Speaker 1: I have this scene burned into my brain, like a
Speaker 1: polloy that never finishes, developing of me sitting alone at
Speaker 1: Red Lanton Romen on a chilly Thursday night, pretending to
Speaker 1: keep the other half of our tiny corner table warm.
Speaker 1: The waitress Lisa had already refilled my water twice. I'd
Speaker 1: stack up out at all menus together, neat and hopeful,
Speaker 1: the way Mark liked to do. When my phone buzzed,
Speaker 1: I fished it out so quickly I almost dropped it
Speaker 1: in the soy sauce. Stuck at the office, Marked texted
Speaker 1: last minute client notes came in. I'm so sorry tomorrow.
Speaker 1: For a second, I stared at the plain gray message bubble,
Speaker 1: rereading it twice. It wasn't an unusual excuse. Both of
Speaker 1: us were used plans evaporating when someone's boss decided seven
Speaker 1: p m was the perfect time for one more revision.
Speaker 1: But as I looked down, I also saw the faint
Speaker 1: little green dot next to your team outing in my
Speaker 1: group chats. Mark had been online at least long enough
Speaker 1: to reply to something just not me. I typed, no problem,
Speaker 1: just let me know when you'll be home. All low case.
Speaker 1: Despite my usual fossness about grammar, then quietly fact down
Speaker 1: least pay. She was half away to the register when
Speaker 1: she paused, lifted a whiskey sour from the bar and
Speaker 1: set it in front of me. From the gentleman over there,
Speaker 1: she said, nodding toward a guy in lovers with the
Speaker 1: laptop bag. He figured you were waiting on someone important,
Speaker 1: and it looked like you could use a drink. I
Speaker 1: stared at the glass, startled. The slice of orange on
Speaker 1: the room reminded me of last summer, a Friday night
Speaker 1: when Mark and I argued about the best garnish for
Speaker 1: old fashions on the patio at Marrist and Tom's. I
Speaker 1: smiled politely at the stranger, shook my head, thanks but
Speaker 1: no thanks, and waited another five minutes, as if Mark
Speaker 1: might still rush through the door, juggling his blueprints. He didn't.
Speaker 1: I left the Roman uneaten. As I stepped outside in
Speaker 1: the coal, the city fading to half close neon. I
Speaker 1: felt this odd to a slow in my gut, not
Speaker 1: quite dread and not quite anger. The thing is, our
Speaker 1: marriage has always been lo qino, big swings, just steady ground.
Speaker 1: We had routines inside, jokes, joined plans drawn up like blueprints.
Speaker 1: Sometimes I'd wish for a little more drama, honestly, something
Speaker 1: memorable to brighten the beige. So why did marks Tex
Speaker 1: suddenly feel like an alarm going off? Why did a
Speaker 1: simple notification from a group chap make mind side's itch.
Speaker 1: The walk home was only fifty minutes, but it gave
Speaker 1: me the space to rehearse explanations before I got to
Speaker 1: her apartment. Mark had probably just needed to vent to
Speaker 1: his work crewde after hours, some team bonding and stressed drinks.
Speaker 1: Half our friends did the same. We'd always trusted each other.
Speaker 1: Maybe I thought maybe I was the dramatic one. Now,
Speaker 1: I told myself I'd ask him about it, then decided
Speaker 1: I'd let it slide. I compromised by pouring the whiskey
Speaker 1: sow down the drain. When I got home, he was
Speaker 1: already asleep or pretending to be. I didn't push, but
Speaker 1: I kept thinking about that untouched drink. The strange thing
Speaker 1: about Marcus from the first day I met him eight
Speaker 1: years ago at some cringe alummy mixer downtown, his broadcast
Speaker 1: reliability like a homing signal. I remember he was the
Speaker 1: only guider who wore actual dress shoes, not beat up sneakers.
Speaker 1: He drank Seltzer with lyme and introduced himself as Mark Beck, Architect,
Speaker 1: sometimes dreamer, always triple checking. As the night went on,
Speaker 1: half a group peeled off to war karaoke bas were
Speaker 1: after parties, but we wound up splitting a late night
Speaker 1: sandwich in an all night deli, debating the best scal
Speaker 1: line in the country, agreeing that Chicago's was criminally underrated,
Speaker 1: and promising to keep in touch. I never had to
Speaker 1: chase Mark. He asked, with zero gainsmanship, to see me again.
Speaker 1: Three days later, we did a walk in tour of
Speaker 1: the city his idea, and landed at popa part installation
Speaker 1: that had as giggling like kids. It wasn't a whirlwind romance.
Speaker 1: It was slow, intentional, and built out of all the
Speaker 1: little things. Lazy Sunday mornings with pour over coffee in
Speaker 1: matching chipmunks, Saturday evening strolls that ended up at the
Speaker 1: same diner, annual hiking trips for our recept Even our
Speaker 1: group held together half friends from college, half work people
Speaker 1: who became chosen family. We were of the granded couple,
Speaker 1: at least among friends who cycle through dating apt and
Speaker 1: soap opera level drama. His studies were drew me in.
Speaker 1: I can't overstate that my own life was built out
Speaker 1: of flexible deadlines, half remote weeks, and creative chaos in
Speaker 1: a marketing agency. I loved that Mark was the one
Speaker 1: drawing up color curded grocery liss folding our shared life
Speaker 1: into order. Honesty was his promise Once. Early on, I'd
Speaker 1: asked whether trust was a big thing for him. It's
Speaker 1: everything real, he replied, looking up from his soup. After
Speaker 1: last time, I decided to no more secret ever again.
Speaker 1: He'd been cheated on once before, nothing spectacularly scandalous, but
Speaker 1: enough to burn him and make him serious about transparency
Speaker 1: me I leaned in for us. Safety didn't mean boredom.
Speaker 1: It meant we could handle stuff together. Even during my
Speaker 1: worst year, the layoff, the months of rejection emails, he
Speaker 1: showed up in every way I called under a blanket,
Speaker 1: certain I was unlovable and Mark would cook something complicated,
Speaker 1: sit with me, suggest move as neither of us really
Speaker 1: wanted to watch. After I went back to work, I
Speaker 1: tried to return the favor more medai check in spontaneous
Speaker 1: happy hour as the works. Maybe we just kept whenning
Speaker 1: the relationship lottery because drama happened elsewhere. Our friends TOMAMRSA
Speaker 1: especially were constantly call us Switzerland. We were the couple
Speaker 1: everyone invented to I like that the sense of calm,
Speaker 1: So when Mark started shifting things even subtly, I cocked it.
Speaker 1: The routine was sacred Saturday hikes Sunday mornings with the
Speaker 1: crossword and coffee, alternating game nights. Suddenly he was rescheduling
Speaker 1: hikes's trails get mobbed on weekends. Naw, babe, midweek's better.
Speaker 1: I can get real thinking done, not just deal with
Speaker 1: kraut and coffee. Became grab and go, him ducking out
Speaker 1: of declining invites. I'd assumed we'd both keep. I chalked
Speaker 1: it up to his latest work crunch. He just landed
Speaker 1: a couple of agy contracts a tech client with wild
Speaker 1: branding ideas and started wanting playful office layouts. Sometimes he
Speaker 1: overdd it colored pencils everywhere, scratch pads, even a miniature
Speaker 1: model of the Spiral's light for a speculative proposal. I
Speaker 1: tried to ease things by picking up extra chores, bringing
Speaker 1: him his favorite pastries, telling myself it was just a
Speaker 1: busy patch, which hit one before and made it through.
Speaker 1: Still my mind collected the little shifts, like lint in
Speaker 1: a pocket. One night, rummaging under the sink for of uncleaner,
Speaker 1: Mark's war was right there behind the soap, I found
Speaker 1: a brand new water bottles, sleek, black, stainless steel, pricey
Speaker 1: but not his style. He was usually the use it
Speaker 1: till it leaks type. A pair of trail shoes, scruffy,
Speaker 1: but the wrong size had appeared in ash Iraq. I
Speaker 1: didn't say much. I was too proud to be the
Speaker 1: sort of wife who police is her husband's gear. Maybe
Speaker 1: he treated himself, I reasoned, maybe he needed something separate
Speaker 1: from our usual match he match, she routines. Later, we
Speaker 1: were supposed to of pete and movie night. When I
Speaker 1: called to make sure he'd be back in time, something
Speaker 1: he encouraged to avoid last minute surprises. His phone rung
Speaker 1: five or six times before he answered. He sounded distracted.
Speaker 1: Hey Han, sorry, I might be late. You know, me
Speaker 1: living life on the wild side with spreadsheets and technical drawings.
Speaker 1: He half laughed, then trailed off. There was a muffled
Speaker 1: voice in the background. I couldn't place. I let it go.
Speaker 1: Everyone's entitled to a rough week or three. Still, rather
Speaker 1: than feeling close, our even started to shrink to a
Speaker 1: couple of sentences about dishes that needed washing and bills
Speaker 1: that needed pain. Fun bubble I lived and seemed to
Speaker 1: have popped, and it was just me treading water while
Speaker 1: Mark drifted further away. I told myself it was my fault.
Speaker 1: At first, work had slowed for me. I turned down
Speaker 1: a contract out of exhaustion, so I was home more,
Speaker 1: maybe hovering, maybe hoping for old routines he didn't have
Speaker 1: room for. I spent a whole week and stumbling around,
Speaker 1: half heartily reorganizing shells and convincing myself that everything was temporar.
Speaker 1: That's when Sam, a friend from college who tended to overshare,
Speaker 1: dropt the first real splinter. It was after trivia night
Speaker 1: at the downtown pub, a night i'd skip because Mark
Speaker 1: was stuck at the office. Sam and I ran into
Speaker 1: each other near the subway entrance, where he cheerfully asked, Hey,
Speaker 1: were you guys at hop Lane last Thursday? To you?
