by Maren Foster
Saturday, January 27, 2018
Old Greenwich
On Saturday I went to yoga. I knew I couldn’t sit around all morning in anticipation of the party. After class, Jenna wanted to get lunch. I figured she could be a worthwhile distraction. She tended to do most of the talking and never seemed to run out of things to tell me about her children and various PTA gossip.
“What’re you guys doing tonight?” she asked while we waited for our food.
“Not sure. You?”
“Nothing really, but I heard that Candace is having one of her parties.”
“Oh, really?”
“You weren’t invited?”
“No,” I lied. I didn’t want to add fuel to what was clearly already a raging fire.
“Oh, I thought I heard that she had invited you guys.”
So much for discreet. “I mean, she mentioned that she has parties now and then and that we are welcome, but she didn’t say any more and I didn’t ask.”
“But you knew what kind of parties they were because I told you.”
“You did mention that, yeah.”
“Do you want to go? Does Nate want to go?”
“I’m not sure.” Her grand inquisition was beginning to bother me. She is never this nosy, why now? Am I just being sensitive? Nah, Candace’s parties are probably the most exciting thing to happen in this sleepy suburb in years.
I was grateful when she finally changed the subject. “Are you going to Julia’s birthday party next week?”
“Yeah, I think so. I put it on our calendar.” I hadn’t wanted to mention it because I wasn’t sure she’d been invited. “You’ll be there too, then?”
“Yeah, of course,” she said.
She continued talking, and I listened as attentively as I could to a story about her son’s newfound interest in dinosaurs and her husband’s involvement with the men’s volunteer committee at church. I finally excused myself, and stopped at the gas station on my way home. I had only smoked a handful of cigarettes in my life, but I figured I might need an excuse to get some fresh air at the party, so I bought a pack and lit one up as I pulled out of the gas station.
There was a pile of mail on the floor behind the front door. I stood in the kitchen, picking through the pile. Junk. Junk. Junk. I threw all but one piece at the recycling bin. It was a shiny, magenta, gift-card-sized envelope with embossed gold lettering on the front. I grabbed a small, sharp knife and slit open the top neatly. Gold glitter, so fine that it immediately clung to everything, emanated from the envelope as I opened it. Inside there was a single, thick, magenta card with gold lettering.
“The Exchange” House Rules
He or she who enters is expected to abide by the following, with no exceptions:
→ Everyone is available.
→ A tap on the shoulder is an invitation. A shake of the head is a rejection of such offer.
→ No means no. At any point, all activity will be immediately discontinued.
→ Protection is provided in each room and required at all times.
→ Discussion or recitation of events to uninvited parties is strictly prohibited.
→ No video or photography is allowed, at any time.
→ Check your inhibitions at the door!
Above all else, please enjoy yourself and have fun!
I locked the door to the master bathroom and got in the shower. I scrubbed my skin clean, working over my body at least three times, first with a loofa and bath gel, then a bar of soap, and finally with shampoo as I washed my hair. I blew out my hair, thinking of Krista as I did.
I put on my sexiest little black dress and admired myself in the mirror. I have no idea how to dress for this. Am I overdressed? I should have asked Candace. The dress had a low V-neck that plunged below my breasts. The capped sleeves stopped where my shoulders peaked. I put on a simple necklace with large black beads punctuated at random by semi-precious stones. I look great. Who cares!
I sprayed perfume, grabbed a small black leather purse, and threw my wallet, keys, and the pack of cigarettes in.
Wondering where Nate was, I walked through the house. He wasn’t home and it was already seven. Where is he? Maybe he’s already been with her today. What if he has and now he doesn’t want to go to the party?
As I got back to the kitchen I heard the latch turn.
“Nate?” I said.
He didn’t respond. I walked toward the front door just in time to see him bound up the front stairs. The thud of each powerful step seemed to sync perfectly with my escalating heartbeat.
Am I really nervous? Is it the thought of what could happen with Adam tonight or not getting the proof I need? I imagined Adam’s hands finally on me without restraint. I thought about his tongue in my mouth and him inside me. What will I discover? Will I finally know that we are perfect for each other and meant to be? Or perhaps that we have no chemistry, that I’ve imagined it all along. Perhaps it was a fear of the latter that had kept me from going through with it for so many years. Am I really ready to find out? I have so many other things to worry about right now, like how to catch Nate red handed without being exposed.
