The Wife

by S.P. Cervantes

  My lungs burn from the pace I’m keeping and the bottoms of my feet begin to tear when I cross the sandy beach to the rocky street, but I welcome it. Anything but the pain in my heart is welcomed right now. I didn’t realize I was crying until now, but the tears are falling too fast to ignore. When I get to the driveway of my house, I decide not to go inside when I see the television flickering in the window. Instead, I quietly sneak around to the back of the house, grabbing a bottle of wine from the fridge in the garage and taking a sip straight from the bottle as I make my way to the dock.

  “Holy shit!” I jump back, nearly chipping my teeth on the bottle when I see Jamie sitting on the steps that lead to the water. “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to make sure you got home alright.” He stands and runs his hand through his hair. “And to apologize.”

  I take another sip of the wine, walk past him and sit on the stairs obstinately. “No apology necessary.” When he moves to come sit by me, I don’t look up. “But you need to leave.”

  He completely ignores me and sits next to me. “No.”

  I nearly choke on my wine that I now seem to be uncharacteristically guzzling. “You can’t say no.” I am appalled at his nerve.

  That’s when Jamie’s fiery Irish brogue intensifies. “Listen to me, Lex. You can’t run out of a party like that and not expect someone to come after you.”

  “Anyone but you would’ve been fine.” I can’t hide my irritation anymore, but he doesn’t seem to care either and matches my annoyance.

  “You are the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. I thought you may have grown up a little in the past fifteen years, but you still drive me crazy.”

  “Talk about the pot calling the kettle black!” I stand and yell into his face. “You’re the one that was too fucking proud to come looking for me until you made it big. What are you doing here anyway? Why are you even here?”

  I know I’ve hurt him when he narrows his eyes on me, grabs me by the shoulders and bites down on his bottom lip as if he’s trying to hold back his words, but I’m too fired up to back down now. “Why. Are. You. Here?” I say, defiantly challenging him.

  “I’m here because I care about you. I’m here now, because I couldn’t stay away.” He runs his hands through his hair and takes my face in his hands to wipe my tears from my cheeks. “I know what’s going on, Lex. I. Know.” His voice is a whisper.

  “How?” is all I can say, even though I assume Lee told everyone everything when I left.

  “Frank suspected months ago, and well, I have my ways of finding things out.”

  “It changes nothing.” I lower my head from his hands and take a step back, but he doesn’t let me.

  “It changes everything, I still love you Lex. I’ve always loved you,” he says simply.

  “No you don’t.” I grow angrier with each admission he makes. “I’m still married. I love my husband. I love my family. I’d be insane to go back to you when I wasn’t good enough for you when you had me! You chose everything and everyone over me already. Hell, tonight you chose every other girl in the room over me. You think I didn’t see you with all of those women? If you know what’s going on in my shitty life, then why would you behave that way? I know—”

  He cuts me off before I can spew anymore venom his way. “Don’t you dare make me feel guilty about tonight, Lex!” His usually bright eyes have fogged over with sadness. He brushes a loose piece of hair behind my ear and closes his eyes. “If I did have a choice in any of this, I’d choose you.” The look of desperation he shows when he opens up his eyes makes me weak. “I’d always choose you,” he says with a whisper. With those words, he turns around, walks away from me and doesn’t look back.

  “How did I ever get so lucky?” Mike swept me up in his arms, twirling me around in circles, placing a sweet kiss on my lips.

  “We’re going to be late,” I said through his kisses.

  It was our first big night out since Liam was born, and we were heading to Los Angeles to see my favorite band, Coldplay. I used to love U2, but can hardly listen to a song by them with all the hormones I have pulsing through me these days. I don’t remember being this emotional with my pregnancy with Colin, but I find myself crying at insurance commercials these days.

  “Alright, alright.” He kissed my head and put me down, smiling. “So is Lee bringing Bachelor Number Fifty-Five?”

  “Be nice, and yes, she is.” I take his hand and lead him to the door. “Let’s go before the boys realize we’re leaving. I finally got Liam to sleep and Martha’s reading to Colin.”

  Just then, Mike’s phone rings. He takes it out of his pocket and silences the ringer without looking at who was calling. A little piece of me sparks with excitement at his dismissal. He’s been working so much lately, which is great for business, but I can’t remember the last time we weren’t interrupted with twenty calls during dinner alone.

  Mike’s business couldn’t be going better, and that should make me happy. It’s the reason we moved all the way across the country, and is the reason we were able to purchase this big house in an exclusive Southern California neighborhood. I knew there would be sacrifices made, so I kept my disappointment about his increasing absence to myself. He’s been able to coach Colin’s soccer team, and comes home every night, although many times well after I’ve gone to sleep, but this is the life I chose—the life we chose together.

  I’ve been spending my time with the boys, taking hundreds, probably thousands of pictures of them, feeding the artistic side of me that I’d left behind. When I graduated from college, I decided to channel my artistic background to interior design rather than photography. When Jamie left, photography became something that I had abandoned because it reminded me too much of him. But now that so much time has passed, and I have my own family, he’s nothing but a faint memory.