Speaker 1: I think I saw Mark, or maybe as twin old
Speaker 1: branch group hanging out. My brain buzzed off Thursday. Maybe
Speaker 1: that was office group thing I managed casual Sam Grinn. Yeah,
Speaker 1: figured he had that massive work folder, but they looked
Speaker 1: like they were having more fun than a meeting. He
Speaker 1: gave me an awkward wink and change the subject. I
Speaker 1: felt that lurch again. Not proof, not yet, but like
Speaker 1: a shop pebble and my sneaker. Mak hadn't mentioned hop Lane.
Speaker 1: He said he was working late with acline group. Quick
Speaker 1: check our shoeve credit card showed a tab for a
Speaker 1: local Ebert downtown to our place, much later that night
Speaker 1: than I remembered him coming home. There was another small
Speaker 1: charge for a microbery across town, a place we'd never been.
Speaker 1: Numbers and locations added up to stories that didn't Did
Speaker 1: you go out with your office group after work the
Speaker 1: other night? I asked Macklader, trying not to sound like
Speaker 1: I was giving him the third degree. He leaned against
Speaker 1: the counter, phone in hand. Oh maybe it was that
Speaker 1: last Thursday, Jennet. As those after wearre hangouts. Sometimes I
Speaker 1: think I lost track. These weeks have all felt like
Speaker 1: the same day. Sorry. His tone was breezy, but his
Speaker 1: eyes didn't quite meet mine. The explanation slid away from
Speaker 1: me oily and practiced. I wanted to believe it. Jenna
Speaker 1: name he'd started dropping lately, along with a couple of
Speaker 1: others I'd never met. She was at the office, clown,
Speaker 1: apparently always organizing hikes and happy hours. He'd mention inside
Speaker 1: joke from their group chat, always with the exaggerated exasperation
Speaker 1: people used to show something's unimportant. But they were patcheans,
Speaker 1: and I'm not an idiot. His stories grew more general.
Speaker 1: Were brainstorming a new campaign already just needed another opinion.
Speaker 1: You can't say no, that's career suicide, all delivered with
Speaker 1: this theatrical effort to make it seam ordinary. I could
Speaker 1: hear the edge creeping into my own voice. Would it
Speaker 1: be fun if I tagged along on the next hike
Speaker 1: I could use some sun? No, well, babe, I mean,
Speaker 1: he'd be bored solid. It's basically me and the spreadsheet
Speaker 1: nerds arguing overtrail mix Mark's aid, and then it's really
Speaker 1: just work. Then I promise we'll do our own one soon.
Speaker 1: He turned a little to start loading the dishwasher. I
Speaker 1: spent more time than I care to admits, crawling through
Speaker 1: Instagram and picking through Mark's accounts. He'd gone private ages ago,
Speaker 1: but he still liked a lot of posts, and his
Speaker 1: tag showed up in a handful of the Hiking Legends photos.
Speaker 1: Jenna featured in every one, always next to him, always
Speaker 1: with someone king inside joke, team, no short cuts, office
Speaker 1: Wildling's a dumbstuff. The photos showed four or five people,
Speaker 1: never more. Sometimes it was just Mark and Jenna, with
Speaker 1: others half cut off at the frame's edge. Late at night,
Speaker 1: he started showering after coming home, which was in his habit.
Speaker 1: He used to flop onto the couch or into bed,
Speaker 1: complaining about deadlines or the unreliable office coffee. Now he'd
Speaker 1: disappear into the bathroom for thirty minutes, and I'd hear
Speaker 1: the framed hiss of the shower at the white noise
Speaker 1: of privacy. I talked to Marissa, pretending to ask her
Speaker 1: about new hiking trails, hoping she'd mentioned Mark's group. She
Speaker 1: avoided the question. I'm not getting in the middle of
Speaker 1: work drama, she said, her voice too quick. You know
Speaker 1: how it is, Gossip spread crazy fast. She changed the subject,
Speaker 1: asked me about to show. Neither of us watched, and
Speaker 1: kept me at arm's length. It's done, Mercy and I
Speaker 1: have shared every awkward secret and victory in the last decade.
Speaker 1: I guess there is a script for moments like these,
Speaker 1: and she chosen to follow it instead of confronting Mark upright,
Speaker 1: I started writing notes on my phone, time stamps, explanations,
Speaker 1: Instagram photos, what I'd heard from friends. It wasn't that
Speaker 1: I expected to discover anything dramatic. I needed to see
Speaker 1: a string of data that added up to something I
Speaker 1: could swallow hole, not just trip over piecemeal. Around that time,
Speaker 1: Mark brought home flowers on a Wednesday. They weren't my
Speaker 1: favorite lilies, not peenies, but he was smiling like he
Speaker 1: used to the slightest bitchy bish surprised date night redo,
Speaker 1: he announced, pulling me toward the couch and flashing me
Speaker 1: that boishe apologetic grin. I know I've been a ghost,
Speaker 1: it's just works nuts. I didn't want you to think
Speaker 1: I was checked out. He uncorked a bottle of wine
Speaker 1: ordered from my favorite tie place, and spun a story
Speaker 1: about layoffs. The foams may be dancizing. No one knows
Speaker 1: who's in the block, so everyone's doing these weird team
Speaker 1: bonding things. Jen is just loud, not even my friend. Honestly,
Speaker 1: she just plans, the group hikes, I have to play along.
Speaker 1: Dinner was good. We laughed over old stories. He nudged
Speaker 1: me under the table and called me by my worst nickname,
Speaker 1: melt Train from our first city tour. We even watched
Speaker 1: a movie and dozed off together, wrapped in a way
Speaker 1: I hadn't felt in weeks. I'll admit I felt a
Speaker 1: little foolish, like I'd invented the worry. Maybe I'd only
Speaker 1: needed him to try for one night. The next morning,
Speaker 1: running late, I borrowed his car and fished for a
Speaker 1: quarter under the passenger seat. My finger brushed something metal
Speaker 1: and smooth, A single gull toop, earing definitely not mine,
Speaker 1: not even close to my taste. I stared at it,
Speaker 1: bolse thumping. Our last guest in the car had been
Speaker 1: months ago. When I handed it to him, expecting a
Speaker 1: sheepish laugh, he immediately said, Jenna must have dropped it.
Speaker 1: She lost one on our last hike. She was searching
Speaker 1: all over. I kept meaning to toss it in the
Speaker 1: glove box for her. His voice was tense, not embarrassed.
Speaker 1: He didn't even reach for the earring, just kept making breakfast,
Speaker 1: telling me I was running late. I thought about tossing
Speaker 1: the earring in the trash, but I couldn't. I tucked
Speaker 1: it into the kitchen junk draw, next to broken pens
Speaker 1: and expired coupons. I checked my own reflection in the
Speaker 1: cause window, seeing a woman trying and failing to look soerene.
Speaker 1: Over the next week, I began to unravel. I spent
Speaker 1: actual hour's precious time I used to fill with freelance projects,
Speaker 1: sitting at our kitchen table, sifting through mark stories, his
Speaker 1: work schedule, and social feats. I went back as far
Speaker 1: as I could in our share of calendar, tracing the
Speaker 1: timeline of when he'd started canceling week ends, bumping up
Speaker 1: wik hag meetings. When I compared his photos and group posts,
Speaker 1: I noticed the cast of characters was strangely inconsistent. Sometimes
Speaker 1: there were four people, sometimes just too sometimes none at all,
Speaker 1: just fake captions about conquering peaks. The comments were all
Speaker 1: inside jokes from Jenna, rarely any one else. Their comments
Speaker 1: had the slightly punchy, floaty energy I would have recognized
Speaker 1: if it was directed at me. With each new detail,
Speaker 1: I revised my theories. Maybe it was just a friendship
Speaker 1: he hadn't told me about. Maybe it was an innocent
Speaker 1: work crush, one of those passing office things people rarely
Speaker 1: talk about but never act on. Maybe I was projecting.
Speaker 1: I spent three hours reading read It threads about immercial affairs,
Speaker 1: and another hour polishing my own date in profile, just
Speaker 1: to see how it would feel. I called another friend
Speaker 1: of ours, Ben, who'd overlap with market as firm. Ben's
Speaker 1: sound had conflicted. Look, people have noticed Mark and Jenna
Speaker 1: hanging out a lot, he finally said, after hours. Mainly
Speaker 1: it's become like a running joke. I don't think it's bet.
Speaker 1: Probably just sure in ideas. Jenna's super going, so everyone
Speaker 1: likes her, just to don't read into her too hard.
Speaker 1: It was meant to be reassuring. It wasn't. At home,
Speaker 1: Mark was everywhere and nowhere. He'd hover around the kitchen
Speaker 1: but not linger. We'd sit together to watch Billions, and
Speaker 1: he'd pull out his phone, promising it was work emails,
Speaker 1: not really watching. When I reached across the couch for
Speaker 1: his hand, he'd leave his palm open, but limp. He
Speaker 1: kissed my forehead out of habit. Instead of feeling I
Speaker 1: worked late, not for the paycheck, but to avoid the
Speaker 1: brittle stillness of our apartment. I missed him even when
Speaker 1: he was there. I only realized after a few weeks
Speaker 1: that our regular friend group has stopped inviting us out
Speaker 1: as often, as if they already knew something I was
Speaker 1: only now suspecting. By now, I was measuring. I'm in
Speaker 1: half conversations and private notes. The unonswered questions piled up.
Speaker 1: I was angry that it had come to this, A
Speaker 1: spreadsheet of my own marriage, trying to audits like a
Speaker 1: suspicious auditor. One night, a birch Jenna's name again. She
Speaker 1: seems nice from what you've said. What's her deal? Mark shrugged,
Speaker 1: not looking up from his laptop. She's just loud. It's good, though.
Speaker 1: We get things done fast. Honestly, I try to avoid
Speaker 1: her outside work. That was almost too casual, too flipped.
Speaker 1: If I hadn't already noticed the inside jokes, the comment threats,
Speaker 1: I might have accepted it, but the casual inness now
Speaker 1: felt like a paint job over something rotten. Is she
Speaker 1: Are you too close? He pinched a bridge of his nose. No,
Speaker 1: I mean not really. It's more office hierarchy stuff, you
Speaker 1: know how, it has got to play along. I left
Speaker 1: it at that for a minute, then I asked about
Speaker 1: rescheduling our own hike. He stared straight ahead. Soon. It's
Speaker 1: just things are tense at work. I promise we'll go soon.
