From the Embers

by Aly Martinez

  Thankfully, Asher didn’t bring the phone up over dinner. We all sat at the table in the dining room, the girls’ highchairs pulled up at the ends.

  Bree talked.

  The kids laughed.

  And I stared into space, that damn phone burning like a glowing brick of coal in my back pocket while a matrix of numbers rained through my head.

  Not surprisingly, Bree could sense that something was up. Her gaze bored into me with a tangible suspicion that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. This was why people like me didn’t have second cell phones or mistresses. I wasn’t the cheater, but peeling out of my skin would have been more comfortable than bearing the weight of her scrutinizing gaze for a second longer. Luna was still chewing her last bite of pizza when I picked her up, offered curt goodnights, and then hauled ass out to the pool house.

  Unfocused and distracted, I struggled through Luna’s bedtime routine. But God bless my daughter; she was half asleep before the end of Goodnight Moon.

  Leaving me alone.

  At last.

  With that fucking phone.

  “Okay, okay, okay,” I chanted to myself as I paced the small living room.

  Long before I’d moved in, Bree had decorated the pool house in a beach theme. Tan furniture with teal accents set the mood. Black-and-white photos of starfish and coastal waters graced the walls, and multicolored blue stones on the kitchen backsplash topped off the modern ocean feel. Though, at the moment, as I stared down at Rob’s mystery phone on the coffee table, it was a lot like being trapped in shark-infested waters.

  I still couldn’t believe he’d do that to Bree. That woman was his life, and over the last year of truly getting to know her, I completely understood why. An affair made no sense. My desperate need to understand grew by the minute. However, pacing wasn’t going to help me magically figure it out.

  “Okay,” I said, lowering myself to sit on the couch in front of it. The next lockout was only five minutes. I could do it. I could totally do it.

  He’d always been obsessed with cars. They weren’t my thing, but I’d listened to him ramble enough to know that a 1969 Shelby was his dream car.

  1-9-6-9

  Denied.

  Fuck.

  For the next five minutes, there was a hurricane of pacing, thinking, and cussing.

  Maybe it wasn’t some code to crack. If he was stupid enough to be having an affair, maybe he was dumb enough to think he didn’t even need a code. Sucking in a deep breath, I went with the most generic sequence I could think of.

  1-2-3-4

  Wrong again.

  Shit.

  Defeated, I settled in for my fifteen minutes of purgatory.

  There had to have been tens of thousands of different combinations, but only one opened the phone and I was running out of guesses. He was my best friend; it shouldn’t have been so hard. For fuck’s sake, I’d spent three months living in a minivan with him, where we shared ninety-nine-cent cheeseburgers for dinner and took turns standing guard when we had to piss in the middle of the night.

  When I said I knew Rob Winters, I meant I fucking knew him. I’d titled my life’s work after that—

  My body turned to stone. It was a summer we’d spent pooling change and trading clean clothes, but no matter how many times we’d doubled over laughing while telling those stories, it always came back to the Aerostar van.

  There was a reason my album wasn’t Solstice in the ’07. We’d had a blast playing new bars, meeting women, drinking ourselves sick on whatever shots the bartender would slide our way when no one was looking. But it was the bond we’d forged inside the van that changed our lives.

  Rob had told me all about his fears of never measuring up to others’ expectations for him. And I’d told him all about growing up with a narcissist who was too consumed with her own life to remember I existed. We confided in each other about shit two twenty-one-year-olds never should have had to experience. And in those captain’s chairs, leaned back, staring up at the cloth drooping on the roof, we’d promised to stick together and keep each other accountable.

  Nineteen ninety-two. It wasn’t a place in time. It was an address where two broken kids had vowed to become men better than the world we’d been born into.

  Holding my breath, I typed the numbers 1-9-9-2.

  A rush of adrenaline crashed into me like a tsunami when the screen suddenly slid open.

  I shot to my feet, victory singing in my veins. For a beat, I was so proud of myself that I’d forgotten about the betrayal and why I’d broken into the phone in the first place.

