangement?

  Is Nate somehow involved? The evenings I spend alone with Adam are only possible because Nate and Julia are both gone. They must be having an affair. Does Adam know?

  The sound of the deadbolt woke me up.

  “You’re late. What time is it?” I said when Nate tiptoed into the bedroom.

  “Yeah, sorry. Almost midnight.”

  “It’s Wednesday night.”

  “I know. We’re launching a new product on Friday, so we’re down to the wire on the last few details for the launch.”

  Nice excuse. I pictured Nate and Julia having sex. Where are they doing it? Now that I’m not working I’ll have time to follow them and get proof!

  “I quit my job today,” I said.

  “Oh, great! Good for you.”

  “Yep, that asshole didn’t promote me after all the bullshit I’ve put up with, so I told him to fuck off!”

  “That’s my girl! Congratulations. I’m sorry I wasn’t home earlier to celebrate with you.”

  “Thanks.”

  He walked over to the bed, leaned down and kissed me. I could smell his favorite whiskey on his breath.

  “Does that mean you want to start trying? You’ll have time to take care of a baby now,” he said.

  “Yeah.” Of course I do, but not with you.

  “Thank you for being supportive,” I said.

  “Yeah, of course. I told you from the beginning that you can depend on me. I’ll take care of you.”

  “Love you,” I said, testing him to see if he was still invested in us despite whatever he was doing when he stayed out late.

  “Love you too,” he said.

  Yes, I’ve still got him!

  The Convincer

  Thursday, January 18, 2018

  Old Greenwich

  When I woke up the sun was just beginning to peak above the window sill, filling the room with the low grey light of a mid-January morning. I rolled over. Nate was already gone and it was eerily silent. It’s been three months since I quit my job and I’m no closer to my end goal now than I was when I quit. Three months of casual snooping, watching, and waiting and I have zero evidence that Nate is actually cheating. What if he isn’t? Or what if he is and he’s just too good to get caught? I need proof or I’ll never get my revenge. I need hard evidence that he’s cheating or he’ll never have to pay for what he did.

  For my sanity I needed to get out of the house, so I went to yoga. Jenna and Candace were there too. After class, Candace suggested that the three of us get lunch.

  We sipped mimosas and they gossiped about couples they both knew. When they finally ran out of gossip Jenna excused herself, and Candace and I sat a little longer sipping our drinks.

  “You know. I think you and Nate might enjoy one of our parties,” Candace said.

  It was an odd statement; what kind of party wouldn’t we enjoy? “We usually like a good party,” I said.

  “Well, these aren’t just good parties,” she said.

  “No?”

  “Only couples are invited,” she said.

  Hmmmm. “Okay. I’ll be sure to bring Nate, then.”

  She continued, “…because there has to be an even number of people. Well, actually we’ve done it with an odd number before, but that really only works if the stag is a woman.”

  The stag? Is this what I think it is? How risqué! I feigned innocence, “Why? Is it a game night or something?”

  “Not exactly,” she said. “I mean, it could be. That could be fun actually, to mix things up a bit.” She seemed to be lost in thought for a minute, perhaps dreaming up some kind of entertainment.

  Candace took a long sip of her mimosa and then continued, “We swap,” she said. I furrowed my brow and kept silent and she immediately followed up with, “partners.”

  She hosts swinger parties! How did I not know this? It’s perfect. “What do you mean?” I asked.

  She let out a howl so loud it felt like all of the eyes in the restaurant were immediately on us. When she stopped laughing she said under her breath, “Sex partners, duh”.

  Duh!

  She continued, “We are very discreet. It’s a bit of a private club. I’m only telling you because I know that you’ll be discreet about it too. If you’re not interested, that’s fine, but please don’t mention it to anyone.”

  “Why don’t you think I’d be interested?”

  “I mean, I’m telling you because I thought you and Nate might be interested.”

  “You mean you thought Nate would be interested.”

  “Well, yeah. Like I said, if you don’t think you want to try it, no big deal, just don’t go telling everyone that you were invited, please.”

  “Okay.”

  “I mean, not everyone gets asked, so some people will talk shit about it because they’re jealous.”

