The honk of a blaring horn jolted me back into reality’s clutches. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to a burst of sunlight sneaking between the cloudbanks. But once the sunspots dissolved from my eyelids, I noticed Rachel’s jeep parked directly in front of my car. She stood outside the vehicle, jutting her arm through the jeep’s open window to depress the steering wheel’s center panel. I wondered how much of my episode she witnessed. Apparently, I must’ve appeared stable enough for her to assume that I intentionally ignored her arrival. She watched me with curious displeasure. But her only action, other than the obnoxious horn blowing, was to smother her puckered lips in scarlet lipstick.
I first acknowledged her with a slight wave of my hand, but I didn’t attempt to move away from my car until I was sure I wouldn’t faint in the process. When her impatience became too overwhelming, she strode deliberately toward me. Her high heels clacked off the wet pavement. Despite this being her day off from work, she was dressed professionally in a midnight shaded skirt and thin turtleneck the color of martini olives. I wondered, but did not ask, if she had been to the gym already. As she neared me, with her blonde hair unfurling like a swath of summer wheat over her left shoulder, I couldn’t help but to admire how her loveliness only enhanced as the years passed.
“Jesus, Corb,” she murmured in a voice pitched closer to shock than empathy. “You look terrible.” I wasn’t trying to conceal my ailment from her eyes any longer.
“Glad to see you, too, honey,” I remarked sardonically.
“What’s going on? You didn’t look this bad when you woke up this morning.”
“As you know, Rach, a lot has happened since this morning.”
Rachel made a feeble attempt to plant a phantom kiss on my cheek, the kind usually exchanged by relatives around the holidays who didn’t much care for one another. She grabbed my arm just below my elbow, too, but her touch felt as distant and artificial as those same relatives.
“Okay, I was wrong,” she admitted. “You must be pretty sick, but I assume you’re still going to see Dr. Pearson later on this afternoon, right?”
I nodded my chin, and gradually felt some vitality returning to my limbs. At least I didn’t have to lean against my car when speaking to her now. Rachel might’ve initially presumed that I was fetching for sympathy, but all such motivation evaporated long before this moment. I didn’t wish to be a fool vying for my wife’s pity, but I needed her to understand what was happening to me.
“My spells are getting increasingly worse,” I indicated. “I’m not in control of my own body anymore. “Didn’t you notice anything strange about my behavior when you drove up?”
“Not really.”
“Then you normally blast the horn when you arrive at a destination?”
“I thought you might be taking a nap. You get up so early.”
“Try again.”
Rachel paused, choosing her words as guardedly as some might ponder lottery numbers. In this instance, her plump lips pursed together like a rosebud. “I don’t think I should be the one to diagnose you. Let Dr. Pearson do that. Besides, I’m still convinced your sickness is related to stress.”
“Maybe you should look at me more closely,” I advised. I stepped nearer to Rachel’s body, catching a whiff of a perfume drifting off her skin that I never smelled before. This scent was mixed with a more familiar flavor of cucumbers and melon. “Stress can’t do this to a man.” I motioned to my pale, emaciated stature, begging her to examine the circles entrenched beneath my eyes like fathomless ditches. My proximity to Rachel caused her to flinch uncomfortably, but she didn’t budge her feet.
“What do you want from me?” she uttered, almost as audaciously as she’d address a nuisance.
“What time is it right now?” My question was intentionally flippant as I slid her hand down the length of my forearm, directing her eyes to my wristwatch.
“It’s about twenty after eleven,” she replied, but her gaze shifted to her leather pumps rather than to any part of my anatomy.
“I’ve been up for almost seven hours now,” I sighed. “But for forty-five minutes of that time I can’t claim I was really awake. Do you realize what that means?”
“No. But you’re going to tell me, aren’t you?”
“I’ve passed out fifteen times since getting out of bed this morning. My episodes have never been so frequent before, and I don’t think there’s any way to stop them.”
My wife latched her arms in front of her body as if barricading herself from a gelid wind. But I didn’t expect any significant change in her demeanor in regard to my health. It required less emotion on her part to simply refer my complaints to a doctor.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” she said. “Maybe it was a bad idea for me to come down here and see you today.”
“Oh, I think not, Rach. We both know why you’re here in the first place.”