Nate drove to Candace’s house. There was a valet service set-up in her driveway. We got out and I handed Nate the magenta card. Without reading it, he threw it into the bushes along the driveway.
The Walters’ house was magnificent: a large white Colonial on the water with a long, extravagantly landscaped entrance.
The door opened in front of us and Candace stood a few feet behind the door, beaming radiantly.
“Welcome!” she said. “I’m thrilled that you came!”
“So are we,” I said as she kissed each of my cheeks and moved on to Nate.
“Please help yourself,” she said and a server stepped forward with a tray full of champagne glasses.
I took a glass and continued into the large, dimly lit foyer. I passed a room in the hallway. The door was closed and there was a sign made of wood hanging from a metal hook. On it there was an arrow that could be manipulated to indicate that the room was either “Occupied Exclusive”, “Occupied Welcoming”, or “Free”. The dial pointed to “Free”.
There were about twenty people, all dressed in sleek cocktail attire, spread around the well-appointed living room. They were talking, laughing, and sipping champagne, as if they were at any cocktail party.
I scanned the room and saw two couples I knew. Justin and Maureen Hamell, and John and Ginny O’Hara. I had met Justin and Mo at a house warming not long after we had moved in. Justin looked good. He was about average height with unremarkable, but well-proportioned features and beautiful black hair with just the right amount of silver in it. Mo looked fine for her age, but was pretty clearly already a mom, evidenced by that stubborn padding around her hips and stomach. I knew Ginny from yoga and had been introduced to John in passing after class one day at the juice bar downtown. He was the type that wore spandex at the coffee shop on a busy Saturday with no shame, but he was fit enough to pull it off.
I wondered why they were here and who would tap whom. Adam and Julia were not among the small crowd. Where are they? They have to be here or this might all be for nothing. Just another time Nate has pulled me in too deep and made a complete fool of me.
I took another glass of champagne.
A tall guy with loose blonde curls walked toward me. He looked incredibly fit for his age, which I guessed was at least forty. Out of the corner of my eye I watched Nate. He was talking to a busty blonde that reminded me of the women he had dated before me.
“Well, hello. You’re new aren’t you?” the blonde forty-something said.
“Sure.”
“Oh, not friendly I see?”
Julia walked in, champagne glass in hand. She was stunning. Her hair was pulled back artfully. She was wearing a gold sequin dress that looked uncomfortable and difficult to take off. God, I’m underdressed. I watched as all of the men in the room turned to admire her, including Nate. Where is Adam?
&
nbsp; “Who’s your date?” The blonde guy was still at my side.
“My husband.” I motioned in his direction with my champagne glass. “Isn’t that question against some rule or something?”
“Ha, if it’s not, it probably should be,” he said. “I’m Chase, by the way.” He held out his hand. “My pleasure.”
“Wyn.”
“What do you do, Wyn?”
“I’m a con artist,” I said.
“You are not!”
“Sure.”
He laughed. “You’re funny.”
“So, what do you do, Chase?”
His eyes lit up. “I’m a trader.”
I smiled politely. “Sorry, excuse me for a second,” I said and moved past him. I felt his hand caress my ass, and turned toward the offender, but by the time I looked back the moment had passed. He was on to his next prospect and I realized how foolish I would look accusing him of an unwelcome advance given the occasion.
I stood alone and was rescued by a good looking woman with short dark hair and flawless makeup.
“He likes you.”
“Really? I couldn’t tell,” I said sarcastically.
She smiled.
“Do you know him?” I asked.
“Yep,” she said. “He’s my husband.”
“Oh,” I stuttered.
“It’s fine,” she reassured me.
“Of course,” I said.
“Really. It’s good for him.”
“What is?”
“Rejection.”
“Really?”
“Perfect actually. We’re here because I want us to be,” she said.
“Really?” I was intrigued.
“Look, before we discovered this,” she motioned toward the other couples and lowered her voice, “he was gaining weight, getting lazy, taking me for granted. I tried everything else I could think of first, but nothing worked until we came here.”
“Wow.”
“This gives him all the motivation he needs,” she said. “It’s a small price to pay.”
I smiled. Wow, is it though?
A tap on the shoulder in the corner of the room caught my eye. I didn’t know either of them but I watched as they betrayed their intentions publicly. She nodded, smiled, and followed him out of the room. So that’s how it works.
I watched as Nate tried to maneuver nonchalantly toward Julia. He kissed both of her cheeks and they tapped champagne glasses. They each took a long sip.