  I nodded. “Thanks for the invitation. I’ll let you know,” I said.

  We paid the bill and I drove straight home.

  I heard my phone vibrate on the counter. It was a text from Jenna, “Did she ask you?”

  I replied, “What?”

  “Did she invite you to one of her parties?”

  “No,” I lied.

  “Good. She’s just some slutty whore who throws parties so that she can sleep around with other people’s husbands. It’s sad really…she must hate her own.”

  “Oh, I had no idea,” I replied.

  When I woke up the next morning, Nate was still asleep. The first rays of sunlight were just beginning to bounce off the dark bluish-grey waves of the Sound and reflect onto the ceiling of our bedroom. I laid in bed and scrolled through my Facebook feed, catching up on all of the posts I’d missed over the past twenty-four hours.

  There was a picture of my pregnant friend, Jordan, with only a black sarong wrapped around her less public parts, with the caption, “Can’t believe it’s only 12 weeks til baby Jensen arrives! #24weekspregnant”

  As usual my feed was filled with photos of Jul
ia. As I scrolled down there was a photo from a recent weeknight. She was at a black tie awards event, dressed in a floor length black gown with a revealing low V neckline. She was posing alone in front of a large marble sculpture of a warrior. The caption read, “The competition is fierce at the Annual Influencer Awards”.

  There was another picture of her amongst a crowd of well-dressed party-goers. It caught my eye by chance, but at the same time, it couldn’t be missed. It was only the back of his hand resting casually at her waist, but I knew immediately that it was his because of the wrist watch. That gorgeous piece of machinery was unmistakable. Nate and Julia are hooking up! It’s confirmation, which is good, but it’s not enough proof.

  I couldn’t help but study the picture. There was no question she was beautiful and successful in her own way, and more than anyone else, I knew what a monster he was, but for some logic defying reason I felt a pang of jealousy. Is he in love with her or just bored? Stop it. Who cares? This is exactly what I need. I just have to keep him interested long enough to get conclusive proof.

  Nate rolled over and began to stretch out next to me.

  “Do you know what was amazing?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “That threesome we had. Remember that?”

  “Yeah, of course.” No matter how hard I tried to forget.

  “Would you ever want to do something like that again?” he said.

  Hmmm, Candace’s party?

  “Because just thinking about that makes me so horny.” He was visibly aroused.

  I let the tension between us build. He sat up against the headboard.

  “Do you remember Candace Walters?” I asked. “Julia’s best friend?”

  “Sure.” It was clear he didn’t, but it didn’t matter.

  “Apparently, she hosts swinger parties.”

  “Really?” he turned to look at me.

  “Yeah, and she invited us.”

  “Do you want to go?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, do you?”

  He didn’t hide his curiosity. “Why not?”

  “Yeah, sure,” I said. We have to go! It’s the perfect opportunity! It just can’t seem like I’m enthusiastic. “I guess we could try it once.”

  “When is it?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t say yes. I said I’d ask you first.”

  “Oh. Well, sure. I say yes, so ask her when and put it on the calendar.”

  Of course you say yes. I nodded. “Okay.”

  He got out of bed.

  I texted Candace a little while later; “We’d like to come to your next party. When is it?”

  She replied almost immediately. “Great! Next Saturday 1/27, 8pm. I’ll put you on the list.

  The days moved slowly as I waited and anticipated the big night. I was nervous, so I picked up Vi’s diary to pass the time and keep my mind occupied.

  February 26, 1989

  Shreveport, Louisiana. He’s in jail. They arrested him last night. I found out in church this morning. Everyone was talking about it. The place was buzzing like it was full of bees and they were all watching me. Their looks were full of pure scorn and contempt. I ran out of the church before the sermon had even started. I could feel the weight of their eyes on me and I couldn’t stand it any longer. I cried all the way to the police station. When I got there and asked to see him they said it wasn’t appropriate for a pregnant girl to be in the station and that I couldn’t see him because I’m not his wife. I began crying and told them that I wasn’t leaving until I got to talk to him. Finally they took me back and he held my hand through the metal bars of his cell. He said that he was accused of statutory rape which is a felony. He said that the punishment is something crazy like 10 years in jail and a $5,000 fine. He asked me who I’d told that I was pregnant. He said that he hadn’t been with anyone else but me. I told him that I had only told my mom. I hadn’t even told my best friends, Ruth and Elizabeth, yet. He said, “Of course.” I asked him what he meant and all he said was, “Your mom.” It was weird. I’m not sure what he meant. As I turned to leave he said “I love you.” He’s never said that before. I don’t think I love him. I mean he’s really handsome, and I enjoy being with him, but I’m not sure that’s love. I’m so confused. I left without saying anything. I felt really bad about it as I was walking home. Should I have told him “I love you” back?

