Frank looked down at his hands. Josie had always found it endearing, somehow, that his strong-looking hands had chewed-on nails.
“I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal,” he said. “It’s just for two nights.”
Frank and Mike both looked at Josie.
“Why don’t you just tell them, Frank? Say we’re having some issues. You don’t need to explain what it is. They can stay at the house with me and the girls or they can stay at a hotel.”
“Okay. If that’s what you want,” Frank said.
“Have you told your parents, Josie?” Mike asked.
“Sort of.” Josie sighed, remembering the conversation of a few days earlier. “I called my mom and I downplayed it. I just said Frank and I were having some issues and we were taking a little break to figure things out.”
Mike took a sip of coffee. “What was their reaction?”
“My mother didn’t ask any questions. She was the one I told. She’ll relay everything to my father; pretty much everything gets funneled through her. She just said she was sure everything would work out. It was a ten-minute call if that.”
“Oh.” Frank sounded surprised. “I didn’t know you told her.”
“Yeah . . . well.” Josie couldn’t think of anything else to say so she shrugged.
“I’m sorry she wasn’t more supportive. You deserved better, Jos.”
Josie looked at Frank and felt her throat tighten. She’d forgotten this, how he’d always tried to make up for what her parents lacked. She wanted to say thank you, but she felt as though sobs might escape along with those words.
Mike set down his coffee cup and leaned forward. “Do you feel as if your parents wouldn’t be supportive if you revealed the truth to them, Frank?”
Frank shook his head. “No, they would be.”
“What would they do?” Mike asked. “Can you describe how each of them might act, and how each of them might feel upon hearing the news?”
Josie watched, fascinated. Mike was taking Frank down a path that was unfamiliar to Josie; she’d never asked him to dissect his relationship with his parents this way.
“My mom would want to talk about it endlessly, and she’d flutter around and make casseroles or something. My dad would clap me on the back and say something like ‘We’re here for you, son.’ But he wouldn’t bring it up after that unless I did. He might suggest we go play golf or something. That would be his equivalent of the casseroles.”
If she left Frank, she’d lose his family, too, Josie realized with a start. Maybe the girls would go home with Frank on some holidays. Instead of poker and silly movies, she would be left alone to endure a Christmas dinner served atop her mother’s heirloom lace tablecloth, while her father made a production of carving the turkey. Frank wouldn’t be there to create elaborate games to choose who got to pull the wishbone apart; he wouldn’t catch her eye and wink to take the sting out of the moment when Zoe’s and Izzy’s voices rose in excitement and Josie’s mother’s lips pursed.
“So that’s how your parents would act.” Mike steepled his hands and leaned in closer to Frank. “How would they feel?”
Frank shook his head. “Ah, you know.” He tried to smile but it looked more like a grimace. He shifted and started to rise to his feet, but then he seemed to catch himself and he sat back down.
Josie didn’t know if she’d ever seen him look so acutely uncomfortable.
Mike allowed the silence to stretch on.
“They’d, um, you mean, how would they really feel?” Frank finally asked.
Mike’s voice was as calm and soothing as ever. “Yes. Can you tell me how your parents would feel if you told them you and Josie were separated?”
Frank lowered his eyes. “They’d think I was a fuckup. They’d all think it. My brothers, too.”
What struck Josie almost as much as Frank’s surprising words was the note of defeat in his voice.
“You don’t think they’d feel sympathetic that you’re going through a hard time?” Mike asked.
“Maybe. But deep down, that’s what they’d be thinking: ‘Frank fucked up again.’ ”
Josie couldn’t stop looking at Frank. Did he really think his entire family saw him in such a poor light? Or maybe it was he who saw himself in that role when he was around his family. Frank had never talked to her about this; he’d hidden this piece of himself. But to be fair, Josie had never thought to ask the questions that Mike was making seem so basic.
“I’ll tell them,” Frank said. “I’ll say they should stay at a hotel when they come to visit. Is that okay, Josie? I’ll do whatever you want.”
She exhaled. “I don’t know. I don’t like the idea of creating a pretense for them.” What she didn’t add: there has been too much lying already.
“Frank . . . say we’re going through a rough patch, okay? If they ask questions, you should tell them the truth, but if they don’t . . . you can just let it go. You can do the bagel thing. And we can all go out to dinner together, with the girls.”
“Does that sound like a good plan?” Mike asked.
“Yeah,” Frank said. “I’ll tell them tonight.”
Mike smiled. “I’d like to commend you two. You were faced with a problem and you came up with a solution that satisfies you both. You’re presenting a united front and you’re working together.”
Frank looked pleased at Mike’s words. But Josie could only think about how they hadn’t worked together when it counted most, when it would have made a real difference.
• • •
When they left therapy a while later, Frank asked whether Josie had eaten dinner.
“Not yet,” she said. She’d nibbled on some cheese and crackers with her glass of wine before the session, but she was still hungry.
“We have the sitter, so . . . I was thinking, would you want to stop and get a bite?” Frank asked. He must’ve seen the wary look that she knew came into her eyes, because he quickly added: “That’s all it would be. Something to eat. Anywhere you want, and I’ll bring you home the second you say you want to go.”
