Those We Trust

by Victoria Ellis

  “She left the studio to move back in with her parents but she wasn’t there for long. There had been a flurry of past due notices littering her counter a week before she hightailed it out of there. She probably got evicted. Made no difference to me, though. I would follow her anywhere, you know. She’s my person. More than the others. She’s my favorite. The other women are just there to pass time for me. That’s all.” Patient X isn’t lying. He thinks he’s in love with this woman; this woman he has never had an actual conversation with.

  “She only stayed with her parents for a couple months until she got engaged and married all within weeks. They moved to a fancy house in the suburbs but I still find a way to go see her. I spend most of my time with her while she is in the city, but I make things work for us.”

  He continues talking about her new house and her husband while I scroll up in my notes to when he was talking about his first girlfriend getting taken away from him. When he pauses to sip his drink again, I ask, “Tell me more about your first girlfriend. Who took her away from you?” He looks taken aback by the question, not knowing what this has to do with anything. That’s why you’re paying me, Patient X.

  “We were in love, you know. Her name was Edie. She had long dark hair, too, and light-colored eyes just like this one. We were going to get married just as soon as we were old enough and I even asked her dad on her seventeenth birthday. Her dad never liked me because she spent so much time with me. He called me stupid but I really showed him. I studied really hard, I read every book I could get my hands on, and I actually made better grades than she did at the end of our junior year.” He’s started talking much louder toward the end of his statement.

  “Her dad said I would never make it. I’d end up in jail or working at McDonald’s forever. One morning really early, had to be three a.m., she slid the window to my room open and jumped in. I could tell she was upset; she was shaking and rambling on so fast I couldn’t keep up. She said she didn’t have time to explain everything, that her dad got a new job and waited to tell her until the night before. He was afraid what she would do, what we would do, if we knew earlier than their departure. She told me she would write to me, that it wasn’t the end.” Tears form at the corners of his eyes and he wipes them away furiously with his sleeved arm.

  “Did she write?” I ask.

  “She only sent me two letters before she forgot about me. I blame her dad. I don’t blame her though, she was the love of my life. I still think about leaving town and finding her. I’ve tried looking on Facebook and Twitter but nothing pops up when I search her name.” He shakes his head and then, “Listen, I’ve been holding something back from you that I need to get off my chest. I killed her dog.” He says it quickly, with no emotion in his eyes or on his face.

  “You killed Edie’s dog?” I ask.

  “God no. I’d never hurt Kasey. I meant I killed her dog.” He’s talking about the woman from earlier, the one he thinks he’s in love with. He’s got so many it can get a bit hard to keep up. He continues, “It wasn’t something I planned on, though. It just happened. I got so mad at her one night, I’m not proud of it. I got angry and I killed her dog.” He doesn’t further explain. Instead, Patient X looks from me, to the clock, then back to me again. “It looks like our time’s up for the day, doc. Don’t worry about the girls, I mean it. You know I’d never hurt them.” With that, he gets up, grabs his canteen, and leaves the office.

  ~

  When I pull into the driveway after a long and draining day, the last thing I want to do is entertain. I see Karen Longford waving at me incessantly and scurrying over to me, and I die a little on the inside and instantly feel bad for wanting to disappear. I love the Longfords, they really are wonderful friends, but I’m not in the mood after today. I expect her to come around to the driver’s side door but instead she yanks open the passenger side door and sits down in a huff.

  “Karen, what’s wrong, is everything okay?” I ask her, genuinely worried, she isn’t normally so invasive. I wonder if her husband fell ill or something happened to her mother. She’s been sick lately and her husband has a heart condition.