“Look, Corb, I’m just worried about your paranoia. That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”
“Well, let’s start off by discussing the note I left for you on the counter this morning. It got your attention, huh?”
Rachel’s mouth twisted awkwardly as if my tart words lacquered her tongue. At this point in the day, I presumed she would’ve devised a reasonable explanation for the telltale receipt.
“I can’t believe you want to argue about something so inconsequential as a receipt,” she remarked.
“It’s not just any receipt, is it?”
“You drive me nuts sometimes, you know that? I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“Well, then let me try to be clearer. By the way, did you bring the note with you?”
“No. Why would I?”
“The receipt we’re talking about was dated two days ago, in the morning to be precise. I know you like a cup of A.M. java, but since when did you start ordering two cups from Starbucks as part as your routine on Tuesdays?”
Rachel straightened her lips, spreading a crimson slice of defiance across her face. She had no intention of collapsing under such flimsy evidence. “Are you really going to make a big deal about something so ridiculous?”
My wife developed a flair for making even my most practical tidbits sound illogical. Over the years I learned that the better people were at deflecting legitimate concerns, the more practice they had at concealing the truth. Rachel used a rehearsed tone of incredulity to counteract my accusation before I stated it directly.
“These blackouts, or whatever you want to call them, are starting to have an ill effect on your memory. I go to the gym on Tuesday mornings. You know that.”
“Yes, that’s true,” I agreed. “But I also know there’s a coffee shop you usually go to that’s three miles closer to the gym, and you’d have to bypass that one before getting to Starbucks.”
“So maybe I felt like a change a pace.”
“Maybe. But how do you explain the second beverage ordered on the same receipt? Don’t you usually go to the gym alone?”
Rachel hesitated, perhaps sensing that I was baiting her into a trap with no feasible avenue of escape. It made sense on her part to stall in order to determine what else I might’ve known. She eventually forwarded a conventional response. “You can’t expect me to remember the exact time and day I’ve ordered coffee from Starbucks or any other place for that matter.”
“I thought my memory was in question here, not yours. We’re only talking about two days ago. You must recall who was with you.”
“Look, Corb, I have plenty of clients I take out from time to time, or maybe I was with Gloria, from the gym. You want to give her a call and check up on me?”
“Must I do that?”
“I can’t remember who was with me,” she repeated. “You’re putting me on the spot and I don’t like it.”
“Well, I’m sorry if my concerns irritate you, but you haven’t given me a straight answer yet. Let me try to jog your memory. All receipts have a time and date printed on them, so there’s no point in
debating exactly when and where you were. Can we agree on that much?”
“Sure. I guess so.”
“The receipt I found in your purse placed you at the Starbucks off Hanover Avenue in Ravendale Heights at 8:34 A.M. on Tuesday of this week. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but you don’t usually go to the gym until after nine in the morning. So in order to be at that coffee shop by eight thirty or so, you would’ve had to leave our house at least twenty minutes earlier. Does that sound about right?”
“This is crazy. You’re actually serious about this? God, you sound like a damn spy or something. And why the hell are you going through my purse?”
“Just humor me, Rach. I need to make sense of everything otherwise my head is going to implode. That may happen anyway, but I still have to confirm this situation one way or another. May I continue now?”
“Do I have a choice?”
I resumed my account of events without commenting on her mutiny. “Where was I…? Oh, yes…so by being at the Starbucks at the time indicated, that means you drove close to four miles past the gym.”
“I already explained to you I wanted a change.”
“Yes, and apparently you managed to do that by ordering a large Frappuccino and your normal regular-sized brew. We can put an end to this mystery right now if you simply tell me who you bought the Frappuccino for.”
“Wow,” she huffed exasperatingly. “You really have way too much time on your hands, you know that?”
“I doubt it.”
Rachel delayed with her rebuttal once again, but I let her unravel her tangled thoughts without interruption. “Seriously, you missed your true calling. I don’t think there are too many detectives in Scotland Yard who could’ve pieced together so much information from a coffee receipt, Sherlock. You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”
“I’m not proud of it.”
“Did you ever think that you might be jumping to conclusions before you have all the facts?”
“If I’ve done such a thing I’m humble enough to admit that I’m wrong and apologize,” I answered sedately.
