Secrets in Suburbia

by Melody Calder

  “Do you know where my golf clothes and shoes might be?” he asks as he sets his phone on the counter and steals a sip of my espresso.

  “I think the clothes are in the box in our bedroom marked ‘sports attire’ and your shoes are in the garage inside your golf bag. I tried to keep everything as organized as I could.” Because I’m a good fucking wife that he’s lucky to have. Bastard.

  He kisses me on the cheek again before turning to leave in search of his items. “You’re the best.”

  I hear his footsteps running up the stairs and I pick up his phone. Operation Spy on Rich is about to start. First, I scroll through his call log. I find no listing of a phone call in the middle of the night. Hmm, he must have deleted it. I find no phone calls that are out of the ordinary, but I jot down some of the numbers that I don’t recognize in order to look them up later. My job as a debt collector information specialist not only allows me to work from home, but also gives me access to more information than the average person.

  Next, I go to his settings and turn on the GPS and location sharing settings. It’s a good thing he doesn’t know enough about technology to ever imagine what kind of spying I can do on his phone. I hear Rich making his way back downstairs, so I carefully set his phone back exactly where he left it. He may not be the best at technology, but he certainly notices when anything is out of place.

  By the time he reaches the kitchen, I’m sitting on the opposite side of the island from where his phone is located, sipping on my coffee. I glance up at him, taking in the way he looks, so sexy in his fitted polo shirt and khaki pants, his sandy blonde hair slicked back. As he picks up his phone, I sidle up to him and wrap my arms around his waist, covertly peeking at his phone. I’m nervous that he might know that I’ve gone through it, even though I really have no reason to think that. This spying game is harder than I thought it would be. I feel the need to distract him so I slide my hands down lower as I ask, “How about a quickie for good luck?” Offers of sex are always a good diversion.

  Seemingly distracted, he sighs, “I’m sorry babe, but I have to find my golf bag and hope that I can get to the club before the clients.” He gives me a sad smile, “Raincheck? I’ll make it up to you when I get home.”

  The alarm is going off like crazy in my head, but I hide my anger with an exaggerated pout and say “okay”. I’m working so hard on maintaining this charade that I think it’s helping me to get through this without tears. I pull his mouth to mine and kiss him with all the passion I can muster. By the time I pull away, he’s breathing hard and has a noticeable bulge in his pants. I inwardly high five myself.

  “You said my golf bag and shoes are in the garage?” he asks, “Do you know what area they could be in?”

  “I’m pretty sure I put them by the overhead door. I knew you would want to get out on the course with this great weather we are having.” Yeah, that’s right, I’m a fucking fantastic wife.

  Chapter 4

  The silence of the house hits me with a wave of emotion. I’ve never felt so alone in my life. I can’t even muster up my earlier excitement of spying on Rich. I sit at the island and stare out the window to the backyard. The rose garden is full of different colored blossoms and I can imagine the scent of the roses. It was one of the many things that I loved so much about this house when we toured it. I imagined setting up a little bistro set in the middle of the garden, where I could enjoy the fresh air and beauty while I work. The sparkling above-ground pool with a large deck surrounding it is perfect for lazy summer days. The little swing set is- no was- was perfect for our future children to play on. All the plans we had to raise a family, make memories, and grow old together in this house flit through my mind. I swipe at a tear, but it escapes, sliding down my cheek and dripping off my chin. I think of what ending the marriage would mean. A loss of everything, including this house that I love so much. I don’t think I can afford it on my own.

  With a sigh, I try to shake away my sadness. I need to keep my thoughts from wandering down a path of depression before I know the full truth. I swallow the remainder of my espresso and look around the kitchen to decide where to start. My eyes settle on the clean casserole dish and the basket. I need to return those. It wouldn’t hurt to have some human contact, even if it is with the odd ladies that visited yesterday. Maybe I’ll start with Elena. She seemed to be the most likeable out of the three. I grab the items and make my way out the door.