Speaker 1: Turning it about in my head, I almost confess I'd
Speaker 1: feel better if I could meet everyone, see it up close,
Speaker 1: know the group. But I didn't want to see jealous
Speaker 1: I told myself steady couples don't need to spy. That night,
Speaker 1: he came to bed late, child cold. When he woke
Speaker 1: the next day, I was already up, making coffee the
Speaker 1: old fashioned way, desperate for something stable. I nearly asked
Speaker 1: up fright if he was cheating on me, but the
Speaker 1: word shriveled in my throat. Instead, I said, you're working
Speaker 1: so hard lately, don't burn out. He gave me a
Speaker 1: tide appreciative smile, but he didn't tell me he loved me.
Speaker 1: Things crystallized round the earring. Eventually I'd see it while
Speaker 1: looking for spare keys or advil. Some days I taught
Speaker 1: myself down. Of course, there was a simple explanation, and
Speaker 1: Mark had already given it to me. But at night,
Speaker 1: when I couldn't sleep, I'd scroll back through texts and
Speaker 1: wonder when I became the secret investigator in my own
Speaker 1: godda marriage. When I finally confronted Maris again, my patients fissured.
Speaker 1: We were at a bakery downtown picking up qualsus. I
Speaker 1: pressed her gently at first, then sharper, I know something's up.
Speaker 1: Everyone is acting weird. Mark's different. Just tell me what
Speaker 1: have you heard? She bit her lip, eyes darting. I
Speaker 1: didn't want to get involved out, but yeah, people talk
Speaker 1: Mark and Jenna. There's been talk after hours, not just
Speaker 1: hiking either. I didn't want to get mixed up if
Speaker 1: it was nothing. I flinch, clipped my own voice down
Speaker 1: to a whisper. So I'm not crazy. Everyone else knows,
Speaker 1: and I'm what the last to figure it out. Mosa
Speaker 1: shook her head quickly. No, I just didn't want to meddle.
Speaker 1: You know I love you both, right, it was just
Speaker 1: office gossip. I hoped it was just rumors. It was
Speaker 1: a relief and a humiliation all at once. For a second,
Speaker 1: I envied Mercer's script, distant, cautious, not the person forced
Speaker 1: to carry the embarrassment. First and afterwards, I started checking
Speaker 1: every angle I opened to find my friends up. We
Speaker 1: both installed years earlier, only using it when one of
Speaker 1: us went late and wanted the other to know they
Speaker 1: got home safe. My hands trembled as I reactivated it,
Speaker 1: half hoping it would just confirm some boring destination his
Speaker 1: offers a client. Instead, it pinned a beautique hotel, one
Speaker 1: I recognized from our friend group's bachelorette stays across town.
Speaker 1: The time stamps back in the middle of his latest
Speaker 1: mountain planning day, I double checked the details his cart
Speaker 1: the same uber app Simultaneously. His texts to me were
Speaker 1: all about reviewing blueprint long meetings. Though work grind, I
Speaker 1: was still pretending on some level that Mark would walk in,
Speaker 1: see my wreckage and set it right. For hours, I
Speaker 1: sat there cross referencing his stories, my notes, the calendar,
Speaker 1: watching the minutes took by. And then, one day, after
Speaker 1: I had exhausted my spreadsheet, all my righteous explanations gone,
Speaker 1: the earrings still shining up at me from the kitchen
Speaker 1: junk drawer, I realized I'd run out of versions that
Speaker 1: let us keep the story the same. I looked around
Speaker 1: our apartment, the prince we picked together, the adly throw
Speaker 1: Mark refused to toss the hiking boots we'd peared up
Speaker 1: by the door, and thought this isn't suspicion any more.
Speaker 1: This is a puzzle, and the only one willing to solve.
Speaker 1: But I still didn't know how to ask the one
Speaker 1: question I had left. I wasn't sure if I wanted
Speaker 1: the answer yet, or if I just needed to brace
Speaker 1: for the impact. The days that followed were filled with small,
Speaker 1: choking humiliations, friends pulling back, Mark whistling while he made
Speaker 1: dinner like nothing was wrong, cracking jokes in a tie
Speaker 1: of register that didn't quite fit. One night, as we
Speaker 1: sat silent in front of a stream and show neither
Speaker 1: of us cared about, I watched his phone light up
Speaker 1: over and over group chats from teamothing, but also direct
Speaker 1: me messages Jaye unread three in a row. I asked again, Braver, now,
Speaker 1: is there anything going on with you and Jenna? Anything
Speaker 1: I should know? He looked up, startled, like I'd grabbed
Speaker 1: his arm on a busy street. What No, God, Ella,
Speaker 1: you've been acting really paranoid lately. Is everything okay with you?
Speaker 1: He tried to sound wounded, but I saw the calculation
Speaker 1: behind his eyes, the side step, the invitation to turn
Speaker 1: my own worries into the problem. I could feel myself
Speaker 1: altering for years, We've lived in a climate of trust,
Speaker 1: so thick, so obvious. I never even imagined a neat tactics.
Speaker 1: Now every conversation felt like walking on black eyes. Sleep
Speaker 1: grew harder, eating too. Sometimes I'd opened the fridge staring
Speaker 1: at another meal meant for two, and slam it closed.
Speaker 1: Then one night I found myself on the living room floor,
Speaker 1: wine glass by my side, laptop opened to Jenna's Instagram again,
Speaker 1: obsessing over her caption on Mark's photo. Who else can't
Speaker 1: keep up with the office welding hush teemously pash hicking
Speaker 1: gulgent Mark's comments. We needed that runoff. Ha It made sense,
Speaker 1: says office banter, unless he knew how rarely Mark joked online.
Speaker 1: By now, the only covert I had was the orderliness
Speaker 1: of my notes, dates, times, explanations, cross indixed. It felt
Speaker 1: almost objective, almost like math. Still, even the best evidence
Speaker 1: was only half the story, until Mark finally told it himself.
Speaker 1: I ran into Tom at traded Joe's, and he made
Speaker 1: the mistake of asking you and Mark still planning that
Speaker 1: camping trip. I hesitated just a second too long, and
Speaker 1: Tom went pale stuff in a back of almonds into
Speaker 1: his cart. He seemed distracted the last time I saw him.
Speaker 1: Is everything okay? I didn't want to lie, but the
Speaker 1: words just wouldn't come. He's busy with work, but we're fine,
Speaker 1: all we I wanted to demand. Mark started sleeping on
Speaker 1: the very edge of our bed, his body curved away
Speaker 1: from mine, sometimes slipped out to the couch before dawn.
Speaker 1: In the morning, he'd make coffee. Act half normal, but
Speaker 1: there was a careful strain in his voice, as if
Speaker 1: every word was waited to check twice before release. I
Speaker 1: listened to podcasts about rebuilding confidence sleep as a two
Speaker 1: a m. Feeling like each hour pot might be a
Speaker 1: new betrayal. I hadn't yet measured. My mind cycled for
Speaker 1: every possible explanation, from worse case scenario to the faintest hope.
Speaker 1: It was just a misunderstanding or a midlife frestlessness, not
Speaker 1: connected to anyone at all, And still nobody came out
Speaker 1: and said it. Not Mark, not my friends, not even
Speaker 1: the strangers. I half overheard in a breakroom at work
Speaker 1: whispering about work, spouse's dand office flings. Everyone protected someone,
Speaker 1: but it wasn't me. The last straw was a passing
Speaker 1: comment from a mutual friend who worked with both Mark
Speaker 1: and Jenna out for drinks after work. She let slip there,
Speaker 1: like the office power do always together. But I guess
Speaker 1: you know all about their Wednesday routines, right. She looked
Speaker 1: at my face, confusion flashing across hers when I stammered, yeah, sure,
Speaker 1: I hear all about it. Maybe that was Mark's real gift,
Speaker 1: keeping everything sounding routine, so nothing ever looked like a
Speaker 1: secret until all the patents converged. That night, as I
Speaker 1: tried to sleep, his phone vibrated again and again. I
Speaker 1: could see the notification stacking up messages from Jade. A
Speaker 1: part of me wanted to grab it, unlock it, demand
Speaker 1: the whole story right then another part of me was paralyzed.
Speaker 1: I told myself tomorrow, Tomorrow, I'll ask. To Morrow, I'll
Speaker 1: finally lay it all out. But that was never how
Speaker 1: we worked before, So instead I stared at the ceiling,
Speaker 1: inventorying what I still had at the apartment, my own work,
Speaker 1: a handful of friends who hadn't yet picked aside, the
Speaker 1: feeling of Marks back against the edge of the mattress,
Speaker 1: hot and unyielding, as if every inchest an accusation, and
Speaker 1: tomorrow or whenever I finally broke the script would have
Speaker 1: to be enough. I spent the next day jumping between
Speaker 1: fragments of my life, half a listening on conference calls,
Speaker 1: letting emails, strack unopened to the bottom of my in books.
Speaker 1: Every hour it snapped back to the present, confused. Was
Speaker 1: I angry, embarrassed, scared, or simply exhausted from holding the
Speaker 1: thread of composure so tight my knuckles ache. There is
Speaker 1: no one thing to call it. By mad afternoon, I
Speaker 1: realized I had been staring at the same spreadsheet for
Speaker 1: twenty three minutes. The kitchen was quiet, slightly stuffed than usual,
Speaker 1: despite the windows cracked. I found myself fussing with the
Speaker 1: Frise magnets lining up old save for dates and polaroids
Speaker 1: of smiling couples, Mercer and Tom Apple picking Mark on
Speaker 1: me at some windsworp trail, Marker arms slung around each other,
Speaker 1: drinks in hand. I flicked them all off, one by one,
Speaker 1: face down on the counter. Maybe what bothered me most
Speaker 1: was the Waymark was so careful not to look like
Speaker 1: he was hiding anything. He didn't guard his phone like
Speaker 1: it was a bomb. He left it face up, sometimes
Speaker 1: to green, bright with notifications and read. He didn't sneak
Speaker 1: at the door, just rearranged his schedule in little increments.