Rachel rolled her eyes as if a petulant child pressured her into answering a question that she didn’t deem necessary. “Okay,” she started, “if you have to track my every move, I’ll tell you who was with me. Before going to the gym on Tuesday, I met Gloria. She’s having some personal issues and she wanted to talk. Are you satisfied now?”
“If that’s true, then why didn’t you simply tell me that to start with?”
“Because I don’t like the tone of your voice. You sound accusatory. Besides, I shouldn’t have to report everywhere I go or who I’m with to you. You’re my husband, not my father.”
“I’ve never asked of your whereabouts for our entire marriage—until today.”
“Well, now you know. But you need to stop worrying about everything so much. It’s obviously having a negative impact on your health.”
My reserved expression must’ve provided Rachel with the satisfaction of another conquest on her part, but this one would be short-lived. Before advancing to my next point, I let her ponder her own explanation, perhaps permitting her time to alter her story. After a few seconds of silence, tension flickered in her expression like faulty wiring. She nervously swept her hair off her shoulder blade while trying to probe my thoughts with glacier-like eyes. Perhaps it was a juvenile bid on my behalf to let her stew in the belief that she had outwitted me once again. Yet the broth I simmered needed time to thicken until no morsel of deception filtered through the spoon I served it upon.
“Up until about a month ago,” I continued, “I wouldn’t have given two thoughts about that receipt or where you’ve been spending your mornings. But for the sake of harmony I let some indiscretions by you go unquestioned. I won’t do that anymore.”
“What indiscretions? I just told you who I was with on Tuesday.”
“Have you?”
“Just stop with the games,” Rachel demanded. “I can’t stand this kind of jealous behavior from you. You’re acting so foolishly lately.”
“I’ll take the risk of being branded a fool if you’re willing to do the same, honey.”
“I mean it, Corb, you’re driving me crazy.”
“No, we haven’t gotten to that point yet. I’ll tell you what’s crazy, though, if you really want to know. Crazy, to most people in our neighborhood, is taking a dog for a walk around Lake Endelman before sunrise.”
“You’re not making any sense now.”
“Bear with me a second. As I was saying, most folks in Willows Edge like to sleep a bit later in the morning. Unfortunately for you, there’s an early bird other than me who doesn’t mind pecking out the worm.”
“You’re still babbling,” she insisted. “What exactly are you trying to say?”
“I’ll skip the theatrics,” I noted. “I ran into Mrs. Hart today while she out walking her little dogs. She’s remarkably spry for an old lady, wouldn’t you agree?”
Rachel appeared genuinely perplexed by my statement. I didn’t often mention Cora Hart’s name, and for this reason alone she knew I was building to a bigger climax. “It’s really not a big deal, as I see this woman four or five times a week walking the same route. Most of the time we just nod at one another like the polite neighbors we’ve always been.”
“That’s all fine, Corbin. But what does Cora Hart and her yappy dogs have to do with anything we’re talking about?”
“Oh,” I said, calculatingly, “I forgot to mention that she actually stopped and spoke to me today. We haven’t shared a conversation in such a long time. It’s not too shocking when you think about it. I mean I don’t have much in common with an old widowed woman who stays home all day without much to keep her busy.”
After I uttered these words, I watched Rachel’s already perturbed disposition nosedive into something closer to anxiety. As always, she was economical with her emotions on the surface, but I studied her habits long enough to sense a guilt rising into her expression and locking itself squarely on her quivering jaw.
“Why are you so suddenly concerned with that old woman’s habits?” she asked, tentatively.
“Well, since her husband died a few years back,” I resumed casually, “she doesn’t really come outside and socialize with us anymore. Remember when you helped her plant tulips and some other perennials around her shed’s lattice about five years ago?”
“It must’ve slipped my mind.”
“I guess so. Small gestures of goodwill are usually the first forgotten. Anyway, Mrs. Hart still preaches about church as if she has stock in it, and I’m sure she does.”
“So what? Get to the point, if you have one.”
“If you insist, Rach. As you may know, Mrs. Hart has sort of taken on the role of an unofficial Big Brother on our street. She keeps a rather close vigil on things. Who needs a surveillance camera when you have such a reliable resource living right next door to you, right?”
“She’s a persnickety busybody. Everyone knows that.”