  I ring the doorbell and force a smile on my face. Elena answers the door, wearing a bright orange long skirt today, but is still wearing the same drab style buttoned up blouse.

  “I hope I haven’t come at a bad time,” I say warily, “I wanted to return the casserole dish and basket, but I’m not sure who each belongs to.”

  Elena smiles welcomingly, “Oh, it’s always a good time for company in this neighborhood. Come in, come in.” She gives me a wink, “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to the busybodies around here soon enough.” She waves me into the house.

  I follow her in, taking in the plain, but immaculate décor. I’m not sure what I expected, but it doesn’t seem to match her little bit of personality that peeks through in her bright skirts.

  “Let me get you some refreshments. What would you like to drink?”

  “Coffee if it isn’t too much trouble.”

  “Well, we aren’t supposed to have coffee, but if you promise not to tell the others, I’ll give you a bit of my hidden stash.”

  “Why is coffee such a secret?” I ask hesitantly.

  She gives me a sad smile, “Victoria, Rachel, and I are ex-Mormons. Though we don’t practice anymore, Victoria can be a bit… demanding of how we should carry ourselves.”

  “Well, your secret is safe with me.” My curiosity is piqued, but I stop myself from asking too personal of questions.

  As she makes us coffee and dishes out chocolate croissants, she asks me questions about myself and Rich. I share with her how we were high school sweethearts. We didn’t want to be apart, so we went to different colleges, where we grew up in Chicago, and shared an apartment. When we graduated, he landed a lucrative job in marketing. It was located in Atlanta, so I followed him. We lived in downtown Atlanta before purchasing our new home. I share with her how difficult and lonely it is to be so far away from my family.

  “I understand how that is,” she says with a sad sigh. She shares with me the story of how her and the ladies grew up together in the church in Utah. They were best friends that did everything together. They were all destined to marry good Mormon boys from the church that their parents had picked out for each of them.

  The girls had gone on an outing where Rachel, the youngest of the women, met the love of her life, a recent law school grad. With the help of Victoria and Elena, she met him in secret for months. The problem was that he wasn’t a Mormon. Rachel was worried that her parents would not allow her to marry him, especially when he admitted that he would never convert to her religion. The girls made a pact that they would all leave the church and stick by Rachel.

  On Rachel’s eighteenth birthday, they all packed up their belongings and moved to Georgia. Stuart, Rachel’s now husband, had moved there for a job. He set up an apartment for them all to live in until Victoria and Elena could find jobs and get their own place. Rachel tried to invite her parents to the wedding, but they refused. The women were all excommunicated from the church, so all communication between them and their families was forbidden.

  “It didn’t matter to her parents that her husband is successful and treats her like a princess,” she sighs, “it only matters to them that Rachel didn’t marry a Mormon.”

  “I’m so sorry, “ I offer. She nods in acceptance before continuing her story.

  “Victoria and I also met wonderful men and married them. It took us a while, but about two years ago, we found three homes for sale all within the same area. Victoria and Jake, her husband, bought the house next door to you. Rachel and Stuart a few houses down, and Robert and I bought this h
ouse,” she explained.

  Their husbands accepted that the women were a package deal. They were like family now, since they had lost theirs. Victoria fell into the role of the mother hen, while Elena and Rachel fell into the roles of sisters. Even though they were no longer a part of the church, the way they were raised had stuck with them.

  “So you see that while I still dress properly and act properly, I do want to indulge a little bit on the things that were forbidden to us.” Elena finishes, “But Victoria is quite stuck in the old ways. I find it best to hide my indulgences from her. I love Rachel, but she has always sided with Victoria on everything. I think she feels guilty that Victoria had given up the man she was going to marry. Not that she loved him exactly, but she did feel like they were a good match.”

  I was stunned by her confession after only mere moments of knowing her. At the same time, I could understand the need to want someone to talk to, since I myself felt the same way without all my family. I couldn’t even imagine leaving everything behind at such a young age, with no communication to loved ones. It certainly made sense as to why they were a bit odd to me.