Speaker 1: I kept failing to keep up with Late afternoon, he texted,
Speaker 1: might be late long sight visit. Want me to pick
Speaker 1: up anything on my way home? I typed, deleted, retyped
Speaker 1: milk and bananas. If you have time. I almost added
Speaker 1: see you whenever, then stopped. I would not make it
Speaker 1: that easy for him to slip out of answering not
Speaker 1: to night he came home close to it, slipping through
Speaker 1: the door, fast loaded with a grocery bag and the
Speaker 1: energy of someone made conversation with himself. He was startled
Speaker 1: to see me up, hey ll, he called, satting the
Speaker 1: grocery bag by the sink. Dig get away from you too,
Speaker 1: I nodded, gesturing weekly to the pile of work on
Speaker 1: the table. He gave me a careful kiss on the forehead.
Speaker 1: It was automatic gone before I registered it. He washed
Speaker 1: his hands and started unpacking, emptying bananas and a single
Speaker 1: beer of some rare craft thing onto the count. What's
Speaker 1: the beer for? Ooh, it's a wreck from one of
Speaker 1: the interns, supposedly unbeatable with typhood. He grinned, forcing cheer,
Speaker 1: thinking we do a run of last week's date my tree,
Speaker 1: I wanted to say no. Instead. I sat across from
Speaker 1: him at the kitchen island as he turned on a playlist.
Speaker 1: Casual as always, he talked about some difficult client to
Speaker 1: start up, CEO who wanted an aquarium in the lobby
Speaker 1: and couldn't decide how big. He told a story about
Speaker 1: Jennam was pronouncing can't to leave its staircase if the
Speaker 1: punch line wasn't funny, but he milked it. I watched
Speaker 1: the muscle and his jaw keep time when you finish?
Speaker 1: I asked, do you think I should meet your new
Speaker 1: team some time? Maybe grab drinks with every one? He
Speaker 1: froze for half a second beer midpoor that. I mean, sure,
Speaker 1: we don't do much as a group, though Jenna's usually
Speaker 1: ring leader. But it's mainly after work stuff. Honestly, it's
Speaker 1: more about venting about deadlines than like real friendship. So
Speaker 1: you're just not clothes. He set his glass down with
Speaker 1: more force than necessary. I mean outside work, now, look,
Speaker 1: I get that thing so stressful. If you want to come,
Speaker 1: I can bring you along, But babe, honestly, it's not
Speaker 1: that fun. It sounded like an offering, but both of
Speaker 1: us knew he'd dodge if I tried to pin down
Speaker 1: a data place. We finally sat down to eat. I
Speaker 1: couldn't track the conversation, just the time, how long it
Speaker 1: took him to finish his beer, how he checked his
Speaker 1: watch between bites. When the meal ended, he stood up,
Speaker 1: stretched theatrically and announced, ungin a shower, then knock out
Speaker 1: some emails before bed. That's how it was lately, performances
Speaker 1: and routines. I wondered if he hated it too. When
Speaker 1: he disappeared down the hall, I lingered in the kitchen,
Speaker 1: staring at our notes on the fridge, the shop and
Speaker 1: list in his careful all CAP's block, writing a sticky
Speaker 1: with a list of potential weekend camp and trails now
Speaker 1: half obsolete. The plan had been to tackle Ridgie Loup
Speaker 1: the next Saturday. Mark had canceled, saying something vague about
Speaker 1: Jenna needing help prepping a work Slijah. Was it possible
Speaker 1: he was just being kind? Maybe Jenna was new, Maybe
Speaker 1: friendship was all there was, and I was the once
Speaker 1: seeing ghost and team building events I'd once been knew
Speaker 1: at a job too, grateful for anyone who'd invite me
Speaker 1: along to happy hour. But something inside me recoiled. It
Speaker 1: wasn't the existence of Jenna, or even off his happy hours.
Speaker 1: It was the the way Mark's details shifted day to day,
Speaker 1: always just plausible, never quite enough to pin down. I
Speaker 1: slept badly that night. I just started to drift off
Speaker 1: when Mark petted back into the bedroom well past midnight,
Speaker 1: smelling clean, his hair still damp. He climbed into bed,
Speaker 1: rolling onto his side, careful not to brush against me.
Speaker 1: I lay stone still until he started to snore, eyes
Speaker 1: tracing the faint shadows unseiling one of his text tones, pined.
Speaker 1: He barely stare, but I flinched. The next afternoon, I
Speaker 1: made an excuse, telling Mark, who wanted to get out
Speaker 1: and read it our favor of coffee shop. I texted Marisa,
Speaker 1: not expecting her to answer. She replied fifteen minutes later,
Speaker 1: I can swing by knee Suger. She arrived windblune, cheeks
Speaker 1: pink from walking, and ordered two pastries before I could protest.
Speaker 1: For a few minutes, we talked about everything except Mark.
Speaker 1: Then I blurted, did you know Jenna before she started
Speaker 1: at his office? She squinted at her phone. Not really,
Speaker 1: just heard stories through the grapevine, supposedly wild. Why I shrugged?
Speaker 1: Just Mark mentions her a lot. The groupikes mostly feels
Speaker 1: like a new club. Marissa tapped cross off crumbs flying. Yea,
Speaker 1: he and Tom had a beer with her once after
Speaker 1: a happy hour. I can't tell if it's anything other
Speaker 1: than were friends. I try not to assume. I pressed cautious.
Speaker 1: Ye'd tell me if it was something right if you
Speaker 1: heard a rumor. Her eyes flicked away and she picked
Speaker 1: at the edge of her cup dale. You know I
Speaker 1: have her back, but off as rumor mills are toxic,
Speaker 1: it's usually not worth getting dragged in. Besides, you know Mark,
Speaker 1: he's basically allergic to drama. Was he I wanted to say?
Speaker 1: Or was he simply careful not to light a show?
Speaker 1: When I got home that night, Mark was at his
Speaker 1: laptop here, fons in, absorbed. I watched him, hair fallen
Speaker 1: over his forehead, frowning at the screen. The man I'd
Speaker 1: fallen in love was with still visible in these quiet moments,
Speaker 1: the furrowerbrow, the way his lips moved as he read, silently,
Speaker 1: rehearsing what he'd say. Always double checking. I wanted to
Speaker 1: slot myself back into those familiar rhythms. Instead, I found
Speaker 1: myself in the spare bedroom with the door potways shut,
Speaker 1: giggling signs of an emotional affair, and hating myself for it.
Speaker 1: If he was cheating, why did everything look so ordinary
Speaker 1: from the outside. Thursday morning, I had a client, pitched
Speaker 1: my first on site meeting in weeks, and I wore
Speaker 1: a blazer that still smelled faintly of Mark's cologne from
Speaker 1: a trip months ago. I barely made it out the
Speaker 1: door before my phone buzzed. Mark heads up. Jenna's cars
Speaker 1: in the shop. I offered to give her a ride
Speaker 1: to the office on my way and see you to night.
Speaker 1: I stared at the message, irritated by the cheerful tone,
Speaker 1: the offan casualness. Why even tell me? I nearly replied
Speaker 1: with some sharp joke. Instead, I just sent O K
Speaker 1: draw safe. All day my mind replayed it. I wondered,
Speaker 1: was the transparency of cover or ordinary kindness? If this
Speaker 1: was just a right chair, why did I feel like
Speaker 1: a bystander inside my own house? That night? He got
Speaker 1: home later than usual, the excuse traffic chaos. Jenna left
Speaker 1: her laptop at a coffee shop and we had to
Speaker 1: double back. Total mess. We ate frozen posta bowls, sitting
Speaker 1: side by side, but feeling less like a couple than
Speaker 1: two polite co workers eating together. After a long office day,
Speaker 1: I asked about his project deadlines, and he recited them
Speaker 1: with a precision that made me feel like a board interviewer.
Speaker 1: When he headed for the shower again, second day in
Speaker 1: a row, I wanted to ask him to let me
Speaker 1: in de dumbodever was bothering him in the open, tell
Speaker 1: me it was all as innocent as it looked. Instead,
Speaker 1: I watched him banish down the hall. His phone sat
Speaker 1: on the counter's green face up. I glanced at at
Speaker 1: one amred message from Jay to timestamp from twenty minutes
Speaker 1: before he got home. I went to bed before he
Speaker 1: got out, the earring and the junk durer calling to
Speaker 1: me a bright little question mark I couldn't answer. Two
Speaker 1: more days passed, the grou text stacked up in the
Speaker 1: fidemme's captions, endless notifications, always the same cast, but he
Speaker 1: never invited me alarm. My sleep got worse. I developed
Speaker 1: the hair trigger stotle every time my phone buzzed in
Speaker 1: a meeting, my stomach nodded as if the truth was
Speaker 1: about to burst through the screen. Friday evening, Mark proposed
Speaker 1: an impromptu date night, insisting we should do something spontaneous.
Speaker 1: His idea. We went up for susch. She talked about
Speaker 1: everything at set, hiking wor drama or Jenna. He laughed
Speaker 1: at my old office stories, squeezed my hand, seemed almost
Speaker 1: eager in his attention. After he suggested a walk by
Speaker 1: the river for the first time in weeks, he reached
Speaker 1: for my arm and didn't let go. I allowed myself
Speaker 1: for that one hour to hope I'd been wrong, or
Speaker 1: at least that if something dark was growing between us,
Speaker 1: it could be rooted out by stubborness and fresh air.
Speaker 1: Back at home, we fell asleep together, lynds tangled in
Speaker 1: the old habit I dreamed about mountain trails path splitting
Speaker 1: in opposite directions. Mark's phone buzzed over night, and I
Speaker 1: lay awake listening to him breathing deeply beside me. Saturday morning,
Speaker 1: still in a moderately good mood, offered to make us breakfast.