  The home screen was set to default, the standard factory apps neatly stored in folders. The only icon on the dock at the bottom was for Messages and it snapped me back to reality. There was no turning back, but Bree deserved to know.

  I could tell her gently. Be there to support her. Remind her that Rob had always loved her no matter what stupid fucking choices he’d made. I’d be the rock on our team this time, give her space and time she’d need to grieve all over again.

  But this would be completely different than thirteen months ago. Forget about salt—this would be acid in her wounds. I’d be there for her and, God willing, soften the blow.

  Tapping into the messages, I found only one thread—the last text dated the day of the fire. I scrolled up, my stomach churning as I skimmed their conversation. From spur-of-the-moment afternoon dates at a local hotel to weekly Tuesday-night rendezvous wherever the hell “their spot” was. This wasn’t something new or an isolated event for Rob. With three a.m. sweet nothings and countless “I miss yous” from both sides, bitterness crawled up my throat as week after week of deception rolled across the screen.

  In the wake of tragedy, it’s strange the things you remember.

  I remembered standing inside the guest house—Rob’s guest house.

  I remembered the sickening weight in my stomach as I tried to figure out how I could destroy a woman who over the last year had come to mean so much to me.

  But carved into my soul for all my days to come was the life-altering moment when a naked photo of my wife appeared on the screen.

  BREE

  After I’d gotten the kids in bed, I went back downstairs to clean the kitchen. For the most part, the bacon pizza was untouched. Only one slice sat half-eaten on Eason’s plate, and the guilt of seeing it there swelled inside me. I shouldn’t have let him take care of Rob’s car. Cleaning out the house that weekend had been emotionally taxing and Eason had been nothing short of amazing.

  I didn’t know how he did it, but he was always there when I needed him and scarce when I needed time alone. He worried about me, so of course there were moments where he hovered for entirely too long. But that was pure Eason, so I didn’t complain—much.

  Sometimes, in the shadows of my own grief, I’d forget how close Eason and Rob had been. No wonder he had been so quiet at dinner. Cleaning out Rob’s car—the final chapter in his best friend’s life—couldn’t have been an easy task for him. Yet he’d insisted on doing it anyway.

  And after acting like a total manic and thoroughly ogling his chest, I’d let him.

  Nice, Bree. Outstanding way of communicating your gratitude.

  Still hungover from my attempt to drown myself in a bottle of Chardonnay the night before, I grabbed a sparkling water and a beer for Eason, and then I warmed up two pieces of pizza with the hopes of being able to coerce him into eating.

  Over the course of the week, my dream with Eason’s hands all over me had not faded in the least. There had been approximately five cold showers and one express delivery of Jillian’s recommended vibrator that she had lied about because it did not make me forget about Eason at all.

  But awkwardness aside, I had long since become addicted to our nightly chats. It didn’t matter how hard the day had been. Just the sight of him sitting outside, his messy, blond hair finger-combed to one side, beer in hand with his feet propped up on a chair, quelled the constant storm brewing
inside me. I wasn’t positive I had the same effect on him, but if he wasn’t on his way to a show, he never missed a night.

  Judging by the way he’d raced out of the house earlier that evening, he might take his time. Collect himself. Plaster on the fake smile I’d grown to hate.

  But he’d be there.

  And for Eason, I’d wait.

  Sitting on my corner of the couch, I stared up at the night sky with a sense of contentment swirling inside my chest. It had been one hell of a weekend, but I finally felt like I was taking the first steps on the twisted path of moving forward. Every day, I saw Rob in the faces of my children. Because of that, he would always be a part of my life. But I didn’t feel stuck in a spiral of sorrow anymore. Cleaning out the closet and donating his things wasn’t the same as erasing him from our lives. But living as though he would be home at any second hadn’t been doing me or the kids any favors.

  I glanced down at my wedding rings, the diamonds sparkling in the lights from the pool. I wasn’t ready to tuck them away in the safe yet. And that was okay. It was a process. I’d know when the time was right.

