Olive Oil and White Bread

by Georgia Beers

  “I have to. It’s killing me. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I’ve lost weight—which isn’t necessarily a bad thing—but she’s been looking at me with concern, and it just crushes me. She knows something’s wrong, but I think she’s afraid to talk to me. So it’s up to me.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it.”

  They were quiet for a long moment. Jillian looked up at Lindsey, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re pretty wonderful, you know that?”

  “Not wonderful enough, though.”

  Jillian smiled sadly. “You’ll be okay.”

  Lindsey nodded. “I will. I hope this works out the way you want.”

  Jillian swallowed hard. “So do I.”

  “Can we talk?”

  That’s how it started. Angie actually looked relieved, which was ridiculous, since it wasn’t a question that was usually followed by good news. But she sat down at the kitchen table across from Jillian, who’d already begun to crinkle a napkin in her hand.

  They sat quietly as Jillian tried to think of the right way to begin.

  “Are you leaving me?” Angie asked softly.

  Jillian’s eyes snapped up. “What? No. No, of course not. But . . .”

  “But?” Angie’s eyebrows raised and her brown eyes widened slightly as her face creased with worry.

  “I . . . did something.” Jillian tried to swallow, but it didn’t seem to help. Her stomach was churning, and she realized with horror that throwing up was a distinct possibility.

  Angie shook her head, confused. “You did something. What does that mean?”

  “I . . . did something. Something stupid.”

  Angie continued to stare, but the tinge of dread was there in her eyes.

  “I made a mistake.” God, just say it, Jillian, her head screamed. But her tongue continued to stumble over words that weren’t saying what needed to be said.

  “What kind of mistake?” Angie’s voice was just above a whisper, and Jillian was suddenly clear on the old adage: The wife always knows. Angie knew what she was going to say, but was waiting for her to say it. Jillian’s fingers worked of their own accord, shredding the napkin to tiny little bits of paper, even as her voice box decided to stop working.

  “Are you having an affair?” Angie asked quietly.

  Jillian had no idea five simple words could hold so much pain. She looked up, wished she hadn’t when she saw the anguish on Angie’s face.

  “No.” Adamantly, she shook her head. “No. It’s over.”

  “So, you did have an affair.”

  Did three times constitute an affair? She asked herself the question mentally before closing her eyes at the absurdity of it. Yes. Any extramarital sex constituted an affair. She nodded her head slowly.

  “With who?” Angie’s voice had gone steely. The anger was setting in. Why shouldn’t it?

  Jillian was hesitant to answer, though she didn’t know why. Turned out, she didn’t have to.

  “It’s that gym teacher, isn’t it? The one you spend so much time with? God, I’m so stupid. How did I not see that coming?”

  Jillian gnawed on the inside of her cheek, no idea what to say. Angie’s beautiful face had flushed red, and her hands were shaking. But it was the tears in her eyes that made Jillian’s heart twist. “I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice a strangled whisper.

  “How long? How long has it been going on?”

  Jillian shook her head. “Not long. A couple weeks. And it’s over.”

  “Oh, good.” The sarcasm was thick and heavy. “I’m so glad you spread your legs for somebody else for not very long and now it’s over.”

  “Angie—”

  Angie held up her hand, cutting Jillian off as she looked away. The tears spilled down her cheeks. When she looked back, the pain etched across her face was almost too much for Jillian to bear. Angie asked simply, “Why?”

  Jillian’s eyes welled too as she looked away. Her throat closed, making words next to impossible.

  “Why, Jillian? I don’t understand.”

  There wasn’t a good way to explain it. Jillian could barely explain it to herself. How was she supposed to make Angie see what she’d been feeling for months now, years even?

  “God damn it, I deserve an explanation, don’t I?” Angie slapped the table, making Jillian jump.

  A tear cleared Jillian’s bottom eyelid and left a wet trail down her face.

  “Don’t I give you enough?” Angie stood suddenly and started pacing in the small room. “Haven’t I given you everything I can? Haven’t I? I work my ass off, Jill. For you. For us. I work constantly.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “What’s not fair?”