  She bugs her eyes out so far that I swear they are millimeters from popping out and rolling onto my floorboard. “Listen, Abbey. I didn’t want to tell you this…” Anytime someone says that, it’s typically not followed by great news. “I saw our new little neighbor sauntering over to your house in her short dress with a bottle of red wine the day we left for Florida and just because I was curious, I waited on my front porch, acting like I was reading my Better Homes and Gardens, until she left. Abbey, it was two hours that she spent in your house with your husband. I hate telling you this, but you have got to know. I don’t agree with spouses spending time with members of the opposite sex alone. God finds things like that punishable and you know I want you and Simon to join us up in Heaven when we all meet our creator.”

  Karen lets out her first breath in what seems like minutes. She and her husband are great people, but Simon and I secretly make fun of how involved they are with their church. Each time we do it we felt terrible, and we’re sure we we’re going to hell, but we can’t help ourselves.

  “Listen, I feel so bad. I tried waiting until you got home from work so I could tell you but we had to get on the road no later than five. You know how Jerry gets, he can be fussy sometimes. I forgot that damn phone that Cheryl got me to carry around like I’m a teenager who needs to check in. There was a landline at the condo but I don’t have your number memorized. I was really wishing I had one of those Facebook things so I could tweet you or whatever.”

  If I wasn’t so mad, I would smile at her lack of technological wit. The only words I can mutter out are, “Karen, thank you so much. I’m going to go in and talk to Simon. We’ll have to meet up later this week.” She gets the hint, thankfully, and leaves as fast as she came.

  I try to gather my bearings before going inside to kill my husband. I don’t want to have a complete meltdown like I did before when Mara first moved in. But also, aren’t I kind of allowed to be pissed that my husband and someone I now consider a friend are hanging out during the work day and drinking wine together? The shadiest part of the entire story is neither of them told me about it. I don’t expect Mara to, really. My husband should have though. He let me down and now he’s going to hear about it. There isn’t any calming down. There are no excuses to give. There’s some form of deception going on and I need to know the whole story.

  ~

  I go inside and shrug Simon off as he tries to give me a hug. He seems flustered and asks what my problem is, if I had a bad day at the office. No, you’re a prick. I don’t say it out loud. Not yet, anyways. I pull open the drawer to the built-in trash and recycling under the sink. No wine bottle. I throw my purse and laptop on the kitchen island and head to the garage to look in the large recycling bin, Simon all the while at my heels like a scared dog.

  I flip the lid open with so much force it slams back down. Opening it again I find a bottle resting under a broken box. So, the bastard wasn’t going to tell me about his wine date with our neighbor.

  I bend down into the can and yank the bottle out, resisting the urge to throw it at Simon’s head. “What the fuck is this, Simon?” I’m fuming, my face is hot, and my insides feel like they’re cracking from the sudden pressure. Simon can tell he’s royally fucked up.

  “Babe, chill.” He should have known by now, after years of marriage, telling a woman to chill is the equivalent to a death sentence. I push past him, purposely shoving into his arm as I walk back into the house, bottle still in hand as evidence, or as a weapon should I need to knock some damn sense into the moron.

  “Look. I was going to tell you that Mara stopped over. In fact, I thought I made mention of it. She asked for your number, remember?” Simon is annoyingly calm now and it pisses me off even more.

  “You conveniently left out that the two of you shared a bottle of wine, Simon. That’s a bit strange, don’t you think? W
ould you be perfectly fine with me going over to Sam’s house for a bottle of wine and forgetting to mention the wine part?” Sam was an ex-boyfriend of mine, one I dated seriously before Simon and I got together.

  “Abbey, that’s different and you know it,” Simon spits out, rubbing the back of his long, slender neck and looking at me with a stupid expression on his face.

  “Nope. It isn’t. It’s a man and woman,” I talk with my hands, overly detailing everything I’m saying as if he’s a child who doesn’t understand, “who are not you and I, sharing a bottle of wine, and not telling each other about it. Seems fairly the same to me.”

