This trap was perfect because by my calculations if he is being unfaithful, he only does it on certain nights.
Tuesday night he works late. Too late.
Thursday night is his basketball time with Lark.
Saturday night he finds random excuses. Every. Single. Time.
This is me giving him a free reason to do whatever.
When Friday night came, I packed a fake overnight backpack, my Bible, my phone charger, and my purse.
“Be safe,” he said at the door, kissing my lips.
“Thanks,” I touched his chest, pleading with my eyes for this to all go the way it should. I should pretend to leave and be bored out of my mind watching him hang out alone at our house while I’m ‘gone’. “What are you going to do tonight?”
“I might call Lark over, have him crash here to watch a movie or I’ll just sit and get my Sunday planned for the kids.”
I held the doorknob. “Cool. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“Okay, but text me when you get to Helen’s.”
“I will.” I stared at him, then held the front of his t-shirt to pull him close and kiss him. I kissed him the way I do when we are about to have sex, but with more intensity. Maybe if he remembers what we have, he won’t do something stupid.
As soon as I got in my cab, I had the driver go around the block and drop me off a little way down from our place. I’m so cold that I can’t stop shivering. I stood where I could see our door, but far enough away that I wouldn’t be seen. I sat on a bench that was well out of the way of a streetlamp and just waited.
I texted Noah that I was with Reverend Hammond’s wife and in the next thirty minutes, a cab showed up at our house.
Not willing to mess this up with more questioning, I got my car key ready. I had been hoping he wouldn’t use our car, or all this was for nothing.
Noah came out and went straight to the cab.
My stomach started to cramp as I rushed to our car, sticking to less lit parts of the street. When he was taking off, I got in the car and started it with the lights out until he rounded the corner.
Following Noah’s cab was harder than I thought. Though it’s dark and he has no reason to think I’m lying, I feel so exposed. Also, his cab is going down some streets I’m not used to and when cars get between us, I’m terrified I will lose them.
Soon we end up in a nice-looking area, where all the houses are an arm’s reach apart and the traffic is nearly non-existent. I slowed up considerably so I wouldn’t seem noticeable.
These places are kept up, expensive, and neat. Little white fences or perfectly manicured lawns, all decorated for Halloween except a handful.
Noah’s cab pulls in front of a little two-story ivory house with brown shudders and a red door. It’s not decorated but it’s just as orderly as the others. It has two big bay windows, and a balcony on the top floor. It’s lit well from the inside.
Noah steps out with a duffle I didn’t see before and pays the driver before sprinting up the steps. I shut off the car and got out to see better. There are three other cars parked parallel like me, but they all seem empty.
My legs are like rubber, not supporting me at all, as I wobble a few steps closer.
After his knocking, I see the silhouette of a woman run from upstairs. I’m begging Noah telepathically to turn around and notice me standing here. I don’t even care if my cover is blown. I would suddenly rather the lie.
I would rather him have time to come up with a stupid lie before she opens that door than to witness anything I shouldn’t.
But before I have time to turn back the clock, the door flings open and a woman I don’t know leaps into his arms. The kiss they share is passionate. It’s the kind you see in movies when two main characters finally admit to their feelings.
My kiss goodbye to him tonight can’t compare.
The street feels harder under my feet than before. Like gravity is trying to crush me. I’m pissed about the tears in my eyes because they are blurring my vision and I need to see this to believe it. I’m furiously wiping my eyes, but I can’t see clearly at all.
Noah lifts the woman and she wraps both legs around his middle.
I just did that.
Didn’t I just do that?
He laughs and kisses her harder, and I can feel my heart tearing loose.
Hearing a motorcycle in the distance, I shudder.
I stood there while he carried her inside and for some unthinkable reason, I walked as fast as I could to the side of the house. I stood just below the kitchen window and watched Noah kiss her against the sink. His hands in her hair, her mouth on his neck.
I made a strangled noise that I didn’t realize was from my throat. They moved from the kitchen and I circled the back of the house, finding fewer windows.
I tripped on a hose but caught myself on my hands. I stayed on all fours for a time, not able to move. What am I supposed to do from here?
I don’t even know how to get home from this part of town.
I sat on the ground and tried to think up how to move.
Get up.
Go to car.
Start car…
Then what?
Should I go in there?
No.
Call someone?
No.
Sara, I like Sara.
No.
I like Clara at church—
No.
Can’t.
I hold myself.
Now I’m crying so hard that my head feels like it might implode, and I think it’s because I’m trying to cry quietly. Holding my hand over my mouth and not hardly breathing.
I push myself up and rush to my car. I have to get away from here, even if it means getting lost. Lost is a better place than here.
LORENZO
As I straddle my motorcycle smoking, I watch my wife and her newest lover as they pull at one another, excitedly shedding clothes and rubbing bodies.
I’m not sure when this habit of following her started. I either have my lone date with a smoke and a glass of wine or I come to watch.
I’m a glutton for punishment, I suppose. But I think it’s important that I see it. It reminds me not to trust her. Not to be blind. It reminds me of where love leads in the end.