  “You throwing your work in my face. I have a job, too, you know. I work hard too, just like you.” This was not the direction the conversation should be taking, and Jillian knew it, but she couldn’t stop.

  “Do you think I want to not be here for you? Do you think I like working eighty hours a week?”

  “I don’t know, Angie. Don’t you? You’re not responsible for supporting me, but you act like you are, like I’m some kept housewife who needs your paycheck to survive. That’s your view, not mine. I don’t need you to take care of me. This is supposed to be a partnership.”

  “I’m not the one fucking somebody else!”

  Jillian flinched at the crude words. “It just happened.” She wanted to put all the blame on Lindsey, but knew she couldn’t, that she’d be lying.

  “Well, that makes me feel so much better.”

  “I didn’t mean for it to. I swear. It just happened.”

  “How? How does that ‘just happen’?” Angie sneered, her anger ratcheting up, her eyes narrowing. “Did you trip and fall into her vagina? Did you walk into her by mistake and your tongue just happened to slip into her mouth? How does something like that ‘just happen’?”

  There was no explaining. She knew it. Angie was too angry—rightfully so—and Jillian didn’t know what to say.

  “It ‘just happened.’ Please. Give me a break. That line is such a load of bullshit.” Angie was still doing a weird form of pacing while she muttered in disgust. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you’d be so reckless.” She stopped moving then and threw her hands up. “Christ, I can’t believe you’re that easy.”

  Jillian’s head snapped up then. Angie had a right to be angry, she knew. But insulting?

  “And she’s practically a kid. Isn’t she, like, ten years younger than you? Were you sucked in by that? Her youth? What was it?”

  Jillian rubbed at her forehead.

  “Was it her hot little bod? Was that it? Couldn’t resist the gym teacher? Were you playing out some old schoolgirl fantasy?”

  Jillian clenched her jaw.

  “I don’t get it, Jillian. Seriously. I don’t get it. What did she do for you?”

  Jillian snapped. “She noticed me, Angie! She noticed me. She wanted me. She really wanted me, and she let me know it. When was the last time you did?”

  Angie stood perfectly still.

  Jillian closed her eyes, knowing a line had been crossed. A truthful one, but a line just the same. When she opened her eyes again, Angie was gone from the room. She could hear her stomp up the stairs, drawers slamming in the bedroom. More stomping around, and then Angie was down the stairs and out the door before Jillian could even bring herself to stand up. Instead, she stayed sitting, and sobbed like she’d just lost her best friend.

  Because she was pretty sure she had.

  Twenty-Nine

  Angie could feel her mother’s eyes on her as she pushed her eggs around her plate with a fork. She’d been sleeping in her parents’ guest room for three nights—though she’d gotten very little sleep. Giving no explanation, she had showed up on their doorstep and asked if she could stay for a while. Of course they said yes and, god love them, they didn’t pry. They knew Angie would come to them when she was ready, as she’d done sin
ce she was a child.

  “You know,” her mother said over the rim of her coffee cup, “just because you’re pushing your food around, that doesn’t mean I don’t notice that you’re eating none of it. I’m a mom. Nothing escapes my attention.”

  Angie smiled in spite of her mood. “Don’t I know it.”

  Alice sipped her coffee.

  And Angie knew it was time to tell her.

  The story poured out of her like water, along with all the things she’d put together after learning the details. Jillian’s nights out with “the girls,” which Angie now wondered if it was more like “the girl,” her distance and silence lately, the haunted look in her eyes, the weight loss, their fight, the cruel things they said to each other. All of it. Her eyes welled up a couple of times, but she managed to hold it together in front of her mom, even though the combination of remembering, her stress, and the fact that she hadn’t eaten more than a bite of food in the past three days threatened to push her over the edge. She kept a grip on her emotions and took a large gulp of coffee when she finished, wincing as the hot acidity hit her empty stomach.

