The Ever After

by Sarah Pekkanen

  “Higher!” she shouted, tilting her head back, her long hair streaming out behind her.

  Josie looked around for the little boy with the alligator hat, but he was gone. He must have left with his parents while she’d been lost in her memories.

  “Come on, Huck,” she said, giving his leash a gentle tug.

  Frank was trying so hard, she thought. If he’d been trying only to win her back, Josie might not have felt herself softening toward him. But he also was trying to become a better man.

  She wondered how it was possible that she’d shared a bedroom and a life with Frank and yet had barely known him in some ways. They had become the closest of strangers.

  During their last counseling session with Mike, Josie had asked Frank a question.

  She’d been angry because of something that had happened when Alexia, a friend of Izzy’s, had come over to play after preschool. Alexia’s mother had arrived to pick her up and had said, “What a nice house you have.”

  And Izzy had responded: “My daddy doesn’t live here. He has an elevator apartment.”

  The smile had dropped from Alexia’s mother’s face. Her eyes had widened. “Oh,” she’d said. “Oh, dear—I’m sorry!” Then she’d said too brightly, “Come on, Alexia, let’s get on your shoes. Time to go!”

  Josie understood that people didn’t know how to respond when confronted with unexpected situations; that adults often fumbled for the right words. Perhaps the mother wished she could have a do-over.

  But Izzy’s little face in that moment . . . the way her eyebrows had tilted up in bewilderment and her soft, sweet mouth had fallen slightly open. She’d probably been expecting Alexia’s mother to be excited about the elevator, to say something like, “Ooh, you lucky girl!”

  Josie had wanted to absorb every bit of Izzy’s confusion and hurt. It killed her that she couldn’t.

  “Do you really think our marriage could ever be the same?” she’d almost shouted at Frank soon after their session had started.

  She’d expected Frank to respond that he’d continue to prove his trustworthiness, that they’d eventually get back to where they were before the affair. She’d thought he’d reiterate that he loved her and the girls and would never hurt them again.

  That’s why Frank’s response had been such a surprise.

  “What if we could make it better?” he’d asked.

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  * * *

  JOSIE WAS ANSWERING EMAILS when Frank called. Her business was picking back up again, and she’d just sold a hundred wooden toys to an international school downtown that was adding a new music program. She was grateful for her work beyond the extra money it brought in; it also helped to divert her focus.

  “I want to invite you to something,” Frank began.

  Josie felt her brow crease.

  “There’s a happy hour Friday night,” Frank continued. “A big group email went around.”

  “Frank, I don’t—” Josie began.

  “It’s not like that,” he interrupted. “I want you to come because Melissa will be there. I want you to see that there isn’t anything between us. That there was never anything between us.”

  When she’d called Frank after her last session with Sonya, she’d told him she needed to know the truth about Melissa. He’d again begun to deny anything had happened. She’d cut him off.

  “I need proof,” she’d said. “Please get it for me.”

  Now she was silent as she considered his proposition. Would he be suggesting this if he and Melissa had been intimate? It seemed unlikely.

  “I could come home and pick you up first,” Frank said. “That way we could walk in together. We’d stay as long as you wanted.”

  She could try to read Frank’s body language, and Melissa’s. Wouldn’t one of them exhibit a tell if something had happened?

  “Okay,” Josie said.

  She felt her stomach twist at the thought of coming face-to-face again with the woman she’d wondered about so often.

  • • •

  What she needed, Josie decided, was a killer outfit. There was no way she was going to show up for the happy hour in her usual jeans and a sweater, or even her go-to pink-and-orange patterned dress that could get her through everything from a christening to a wedding.

  The next morning, right after she dropped the girls at school, she headed to a boutique she’d passed a hundred times but had never entered. The window displays were geared toward customers with very different lifestyles than Josie’s—women who strode about confidently in heels and wore cream-colored slacks without worrying about getting grape jelly smudges on them.