I pull on my cigarette as he takes off her dress and then I exhale a cloud of gray as she feels his chest and shoulders.
She takes all her dalliances here. Her dad bought her this place so she could fuck behind my back comfortably and in a safe neighborhood. There isn’t much her father wouldn’t do for her. Anything to make her happy, and he knows cheating on me makes her happy, so…
Now she has a love shack.
But she’s been with this one longer than usual. It makes me wonder if she finally found me a good replacement.
Sitting here, I start to marvel at how comfortable she feels in that house if she doesn’t sense me viewing it all. How pussy-bound is this guy she’s with that he doesn’t glance through the curtain-less windows?
As I watch from my perch, I hear a woman crying. Not open sobs, but that hidden wheezing. When I look, I see her coming from the sidewalk.
She’s got her arms around herself as tightly as possible, her chin tucked down, long hair blowing back.
When she walks by me, without even looking up, I feel that her agony lingers. Maybe even evoking my own. I have no idea what her personal problems are, but her despair is making mine emerge forward. I can usually watch Ruby and find that numb place, but tonight, I almost want to break down the door and go up the stairs, and pull this fucker off her. I want to put my fists to his face and unleash the rage that simmers just beneath my skin.
But I won’t.
Because Ruby can’t handle violence.
I would never do it to her.
I would never let her see that side of myself.
No matter how badly she cuts me, I can’t bring myself to cut her back. I just can’t.
I’ll just stand here and blee
d.
RUBY
“Did you have trouble getting here?” I ask Noah as he tickles his fingers from my hip to my ribs. After hours of making love, this is where we are, in mutual heaven. As we lay in bed, just staring at one another or kissing, slow, gentle kisses, I feel the need to ask.
“No,” he continued his touches on my side. “She has a prayer meeting.”
“Oh,” we never say Lorenzo or Lydia. We say He or She. As though giving them names makes them offensive to the other person. As though we are the married couple, and our significant others are the hurtful affairs.
“You?” he asked.
I shake my head. “He was at the restaurant.”
Noah curls forward and drags me into his arms, crushing me in a blissful way. He’s so big, so strong, so safe. “God,” he hissed the name through his teeth. “What are you doing to me?”
“Me?” I ask. “Or God?”
“You…” he leans back to see my face. “I know what God is doing. He’s testing me and I keep failing.”
I pushed his wild hair back. “Am I just a test from God or…” I lose myself in the feel of his hair. “Something more?”
“I can’t say those kinds of things, you know that.”
“Who would hear you?”
He looks at me like it’s obvious. God would know, and though God and I haven’t spoken since I was a kid, He must talk to Noah often enough.
“I’m… trying to figure all this out,” he said after a moment and I can feel this unbearable panic start to rise. “I’ve never done this; I don’t know what I’m doing or how to keep it up if I even should.”
When his guilt wraps a fist around his neck, I feel like I’m shrinking into this unimportant speck. “You aren’t hurting anyone. She doesn’t know, and what are you supposed to do?” I sit up on one of my elbows, letting the bedding fall to reveal my chest. “Are you supposed to just keep pretending to be happy when you aren’t? She’s not what you were meant to have.”
“Hey,” he sits up completely and frowns down at me. “Don’t talk about her like that. Please, just… don’t. I love her and the idea of her ever figuring this out… it makes me—”
“What?” I test. “Sick?”
He stands up, whipping the covers away. “Don’t put words in my mouth,” he swipes his pants from a chair.
“Someone has to, your mouth is usually empty without suggestions.”
He turns on his heels, a heat in his eyes that should scare me. “I’m not like you, Ruby. I don’t do this every time I see someone I’m attracted to. I don’t lie to my wife the way you lie to your husband. It’s not me, it’s not who I am, and I hate myself.”
I feel my eyes watering. “Why are you ruining this night? Why are you deliberately trying to hurt me by throwing shit in my face?”
“Because this is bad!” he yells. “This is crazy stupid! We are married and I don’t get how you do this and not feel— this— horrible guilt? Don’t you feel bad or wrong or something? Why don’t you feel those things?”
“Because guilt isn’t what I’m afraid of. Being alone is.” I pinch the bedding. “You can be in a room full of people, be married, and still feel very alone…”
He stopped and looked down at me. I laid back and shut my eyes because I don’t want to watch him leave. I can’t. There is something different about Noah. He’s not like some of the men I’ve met. He’s real on so many levels. I like that he doesn’t like what we do. I like that he’s able to feel guilt.
I knew after our first time in bed, with startling clarity, that I wanted him. Not just for little night visits or elicit calls and texts. I want him. I can’t fully admit that, but I do.
Suddenly I feel his mouth on mine. His beard scratching against my lips, as he works mine apart. He’s holding himself over me, possessing my mouth.
“I’m…” I looked into his eyes. “I’m not good like you, Noah. I’m not good like your wife. I have the worth of a dull penny and… you can’t expect redeeming qualities. I got used up way back when I was a kid, and whatever is left of me isn’t enough. I’m just a fraction of a person trying to look whole.”