Speaker 1: He declined, saying he promised his work crew and early
Speaker 1: run to scout a new location. For an office retreat
Speaker 1: and needed to dash. I'll be back for lunch, he promised,
Speaker 1: tying his shoes. Imple said as he left. Who's going
Speaker 1: just the usual, Jenna, A couple designers. It'll be freezing,
Speaker 1: but I'm team player to day. Quick smile, A peck
Speaker 1: on my temple, and he was at I wandered the
Speaker 1: apartment on eaton toast in hand, listening to the faint
Speaker 1: rumble of his car leaving a parking lot. A strange
Speaker 1: urge came over me to see from myself, maybe drive
Speaker 1: out to one of their usual starting points, just for coffee,
Speaker 1: just to see if I could spot them. But I
Speaker 1: taught myself down. I wasn't a private eye. I was
Speaker 1: an adult, married woman, and I could ask questions whenever
Speaker 1: I wanted, Except I hadn't. Lunch came in, went, Mark texted,
Speaker 1: got roped into helping Jenna with the rehearsal, wand for
Speaker 1: her pitch home by dinner. Dinner time came, I called
Speaker 1: no answer. The clock tick passed seven, then eight. He
Speaker 1: arrived close to night in, carrying take out tide again
Speaker 1: and apologizing for missing our window. Was it just Jenna,
Speaker 1: I asked, Sharper than I intended. He looked confused, then
Speaker 1: too quick. No couple of the tick guys too. Jenna
Speaker 1: just talked every one's ear off. So we ran lay.
Speaker 1: He started unloading food. I watched his hands. Occurred to
Speaker 1: me his finger nails were a little muddy, as if
Speaker 1: he'd actually been hiking or in a park hiking shoes
Speaker 1: in the trunk. I pressed. He laughed short, Yeah, I
Speaker 1: forgot to change your turn to clean the car this week.
Speaker 1: I faked a smile. After dinner, he flopped on the couch,
Speaker 1: boots still on, and promptly fill as leap fallen, buzzing
Speaker 1: quietly against his hip. I picked it up, carefully, meaning
Speaker 1: to move it so it wouldn't drop The screen late
Speaker 1: several unread messages from Jay to Syphi's oaks, an animated
Speaker 1: bare sticker, and a line that caught my attention. Next time, Matrit,
Speaker 1: you earned it, legend. I set it down, a chill
Speaker 1: spreading beneath my rops. The casual intimacy wasn't damning on
Speaker 1: its own, but put together, it started to stick. He
Speaker 1: slept until almost midnight, then disappeared into the bathroom for
Speaker 1: a shower. Again. When he came back here, damp faced,
Speaker 1: Dramay pretended to be asleep, breathing even. He slid into bed, and,
Speaker 1: after a moment's hesitation, put his hand on my hip.
Speaker 1: It felt more like reassurance for himself than me. The
Speaker 1: next day was Sunday, the one day he almost never worked,
Speaker 1: a planned addings. We'd always made it our day, a
Speaker 1: day for old moves and elaborate breakfasts, catching up with friends,
Speaker 1: or grocery shopping at the crowded market two blocks over.
Speaker 1: This time he was up before me, already dress, quietly
Speaker 1: sipping coffee. Klind emergency might have to run out in
Speaker 1: an hour, he said, not quite meeting my eyes. I
Speaker 1: put on a robe, tried to play a casual. You
Speaker 1: want me to make eggs? He hesitated, Actually, best if
Speaker 1: I just grabbed something on the way. For a moment,
Speaker 1: we stood facing each other, silence stretching between us. I
Speaker 1: looked down at the ring on my finger, old worries pulling,
Speaker 1: so markrwo K. The question escaped before I could prep it.
Speaker 1: He paused at the door, keys jingling in his palm.
Speaker 1: Of course we are, he said, a little too gently.
Speaker 1: There is just a lot going on. We'll get through
Speaker 1: it a promise. With that, he laughed. I watched every
Speaker 1: hour of that morning, staring at my phone scrolling for notes,
Speaker 1: half tempted to call him and demand what exactly that
Speaker 1: he confide in me, that he admit to something I
Speaker 1: wasn't ready to define. By noon, Marsa texted brunch in
Speaker 1: the park lader Tom and Err already out. I almost
Speaker 1: replied no. Then I thought if I sat at home
Speaker 1: any longer, A go mad. The puck was crowded, warm
Speaker 1: for autumn, the kind of day we used to call
Speaker 1: bone summer and pack sandwiches for Mercy. Emerged from a
Speaker 1: clump of people at the picnic tables, waving a muffin.
Speaker 1: Hey stranger, Tom call, giving me a one armed side hug.
Speaker 1: Where's Mark client? Thing? I tried for neutral, He's been
Speaker 1: slammed lately. Tom looked away, picking out a napkin. Marisa
Speaker 1: bit her lip. We chatted about trivialities, Tom getting passed
Speaker 1: over her promotion, Marisa's new back class, the best local
Speaker 1: sight of spots. Every now and then Marissa's gaze would
Speaker 1: flick to my face for Braford, like she wanted to
Speaker 1: say more. Finally, as we packed up, Tom walked off
Speaker 1: to toss the trash, and I turned to Marissa. You
Speaker 1: tell me, wouldn't you, I asked, voice barely above a whisper,
Speaker 1: if something was actually wrong with me and Mark? I mean?
Speaker 1: She nodded, lips pressed in a thin line. I promise,
Speaker 1: I don't know anything for sure. I just if you
Speaker 1: need anything, you tell me O K I will by lad.
Speaker 1: Sunday night, Mark came home after dark. He smelled faintly
Speaker 1: of some one else's perfume, something's wheat and unfamiliar. I
Speaker 1: stood in the kitchen, mixing a new batch of overnight oats,
Speaker 1: my mind raising. I wanted to ask, where were you really?
Speaker 1: But I didn't. He tossed his keys in the bowl,
Speaker 1: rubbed my back awkwardly, and wandered into the living room,
Speaker 1: already back on his phone. The next week, I found
Speaker 1: myself checking to find my friends. At midmorning, Mark was
Speaker 1: at the office, according to the ban I set the
Speaker 1: phone down, angry with myself. I bake banana bread a
Speaker 1: performative gesture, hoping the old comforts might bring him back.
Speaker 1: When he got home, I mentioned casually, saw you at
Speaker 1: the office busy week. He just nodded, then sat down
Speaker 1: hard on the couch. I'm whitetail. Can we not do
Speaker 1: questions to night? I've got an early call. That night
Speaker 1: I fell asleep watching the minaut our bedroom window, notebooks
Speaker 1: and scraps of paper piled under my pillow Monday lunch
Speaker 1: time and called, Hey, sorry to bother you, just double checking.
Speaker 1: Did Mark ever mention moving the tea meeting this week?
Speaker 1: H R's asking about who's supposed to be heading the group,
Speaker 1: and oh, well, there's been some confusion. I pinched a
Speaker 1: bridge of my nose. Not lately, he's been off site
Speaker 1: a lot. Then hesitated on the other end, Bauquet, no worries,
Speaker 1: just thought, never mind his phrasing. Stuck with me? What
Speaker 1: kind of confusion? He let out a small sigh. Honestly
Speaker 1: it petty staff. Rumor is Mark's been spending a lot
Speaker 1: of time dur insight visits that don't seem to match
Speaker 1: anyone's project schedule. But hey, maybe it's about my pay grade.
Speaker 1: I thanked him. Un Settled that night, I waited up
Speaker 1: for Mark. My own excuse is running thin even when
Speaker 1: you're bracing for confirmation, the little drops of doubt sting
Speaker 1: every time he arrived after ten looking drained. Sorry, ran
Speaker 1: so late. Don't wait up for me. Next time he
Speaker 1: didn't offer details, and this time I didn't ask. But
Speaker 1: the next morning, the urge to check his location was
Speaker 1: too strong to resist. The little blue dot pulsed on
Speaker 1: the map, nowhere near the office. Instead, it hovered in
Speaker 1: a quiet neighborhood on the other side of town, nearer
Speaker 1: the Batteque hotel I recognized from bachelorette week ends and
Speaker 1: work retreats. I stared at the map until my vision blurred.
Speaker 1: The pattern burned on my eyelids. I closed the app,
Speaker 1: pressing my knuckles to my eyes, willing the image away.
Speaker 1: That afternoon, as I shuffled work files reluctantly, I caught
Speaker 1: the familiar trail of my phone, a message from Marissa,
Speaker 1: thinking of you here if you need to talk. I
Speaker 1: almost ignored it, almost deleted it, before the urge to
Speaker 1: answer overtook me. I texted back, can you meet up
Speaker 1: to night? Her answer came instantly, of course, your place
Speaker 1: or mine. Later she arrived with crisp white wine and
Speaker 1: fresh bread. She barely said hello before squeezing my hand
Speaker 1: and sitting on the couch, knee's angle toward me. In
Speaker 1: a pose that's green solidarity. Are you sure you want
Speaker 1: to talk, Marissa asked quietly, after pouring two glasses. I hesitated,
Speaker 1: staring at the pale liquid in my glass. I need
Speaker 1: to know. Does any one else see this? Am I
Speaker 1: making this up? Marisa's mouth pressed into a troubled line. Honestly, Ell,
Speaker 1: there's been talk more than just hiking. I've heard people
Speaker 1: joke about Mark and Jenna after work, long lunches, hotel bows.
Speaker 1: I chotted up to butt head office gossip. But but
Speaker 1: what She shook her head. But there's always a colonel, right.
Speaker 1: I just didn't want to pile on dealt without proof.
Speaker 1: You deserve better than that. I pressed my palms to
Speaker 1: my thighs, trying not to shake, so and the last
Speaker 1: to know Again. Marissa reached from my shoulder, but I
Speaker 1: flinched away. I'm sorry. I wish I had more to
Speaker 1: give you, Elle. It wasn't enough. Nothing would be short
Speaker 1: of Mark himself confessing. After she left, I stood in
Speaker 1: her kitchen, staring at the junk drawer of the earring,
Speaker 1: the notes, even a set of trail maps market stashed
Speaker 1: months ago, now crumpled it out of date. I traced
Speaker 1: his itinerary, matching every night out, every group hike, every
Speaker 1: work emergency, to the report and now and you were
Speaker 1: curated half truths. I opened the Find my Friends up again.