  A little bell over the door sounded when Josie entered the hushed, beautifully organized space. Acoustic Billy Joel played over the speakers, and a chunky scented candle—Josie picked up notes of lavender—burned within a glass container. Josie touched a fringed poncho, admiring how soft the wool felt beneath her fingers, then picked up an embossed leather belt.

  A smiling saleswoman approached her unhurriedly. “Good morning. Looking for something special?”

  Oh, just something to intimidate my estranged husband’s possible mistress, Josie thought.

  “Yes, but nothing too fancy,” she said. “I’m going out downtown for a happy hour.”

  She found herself checking out the saleswoman’s ring finger. She’d been doing that more and more lately—trying to figure out which category people fell into. This saleswoman wore a wedding ring.

  “I’m Nina, by the way. Were you interested in seeing our dresses?”

  “Sure,” Josie said.

  “We’ve got some great ones over here.” The saleswoman started to lead the way, but Josie stopped after just a few steps.

  In front of her was a mannequin clad in slim-cut black leather pants, paired with an off-the-shoulder black sweater. A trio of hammered silver bangles adorned the mannequin’s wrist. The outfit looked like something a chic, confident woman would slip into for a night out on the town.

  Josie looked at the price tag on the pants. They were expensive, but not outrageously so.

  “We just got that in,” Nina said. “Want to give it a whirl?”

  “I’d love to,” Josie said. She knew before she even entered the dressing room that she’d buy the entire outfit.

  Frank was waiting for her outside the restaurant, his shoulders hunched, stamping his feet against the pavement. Josie could see his breath in the cold air as she approached.

  “You look gorgeous,” Frank said. “Wow.”

  “Thanks.” She’d put more effort into her appearance tonight than she had for her senior prom. She was wearing a long, camel-colored dress coat she’d borrowed from Amanda, and she’d splurged on a blowout. It all felt like a form of armor.

  “Does she know I’m coming?” Josie asked.

  Frank knew better than to ask who she meant. “Yeah, I replied to everyone on the email chain that I was bringing my wife.”

  “Did you write those words—‘my wife’?”

  “I did, is that okay?” Frank’s brow furrowed.

  Josie nodded. Melissa needed to have that message reinforced. The fact that Josie and Frank were now separated was immaterial. No single woman who sent a text to a married man early in the morning suggesting they get together again soon had completely guileless motives.

  Josie remembered her therapist’s directive to be clear about her needs. “I do not want you to talk to Melissa unless I’m involved in the conversation. And when I tell you it’s time to leave, please don’t draw out your good-byes forever.”

  “Anything you say,” Frank said.

  “And I don’t want you to act like we’re separated,” Josie said. “I want her to think . . .” She couldn’t articulate what she meant, and the wind was messing up her hair. “Forget it. Let’s just go in.”

  • • •

  Josie saw her immediately. She’d feared that Melissa was more attractive than she’d rememb
ered, but Melissa looked exactly the same. She wore a plain dark suit and a white blouse, and she was sitting at the end of a high, rectangular table in the bar area, along with a few people Josie recognized and a few she didn’t.

  Josie hadn’t instructed Frank on where to sit. She didn’t want him to lead her over to Melissa’s end of the table. She should have thought of that.

  “Hey, everyone,” Frank said.

  Melissa looked up and caught Josie’s eye.

  Josie’s heart exploded in her chest.

  When she’d anticipated this moment, she’d imagined being cool and reserved while she observed the nuances of Melissa’s expressions. She thought she’d be able to remain in the role of investigator. But she was the one who pulled her gaze away from Melissa’s.

  Her breathing grew quick and shallow, as if she were the guilty party. She felt light-headed.

  “There’s an empty stool here,” an older woman to Frank’s left said. At least it was a few down from Melissa, Josie thought as she lowered herself onto it. Frank stood on her other side, the one that was closer to Melissa.