  “Listen to me, Abbey. Mara came over under the pretense of getting your phone number, to befriend you.” It’s his turn to over emphasize his words with frantic hand movements. “She brought a bottle of wine, the same brand we had at their house that first night, because you enjoyed it. She intended to leave it for the two of us but I had a horrible conference call just before she came and I popped it open the moment she handed it to me. I didn’t want to be an asshole so I offered her some.” Simon says all of this passionately, one hand on his hip and making eye contact the entire time. All things that signify he is telling me the truth.

  I don’t care what his body language is telling me. He’s accustomed to living with a psychiatrist. He knows the tricks. “Karen said she was here for two hours, Simon. Does it take two hours to have a glass of wine?”

  “Of course it doesn’t—”

  Just as Simon starts to tell me what the two of them were doing for two hours, my phone buzzes in my bag. I check it because I don’t feel the need to show Simon any attention; I’m sure Mara showed him enough. Of course when I look at my screen it is none other than Mara’s name flashing. I open the text, ready to cuss her out and tell her how I thought she was my friend but that friendship doesn’t equate to hanging out with my husband alone, and read: Abbey! Wanted to make sure I told you before I forgot. When I got your number from S the other day, I brought over your new favorite wine! Sadly, he looked like he needed a drink and devoured it right away. I had a glass, too! We talked about doing something fun for you but don’t even ask me what it is because it’s a SURPRISE! Anywho, just wanted to make mention, I’m sure Simon already has anyways. Just didn’t want to be weird. Now, for the real reason I am texting you. You and Simon are requested by chef James for a dinner party tomorrow night! We’re excited. Please say you will come! See you soon!-M

  “Abbey, are you listening to what I’m saying to you?”

  “Quite frankly, no..I’m not. I was reading a text from Mara. Strange that she just brought up that the two of you had wine the other day. At least she thought to tell me.”

  “See? If we were up to the shit you think we were, she wouldn’t have told you. Mara was definitely not here for two hours. Karen’s spinning a web and you’re walking right into it. I thought church people didn’t gossip,” Simon says with a huff. Organized religion is a sore spot for him. He doesn’t agree with what he calls “cult-like behavior.”

  “The point is, it shouldn’t have happened. You need to tell me if the two of you did anything. I’m upset. You would be too, put yourself in my position,” I say, tears welling up in my eyes. I curse myself in my head for showing him so much emotion when he stands there looking so cool and collected.

  “I’m sorry, love. I never meant to upset you. We had just had that argument that morning, you accusing me of wanting Mara. I didn’t really think it was the best time.” He looks genuinely sorry. I’m still pissed off that I had to find out from Karen.

  “Also, I find it odd that Mara didn’t even so much as mention being in our home prior to coming over for coffee. Why wouldn’t she have mentioned it then if the two of you are so innocent?” I feel defeated but I need to keep pushing on. This isn’t okay.

  “I don’t know, that’s a question for Mara. All I can tell you is the truth, Abbey. Take it or leave it but I’m sick and tired of defending myself to you.” He rests his elbows on the kitchen island and I feel a pang of guilt for questioning him. He is telling me the truth. His body language shows me that. Here I am looking like a psycho again over Mara. Someone that I genuinely connected with the other morning. I need to fix this before I cause him to stray.

  I walk around to where he’s standing and rest my head on his shoulder, apologizing to him but telling him in the same breath I’m not okay with Mara or any other woman spending time in our home when I’m not there. I understand the need to ask for forgiveness but he needs to meet me in the middle because this is an issue I refuse to budge on.

  Simon puts his arms around me—the same strong, loving arms that I’ve come to memorize over the years. Arms that wouldn’t hurt me. He apologizes as well and assures me there’ll be no more wine dates with women that are not me. I take my phone back out and re-read Mara’s message and then type, Don’t be silly, M! I trust you!

  Chapter Twelve

  Simon

  It feels good to be at work today out of the house. My days working from home are starting to give me major anxiety. The walls feel too close, and I can't seem to stop peeking out the windows facing Mara's house when I'm there. I don't know what I'm hoping to see. Half of me wants to see her traipsing over to pay me another visit, and the other half knows that's a foul thing to wish for.