She knew how eagerly Frank was awaiting her answer. She also knew that if she said no, he would bring her directly home and would leave if the girls were already asleep.
Josie tried to think of what she truly wanted. Not what Frank wished, and not what Karin or her mother or anyone else would urge her to do; she sought to excavate her own honest feelings, which was harder to do than she would have thought.
“I wouldn’t mind a cheeseburger and fries,” she finally said.
* * *
Chapter Twenty-Two
* * *
“HOW COULD HE DO it?” Josie looked across the table at Karin and Amanda. “That’s the thing I can’t get past. I know he’s sorry, I know he regrets it, I know he wants to take it back. And I don’t hate him as much as I used to. The other night we went out for burgers and I was able to talk to him without wanting to throw the ketchup bottle at him . . . but I keep wondering what was going through his mind when he left Dana and came home to us. How could he live with himself?”
They were settled at a corner table at a small French café, and the waitress had just brought a china pitcher of real cream for their coffee, which was served in bowls rather than mugs.
“This place is insane,” Karin had said when she’d suggested the three of them meet there. It had opened only a few weeks earlier, and although other coffee shops were closer to them, Karin insisted the trek was worth it. “You’ll eat like twelve brioches and not even feel full because they’re so light. And you look like you need a few brioches, Kate Moss.”
Josie had intended to decline—she’d been throwing herself back into work, since money was becoming a real concern—but she realized she’d made no progress unspooling her thoughts about Frank since he’d moved out. Perhaps her two most blunt, honest friends could help with that.
Karin fussed with the pots of blackberry and strawberry jam when their food arrived, making sure t
hey were close to Josie and asking for extra butter. It was lovely, feeling so taken care of, Josie thought.
“If we’re going to try to sort things out, let’s start at the beginning,” Karin said, blowing on her coffee before taking a sip. “You and Frank met at a party, right? Let me guess, Frank walked up to you and said something funny. He made the first move.”
“No.” Josie shook her head. “I did.”
She tore off the top knot from her brioche, thinking about how she’d noticed Frank soon after she arrived at the party given by a mutual friend. He wasn’t the most handsome guy in the room. But there was an ease about him, a lightness, that drew her gaze. His smiles punctuated the ends of his sentences. He touched the arm of the person he was talking to, and threw back his head when he laughed.
Josie was working at her job in public relations—at that point, she was only a step or two above entry level. She’d envisioned herself diving into interesting campaigns, sitting around conference room tables with other creative types as they batted around ideas. Instead, she mostly put together mailings and proofread press releases. Still, the job had its perks: fancy parties for big clients, and overtime pay when they were up against crushing deadlines and needed to work through the night. Plus, she was still in her midtwenties. She’d thought she had plenty of time to advance in her career. She hadn’t been in a rush to settle down or get married.
“I was in the kitchen getting more beer from the keg when I heard this crash.” Josie smiled, remembering. “When I went back into the living room, I saw Frank sprawled on the floor, next to an overturned table. Apparently he’d accepted a challenge to try to walk on his hands.”
“And in what universe did he think this would end well?” Karin asked.
“Then I walked over to him and said, ‘I bet I can do it.’ ”
At Karin’s raised eyebrow, Josie added, “I took gymnastics for years when I was a kid.”
She took a sip of her milky, sweet coffee, feeling it warm her insides. “So Frank starts shouting, ‘We have a new challenger!’ And I asked him what I’d win if I did it.”
“Ooh, you saucy minx!” Karin said.
It was totally unlike her, Josie reflected. She’d never been forward with guys. She couldn’t credit it to the two beers she’d had before coming to the party, or even to the two after she’d arrived. Something about Frank simply put her at ease.
“I bet Frank said you’d win a date with him, right?” Amanda asked.
“Sort of. He said I’d win a milkshake.”
“Okay, random, but kind of cute,” Karin said. “Did you do it?”
“I was wearing a skirt, which complicated things,” Josie said. “But I managed to tuck it between my knees and I walked upside down for a good twenty seconds. Then I started getting really nauseous.”
“It’s making me nauseous just hearing about it.” Karin shook her head and reached for another brioche.
“My friends wanted to leave the party a little while after that, so Frank wrote down my number. He walked me outside when the cab came, and I ended up making out with him on the street for so long that my friends left me.”
Josie smiled again, despite everything. She could recall how right it felt to be in Frank’s arms, and how his lips had warmed her cold ones on that cool fall night.
“We walked about two miles to an all-night diner—it was only a mile away but we kept getting lost—and he bought me my milkshake and we talked. And he called me the next day and we went to go see a movie. There was no game playing or acting hard to get on either side. We just sort of fell into a relationship right away.
“I’d never had a boyfriend like Frank before,” Josie reflected. “I didn’t feel anxious about whether he’d call. I was never jealous or insecure. He made it clear early on that he cared about me. I never doubted his feelings.”
She was staring down at her bowl of coffee, but she sensed her friends watching her intently.