  “You look great, Josie!” The older woman’s name was Lisa; Josie had met her a half dozen times before. She worked with Frank and had been at the cocktail party they’d all attended at Melissa’s apartment a few years back, before that early-morning text.

  “Did you do something different with your hair?” Lisa was asking.

  “Oh, it’s a little longer, I guess,” Josie said. She tried to sneak a glance at Melissa. Was Melissa looking at Frank?

  She could hear someone on Frank’s other side ask him a question, bringing Frank into an existing conversation. Josie wanted to turn to Frank, to be included in that group, so they could present a united front. But Lisa kept pulling her the opposite way.

  “So, any plans for spring break?” Lisa asked.

  “I—ah—we don’t have any yet.”

  A waiter approached and Josie felt a surge of relief. Now there would be a natural break and they could regroup.

  “Josie? Chardonnay?” Frank asked.

  She nodded. He gave the order to the waiter. “I’ll have a Sam Adams. Anyone else?”

  “I’ll have a Sam Adams, too,” Melissa said from the other end of the table, waving.

  Josie felt her body grow icy.

  “So, we were talking about spring break,” Lisa said. “Did I tell you my grandkids are clamoring for a Disney cruise and my son invited me to come with them? I don’t know, it’s so expensive . . . but on the other hand, it would be nice to see some shows.”

  Josie could hear snatches of the conversation Frank was involved in—“Worst conference ever”; “Seriously, even the food sucked”—in between Lisa’s words.

  Coming here had been a terrible idea. There were too many different forces yanking at her; she couldn’t concentrate on anything. The waiter hadn’t even returned with their drinks, but she already wanted to leave.

  If she tugged on Frank’s arm and told him so, everyone would be curious about why. She was trapped. Her expensive outfit, her styled hair—none of it mattered. Tears gathered in her eyes. She felt completely vulnerable and exposed.

  Then she felt Frank’s arm slide across her back.

  “You okay?” he whispered in her ear.

  She blinked, hard, and looked up at him. Then she reached to hold on to his hand as it draped across her shoulders. His hand felt warm, as it always did.

  “So, the guys are talking about this conference they went to last year,” Frank said. “It’s in Arizona.”

  Josie cast an apologetic smile at Lisa, then turned back to Frank.

  “Arizona would be nice in the winter,” she said. Her voice rose and fell like a wave through her words.

  Frank’s arm rested heavily around her, but not in an unpleasant way. It felt as if it was anchoring her.

  “How’s your wine, beautiful?” Frank asked. He didn’t lower his voice; he intended for everyone to hear.

  She should be watching for Melissa’s reaction, Josie knew.

  But she wanted to keep looking up at Frank instead.

  • • •

  Frank kept his arm around Josie the entire time, even while they said their good-byes. Lisa made a joke about it, telling them they were acting like newlyweds. When they left, Melissa gave them a smile and another wave, then turned to chat with the person next to her. She didn’t seem to be behaving strangely.

  “Are you okay?” Frank asked as they walked to Josie’s van.

  She exhaled. “Yeah, that was . . .” She’d been about to say “good,” which wasn’t what she meant. She let her sentence trail off.

  “I took a cab here from my office,” Frank said. “I thought that way if you had a few drinks I could drive you home.”

  He’d taken his arm off her shoulders after they’d left the restaurant, but she could still feel its weight there.

  Josie checked the time on her iPhone. It was early. The sitter wouldn’t even have put the girls to bed.

  She looked up at Frank again.

  “Would you drive me home in my car?” Josie asked. “We could make hot chocolate with the girls. Then we can all drive you back tomorrow to get your car . . . I mean, if you want to spend the night on the couch.”

  Gratitude filled Frank’s eyes.

  She passed him the keys and he walked around to the driver’s side and started the engine.

  They were both quiet on the way home, but the silence between them felt different than it had since Josie’s discovery. It felt like peace.