“Really? I always thought you two got along just fine.”
“I can act too, Corb, just like you’re doing now. So, I guess the old biddy had some nasty things to say about me. Is that what this is all about?”
“Why would you assume the worst?”
“Because she never has anything nice to say about anyone, unless you’re in church six days a week.”
“I think you’re being a little too harsh on the old lady. And besides, Mrs. Hart’s dedication in her faith hasn’t hampered her ability to keep watch on the people coming in and out of Willows Edge.”
“Just stop the patronizing and tell me what she said.”
Following my wife’s direction, I edged closer to her so that our noses nearly touched. My eyes didn’t diverge from her fluttering lashes when I said, “According to the town crier, as you would call her, Mrs. Hart mentioned a silver Lexus being parked in our driveway on Tuesday and Thursday mornings after I leave for work.”
Naturally, her next response was intended to draw attention away from herself. “She should mind her own damn business. I don’t think this is the first instance where I’ve heard about her spying on people in the neighborhood. I can’t believe she’s trying to cause trouble between us.”
“Maybe her intention was to prevent trouble rather than create it,” I suggested. “But whatever she had in mind, I immediately started to think about who we might know that owns a platinum luxury car.” I sounded as if I was gloating now, and I almost felt ashamed of watching my wife’s futile attempt to concoct some excuse in her mind that was plausible to my ears.
“I have clients over the house on some mornings,” she proposed. “I don’t know which one of them drives a Lexus. It’s not like I pay attention to those sort of things.”
“I could help you figure it out if you want.”
“I’m sure Mrs. Hart is confused. For god’s sake, how old is that woman now?”
“Apparently old enough to recognize a man other than me entering our house twice a week at approximately the same time in the morning for the past two months.”
Rachel’s posture slumped forward as if she took a savage wallop to her abdomen. Under the circumstances, it didn’t bother me to see her wince while being wedged beneath the pressure of my backhanded interrogation. Her discomfited body language signified her guilt as scientifically as any DNA sample. I knew she had terrible secrets yet to divulge.
“Do I need to provide you with a shortlist of people around town who drive that type of car?” My tactless voice became even more indelicate as I pursued the truth now. Rachel’s silence verified that she hadn’t yet formulated any palpable words to separate herself from such an allegation.
“I know what you’re getting at. So why don’t you just come out and say it?”
“Because I’d rather you tell me.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” she sighed with all the theatrics of an amateur actress.
“Do I have to go to Leon with this information and see if I get the same response?”
“This is so stupid. Do you really believe I’m having an affair with Leon Chase?” Rachel forced a smile to return to her mouth and even managed to conjure up a pseudo-chuckle that seemed culled from a television show’s laugh track. “I can’t believe you’d think that I’d sleep with your best friend. You must have no trust in me whatsoever.”
“Let’s take things in turn,” I advised. “All I’m asking you right now is if he’s been frequenting our house for the past several weeks while I’m at work.”
Rachel’s eyes were pointed toward the slick blacktop as she mulled over the ramifications of revealing anything else to me. She needed some of her best lines now in order to convince me that her friendship with Leon was as strictly platonic as I always assumed it was before this morning.
“So this is the reason why you’ve been moping around the house, and always going on those long walks around the lake? This whole thing has been brewing in your mind like a poison, Corb. Can’t you see what it’s doing to you?”
“Are you going to answer my question before asking one of your own?”
“Well, if you let me talk, I think I can explain what Mrs. Hart’s prying eyes couldn’t see. You know Leon’s involved in some big real estate ventures around this area. Right now our company is looking to make a deal on a huge complex bordering the Parkerton Mall. Since Leon’s firm has contracts on most of that property, I figured he’d help me close out a sale or two.”
I wondered how many times Rachel rehearsed those lines in her mind before reciting them to me. But to her credit, it served as a fleeting chance to save face in this dispute. At least it provided her with a little time to mold her fabrications. “I guess this is your rationalization for Leon’s car being parked in our driveway on your days off, huh?”
“It’s not as scandalous as it seems,” she tittered. Her posture suddenly straightened with the strength of her retaliation. “Think about it. If I was really having an affair with Leon, would I be stupid enough to have him come to our house and park his car conspicuously in our driveway?”