“I felt . . . safe with him,” Josie said slowly.
“And he took that away from you,” Amanda said gently.
“Yeah.” Josie leaned back in her seat and sighed. She felt tired again, even though she’d taken a Xanax last night and had slept for nearly eight hours. “And I don’t think you can ever get it back after something like this, can you?”
“I think men and women are built differently,” Amanda said. She leaned across the table, closer to Josie, and her wide blue eyes seemed more earnest than ever. “Guys compartmentalize things. I’m not saying they don’t have all the same feelings that we do, but they’re not socialized to dissect and analyze and put a label on them, so a lot of times they push them away. Do you think Frank has told anyone about the affair?”
“Just one of his friends,” Josie said. “He’s going to tell his parents that we’re having issues since they’re coming to visit, but we agreed he’d downplay it.”
“So he’s going to work as usual and act normally with almost all of his friends,” Amanda said. “Compartmentalizing. He probably couldn’t imagine sitting around a coffee shop talking through this stuff for hours with his buddies. Just like you couldn’t imagine acting like it never happened.”
“Yeah, but . . .” Josie frowned. Amanda had a point, but she was missing something. “So why didn’t he come to me rather than stuffing down his feelings? If he had just talked to me, this might never have happened.”
“Exactly.” Karin set down her coffee mug with a little too much force and it clanged against the table. “If he had told you right away, you might have been able to fix things.”
Josie tore off another piece of brioche, but her throat felt too tight to eat it, so she left it on the edge of her plate. “I mean, I know things between us weren’t perfect, but I thought we had a pretty good marriage. We were busy, and it was always chaos with the girls, but we loved each other. At least I thought we did.”
There was a beat of silence, then Amanda spoke. “How often did you two talk, though?”
If anyone else had asked the question, Josie might have found it accusatory. But Amanda was completely guileless. She was asking for information, not making a judgment.
“All the time, every five seconds,” Josie said. She shrugged. “And also never.”
“Like everyone,” Karin chimed in. “And why is it Josie’s job to pull the feelings out of Frank? He’s a grown man. He can use his words.”
“But we all know most guys have a harder time doing that than women,” Amanda said.
It was like an old comic Josie had once seen in the newspaper, in which an angel and a devil sat on a person’s shoulders, whispering opposing things. Try to see if you had a role in any of this, Amanda seemed to be saying. Blame everything on Frank, Karin was urging.
“I guess what I’m wondering is this,” Amanda said. “Did Frank want you to find out?”
“Oh, come on!” Karin said.
Josie blinked. “About the affair? Are you serious?”
“It was risky, keeping those emails. He had to have known that, right?”
Josie nodded slowly. She could see Karin roll her eyes, but Josie ignored her.
“And when you were in that parking lot and asked for his phone, he could have just told you he was expecting a call or that he’d phone in the prescription,” Amanda continued. “He didn’t have to give it to you.”
Josie gaped at Amanda. She felt as if she’d received an electric shock. Amanda’s theory was outlandish. Yet Josie recognized a kernel of what felt like truth in it.
“He did this thing right before he handed it to me—he started tapping on it,” Josie blurted. “I wonder if that’s why, when I finished the call, his email account popped up. Because he’d just been tinkering with it.”
Josie sat up ramrod-straight, her pulse quickening.
“You’re right. Frank thinks quickly on his feet. He could have waited while I made the call, or offered to do it himself,” she said. “Do you seriously think he wanted me to see those emails?�
��
“Not consciously.” Amanda reached over and touched Josie’s hand. “But I do believe he wanted to stop having the affair, and that he wanted to tell you about it, and he didn’t know how.”
• • •
They said good-bye on the sidewalk outside the coffee shop a few minutes later. Amanda had driven separately, so they walked in different directions to pick up their cars.
Josie was so busy thinking about what Amanda had said that she didn’t notice how quiet Karin was being. It wasn’t until Karin was pulling out of the parking garage that she spoke.
“I’m sorry.”
The surprise of hearing those words made Josie jerk back. “For what?”
“For being so hard on Frank.” Karin twisted the wheel to the right, turning toward the highway.
“I don’t think you’re being too hard on him,” Josie said. “But you do seem pretty angry at him.”
Karin drove another mile or so before she answered. “I don’t think it’s him I’m really mad at, Josie. I think I’m still mad at myself for what I did.”
* * *
Chapter Twenty-Three
* * *
SOME DAYS, JOSIE FELT as if she might actually be able to give Frank a second chance. She wasn’t able to imagine having sex with him—though Sonya predicted it would be possible, if Josie chose reconciliation—but Josie envisioned inviting him to live in the house again. Frank could stay in the basement. They could present themselves as a couple until they learned whether it would be possible in actuality.
Other times, she knew it would never work. Her emotions were still skittering all over the place, like a handful of marbles thrown on a wood floor. And she hadn’t even checked out the other loose threads she’d collected. There might be unseen pieces to the story.
She’d put off resuming her investigation because she hadn’t felt able to absorb more pain. But the not knowing was becoming worse than the knowing. She needed more answers.
The Ever After Page 20