  “I have a confession,” I blurt out, “Victoria intimidates me. I was really hoping that these belonged to you so that I wouldn’t have to go talk to her alone.”

  Elena laughs, “She intimidates everyone. I’ll tell you what, since you are keeping my coffee secret, I’ll return the basket to Victoria. The casserole dish is mine.”

  “That casserole was delicious!” I gush, “You have to give me the recipe.”

  “Sorry, but it’s a secret recipe. Don’t worry though, you’ll have another taste of it at the community potluck on Saturday. It’s at Rachel’s house and trust me, you wouldn’t want to disappoint Victoria by not attending. Oh, and make sure to bring a dish to share.”

  “Wait, I thought it was at Rachel’s house?” I’m thoroughly confused by her statement.

  Elena chuckles, “You’ll get to know the hierarchy here. Victoria is not only de facto leader, but also quite the perfectionist. I love her dearly, but she can make life difficult for anyone who doesn’t live up to her expectations. That’s why I hide my indulgences.”

  “If I wasn’t nervous about fitting in before, I sure am now.”

  Elena gives me a little squeeze, “She had some problems a couple of years ago, before we moved here. She threw herself into making this the close knit community it is. I can’t tell you what the issues were, but I can say that she bottled up all those emotions and focused on perfecting everything around her.” She added with a grin, “Don’t worry, everyone is going to love you. You’ll meet all the wonderful people around here and will see what a great little community this is.”

  Aside from the new knowledge about Victoria, spending time with Elena was just what I needed to feel better. It was time for me to start Operation Spy on Rich.

  Chapter 5

  I look at the time and realize I still have a couple hours to do some spying and make an attempt to do some unpacking. I give myself one hour max to spy. Gathering my tablet and laptop, I set a timer for an hour. If Rich questions why I didn’t get very far on the unpacking, I have the excuse of getting caught up chatting with Elena. Not that I need an excuse to not have done all the unpacking while he’s off doing who knows what, but I have to keep everything normal for now.

  With the small amount of time I have, I decide to leave the list of phone numbers for tomorrow while he is at work. I can find the owners easily enough with my programs, but it will be time consuming with such a long list.

  I decide to start with the location tracking. I open up my tablet and connect to the location application. I have to be very careful with this one. The last thing I want to do is to hit the button that causes his phone to chirp. I don’t think I could explain away why I was using the phone locator on him. I pay close attention as I carefully hit the right sequence of choices.

  I stifle a yawn as I wait for the locator to do its job. The further away a person is, the longer it takes to find the phone. I could really use a nap about now. Instead, I make myself a cup of coffee and then grab a box of dishes to start unpacking.

  I’m just about done emptying the box of plates into the dishwasher when I hear the tablet’s ping, indicating the phone has been located. I take a deep breath and look at the screen.

  Brookhaven.

  He really is at the country club. Instead of relief, I feel discouraged. It’s strange that I feel this way. I should be elated that Rich isn’t getting it on with some other woman. He was honest with me this morning, so why am I not happy?

  There’s obviously something going on considering the phone call I overheard last night. I guess I was hoping my spying operation would be easy. You could say that I’m not the most patient person in the world. I don’t like the stress of being in limbo. To me, not knowing is worse than knowing. At least with knowing, I can formulate a plan and take action.

  Speaking of action, I need to put all this aside and get our house in order. I carefully turn of the locator, taking great care to not hit the option for a phone alert, turn on my upbeat playlist, and start working on the monumental task of setting up the kitchen.

  ∞∞∞

  Rich: I hit a snag in the negotiations. Sorry. I’ll bring dinner.