Speaker 1: The blue dot pulse once, then stilt again, nowhere near
Speaker 1: his office. My breath came in sharp, shaky bursts. I
Speaker 1: pulled out my laptop, opened Excel, and started laying out
Speaker 1: Lion's dates, locations, time's tax expenses. The evidence wasn't one
Speaker 1: thing but a constellation. A diald Mark's number. Heart thudding
Speaker 1: so loudly I could barely hear the dial tone he
Speaker 1: picked up on the third ring. Pay babe, what's up?
Speaker 1: My voice shook, but I forced it. Casual thought you
Speaker 1: were working late at the office. You need anything for dinner?
Speaker 1: A pause? Ah no, I'm all set, just at a
Speaker 1: blueprint review. Won't be home until late. I let the
Speaker 1: silence stretch. O, K let me know if you change
Speaker 1: your mind. I hung up, jaw set and returned to
Speaker 1: my notes. There was no will left for the truth
Speaker 1: to hide, not from me. The apartment, piled high with
Speaker 1: relics of who we'd been, suddenly felt like the foy
Speaker 1: to somebody else. Life safe, orderly, full of loyal objects,
Speaker 1: none of which could fix what was broken. I found
Speaker 1: myself humming all just standards, just to fill the hush.
Speaker 1: When Mark came in that night, I was awake. He
Speaker 1: flinched to see me up and for a flash and
Speaker 1: naked unguarded second I saw a gilt split across his
Speaker 1: face like a storm cloud. Hey, he said, didn't mean
Speaker 1: to wake you. I didn't move, Hugh didn't. He starred
Speaker 1: down the hall, voice faint, see you in the morning.
Speaker 1: I stared at the ceiling until dawn tomorrow. I thought
Speaker 1: something had to change. The next morning broke then and gray,
Speaker 1: with the sound of the Garbige truck clawing at bins outside.
Speaker 1: I hadn't slept, light crept under the curtains. Lending the
Speaker 1: apartment of faded makes you clar to the sort you
Speaker 1: get after crying, or not crying, but simply surviving the night.
Speaker 1: Macsoft's nose cut through the hush. I lay there, body stiff,
Speaker 1: as if making any movement might chatter the air between us.
Speaker 1: When his alarm thrilled, he shifted, mumbled something, wrapped an
Speaker 1: arm around me from behind, then drew back, almost flinching.
Speaker 1: He rolled out of and patted to the bathroom door
Speaker 1: clicking behind him. I stared at the ceiling body, refusing
Speaker 1: to rise, replaying the night before, the moment I saw
Speaker 1: gilt flash and guarded across his face and the crushing
Speaker 1: knowledge that the day had to be the day A
Speaker 1: stopped pretending. My nurse felt exposed, rowskin beneath a scab,
Speaker 1: sleeped proud. I watched him pass through our morning routine, coffee, quiet, prep,
Speaker 1: a brief lance in my direction, and felt the balance
Speaker 1: to it. To day I would ask everything, neither of
Speaker 1: usset much. He poured cyril ate, standing by the sink
Speaker 1: and checked his phone again and again. I noticed his
Speaker 1: hands trembling, a fine, almost imperceptible shake, just like the
Speaker 1: foot he tapped under the counter. If this was how
Speaker 1: he composed himself on distress, I'd never seen it this
Speaker 1: close to the bone. I've got a walk through first thing,
Speaker 1: he said voice raff. I might not be home before seven.
Speaker 1: I forced myself to function okay. I stowed, walked to
Speaker 1: the window, watched the world scuttle onward, dog walkers to
Speaker 1: bead walking commuters. An old man struggling with bag leaves,
Speaker 1: Mark Rinsta's ball dropped his keys, then paused beside the entryway. Ella,
Speaker 1: mav tit. If you need anything to day, just text.
Speaker 1: I nodded, arms crossed, He hesitated, then left door clicking
Speaker 1: with quiet finality. The apartment had an after shakhash. I
Speaker 1: wandered through it, opening windows, turning on music, shuffling objects
Speaker 1: from place to place. My hand shook. Everything normal now
Speaker 1: felt staged, as if every appointment caught, every coffee mark,
Speaker 1: every idol post it note was conspiring in this private performance.
Speaker 1: I kept looking at the kitchen junk drawer, at the
Speaker 1: gold earring of bright ordinary piece of evidence, waiting to testify.
Speaker 1: By nine, I couldn't stand it. I texted Mersa, I
Speaker 1: think it's time. Her reply was instant, call me after
Speaker 1: you've got this. I tapped my hair into a loose knot,
Speaker 1: changed into clean jeans and a sweater, wiped down the
Speaker 1: kitchen counters twice, then gathered my proof, a short stack
Speaker 1: of notes, the earring in a sandwich bag, and my
Speaker 1: phone with the truck in ab left open for insurance.
Speaker 1: Each time I tried to breathe dread clamped tighter. I
Speaker 1: felt bored as collapsing inside me. No performance, no plausible
Speaker 1: denial left. I was a woman sitting in her own life,
Speaker 1: waiting for the man she loved to come home and
Speaker 1: explain why none of it was true. The day dragged
Speaker 1: circles of checking my phone, pacing the apartment, organizing and
Speaker 1: doing and redoing the living room piles. I found myself
Speaker 1: cleaning out the fridge, tossing anything past eight. While washing mugs,
Speaker 1: I noticed a matinge bedonna at the bottom of the
Speaker 1: laundry basket, definitely not ours, read and marked with a
Speaker 1: faint perfume. I set it on the counter next to
Speaker 1: the earring. Each more autovac felt like a witness, and
Speaker 1: all I wanted was silence. Hunger never came. I mad tea,
Speaker 1: poured it out, started coffee, let it go cold by
Speaker 1: the window. Late afternoon, Mark texted, running behind home. After eight,
Speaker 1: I typed, I'll be here. My fingers hovered on the
Speaker 1: sand button, wanting to add we need to talk, but
Speaker 1: I left it plain. I charged my phone, set up
Speaker 1: my notes in chronological order, and pressed the earring into
Speaker 1: my pon. With each new item, the evidence seemed to
Speaker 1: grow heavier, not sensational, but damning and how mundane. It
Speaker 1: was not one dramatic discovery, but a thousand pin pricks
Speaker 1: organizing themselves into a tie. I pictured confrontation scenes from movies,
Speaker 1: people screaming, shattering dishes, But my energy felt smaller than that,
Speaker 1: and not of determination, warmed in by months of suspicion,
Speaker 1: ready simply to be done. A little after eight, the
Speaker 1: sun draining out of the sky, marks Key turned in
Speaker 1: the lock, his footsteps hesitated. I stood in the kitchen,
Speaker 1: arms crossed, notes in evidence on the table. He saw
Speaker 1: me stopped. The act was unnecessary. Now no one could
Speaker 1: save him from the overgew reckoning. He set his bag
Speaker 1: on the island, eyes darting from my face to the
Speaker 1: small pile of objects arranged before me. Hey, he said,
Speaker 1: you look serious. Everything okay. I ignored the script. We
Speaker 1: need to talk. He didn't sit. He hovered mid room,
Speaker 1: handug brushing hair from his forehead. I gestured to the
Speaker 1: shed one he always pulled out for me at dinner.
Speaker 1: He finally obeyed, sat small and awkward across from me.
Speaker 1: I let the quiet stretch, the white of a neighbor's vacuum,
Speaker 1: and a far away siren fill in the air between us.
Speaker 1: I want you to listen, I said, hands flat on
Speaker 1: the table, and I want honest answers, no more jokes,
Speaker 1: no more stories. My voiceak once, but I stead eat it.
Speaker 1: I know what's been happening. And before you say I'm
Speaker 1: imagining things, let me show you. I slid the notes
Speaker 1: and the earring toward him, laid my phone open so
Speaker 1: he could see the blue dogs path trails that mapped
Speaker 1: not to hiking routes, but to hotels, bars, and neighborhoods
Speaker 1: that echoed with his absences. I kept track Mark dates,
Speaker 1: time's ever changed story. You don't need to cover for anyone.
Speaker 1: You just need to tell me the truth. Mark's mouth opened,
Speaker 1: then snap shut. Color drained from his face. He looked
Speaker 1: down at the earring, fingers rigid. I braced myself for
Speaker 1: a denial, but he swallowed hard, joll working as he
Speaker 1: hung his head well. I His voice was husky, almost pleading.
Speaker 1: I never wanted it to get this far. I weed it.
Speaker 1: No rescue lines. He squeezed his eyes shut. I'm sorry
Speaker 1: about everything I've I've been seeing Jenna for a few
Speaker 1: months now, longer than I want to admit. It started
Speaker 1: his work, genuinely, it did. She My pulse hammered in
Speaker 1: my ears. I pressed kneading. The whole ugly shape started
Speaker 1: as what mark. He stared at his hands, shoulders hunched.
Speaker 1: She made things feel simpler. I felt like myself around her,
Speaker 1: like who I was before everything at work and before
Speaker 1: I started at letting you down. It was supposed to
Speaker 1: be fantasy. Event I was burned out. All I kept
Speaker 1: telling myself it wasn't real, just new energy, new project,
Speaker 1: But it became more. I didn't know how to stop.
Speaker 1: I gripped the edge of the table to keep Staddy
Speaker 1: and the line, the group hikes, the late nights, the earring.
Speaker 1: Every night you came home smelling like someone else. He winced.
Speaker 1: I tried to keep it separate, honestly I did. I thought,
Speaker 1: if I could just make it through this one patch,
Speaker 1: I could find my way back. But I couldn't. The
Speaker 1: more I lied, the harder it got to remember what
Speaker 1: was true. I wanted to slap him, to scream, but
Speaker 1: my voice was cold. Did you ever even think about
Speaker 1: what this would do to me? To us? You made
Speaker 1: me think I was crazy for months? He let everyone
Speaker 1: else keep secrets. I should have known first. He drew
Speaker 1: a rugged breath. I know. I'm sorry, that's the part
Speaker 1: I can't forgive myself for I didn't mean for it
Speaker 1: to happen. It just it all got away from me.