  Alice took it all in, nodding at times, cocking her head at others, but never interrupting. When Angie was finished, silence ruled the kitchen for several long moments as Alice absorbed her daughter’s words. Angie knew she was rolling all the information around in her head. It was how her mother dealt with things. She ingested all the material presented to her, took time to examine it from all angles, and then gave her carefully structured opinion. This was why it was better to talk to Alice than Joe about such matters. Joe was all emotion. He’d have started cursing Jillian after Angie’s second sentence, and that’s not what she needed. Not yet, anyway.

  Angie could tell when Alice was ready to talk because she set her coffee down and folded her hands on the table in front of her.

  “Have you talked to Jillian since you’ve been here?” she asked.

  Angie shook her head. “She’s called my cell and texted about a hundred times. I told her I needed some time.”

  “She’s called here a couple times, but always hung up. Her number’s been on the caller ID.”

  “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “You didn’t tell me anything,” Alice countered, though gently. Angie grimaced. “I wanted all the information before I got involved in any way.” Alice wet her lips. “It was just those couple weeks?”

  Angie’s head snapped up. “What do you mean ‘just those couple weeks’? She slept with somebody else, Ma. I think it’s a little more complicated than ‘just those couple weeks.’”

  “But she ended it pretty quickly, and then she told you about it.”

  “What?” Angie was incredulous.

  Alice made a calming gesture with her hands. “Calm down, Angelina. I’m simply thinking out loud. All right?”

  “Fine.”

  “Has anything like this happened before?”

  Angie shook her head. “I don’t think so. Though who knows? It’s not like I saw this coming. I mean, I knew something was bothering her, but I never expected this.” She swallowed hard, disguised her disgust by sipping her coffee.

  “Do you think she’s sorry?” Angie gave her a look and Alice raised her eyebrows in a gesture of what?.

  Angie flashed to Jillian’s face that last time. She had been in anguish. Much as Angie wanted to not care, to say that it was the least she deserved for what she’d done, it was hard. She answered her mother honestly. “I think she’s devastated by what she’s done. And yes, I think she’s sorry.”

  “Do you still love her?”

  It was a question Angie had asked herself many, many times over the past seventy-two hours, and despite her hurt and her anger, she always came back to the same answer: yes. With all her stomped-upon, aching heart, yes. Angie nodded grudgingly.

  “All right,” Alice said, sitting up straight with determination. “Good. Then we need to figure out how you go about fixing things.”

  Angie stared at her, trying to keep her anger at bay. “Just like that? You think it’s that simple?”

  Alice’s voice took on a stern tone, the tone she used when she was pulling rank and being Mom. “No, Angelina, I don’t think it’s simple at all. I think it’s very, very complicated. And I am not happy with your partner at this point in time. Not happy at all. Now. You two have been together how long?”

  “Sixteen years.”

  Alice blinked as if momentarily taken aback. “Has it been that long?” At Angie’s nod, she added, “Wow. Time really does fly, doesn’t it?” Pulling herself back to the conversation at hand, she continued. “All right. So, you’ve been together for sixteen years. Do you want to flush those sixteen years down the toilet?”

  “Of course not, but I’m not the one who—”

  Alice cut her off with an upheld hand. “No, we’re not laying blame right now. We’re answering questions. Important questions. Do you want to flush the past sixteen years down the toilet? Yes or no?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Are you willing to listen to Jillian with an open mind?” At Angie’s silence, she studied her daughter. “What?”

  “She blames me. She says I didn’t pay enough attention to her.”

  “Did you?”

  Resentment began to bubble up. “Seriously, Ma? I am not the one who went looking for somebody else, and I can’t believe you’re going to side with her and make her straying my fault. She made the mistake, not me.”

  “That’s right.” Alice slapped a hand on the table and leaned toward her daughter. “She made a mistake. She made a mistake. I’m not saying it was right. I am certainly not excusing her. But we all make mistakes, and if the person who loves us the most in the world won’t give us a chance to explain—and hopefully forgive us—who will?”

