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Authors: Kathleen McCleary
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on the trees for their unknowing complacency.
She kept retracing her marriage in her mind, as though if she could follow its course over the days and months and years she could discover the one moment that had led to this, the place where the river had encountered an obstacle and changed course. But it wasnât one momentâa shock of betrayal, a slap on the cheek, a bitter argument. None of those things had ever marred her marriage. Instead it was the accumulation of small momentsâDuncanâs eyes glued to the computer screen as she tried to talk to him about Wren; the empty space at the dinner table night after night because he had to work late again; his hand reaching out to turn off the light before they made love, every single time. They were little, little things, pebbles and grains of sand, carried along in the course of their marriage until they came to a still place and all those pebbles and grains grew into a pile and changed the course of things forever.
Her phone buzzed in her bag and she ignored it. The damn phone was part of the problem. It had made everything so easy, and had made it seem so innocent, at least at first. And as things progressed the phone became an addiction, as seductive to Alice as it was to the teenagers who sat across from her now, their thumbs tap-tap-tapping against the tiny screen. I miss you, he would write, as she was folding socks and underwear in front of the television in the evening. You are the most adorable woman Iâve ever met . Alice had never thought of herself as adorable before. Competent, yes; smart, yes; interesting, yes; strong, of course; attractive, okay. But adorable? I canât stop thinking about you, he would write, as she snapped the string beans for dinner. When can I see you again?
The fact that she, Alice Elaine Kinnaird, was in this situation was as foreign to her as it would have been to open her eyes and see a green sun in the sky, purple grass on the quad. She had spent the past few weeks in a kind of fevered blur she had never experienced before. The routine of her days was the same; but she was not the same. She woke in the mornings and went down to the basement to work out, came upstairs and made a smoothie, zipped a Luna Bar into Wrenâs backpack so she would eat something, made coffee for herself and Duncan. Then the phone would beep and he would text her: Are you alone? Can I call? She edited essays and graded quizzes and prepared lesson plans and recorded grades faithfully in Blackboard, drove across the Chain Bridge three times a week to teach. Meet me after your class. Just for half an hour. She picked Wren up after school and drove her to ballet class, raced to the grocery store to pick up milk or toothpaste, went home and cooked healthful dinners from recipes she found in Cooking Light . She lay next to Duncan at night, kissed him good-bye every morning and hello every evening, as always. And yet she was a completely different woman now; she was a cheater. She felt like someone in one of those cartoons Wren used to watch, someone who looks and acts perfectly normal until he reaches up and peels off a rubbery layer of skin to reveal the monster inside.
The thing was, on some level Alice didnât feel guilty at all. She had married Duncan because she wanted someone responsible, protective, reliableâall the things she had never had in her life before. But she had been so focused on finding a safe haven that she hadnât thought about how desolate or lonely that haven might feel, hadnât thought about passion, nurturing, communication. Duncan was a good, good man, but he was also a private and reserved man. Which had suited Alice just fine, until He, her lover, had slid himself inside her body, stared into her eyes, and held the back of her neck with his hand so she could not turn her face away. He had forced her to stare into the heart of their intimacy, and it had changed her. She had spent a lifetime making
She kept retracing her marriage in her mind, as though if she could follow its course over the days and months and years she could discover the one moment that had led to this, the place where the river had encountered an obstacle and changed course. But it wasnât one momentâa shock of betrayal, a slap on the cheek, a bitter argument. None of those things had ever marred her marriage. Instead it was the accumulation of small momentsâDuncanâs eyes glued to the computer screen as she tried to talk to him about Wren; the empty space at the dinner table night after night because he had to work late again; his hand reaching out to turn off the light before they made love, every single time. They were little, little things, pebbles and grains of sand, carried along in the course of their marriage until they came to a still place and all those pebbles and grains grew into a pile and changed the course of things forever.
Her phone buzzed in her bag and she ignored it. The damn phone was part of the problem. It had made everything so easy, and had made it seem so innocent, at least at first. And as things progressed the phone became an addiction, as seductive to Alice as it was to the teenagers who sat across from her now, their thumbs tap-tap-tapping against the tiny screen. I miss you, he would write, as she was folding socks and underwear in front of the television in the evening. You are the most adorable woman Iâve ever met . Alice had never thought of herself as adorable before. Competent, yes; smart, yes; interesting, yes; strong, of course; attractive, okay. But adorable? I canât stop thinking about you, he would write, as she snapped the string beans for dinner. When can I see you again?
The fact that she, Alice Elaine Kinnaird, was in this situation was as foreign to her as it would have been to open her eyes and see a green sun in the sky, purple grass on the quad. She had spent the past few weeks in a kind of fevered blur she had never experienced before. The routine of her days was the same; but she was not the same. She woke in the mornings and went down to the basement to work out, came upstairs and made a smoothie, zipped a Luna Bar into Wrenâs backpack so she would eat something, made coffee for herself and Duncan. Then the phone would beep and he would text her: Are you alone? Can I call? She edited essays and graded quizzes and prepared lesson plans and recorded grades faithfully in Blackboard, drove across the Chain Bridge three times a week to teach. Meet me after your class. Just for half an hour. She picked Wren up after school and drove her to ballet class, raced to the grocery store to pick up milk or toothpaste, went home and cooked healthful dinners from recipes she found in Cooking Light . She lay next to Duncan at night, kissed him good-bye every morning and hello every evening, as always. And yet she was a completely different woman now; she was a cheater. She felt like someone in one of those cartoons Wren used to watch, someone who looks and acts perfectly normal until he reaches up and peels off a rubbery layer of skin to reveal the monster inside.
The thing was, on some level Alice didnât feel guilty at all. She had married Duncan because she wanted someone responsible, protective, reliableâall the things she had never had in her life before. But she had been so focused on finding a safe haven that she hadnât thought about how desolate or lonely that haven might feel, hadnât thought about passion, nurturing, communication. Duncan was a good, good man, but he was also a private and reserved man. Which had suited Alice just fine, until He, her lover, had slid himself inside her body, stared into her eyes, and held the back of her neck with his hand so she could not turn her face away. He had forced her to stare into the heart of their intimacy, and it had changed her. She had spent a lifetime making
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