Speaker 1: I was so afraid of hutting you that I just
Speaker 1: made it worse. My hands went numb. Was it just Jenna,
Speaker 1: he startled, staring at me. No, just har I swear
Speaker 1: no one else, Barry. You still see seeing her? He
Speaker 1: hesit hated. It's complicated, we have it. I haven't told
Speaker 1: her how much she meaned to me. I kept thinking
Speaker 1: I could end it, that it did fizzle out, but
Speaker 1: every time I tried, something stopped me. His words fell
Speaker 1: into the silence, heavy and final. I shook my head,
Speaker 1: exhausted beyond anger. So what now do you want to
Speaker 1: stay work through? This? Is this marriage salvageable to you?
Speaker 1: He didn't answer at first, his eyes glisten brim bread.
Speaker 1: He pressed uponpt his forehead. I don't know I love you.
Speaker 1: I do in some way. You my home, but I
Speaker 1: don't I don't know if I can fix what I broke.
Speaker 1: I don't even know what I want. Ell. I just
Speaker 1: know I'm so so sorry. He started to cry, quietly,
Speaker 1: shoulders quaking. I watched him the man I thought I'd
Speaker 1: chosen for his reliability, his honesty, his steadiness, and felt
Speaker 1: only emptiness, like the four had dropped out and left
Speaker 1: me hovering between rage and relief. Finally, A stood, you
Speaker 1: need to leave to night, pack your things and go
Speaker 1: stay with some one else. I can't do this, not now,
Speaker 1: maybe not ever. He sobbed, softly, nodding. Defeated, He made
Speaker 1: no excuses for his choice, not any more. Silently, he
Speaker 1: trudged to her bedgaminster to pack a duffel. I stayed
Speaker 1: at the kitchen table, staring at my phone. The blue
Speaker 1: tracking dot stilled as if it too had finally run
Speaker 1: out of places to hide. I heard drawers opening, then
Speaker 1: the zip of his bag. Shoes stodded to the floor.
Speaker 1: He came out, face blotched and as a watery blew
Speaker 1: I barely recognize. He lingered at the door's shoulders collapsed.
Speaker 1: No one reached for comfort. I'm sorry, he whispered, for
Speaker 1: all of it. I said nothing. He stepped into the haul,
Speaker 1: the door falling shut behind him. His footsteps echoed down
Speaker 1: the corridor, and then I was alone. I sat for
Speaker 1: a moment longer, My well shrunk to the scratch of
Speaker 1: the clock on the oven, the hum of the fridge,
Speaker 1: and the darkening silence. My phone vibrated a text from Merriser,
Speaker 1: thinking of you, I typed back. He admitted everything he's gone.
Speaker 1: For several minutes. I just sat with the stillness, not
Speaker 1: quite ready to stand and show what to do with
Speaker 1: my hands, my bodyat any of it. I made myself
Speaker 1: rise and moved through the apartment, his shoes gone from
Speaker 1: the rack, his coat missing from the pike, the place
Speaker 1: both emptiered and wider than I remembered. I moved his
Speaker 1: shaving kiff from the bathroom into box. Draw up the
Speaker 1: extra fallen charger, the hiking socks, the forgotten by Donna,
Speaker 1: a few shirts, quickly folded, an old hoody thrown on top.
Speaker 1: I boxed up the rest, little by little, deliberate, methodical,
Speaker 1: as if packing for someone leaving a war zone instead
Speaker 1: of a marriage. I stacked the evidence in the box.
Speaker 1: The irring, the bandanna is an open mail. Each thing
Speaker 1: had once meant a different future. Now all of it
Speaker 1: belonged somewhere else. I sat on the couch afterwards, arms
Speaker 1: wrapped around my knees, staring at the lines of lamp
Speaker 1: light and the dismo, swelling, the apartment stripped of Mark's presents,
Speaker 1: felt wrong and right at once, both an injury and
Speaker 1: a reprieve. Friends texted Marisa, Tom, even Ben, the messages
Speaker 1: tumbling in his words, bread faster than I could process.
Speaker 1: Anything you need it comes, stay with us, A screw him,
Speaker 1: love you. At some point the panic cracked open and
Speaker 1: something thinner. I see a seep in humiliation, not at Mark,
Speaker 1: but how obvious my suspicion must have been. How kindly
Speaker 1: everyone else had looked away until politeness was cruelty. They
Speaker 1: were practicalities to attend to. I had opened my laptop,
Speaker 1: louded into the bank and froze the joint account, changing
Speaker 1: the pass woodward, shaking hands. After a short email to
Speaker 1: Mark's family, one lion only with separating Mark will reach
Speaker 1: out scene. My brain ran on autopilot, checking the motions
Speaker 1: of dignity against the demands of pain. I tried to eat,
Speaker 1: but gave up after a few small bites of bread.
Speaker 1: I stood in the living room, beat in the pale
Speaker 1: spill of the lamp's light, and began to take down
Speaker 1: the frame photos one of us on our fifth anniversary,
Speaker 1: the hike at Blue Ridge sunburned and grinning oblivious. I
Speaker 1: set it face down in a shallow box, heart thumping,
Speaker 1: not with grief, but a strange hollow steadiness. Clothes, photos,
Speaker 1: shared books, all of its ordered, one piece of the time,
Speaker 1: evidence of a life that some point began to leave
Speaker 1: me behind. I stapped Mark's belongings by the door, an
Speaker 1: island of exodus in my own home. If he wanted them,
Speaker 1: let him pick them up from me, not from the
Speaker 1: life we built together. I scrubbed the kitchen counter until
Speaker 1: my knuckles ached. At last, with the surfaces bare and
Speaker 1: my breathing finally slowing, I poured the lass of the
Speaker 1: whisky from the bottle into a glass. I watched the
Speaker 1: ambers whirl as sunlight gone from the windows, the city humming.
Speaker 1: Us were my hands steady now? I carried the glass
Speaker 1: to the window, opened it, and let the cold roll.
Speaker 1: I breathed slowly, felt the air move through me. Across
Speaker 1: the street, a couple laughed, arms slung around each other.
Speaker 1: The sound floated up, both beautiful and abarrably sharp. I
Speaker 1: sat down, wrapped a blanket around my shoulders, held the
Speaker 1: glass up so the light caught in it. For a
Speaker 1: long minute, I looked at the surface, then drank a small,
Speaker 1: deliberate swallow. The whisky sorrow went down smooth, just as
Speaker 1: it had nearly done all those weeks ago. I set
Speaker 1: the glass gently on the table, phone, faced down beside it,
Speaker 1: and let my eyes close. The apartment was silent, the
Speaker 1: air clear, and for the first time in a long time,
Speaker 1: I let myself feel everything at once. The silence of
Speaker 1: the apartment pressed in dance and total, but I didn't move.
Speaker 1: The city outside continued without Paul's horns, laughter, the faint
Speaker 1: swell of music from somewhere down the block. I found
Speaker 1: myself startled by how little the outside world cared that
Speaker 1: my marriage had just detonated. My phone buzzed again, a
Speaker 1: strain of no fahaesions piling up from friends, and one
Speaker 1: from Mark's mother is simple, worried, call me when you can.
Speaker 1: I stared at her name, unable to summon the energy
Speaker 1: to text back, then powered off the phone and set
Speaker 1: it aside. After a while, I drifted to the bedroom,
Speaker 1: stopping short at the gaping expanse of closet where his
Speaker 1: clothes once pressed against mine. The absence was so physical
Speaker 1: it felt like a bruise. Empty hanger's clacking street socks
Speaker 1: bawled in the corner the eightinge. With this aftershave, I
Speaker 1: ran a hand along the line of shirts I'd spent
Speaker 1: years washing and folding, and some ThReD inside me snapped.
Speaker 1: I stood there, breathing in and out shoulders tents, the
Speaker 1: entire room unfamiliar, though nothing in it had technically changed,
Speaker 1: and now must have trickled by before I realized I
Speaker 1: was still standing in the doorway anchored by nurisher. I
Speaker 1: sat on the edge of the bed and looked across
Speaker 1: at the wall where our friend hacking maps still hung.
Speaker 1: The postpins cluss to close cross ranges would conquered together.
Speaker 1: I stared at it, numb until my scalp prickled. This
Speaker 1: is the story. I'd believed, that we were mapping a
Speaker 1: life in tandem, moving and planned siff increments, and here
Speaker 1: I was alone with a map marked only by my
Speaker 1: own blind spots. My chest tightened at the memory of
Speaker 1: all the Sunday mornings, our legs tangle plotting new routes
Speaker 1: across the atlases we'd collected. The memory pulse was a
Speaker 1: bittersweet ache, but it didn't bring the tears. I thought
Speaker 1: it would instead. It left the steadiness, a feeling of
Speaker 1: essential clarity. The foundation was gone, but the world kept turning.
Speaker 1: There was still work to do. I moved methodically, almost clinically,
Speaker 1: gathering the loss of Mark's things, the second set of
Speaker 1: kar keys, his favorite pen, loose change he always left
Speaker 1: on the dresser. All of it went into the box
Speaker 1: by the door. My motions deliberate, unhurried. Each item seem smaller,
Speaker 1: out of context, stripped of the shared story I'd given it.
Speaker 1: When I found one of his field notebooks tucked under
Speaker 1: a stack of magazines, I paused, flipping through the pages
Speaker 1: blue Wink needs Catch's site notes on the inside, cover
Speaker 1: scrolled half faded, for he who always finds the way back.
Speaker 1: I snapped the notek shut and dropped in the box,
Speaker 1: hot thuughting. The apartment seemed too still without something, music, sound,
Speaker 1: even an argument. I wanted to fill the vacuum, to
Speaker 1: blast a playlist and sing as loud as I could,
Speaker 1: But instead I moved around, like the cetch of a
Speaker 1: house after a long good by, touching art facts, making
Speaker 1: decisions I never wanted to make. It was early evening
Speaker 1: when the intercom buzzed Tom's voice hesitant, Hey, l I'm
Speaker 1: down stairs. Brought you some groce, reason A a bunch
Speaker 1: of those obscene energy drinks you alike? Can I come up?