  However, as Eason exited the pool house, murder written all over his face, I would soon learn that the time had been right before Rob had even died.

  “Did you know?” he snarled from yards away, his voice echoing off the house.

  My head snapped back, confusion striking me like a slap. “Did I know what?”

  He stopped in front of me, his tall, muscular body vibrating with rage. “That your husband was fucking my wife!”

  I scoffed, the mere thought of it so ludicrous that it was almost humorous. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  He lifted a phone into my line of sight, revealing a picture of Jessica smiling into a mirror, one arm supporting her naked breasts, her other hand tangled in the top of her hair.

  I put my palm out to block the image. “Jesus, Eason. Why are you showing me that?”

  “Because she sent it to Rob!” he seethed through clenched teeth. With his finger, he gave the screen a swipe and dozens of blue and gray text bubbles rolled so fast that it was dizzying.

  But like a roulette wheel straight out of the Twilight Zone, it stopped on a picture of Rob. Based on the teal-and-white pillowcase, he was in our bed. With his chest bare and a sheet draped over his hips, he had his face turned away from the camera. I could almost hear his rich laughter. However, it was Jessica curled up beside him, her naked breasts pressed into his side, a blinding smile beaming up at the camera, that stole the breath from my lungs.

  “Where did you get that?” I hissed, shooting to my feet.

  “His car,” Eason snapped, his chest heaving as he stared at me with eyes so cold and distant I barely recognized him.

  I drew in a ragged breath, and as though oxygen had become poisonous, it burned all the way down.

  It wasn’t possible.

  There was no way the picture was real.

  But there was no denying it, either.

  “Is this some kind of sick joke? Because I have to be honest, Eason. It’s seriously fucked up.” A tear escaped the corner of my eye.

  As if a light had been switched, his face immediately softened. “I wish,” he rumbled, handing me the phone. He started to pace, based on the sounds of his footsteps. I was too focused on the alternate universe in my palm to know for sure.

  It wasn’t either of their phone numbers on the screen, but there were so many pictures it was easy to figure out who was who.

  Jessica: I told Eason I was going to the grocery store. You think you can take an early lunch?

  Rob: You’re my favorite lunch. Just tell me where.

  “I don’t understand,” I choked out, pain radiating from the knife of betrayal lodged firmly between my shoulder blades.

  “What is there to understand?” Eason snapped, planting his hands on his hips. “They were fucking behind our backs.”

  “No.” Shaking my head as if it could erase the images etched in my mind, I stated, “He wouldn’t do that to me. She wouldn’t do that to me.”

  “Yeah, well, they fucking did it to me, Bree.” He reached out and plucked the phone from my hand. “You want to see something fun?”

  There was absolutely nothing fun he was going to show me, so I braced for impact as he swiped his finger across the screen, searching for God only knew what.

  He sidled up beside me, bringing the phone between us. “Remember when I took her to Savannah for our anniversary?” He angled the phone so we could both see the photo on the screen. Jessica was making a kissing face at the camera, the strap of a black lacy see-through bra falling off her shoulder. “So this is the bathroom of the hotel from our anniversary trip.” He pointed to the bottom corner of the image where it appeared two mirrors reflected off of each other to show the rest of the hotel room. “That’s me. Asleep in bed.” He moved his finger to her bra. “And that’s the lingerie I bought her, but she told me she was too tired for sex, so she never even put it on.”

  My stomach soured and my mouth dried. Their anniversary? That was months before the fire. “How long was this going on?”

  “At least three months, though they’d been talking before that. The first text on there is about him having a new number that was safe. They were meeting up for lunch and on afternoons when I’d take Luna out for a walk. That new dance class she’d been taking at night?” He laughed without humor, pain carved in his handsome face. “Yeah, that was just some bullshit so they could meet up at the Four Seasons. Rob had a standing reservation every Tuesday and Thursday.”

  I blinked several times, trying to make sense of the illogical. I’d always known that Rob and Jessica were friendly. He’d shown me memes she’d texted him about being a workaholic, and they’d get together to plan my birthday or shop for my Christmas presents. But an affair?