  Angie scoffed. “So I’m supposed to just go to her all ‘Okay, so you took off your clothes for somebody besides me. No biggie. All is forgiven. Let’s go out to eat’?”

  Alice tilted her head and her expression showed just how ridiculous she thought her daughter was being. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is, if there’s a reason that Jillian made her mistake, you’d better deal with it if you have any shot of moving forward together.”

  “So I take the blame?”

  Alice sighed. “Did I say that?”

  “You said maybe there’s a reason Jillian made a mistake.”

  “Is there?”

  Angie’s eyes filled. “This is so unfair,” she said softly. “I didn’t do anything.”

  Reaching across the table, Alice closed her hand over her daughter’s. “Oh, sweetie, I know. I know you didn’t. My point is that people screw up. We do stupid things. We do things we immediately regret. And somebody like Jillian is going to beat herself up over it for years, mark my words. I know it, and you know it. So if you don’t forgive her and she can’t forgive herself, where’s she going? Where are the two of you going together? That’s the big question for you: can you forgive her?”

  “I don’t know,” Angie whispered.

  This was extra stress that Jillian feared she was ill-equipped to handle, but she had no choice. She sat in Starbucks across the table from Shay and blinked at her as she ran possible responses to Shay’s question through her brain in an attempt to come up with a good lie.

  You look like death warmed over. What the hell is going on, Jill? Is everything okay? Are you okay?

  She’d never lied to Shay. Their friendship was too important. She was always upfront with Shay, even when she didn’t want to be; that’s why she was sitting here instead of thinking of a little white lie that would’ve gotten her out of this meeting. At the same time, Jillian thought maybe it would be good to talk to somebody. She’d been rattling around the house alone for days. Maybe talking to somebody who knew her well would help. But this situation, this was not going to sit well with Shay. How could it possibly seem nearly as hard to tell her what had happened as it had been to tell A
ngie?

  “Jillian.” Shay’s voice was firm, her eyes lined with concern. She reached across the small, round table and covered Jillian’s hands with her own. “You’re scaring me. Talk to me.”

  “I cheated on Angie.” It just came blurting out of her mouth. Not the way she’d intended to present it, but there it was, and she was slightly relieved.

  Shay stared at her, her mouth working, but no sound coming out. She let go of Jillian’s hands and sat back in her chair as if all her energy had suddenly left her body. Slowly, she began to shake her head from side to side, disbelief, shock, and disappointment all clearly written on her face.

  Jillian swallowed, wondered momentarily if she might get sick. “I know,” she said. “I know.”

  “Wow.” Jillian could see that Shay had more to say, but she just uttered that one word and continued to shake her head, as if doing so would change the words Jillian had said.

  “It was a mistake,” Jillian said. “It was a mistake. It didn’t last long, and I told Angie about it right away. She’s at her parents’ for a little bit. I’m hoping . . .” She let her voice trail off, suddenly understanding that no explanation was going to remove that look from Shay’s eyes. That look of judgment. That look of disillusionment. That look of disgust. “Shay, please.”

  “How could you?” Shay said, her voice low. “You saw what I went through. You know how awful it was. How could you do that to Angie?”

  Jillian wet her lips, focused on the table top. “I was just…weak. She looked at me like I was gorgeous, Shay, and I was weak. It didn’t mean anything; I never even touched her, it was always her touching me. I just…I melted. It had been so long since I felt like that. I couldn’t help it. It just happened.”

  “Bullshit.” Shay spat the word at her, interrupting her with a sneer. “That is a giant load of bullshit. Cheating doesn’t ‘happen.’” She made air quotes to stress her sarcasm. “It didn’t ‘happen,’ Jillian. You did it. You. You did it. You are responsible. All the pain and anguish Angie is going through right now? You caused it.”

  Jillian swallowed, no response forthcoming. Really, what could she say? She didn’t think she was making excuses for what had happened, it wasn’t her intention, but maybe that’s exactly what she was doing.