Speaker 1: I almost didn't answer, but the idea of another few
Speaker 1: minutes of silence in the apartment felt unbearable. Here, come up,
Speaker 1: I replied. He arrived with a bulging tote and an
Speaker 1: uncertain smile, glancing around as if checking for damage. He
Speaker 1: set bags on the kitchen counter and paused, weighing his words.
Speaker 1: Mariss said you might need back up, he said, softly,
Speaker 1: I don't know what I need, admitted, voice strained. For
Speaker 1: a long beat, we just stood in the kitchen, awkwardly
Speaker 1: orbiting each other. Then Tom stepped forward, gathering me into
Speaker 1: a brief, rough embrace. My arms stayed at my sides,
Speaker 1: but the gesture cut through my numbness, and something hot
Speaker 1: served up my throat. I coughed, swallowing the urged sob.
Speaker 1: He looked down, voice low. I know this as hell.
Speaker 1: He's an idiot, but you didn't do anything wrong, though,
Speaker 1: quet not ever. I tried to gnaw, but the certainty
Speaker 1: I wore for years had wpped into confusion and humiliation.
Speaker 1: Tom started and packing yogurt, fruit, a box of crackers.
Speaker 1: You want to talk about it, he asked. I shook
Speaker 1: my head. Not yet. I just I can't stand the
Speaker 1: thought that everybody already knew or suspected. Tom's mouth went tight.
Speaker 1: Some people guessed, some people didn't want to believe it. Honestly,
Speaker 1: I kept thinking, maybe it was just the office rum
Speaker 1: or mail. That's not on you. I managed a brittle laugh.
Speaker 1: This it was to be the last to know whether
Speaker 1: one every one pities Neither, he said firmly, his eyes
Speaker 1: searched mine. It's just shit. You'll get through it. Though.
Speaker 1: We stood there in silence until he excused himself and left,
Speaker 1: promising to check in tomorrow. When the door closed behind him,
Speaker 1: I felt a rush of relief. I could breathe again,
Speaker 1: even if the air was sharp and cold. As dusk deepened,
Speaker 1: I found myself pacing the apartment, restless and half sick.
Speaker 1: Every room felt slightly warped, as if I could almost
Speaker 1: see the old shape of our life together hovering faintly
Speaker 1: over the ruins. I made myself sit at the kitchen table,
Speaker 1: opening the junk drawer once more, retrieving the gold e
Speaker 1: ring and laying it flat in upon one last act
Speaker 1: of acknowledgment, a private ritual. Somewhere in the city. Mark
Speaker 1: was settling into some one else's guest room, maybe telling
Speaker 1: a different version of this story. My fond vibrated, lighting
Speaker 1: up with Mark's name. I hesitated thum, hovering over the
Speaker 1: except button. I thought of the confrontation, that here is
Speaker 1: the finality. He said everything there was to say, whatever
Speaker 1: this call was, I wasn't interested in another apology or
Speaker 1: post mortem. Still, curiosity prickled. I let it ring out,
Speaker 1: then opened the message. He scented stead I'm sorry for everything.
Speaker 1: There's nothing I can say to make it right. Please
Speaker 1: let me know when I can pick up the rest
Speaker 1: of my things. I typed Thursday after work. I'll leave
Speaker 1: them by the door, don't come in. The reply was instantaneous, understood.
Speaker 1: There was a strange freedom in the bluntness, a sliver
Speaker 1: of dignity that steadied me in the aftermath. The next morning,
Speaker 1: I woke in the center of the bed, Linde sprawled
Speaker 1: into the space where Mark used to be. The blankets
Speaker 1: tangled and cool. I stood at the window, sipping the
Speaker 1: last of the whisky sour from the night before, gaze
Speaker 1: lingering on pedestrians hugging coffee cups and glancing at their phones.
Speaker 1: I watched a woman my age run laughing up the street,
Speaker 1: head bouncing utterly, unaware of the delicate machinery and side,
Speaker 1: every relationship, every risk that by the time you felt
Speaker 1: the fissure, the floor had already dropped away. I stripped
Speaker 1: the bed, tossing sheets, wash, scrubbing every corner. At some
Speaker 1: point I scrolled through the group chat tea matting, letting
Speaker 1: my thumb hover over the leave group option. I post,
Speaker 1: curious if Mark and Jenno were still posting pain testing
Speaker 1: with every notification, then deleted the chat entirely. Whatever was
Speaker 1: between them could stay in their new world, out of mine.
Speaker 1: That afternoon, Mark's mother called again, leaving a long voicemail
Speaker 1: I couldn't face listening to yet. I texted back a
Speaker 1: brief thank you, then muted the thread. The barrage of
Speaker 1: supportive messages from everyone, friends, cousins, college acquaintances became background
Speaker 1: noise for every thinking of you or hear if you
Speaker 1: need anything. I nodded politely, but I shirked any offer
Speaker 1: to talk, not ready to process myself through any one
Speaker 1: else's lens. I updated passwords to all the shared accounts, utilities,
Speaker 1: streaming services, insurance. I flied Mark's name from access, sticking
Speaker 1: off each account like they were germs to be eradicated.
Speaker 1: It felt transactional, procedural, yet of a mouse click carriage,
Speaker 1: years of private jokes, conversations, the kind of shorthand that
Speaker 1: now felt embarrassing in its intimacy. Night fell and s
Speaker 1: low sonorous layers. I made a half heart, sat on
Speaker 1: the floor with my plate, television drowning in the background.
Speaker 1: I scrolled through old photos, letting the images flick and
Speaker 1: fall away, vacation, Seffy's blurry shots of brunches and adversary grins.
Speaker 1: I tried to select few to keep a fatigue overpowered sentimentality.
Speaker 1: I shut off my phone, left the plate where it was,
Speaker 1: and retreated to the shower. Hot water sloose over me,
Speaker 1: washing away the crime of the day and the last
Speaker 1: vestiges of marks sent from the towels. I let the
Speaker 1: scalding spray pound my skin until I felt real, until
Speaker 1: I remembered there was a body here, a person, sepperate
Speaker 1: from the fragments of a couple that no longer existed.
Speaker 1: When I finally stepped out. The apartment was cold, but
Speaker 1: felt cleansed. I pulled on my oldest sweat shirt, padded
Speaker 1: to the living room, and noticed how emptied the space
Speaker 1: looked without the detritus of another person cutting across my path.
Speaker 1: Some space in my chest loosen like breath after weeks underwater.
Speaker 1: Later that night, as I sat cold on the couch,
Speaker 1: the thoughts returned sharper, now more insistent. The extent of
Speaker 1: the betrayal wasn't just about sex, or even the secrecy,
Speaker 1: but about how completely marked were ridden the rules of engagement,
Speaker 1: how thoroughly I had been managed, side stepped and gassot
Speaker 1: Rage would flaret then exhaustion would flatten it. Sometimes I
Speaker 1: even pitied him Mark, trying, failing, wlundering to find some
Speaker 1: loss self by having the one person who'd always made
Speaker 1: room for his mess. A knock sounded at the door,
Speaker 1: too late for deliveries. My body tensed, but as I
Speaker 1: checked the people, I saw Marissa standing there, clutching a
Speaker 1: bottle of wine and a look of anxious relief. I
Speaker 1: opened the door, and she swept in without asking, dropping
Speaker 1: on to the couch like some one escaping a storm.
Speaker 1: I brought reinforcements, she said, brandishing the bottle. I managed
Speaker 1: to tide to myle, taking the wine and sinking beside her.
Speaker 1: I'm not sure I want to talk. We don't have to,
Speaker 1: she said quickly. She glanced round the room, visibly cataloging
Speaker 1: all that had changed. You know, when Tom told me
Speaker 1: what happened, my first thought was not O, God, poor al.
Speaker 1: But finally, thank God, she knows she's not crazy. You
Speaker 1: know that, right, I nodded, picking at the label on
Speaker 1: the bottle. Not sure it feels like relief yet, No,
Speaker 1: but it will. Her voice softened. Listen, I should have
Speaker 1: told you sooner. I thought I was protecting your friendship
Speaker 1: or your dignity. Oh, I don't even know why. I'm
Speaker 1: sorry about that, I really am. I met her eyes
Speaker 1: for the first time all day, finding something like forgiveness,
Speaker 1: hooking free from the knoted ache in my gut. You tried,
Speaker 1: It's not your fault. It's on him, all of it.
Speaker 1: She reached from my hand and squeezed it. It's easier now, right,
Speaker 1: At least you're not waiting any more. I nodded again,
Speaker 1: not trusting myself to speak. Marisa stood hesitated, then crossed
Speaker 1: to the door. I'll leave you to your wallowing, but
Speaker 1: text me if you want pancakes to morrow, or tequila
Speaker 1: for that matter, I will, I managed. She flashed a
Speaker 1: tentative smile, then slipped out her presents, leaving warmth behind.
Speaker 1: I padded to the kitchen, pouring out two glasses of wine,
Speaker 1: one for now, one for whenever I wanted company, even
Speaker 1: if it was just the hope of company. Leaning over
Speaker 1: the counter, I let the ordinary quiet of the apartments
Speaker 1: in Kaine, marking out what had ended and what new
Speaker 1: emptiness remained. At some point past midnight, I returned to
Speaker 1: the living room and sat cross legged on the rug,
Speaker 1: A hiking map laid out in front of me. I
Speaker 1: pulled out the pushbins one by one, pausing over each
Speaker 1: rugh each week, and lost his distance and dishonesty. At last,
Speaker 1: only the bear map remain, grease, spattered open to possibility.
Speaker 1: I placed it back on the wall, black but ready
Speaker 1: for a new story. For the first time, I realized
Speaker 1: I wasn't afraid of what filled the emptiness, not any more.
Speaker 1: I rose, turned off the lights, and crossed to the
Speaker 1: window overlooking the city. My reflection floated in the gas
Speaker 1: pail drawn but entirely mine. I took a breath as
Speaker 1: deep as the night would allow, and let everything else
Speaker 1: go