  “Why? I mean…what the fuck, Eason?”

  “I have no idea,” he snapped. “I just know, for three months, my best friend gave me advice on my failing marriage—all the while telling my wife he loves her behind my back.”

  And with that, the dagger in my back plunged right through to my heart. On unsteady legs, I stumbled, my calves hitting the couch and forcing me down to sitting. “H-he loved her?”

  He let out a loud groan. “I gotta get out of here. I can’t be here tonight.”

  My head snapped up, a wave of anxiety which had nothing to do with my cheating husband crashing over me. “Where are you going?”

  “Anywhere.” He threw his hands out to his sides. “Being here. His house. His yard. I can’t sleep in a bed under his roof, wondering if he ever fucked my wife in it.” He leaned forward to grab the phone, but I moved it out of his reach.

  “No, I want to see everything.”

  “You don’t need to read that shit, Bree. Take my word for it. You know enough.”

  But he was wrong.

  “No. You can go, take some time for yourself, do whatever you have to. But I need to know every single word of it backwards and forwards, over and over, until something finally makes me understand how they could do this to me—to us.”

  His jaw ticked. “It’s not going to make it hurt any less.”

  “Yeah, well, neither is a vacation and you don’t hear me trying to stop you.”

  He glared at me for a long beat, but eventually, his shoulders fell. “The passcode is nineteen ninety-two.”

  Oh my God. What the actual fuck, Rob?

  Unable to hide it, I blanched.

  “Yeah,” Eason huffed. “I guess that van wasn’t the only thing he and I shared.” Dipping his head as he backed away, he added, “I’ll let you know where we end up.”

  I nodded, but my already broken heart shattered as I watched him walk away. It was just like my dream. He was leaving and I had no way to stop him.

  There was no sleep to be found that night. The very first thing I did was strip my bed, cramming the sheets and blankets into a garbage bag and then shoving them out the wi
ndow. It was a tad dramatic when I could have just carried them out to the trash bins, but banging my fist against his empty side of the bed was only so therapeutic. I considered throwing my wedding and engagement rings in the same bag, but I did have children who might one day want them, so I put them in the safe, hoping I threw them hard enough for them to shatter—just like our vows.

  Once I got settled in the guest room, I read every text at least a dozen times. Like a masochist, I zoomed in on every picture, memorized every detail. When I ran out of material, I called the head of Prism IT at five in the morning and requested a record of every text or call Rob had ever made from his work phone. I did the same with our personal cell phone provider as soon as their offices opened, but my search didn’t end there.

  After we’d lost Rob, I’d used an old backup from the Cloud to download the contents of his personal phone so we wouldn’t lose all the pictures he’d taken over the years. I spent many gut-wrenching nights going through his pictures and dreaming of the past. Jessica had never been naked in his photos, but finding her on his cameral roll wasn’t unusual. At the time, I hadn’t given it much thought. We often made Rob or Eason take pictures when the four of us were together. However, now, with the wool out of my eyes, I had a big day of scrutinizing ahead of me.

  It was Monday morning, and as soon as the kids woke up, they asked about Eason and Luna. I didn’t have much to tell them. He’d texted me an address somewhere in Tennessee shortly after midnight but offered no specifics on when they were coming back. It stung—a lot. Eason and I were no strangers to emotional upheaval, but this time, he’d wanted to deal with it alone.

  I, on the other hand, wanted him to come walking through my kitchen door with a smile on his face, Luna on his hip, and tell me everything was going to be okay. Because, somehow, someway, everything was okay when I was with Eason. And yes, I knew exactly how wildly selfish it sounded, but it didn’t change the fact that I already missed him like crazy.

  I called in to work to let them know I wouldn’t be at the office for a few days. With the IRS audit in full swing and Prism gearing up for the new fall line, it wasn’t a good time for me to take personal days. Then again, was there ever truly a convenient time to find out your dead husband had been in love with your dead best friend?