From a dark corner I watched them pretend to make small talk for a few minutes, but it was clear from his body language that he was shielding her from other would-be partners and defending his territory. Finally, he reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. It was less of a tap and more of a command. They turned and left the room. I emptied my glass of champagne and made my way toward the door. I followed slowly, trying not to attract attention. As I crossed the room I passed Chase, who again coped a feel. Again, I said nothing but became a little more enraged. What makes him think that’s okay?
Nate and Julia were out the back, toward the kitchen. I followed cautiously. They turned down a hallway off the kitchen. I peeked around the corner just in time to see them disappear into a room and shut the door. As I approached the closed door I heard the lock click and saw the arrow, which had been turned to “Occupied Exclusive”.
I walked back toward the party. As I crossed the foyer I felt a hand on my shoulder. God, not Chase again!
I turned and saw Adam, who looked great.
He pulled me gently toward him. “You okay?” he asked.
I shook my head and pulled away. I walked quickly across the foyer and smiled at the valet as I walked out the front door of the house. I pulled the pack of cigarettes out of my purse and paused to light one.
I felt Adam behind me as I took a left and walked along the front of the house toward the east wing.
“You don’t smoke,” he said.
I kept walking. I’d gone about fifty feet before I was confident that a set of large double-hung windows with a low light on belonged to the right room.
I snuck around the thick hedge that bordered the house until I was pressed against the window. The curtains in the room hung haphazardly but allowed enough of a view. I dropped the cigarette in the dirt and pulled out my cell phone. I held my phone up to the window and hit record. I could feel Adam next to me.
Nate fumbled with the zipper on Julia’s dress, eventually pulling the dress off. She unbuttoned his collared shirt and pulled at the buckle on his belt. His pants fell to the ground. He stood naked in front of her. She was dressed in gorgeous black lingerie. He kissed her neck and breasts and then threw her onto the bed. He forced her legs apart, held them open, and went to work with his mouth. She grasped for something to hold onto. Then just before it seemed like she might succumb, he stood up and shoved himself inside her. She pushed her hands against the headboard, clenched the sheets and occasionally looked up at him. The intense pleasure was evident in her contorted features. When they were finished, they laid down next to each other for a minute. Before I could hit stop on my phone he was up again with his head between her legs, her back arched, and her hands again searching for something to grasp. I hit stop.
I turned and saw Adam, watching me in pure shock.
“Oh, come on. You knew, right?” I said.
“What the fuck?”
“You might want to ask your wife that question.”
“I mean you,” he said, “recording that shit. What the fuck?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Fuck you,” he said. “You’ll never open up.”
I stared straight at him. The look of betrayal in his eyes burned permanently into my memory.
I inhaled deep and fought back tears.
“Nate raped me,” I whispered.
“What?”
“I said Nate raped me. More than once actually.”
“Oh my God. When?”
Tears began streaming down my face.
“Wait, what? What do you mean, Nate raped you? When?”
“First in college. Again since I moved to New York. While we have been married.”
“I don’t get it. You knew him in college?”
“He was visiting a friend and we met at a frat party.”
“Oh my God.”
I nodded.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “But why did you marry someone who raped you?”
“I was pregnant. I had an abortion that summer, after the rape.”
“Holy shit,” he said. “Why though? Why did you marry him?”
“It’s the only way.”
“The only way for what?”
“Justice.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“He said he would ruin my life if I told anyone. My own roommate, who was at the party, didn’t even believe me.”
“That’s fucked up,” he said.
I didn’t say anything or look at him. Instead I looked down at the video on my cell phone.
“That’s crazy?” he said.
I shook my head in disbelief at his words. I was raped and I’m the crazy one?
“Look at me!” he demanded.
I looked up.
“Jesus Christ.”
“He has to pay,” I said, trembling.
“Oh my God. This is crazy,” he said.
I stared back at him, the pain evident in my eyes.
“I mean, holy shit. Nate’s a rapist. Freddie, I’m so sorry. I knew he was a bad guy, but I had no idea.”
I nodded.
“That motherfucker,” he said and turned to watch his wife entangled passionately with a monster.
Adam turned back toward me. “I’m so sorry. You aren’t crazy. I shouldn’t have said that. Come here.”
He pulled me into his arms and I didn’t resist. I sobbed against his chest.
“What do you need?” He whispered.
I shook my head.
“Anything. You
know that, right?” he said.
“Please just stay out of it for now. You weren’t supposed to know.”
“This is the secret you were keeping all these years?”