  When I got home she asked if I feel guilty that he’s in jail. I said not really because we both wanted to have sex (which is only sort of true…it was mostly him, but whatever). She said I should feel guilty because it was my sin, just like Eve’s, that led to this. She said that I should repent and ask God for forgiveness and then maybe he would show me a way out of this mess.

  The Convincer

  Saturday, January 20, 2018

  Manhattan

  My therapist’s office is more depressing in winter. Something about the blank, off-white walls, and institutional-grade grey window frames feels as if winter is creeping inside. She welcomed me in and I took my usual place on the couch.

  After completing the standard symptom checklists, she asked to see the list of critical things that Nate had said to me since my last visit, which she’d asked me to keep. I took out a page of handwritten notes: a catalog of critical, even cruel things, some of which were true, like the comment Nate made about me gaining weight after our wedding, some of which were fabricated. She has to believe that he’s in control and I’m helpless. Securely attached and entirely dependent on him.

  We sat in silence as she read through the list. Then she read from the page, “Why do you always mess this up, Wyn? It’s not that difficult. Really, a 3rd grader could get it right.”

  I nodded.

  “Wyn, how did that make you feel?”

  “Bad. I mean, it makes me feel like I’m failing at everything. All the time.”

  “How did you respond?”

  “I don’t know. I just want to make him happy. When he’s happy, things are so good.”

  “Did you tell him how this made you feel? That it hurt you?”

  “No.”

  “Do you love him?”

  “I guess so. At least in some ways I love him or maybe I just need him.”

  “What do you mean, you need him?”

  “It’s messed up, isn’t it?”

  She waited in silence.

  “I don’t know,” I continued. “It’s strange. I hated him at first, of course. I even wanted to kill him for a while, but I knew I could never do that. I began to think that if I just got close to him, figured out what made him tick, maybe I could forgive him, get over, and finally move on, but I got too close. In the beginning, when I was near him, all I could think about was what he was capable of. I began to do things that I didn’t want to do, but had to do, in order to keep him happy, because I was scared. I should have walked away but I couldn’t. I was in too far. I was so committed, so obsessed with figuring out why he did what he did, that I got lost. The line between who I was before and who I’ve become began to fade. Living with him became almost normal. I learned that as long as I keep him happy, he’s harmless and I can actually relax a bit…I almost enjoy myself. He’s even been sweet sometimes. I know that sounds crazy, but he can be incredible.”

  “Wyn, I think you are showing signs of trauma bonding. Trauma bonding is similar to Stockholm Syndrome, which happens when people held captive come to have feelings of trust or even affection for their abuser. This can be a survival strategy in the case of acute trauma, but it can also occur when a person is in a long-term relationship with their abuser.”

  Bingo! I’m playing my part perfectly if that’s what you think. This will only help my case if Nate tries to turn things around and say that I defrauded him or something because he doesn’t want to pay alimony. I shook my head for effect.

  “Wyn, I’m really worried about you. I think you need to get out.”

  I nodded. Soon enough, but I’m not done yet. I have more to do. I need
proof for this to work.

  “Wyn, if you don’t get out now, his abuse could escalate. You may not feel unsafe with him right now, but that could change. Sometimes stressful events in life, such as health or financial troubles, can turn someone like Nate back into a dangerous person. And the longer you’re with him, the harder it will be to extricate yourself when you need to. This behavior tends to be cyclical. Just because he’s being a good partner right now, doesn’t mean he won’t be dangerous in the future.”