Noah held my face. I see in him the same drive I saw in Lorenzo. The deep desire to rescue me. What they don’t seem to get is that they came into my life too late to do much at all. If my life was a storybook, I’m the princess that no one came for in the tower, the one the dragon caught, the one that didn’t get woken by a true love’s kiss.
And I’m not over it.
“You are worth everything,” he tells me, mirroring Lorenzo again.
My poor Lorenzo. If only he knew the mess, he signed on for. The problem with us was that I didn’t show him my mess until we were married. Sure, he came with his own baggage, his own issues. No one is perfect. But mine outweighed his, and together, all we created was a natural disaster.
Noah is the first man to ever know all my demons from the get-go.
“No, I’m not,” I deny.
“Yes, you are,” Noah smiles, bringing the sunup for me. “There is nothing you could live through that would take away your worth. You’re wrong, and I don’t know what to do about it.” He lifted my hand to his mouth for more kisses. “You’re so different.”
“From her?”
“Yeah,” he raked my body with his gaze. “You’re different by appearance, but even more so in personality. She would never talk to me the way you do sometimes.”
“You mean with sass?” I laugh.
He laughed too. “Exactly. She’s not strong like that. She’s timid and shy. Even with me after five years, she doesn’t like to challenge me, she thinks I always know the answers. Even how you’re laying there,” he looked over my body again, mostly on display while I’m sprawled out. “She’s not confident like this.”
“Maybe that’s because she thinks she’s not supposed to be…”
His look of confusion made me smile.
“I was part of the whole Jesus freak thing when I was a kid,” I told him. “Women are supposed to feel like… modest and pure.” I snorted, “and once they aren’t, God doesn’t want them. Hence, my whorish confidence.” I laughed thinking he would find it comical.
His brows are slightly creased, jaw tight. “That’s not true.”
“Sure, it is,” I supported my head on my hand. “Good girls go to heaven and bad girls don’t.”
He shook his head, holding my face to demand my attention. “You are not a whore, and what happened to you has nothing to do with how much God loves you. I don’t like it when you talk about yourself that way.”
I decided to change the subject, not caring for his invasive way of seeing into my eyes. “Your wife is just modest, the way you would want.” I felt his beard. “Is she like that in bed, too?”
He turned a bright shade of crimson. He confessed to me a long time ago, on our first night, that he had only ever been with two women. A girl from high school that his wife doesn’t even know about and his wife, that’s it, and it showed. He was very oblivious to a woman’s anatomy.
When I said, rub my clit, he moved south of there, and when I told him to go down on me, I lost him altogether. I was his first blow job. But I’ve enjoyed teaching him how to touch me. Making him mine.
I warned him a long time ago never to try the things we do here, with his wife. Changes in bedroom technique are a sure-fire way to be fingered for cheating.
“Is she?” I asked.
“I feel wrong, talking about her— about that.”
I nodded.
He sat at the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands. “Ugh, I just have no clue what I’m doing. This is so bad. I just… I don’t know what I’m doing.”
I swallowed and then turned over on my side away from him. How do I tell him that I don’t get his feelings? That as long as my husband doesn’t know, I feel I’m not hurting him.
I can’t tell him, so I just drift off to sleep.
Chapter Five
LYDIA
I don’t remember getting home. I don’t know how I did it. I think an app with a map was responsible.
Sitting at the kitchen table with coffee, I just keep staring at my wedding ring. I’ve thought out several speeches. I have well-thought-out discussions about his affair. I even rehearsed his lines. I have predicted and thought out all the things he would say and how he might say them, and I feel totally ready to confront him.
Until in my mind, I see her leaping into his arms, the way I usually do.
Then all my anger converts to this suffocating sorrow. My vision fails me, and I feel hot tears. My mind keeps looping with questions.
Is he going to leave me for her?
Is it that serious?
Do they own that house together?
How did they meet?
If he leaves me, how do I support myself when he always said he wanted a stay-at-home wife? I don’t make my own money. I don’t even do the bills.
God, I’m like a child.
I’m the same person I was when I was living with my mom and dad. Do I get a job? What life skills do I have? I can cook, clean, scrapbook, recover old toys, and quote scripture.
I thought about the beautiful blonde that had her mouth on my husband. Who is she?
I took out my phone and typed the address into Google. I found out that most of that neighborhood belonged to a man named Richard Rothman. Nothing helpful, until a picture of him at a major mall opening, with Noah’s blonde at his side made me pause. There was an article attached that covered his many triumphs, above all, being a big-time land tycoon.
The blonde was his daughter Ruby DiGregorio. When I saw that her last name wasn’t Rothman, my head did a tilt. I frowned and typed her name with her father’s and up popped a ton of links.
She is a successful ADA lawyer (cue the Law and Order music) and small-time business investor with a hand in all kinds of enterprises, but because I don’t have a Facebook account, I couldn’t pull up her Facebook profile.
The Affair (The Relationship Quo Series Book 5) Page 6