  I glance at the text as I finish unpacking the last of the kitchen boxes. I had expected Rich to be home hours ago. My stomach rumbles loudly, reminding me that I haven’t eaten anything since the chocolate croissant at Elena’s house. I take a look in the fridge, forgetting that we hadn’t gone to the store yet. “At least there is some lemonade left over,” I say as I pull out the pitcher and close the fridge. I spot a decadent looking chocolate cake on the counter that one of the neighbors had dropped off yesterday. It’s a good thing I’m an adult and can have dessert for lunch if I want to. Besides, chocolate makes everything better.

  I serve myself a heaping portion of cake and pour the last of the lemonade in a freshly washed glass. I reach for my tablet with the intention of playing a game of solitaire while I eat. Solitaire while eating alone. I laugh at the absurdity of it.

  I spot the location application, finger hovering over it while I debate on checking it again. He was honest with me this morning, so I should just let it go for today. But that part of me that needs answers is too strong to resist the temptation. “Careful Sam. This could become an obsession,” I speak out loud. “Great. I’m talking to myself again.”

  Screw it. I hit the app to open it and then shovel cake in my mouth as I wait for it to load his location.

  A few minutes later, I hear the ping and look at the screen. The breath I’ve been holding whooshes out of me as I read the screen.

  Gresham Park? That’s nowhere near Brookhaven! And on the complete opposite side of our little suburb southwest of Atlanta.

  I zoom in on the location as far as I can. I can’t get an exact address, but I can get it narrowed down to a one block radius. Switching myself to work mode, I grab my laptop and open a file to write notes on the streets and surrounding area. Then I open my browser to Google Earth, typing in two of the cross streets and zooming in to the satellite image. It looks to be a residential area. I study the image, looking for any clues of a business in the area. Not only are there the telltale driveways and gardens indicating a residential area, it is lacking any flat roofs or parking lots that would indicate a business district.

  I add the time to my file, along with a screenshot of the satellite image. I also type in the list of phone numbers I had jotted down from Rich’s phone and then rip the paper up into tiny pieces. I shove the pieces in the recycling bin underneath the crumpled newspapers that I had used to pack up my glasses.

  Wanting to keep the information a secret for the time being, I save it in my work files under the name ‘Swetty, Dick B.’. I figure naming it Operation Spy on Rich would be a very ametuer unspy-like move. Not that the name isn’t a bit immature, but at least it makes me giggle. I need all the help I
can to get through this ordeal. Shutting everything down, I finish the last of my cake and move on to unpacking the clothes in our bedroom. For a brief moment, I picture throwing all his clothes out the window like they do in the movies. This elicits an evil cackle to escape my lips. The lack of city noises and the silence of the house must really be getting to me.

  “Yeah, because it has nothing to do with my lying, cheating, no good husband.” Aaand I’m talking out loud to myself again.

  Two hours and fifteen boxes later, I get a text from Rich. He says he’s heading home now and will pick up Chinese for us. I laugh as I wonder if him and his mistress watched a movie because there is no way he had two hour marathon sex with his side piece. Though our sex life has always been amazing, he has never lasted more than thirty minutes. I feel a bit of satisfaction knowing that I have the skills to get him off so easily.

  What the hell is wrong with me? Am I really competing with an unknown woman that my husband, the love of my life, is probably cheating on me with? “Get it together Sam,” I admonish myself as I head to the bathroom to shower. I’ve got about an hour to get my head back in the game before he gets home.

  Chapter 6

  “Wow! The place looks great!” Rich compliments as he sets bags of delicious smelling food on the island. He moves to give me a kiss, “I’m so sorry that I left you here to do all this alone.”

  Shrugging my shoulders, I tease, “It’s what I do. I always take care of us. That’s why you love me so much.” Sultrily I tease, “I’m sure I can think of a few ways you can make it up to me.” Game on, Swetty, Dick.

  Rich gives me a wink as he pulls the food out of the bags, “You’ll have to wait until I get some food in me. You wouldn’t believe the shit I had to do to save this account. That little asshole gave the wrong… where did you put the plates?” I point to the cabinet above the dishwasher as he continues telling me about his day. At least the parts he isn’t hiding from me. Bastard.