  • • •

  “Will he do it again?” Josie asked Sonya the following week.

  “Probably not,” Sonya said.

  “How can you know that?”

  “Because you’ll recognize the signs. When you and Frank start to feel distant from each other—when you begin to go upstairs to escape him, and when he starts to become addicted to his phone—then you’ll remember that your marriage is in a dangerous place. And you can both take steps to correct it, to reconnect.”

  “It’s hard,” Josie said. “Why is it so hard to talk to my husband sometimes?”

  Sonya leaned back in her chair. “Think of all the habits we replicate in life, sometimes despite our best intentions. You weren’t encouraged to express negative emotions as a child. When you were upset, you were given the instructions that you should stay small.”

  “But I yell,” Josie protested. “When I’m really mad at Frank.”

  “Sure,” Sonya said. “But that isn’t true communication. It’s only releasing steam.”

  “I like the idea that we can blame this all on my parents.” Josie had intended for it to be a joke, but her eyes filled with tears.

  “You can do this, Josie,” Sonya said gently. “You can talk through difficult things with Frank instead of retreating, even though it feels scary. You can tell him exactly how you feel and you don’t have to worry that he’ll stop loving you. Just look at how much better the two of you have gotten at it already.”

  Josie nodded and reached for a tissue.

  “Frank asked if I’d go out on a date with him,” she said. “He said it could just be coffee, even.”

  “Would you like to?”

  Josie thought back to the list of requirements she had created when Sonya had asked her to imagine reconciliation. “I think I can let the Melissa thing go now,” she said, instead of answering Sonya’s question directly. “I doubt they could have slept together and acted the way they did in front of me. They’d practically have to be sociopaths to do that. I bet she had a crush on him, and he liked the attention, but I doubt it went much further than that.”

  “That’s good,” Sonya said.

  “How would we do it?” Josie asked. “I mean, would I invite him to come back into the house? Or should we take it more slowly?”

  “You can do it any way you want.” Sonya smiled. “You get to make the rules now.”

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Nine
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  * * *

  “DON’T FORGET TO HAVE Izzy pee before bed,” Frank told his mom.

  “I raised three boys,” Susie said. “You think I’d ever forget?”

  Josie bent down to kiss Zoe, then Izzy. “We’ll see you on Sunday. Be good for Grandma and Grandpa.”

  “Don’t worry, the girls will take care of us,” Doc said, causing Izzy to erupt in one of her delicious belly laughs.

  At Josie’s suggestion, Frank had called his parents and asked whether they’d stay at the house during the weekend of Doc’s conference. He’d explained that he and Josie had been going through a rough patch and could use some time away alone.

  “My mom is going to show up with a casserole,” Frank predicted when he got off the phone. She hadn’t, but she’d brought a homemade sheet cake covered in tinfoil. Frank had waggled his eyebrows at Josie when Susie had held it out, and Josie had needed to wrestle back a smile.

  It seemed incredible that Frank could make her smile again.

  Frank picked up Josie’s bag in one hand and his in the other. “Ready, Jos?”

  She nodded and followed him out to his car. “Can you pop the trunk?” he asked.

  Josie looked around for the right lever. It took her a minute to locate it in the unfamiliar vehicle.

  Frank had traded in his Honda Civic for a used Acura at CarMax a few weeks earlier.

  He climbed in and looked over at Josie before he started the ignition. “Do you want to drive straight there, or should we get dinner first?”

  “Let’s have dinner at the hotel,” Josie said. They were only driving into the city. It wouldn’t take long.

  Frank nodded and started the car. But he didn’t pull away from the curb. Instead he looked at Josie again.

  “I’m nervous,” he said.

  “Me too.”

  “Like, more nervous than I was on our first date.”

  “You were nervous?” Josie asked. “You didn’t act like it.”

  “No, I was. I figured if I kept you laughing you’d like me more. But then I picked that awful movie—”