  It's been a few days since we kissed, but I still can't shake it. I haven't seen Mara once since then, which should make things easier, but it doesn't. I've never thought of myself as a weak man. Until now, I've always held on tightly to my convictions. I never wanted my father's legacy to become my own. I've internally commended myself for having integrity, but never out loud because that seems like a trait that shouldn't be so hard for a man to possess. It's not that fucking difficult to be faithful, honest, committed. Until it is.

  When Abbey confronted, or rather berated, me about the wine with Mara, I wanted to give it all up right then and there. I wanted to tell her that we kissed, that I groped her thigh and jacked off to the thought of her when she left. I didn't though, because it was too easy to talk Abbey down. It was easier to convince her that nothing happened than face the music and wonder if I'd still have a wife when everything was said and done. It's natural instinct to deny, deny, deny. I also knew it was less likely to happen again if I confessed, and I wasn't sure if I was ready to come to terms with that either. I think I might want Mara even more the more taboo she gets. Like a decadent dessert that looks like a heart attack waiting to happen.

  I silently curse society for not teaching young men how to deal with their emotions.

  I decide to put Mara out of my head until later. I have to go to her house and talk to her when I get home. I always get home an hour before Abbey, and it's the only time to do it. I need to make sure Abbey never finds out about the kiss.

  Before I start working, a department of my life that's been failing miserably these past few days, I pull out my phone. I find Abbey's text message thread and scroll up a bit to look again at the picture she sent me the other day. It's a mirror selfie. She's posed in lingerie in what's supposed to be a sexy position, but her self-consciousness shows and she doesn't quite pull it off. Abbey really is a cute woman, and she has a decent figure, but being sexy doesn't come naturally to her. She could stand to try a bit harder. I've realized that the longer I'm with her, the less I really see her. She just is. She's just there. The picture still made me hard though, and I texted back, Wow! Please wear that for me tonight, babe. Please. Then I went into a bathroom stall at work and tossed off. I could only picture how fuck-me Mara would look wearing that lingerie. Abbey didn't wear it for me that night.

  Today though, I look at the picture more fondly. I realize Abbey making a damn effort. She was trying to spice things up by sending it, and how could I not appreciate that? A spark of hope ignites within me. If Abbey and I can work on our marriage, help repair what we've both let crumble, I truly believe she can be enough for me again. We used to be so, so good toget
her and I think we both have it in us to be more in tune with each other's needs. I'll suggest marriage counseling to her. She'll eat that up and who knows? Maybe it'll work.

  The closer to home I get, the more anxious I feel. People always comment on how even-keeled I am, but it's easy to be that way when your life is monotonous. Now, it's anything but. I was able to catch up on the work I was neglecting, which at least got my boss off my back. He can tell something's up. I'm typically the one closing deals left and right, and I'm always the go-to advisor. I've been acting like a problem child the past few days.

  I'm literally white-knuckling my steering wheel as I pull into our driveway. I wish I had some Xanax. I glance into my rearview and try to gauge whether Mara is even home. I know James isn't. He parks in the driveway and saves the garage for Mara and his hot rod, and his work car is gone. Abbey'll be home in an hour and a half, and time is ticking. If I'm going to do this, it's gotta be now. Before I cross the street, I take a quick look at the Longfords’ house and gather that they're not home either. Fuck Karen Longford. When will she learn to mind her own business? Even though I'm only planning on a quick conversation with Mara, to tell her to back off and keep shit to herself, I know Karen would spin it a completely different direction to Abbey if she saw me go over there. She'd make me out to be the bad guy. Again.

  I probably look like a crackhead rushing for my fix as I cross the street to her house. Mara is my drug. It's just a brief thought, but it feels like a revelation. You're right Simon. She's a drug and you've got to 'just say no.’ I can do this. Right?