“When you put it that way,” I admitted, “it does sound rather uninventive on your part. But I’ve known some impulsive adulterers in my lifetime.”
“It’s called networking. That’s what I need to do in this business if I want to keep ahead of the pack. Christ, I don’t want to live in your parents’ house until I’m as old as Cora Hart.”
“I suppose this is the part of our conversation where I realize what an irrational ass I’ve been,” I returned. “But something still doesn’t set right in my mind. You know Leon’s my best friend, but neither you nor him mentioned anything about this alleged real estate transaction to me. You would think that it would’ve come up at some point or another.”
Rachel dropped her arms to her sides and brushed her fingertips against my shirt’s sleeve. I wasn’t quite sure how to interpret this gesture, but I assumed it was a halfhearted endeavor to add some malleability to my rigid mood.
“C’mon, Corb,” she now chimed as melodically as her cell-phone. “We had a few short meetings at the house. Nothing happened. God, you know I’m friends with Leon’s wife, too. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt Peggy.”
“So if I gave you both the benefit of my doubt,” I went on, “you’ll be able to produce some paperwork or contracts substantiating this business. Is that a fair trade?”
Rachel withdrew her fingers from my skin as if it suddenly sizzled like a hot grill. “There’s nothing in writing to verify anything at this point,” she replied. “He’s serving more as a consultant at this stage. The legal work will be done down at my office at a later date.”
“How convenient,” I quipped.
“Hey, I don’t think it’s right that you’re making me feel sleazy about this whole situation. You’re either going to trust me or not. I can’t prove to you what I’m doing when we’re not together, so you’ll just end up thinking what you want anyway.”
Rachel’s strategy at reversing her feelings of culpability onto me had worked admirably for her in the past, but I was prepared for her wily antics on this occasion. Furthermore, I suddenly found the courage within myself to segue this dialogue into the core issue of our strife.
“You don’t need to be an aviator for relationships to see that our marriage is in a tailspin,” I said. “Let’s face it, Rach, neither of us has ever been very skilled at sharing our feelings. But I think it’s accurate to say that we have a few problems to work out.”
Rachel kept her eyes flitting around the parking lot as if she was searching for an object to concentrate on other than me. It took a few seconds for her to nod her head contritely. Her compliance in this regard gave me an opportunity to explore her conscience more thoroughly.
“When I think about how we’re not connecting on all levels, particularly in the bedroom,” I resumed, “it’s easy for me to understand why you’d try to replace me.”
The venom returned to Rachel’s voice before she responded. “You see, Corb, now you’re acting paranoid again. That’s exactly what I told Dr. Pearson a few weeks back. You just leap to these bizarre conclusions based on minute things. It’s not normal behavior. I’m beginning to think you’re obsessed with the idea I’m screwing around. And if we’re having problems making love lately, don’t you think your actions outside of our bedroom might have something to do with it?”
Rachel sounded so authentic with her assertion of faultlessness that I almost disarmed my remaining ammo and implored her to forgive my insecurities. Up until recently, that’s exactly what my wife would’ve expected from me. My reluctance to rely on instinct, of course, provided the groundwork for Rachel’s unfaithfulness. I pa
used for a moment so that my next statement registered as sincere as anything that I ever uttered to her until this point.
“I want to ask you something, and I’d appreciate if you could give me the most truthful answer possible.”
“What now?”
“Do you think I’m a gullible man?”
“Why are you asking me such a dumb question?”
“Because I believe only a woman with a very low opinion of her husband’s mental acuteness would expect him to accept the drivel you just told me about your dealings with Leon Chase.”
“You really are amazingly cunning at times,” she grimaced. “And to think that I came down here to apologize for my behavior this morning in bed. I actually felt like a bad wife for brushing you aside.”
“At least we can get to the heart of the matter now.”
“You know, I suddenly realize that you’re a very sick man, and maybe you’re delusional because of all these headaches or episodes that you’ve been complaining about. But I can’t talk to you in your present state of mind. So I’m just going to pretend this conversation never happened, and hopefully Dr. Pearson will figure out a way to help you.”