  I was proud of myself for being able to push him almost completely out of my thoughts when I got married. I’ve done well to avoid the things and places that would remind me of him, and have now gotten to a place where the thought of him is no longer painful or heartbreaking. It’s almost as if he’s become a character in a book, out of touch and out of my reality.

  Looking at Mike as we made our way to the car, I marveled at how he can still make me feel so special after so much time together. I think that it’s the way he treated me when we had times like this together that made me able to handle the time we spent apart. When I take the passenger’s seat next to him, he slides my hand in his and kisses my knuckles. “Let’s do this.” He turns on the car and pulls away.

  The car ride up the freeway was filled with Mike ignoring a barrage of phone calls that seemed to make him more irritated with each ring. I could see the red creeping up his face when he rejected what seemed like the hundredth call and finally stepped in.

  “You can answer it. Clearly someone needs to talk to you about something,” I said, trying to be as supportive as possible.

  He looked over at me and gave me a smile that told me what he was about to say was a total lie. “It’s fine. Nothing is more important than you tonight.”

  Just the fact that he said that made me feel bad that he was taking on so much responsibility for our family. I’ve told him time and again that if the company became too much, I’d be just as happy moving back to New Jersey and slowing our life down a bit. It was my secret dream, but I never wanted to sound unappreciative of all that he’s provided for our family in such a short time. He was adamant about making his way without his father’s influence and he’s proved himself to far surpass any of our expectations or dreams. He took a job with a commercial construction company right out of college, and paved his way completely separate from his father’s line of work. It’s still surprised me how much money he had been able to make in such a short time once he decided to branch out on his own. I think it surprised a lot of people, and still does.

  When we arrived to the Los Angeles Coliseum and took our seats in the private sectio
n that Mike surprised us all with, we all immediately began to indulge in the drinks and treats set out for us. Every time Mike tried to ignore a call, it would immediately begin to ring again and was now driving us all a little nuts.

  “Answer it, for the love of God!” Of course Lee was the first to scold him, wanting as much as we did for the calls to stop before the concert began.

  I slapped Lee’s back, playfully reprimanding her before I walk over to Mike and slink my arms around his neck to place a sensual kiss on his pouty lips. “Just see who it is, then we can relax,” I nipped at his lips, “and enjoy the concert together. I may even reward you…all…night…long…when we get home.” I popped one last kiss on his lips, making our friends call out for us to get a room. And I know Mike loved every second of it.

  Mike always folded when sex was involved. He kissed me once, giving me a look that said he fully intended to cash in on my promise. “I’ll only be a minute.” He slapped my ass and walked out the door to the hallway.

  I quickly realized that Mike still had my phone that I put in his pocket because I didn’t want to carry my purse all night. I wanted to take a few pictures of our view of the stage, and wasn’t sure when the lights would dim and the perspective would be lost. I excused myself from the group and walked out into the hall to look for Mike. I heard him before I saw him.

  “You’ve got it all wrong. How many times do I have to fucking explain this to you? I owe you nothing. You lost. That’s the end of it.”

  I’d never heard the cold tone in Mike’s voice that I was now hearing as I stood there hidden by a concession stand. I should have said something. I should have just walked up and gotten my phone, but I didn’t. Instead, I made sure he didn’t see me and continued to listen.

  “You’re fucking with the wrong person. Do you even know who the fuck you’re dealing with? This isn’t a fucking game. I will destroy you.”

  I swallowed hard at his threat. Mike rarely said a word like crap, much less has f-bombs flying like this. I was scared and confused. What could’ve possibly made him this mad? I decided I’ve heard enough and walked right up to him and mouthed, “What’s going on?”

  The look he gave me was unlike anything I’d ever seen from him. It was pure rage.

  “Don’t call me again,” he said into the phone, never breaking angered eyes from me.

  What happened next scared me momentarily. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and when he opened them and looked at me again, it was the Mike I knew. He smiled and kissed my cheek without a word, and tried to lead me back to our seats. I had no idea how he was able to switch his mood so quickly and it made me nervous. It made me wonder how many times he’d done that before.

  I stopped him in his tracks. “I asked you a question, Mike. What was that all about?”

  “Nothing. Just business,” he answered dismissively.

  I stopped him again. “Don’t do that. Don’t treat me like an idiot. I’ve never heard you talk that way. And something is going on that you’re not telling me about.”

  “Listen to me, Alexa. When there’s something I think you need to know, I’ll tell you. Just drop it and don’t ruin the night any more than you already have.”

  My hormones made their appearance and tears poured at his harsh words.

  “Come on, Alexa. I’m sorry.” He wipes away the tears. “I just mean I don’t want to worry you with stupid things that don’t matter. My job is a crazy one. I have to be that way with my contractors or they won’t respect me.”

  I nodded and apologized, wishing I hadn’t come out in the first place. I was sure my worries were only amplified by my postpartum hormones and needed to pull myself together so we could enjoy the rest of the night.

  Mike took my arm and kissed my knuckle, acting like the Mike I knew. Only, I wasn’t sure which Mike was the real one anymore.