Rachel turned her steps away from me and started back toward her Jeep. I restrained myself from grabbing her arm, but I wasn’t about to let her leave so abruptly. How could I let her go? I wasn’t even sure if I’d get another chance to relay my thoughts in any coherent manner. Instead of physically detaining Rachel, I sprung in front of her, nearly slipping on the wet pavement in the process. I purposely blocked her from advancing any closer to her vehicle.
“Get out of my way! This conversation is over.”
“You’re used to calling all the shots in our marriage,” I countered, “but I’m not quite finished. We can handle this impasse one of two ways. The first and most hurtful choice is what you’re doing right now. The longer you hide the truth from me, the more harm it will do to our marriage. I understand that people make mistakes, Rachel, but it’s in the aftermath of their errors that determines a chance for any reconciliation.”
“I can’t talk to you right now,” she sulked. “You just see things your own way all the time. I never met a man so damn stubborn, even when he’s wrong.”
“If you look at this situation from my point of view, you’d understand my reservations to believe your story. But for what it’s worth, I still think we have something together worth fighting for. Now, if I’m mistaken, you can put an end to my misjudgment right now simply by telling me the truth. If you have any feelings for me left whatsoever, please confess to this affair so that we can at least try to move forward as a couple. But if you make me continue to search for the truth on my own, it will be the end for us.”
“You’re so dramatic. Haven’t you listened to anything I’ve told you? I already explained everything. Leon and I have nothing more going on other than a friendly business relationship. I’m sorry if you can’t accept that, but as I said, you need medical help.”
“Don’t make me roam around thinking that there’s something wrong with my mind. You might be surprised on how resourceful I can be if pushed into action.”
Just for a nanosecond, I sensed a flutter in Rachel’s eyelids, almost as if the few strands of sunlight from the sky thawed the frigidness from her pupils. With a portion of spring’s warmth encompassing her face, she appeared ironically angelic as she stood before me. I wanted to hold her in these seconds, remembering the purer days of our life when the clouds didn’t hang above us like a dank curtain of shame.
In my mind, only a man who was obtuse or acutely indifferent to his surroundings would’ve neglected to present the evidence of betrayal to his wife. Since I had never accused Rachel of any wrongdoing before today, I knew that her lies were potentially pathological. At any rate, neither of us was prepared to solve all our agonies in a high school’s parking lot. I decided to postpone our conversation until later on this afternoon.
“We need talk more about this later,” I told her. “Go home and think about what I’ve asked you to do. I should be there by 4:30 or 5, depending on how long Dr. Pearson keeps me. I’m hoping you’ll be ready to talk by then.”
“I already told you what happened,” she insisted, but her voice dipped off to whispery syllables by now. “I’m not going to let you patronize me into telling you something that never happened. Leon isn’t my lover. You’re killing yourself over an event that hasn’t even happened. You may let your jealously destroy you, but I won’t let it bring me down.”
Rachel didn’t feel compelled to offer anything else to me now, save for a sigh and wiping a crocodile tear away from her smeared mascara. I let her pass me unimpeded, while catching another scent of a fragrance not solely intended for my pleasure. We didn’t make eye contact again after she entered her Jeep and started the engine. She didn’t leave right away, either. I watched as she instinctually refreshed her makeup in the vehicle’s rearview mirror, even going as far as to apply another layer of cherry paste to her lips. I remained sullen as she drove off toward an impenetrable drift of clouds hovering on the fringes of Willows Edge.
I had almost no sense of accomplishment from this encounter with my wife, other than establishing that I wasn’t oblivious to her trickery. Yet even so, without a full confession on her part, I still reserved a flickering hope that I had misinterpreted the circumstances. It wasn’t my nature to tilt my head toward the heavens and pray to any kind of divine providence. But exceptions needed to be reserved for occasions of self-doubt and tragedy. Both of these conditions influenced me now. I had no way to predict what I’d do next, or to what landscape I’d retreat in order to assemble some type of message that might have aided me in the future.
Every nerve inside me pulsated with tension as I lurched back toward the school. Men more dignified and valiant than I have fallen in despair to these very same savage impulses. For now, the only method of preservation I had accessible was an escape into the uneven currents fluctuating within my brain. Once yanked into the ebbing darkness of my subliminal thoughts, the mysteries of my life deepened even further than before.
Chapter 39
11:32 A.M.
The Classic Crusade of Corbin Cobbs Page 39