  The entire flight back from New Jersey, I held on to my boys as if they’d vanish from my sight. Mike decided to wait for us in California, feeling that there was no need for him to be there when they returned from their first time away from us. He figures that because we had decided California was the best place to tell the boys about his decision to divorce me, his traveling with us would only set up false expectations for them. Of course, Mike made the decision on his own, telling me by text instead of having the balls to call and speak to me about it. I don’t know why I would’ve expected different after he served me with divorce papers a week after we talked about separating, but I’ve come to learn this is the way Mike is going to be treating me from now on. It’s the way he’s always handled his problems. He ignores them. And I’ve become one of his biggest problems.

  The entire flight, I listen to Colin tell me about his newfound love of oil painting, and how his love of sketching was now considered elementary and childish. Just the way he used those words to describe his change of opinion made me laugh. I reveled in the joy on my son’s face and stroked his dark brown hair that has grown too long. I sat at his side, intently listening to his tales, hanging on his every word, making a silent promise to not let my heartbreak show to them. They need to feel more loved and appreciated than ever before.

  Once Colin finished his stories from camp, it was Liam’s turn. He was equally excited to tell me all about taking his first photography class while at camp, and couldn’t stop talking about how much fun it was. Now he wanted his own camera and went on and on about the type of camera he “must have” to practice everything he learned. I was so proud of him—at just five years old—for going away to camp, much less love it the way he did. My boys seemed to grow up beyond all expectations during their time away, and perhaps it’s a blessing in disguise, given what they’ll be coming home to.

  It seems as though my whole life has changed since they left for camp, and in many ways it will never be the same again. The most surprising part is that I feel lighter than I have in years. I didn’t realize the weight that was holding me down didn’t all have to do with my issues of Mike treating me as his wife and no longer treating me like the woman he was in love with. I was drowning in my own self-doubt, my own failure of not being what I thought I should be. I was so afraid of losing Mike that I stopped being me. I can’t keep blaming Mike for everything—just most everything.

  After two hours of nonstop talking, the boys are asleep next to me and I have time to let my mind turn off, so I decide to catch up on emails and play on the computer. When I open my inbox, the first things I see are several messages from Steve, all with subject lines like “I’m so sorry,” and “I’m an ass.” I smile a little and skip over them, saving them for another time, not wanting to think about Jamie or the way I treated him on the dock the other night.

  We haven’t talked since a few nights ago on the dock, and I’m glad for it. I’m split in three: still pissed, still confused, and still embarrassed about the rude, drunken way I behaved. I promised I forgave him. I promised the past didn’t matter, and I showed it all still does. I’m still having a hard time believing what Jamie confessed to me on the dock, choosing to believe my inebriated state altered his words. But I still haven’t stopped listening to “Believe” from Mumford and Sons like a high school student with silent hopes that what he was telling me was true.

  No matter what he said, it can’t matter to me the way it threatens to right now, and I won’t let it. But I will let myself revel in the thought that he could feel as bad about what happened between us as I once did. The thing I keep reminding myself is that if he really does know that Mike and I are divorcing, his timing sucks and it was kind of selfish for him to tell me he could still have feelings for me the same day I find out my husband’s divorcing me.

  I decide to catch up on all my friends now that I am heading home, and hop on Facebook to see everyone else’s drama. I laugh when I read through funny memes and videos that my friends have posted, being happily occupied by the mindless visuals I’m barraged with. As I continue to flip through the posts, a picture catches my eye tha
t makes me pause. It’s a picture of Dr. Murphy at an event for the property that Mike just finished a few months ago. Seeing Dr. Murphy brought a hint of sadness over me. A few days ago, I received a message from her, telling me she thought it was best if we parted ways. She said that her client list had gotten overwhelming, and that she was going to reduce her practice to counseling couples only. It was like experiencing another break-up at the time—but now—looking at this picture, a red flag suddenly goes up.

  My heart is in my throat when I start to put some pieces together. Mike’s increasing uneasiness as therapy went on. His inability to talk about our problems. His leaving therapy when our marriage was at its worst. The coffee shop encounter seeming friendlier than appropriate. The pieces don’t fit perfectly, but it’s enough to cause me pause. I notice that a name, Stephanie Murphy, is tagged in the picture and take a deep breath before I click on the link, already knowing in my heart what has been going on.

  I click on her photos, not sure of what I’m looking for, but with each click through the pictures, my heart picks up its pace like a police dog following a scent. Then I see it. It’s not a picture of them together. She wouldn’t be stupid enough to post a picture of a married man she was screwing. She wouldn’t be stupid enough to post a picture of a married man who she’s screwing who also happens to be her patient; no—that would get her license revoked. She wouldn’t be stupid enough to include her face in a half-naked picture of herself that she sent to a married man.

  But she would be stupid enough to have the most ironic tattoo engraved on her stomach. I zoom in on a picture of her standing by a pool, striking a pose like she’s Paris Hilton, with the word “Faithful” written in plain sight. There’s no doubt in my mind that the person Mike’s been cheating on me with, the person he’s most likely divorcing me for, is the lying bitch who I told my deepest secrets to. The person I went to for guidance and advice on how to save my marriage. I’m about to explode.