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Authors: Louise Shaffer
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subway station, you’ve got a big problem.
I finally gave up my fight to write a book. I haven’t looked at the computer in four months. I wish I could say that I’ve taken a vacation with Jake and had some fun. Or at least that I joined Weight Watchers. But I wasn’t sure they’d understand about chocolate. And lately, every time I’ve suggested that Jake and I take off and go somewhere, he’s been busy. As I said, he and Andy have joined forces to work together, and they’ve been bouncing back and forth between LA and New York, rounding up the funding for their first project. In fact, they just got the final chunk of it last week. So the awards dinner for Andy that Jake and I were attending that night—the one where Jake was going to introduce her as his friend and partner—it was going to be like a celebration for both of them.
ANNIE FINISHED HER business and there was still no sign of Jake. I told myself not to get upset. Somehow, some way, Jake had gotten past me and gone upstairs. I raced into the building and up to my apartment, but it was still dark. And quiet. And empty.
I remembered that we still had an answering machine hooked up to the phone in my office. Now that we had cell phones, it didn’t get a lot of use, but sometimes Jake liked to leave messagesthe old-fashioned way. I rushed to the office and, sure enough, the red light on the machine was blinking. I pushed the button.
“Francesca?” Jake’s voice said. “Look, I know you’re probably going to blow off Andy’s dinner tonight the way you always do….” He trailed off. Then he spoke again. “We need to talk, Francesca,” he said. As if I hadn’t heard him when he said it earlier.
Annie was jabbing her nose into my stomach, which is her way of telling me that it’s past her dinnertime, and since I have an opposable thumb and she doesn’t, I’m the one to get busy with the can opener. I went into the kitchen, fed her, and tried to think rationally. According to our big clock in the foyer, it was seven. The awards dinner started at seven-thirty and the hotel ballroom where they were holding it was on the other side of town. No way Jake was coming home this late, he was probably at the hotel already. He’d gone there directly from … wherever he’d been for the last couple of hours. And whoever he’d been with.
Because suddenly I knew Jake hadn’t been alone. This was his night to celebrate his new partnership with Andy. After he’d had his Talk with me. But I’d screwed up that timetable by taking off for the park. So Jake had gone for a little advance celebration with his partner, which had lasted a bit longer than he’d thought it would. I wondered if he had a spare tux in her hotel suite—the awards dinner was black-tie, and Jake would rather chew glass than screw up a dress code.
And I had been a fool. Probably for a long time.
Here’s the thing about being in denial: When you stop, it’s like you’ve been living in a kind of half darkness and suddenly someone turns on every light in the house. All those little nooks and crannies you couldn’t quite see but knew were there are all of a sudden brightly, glaringly visible. And you start to think. You realize you have no way of knowing if your husband and his dear pal—and yours—spent one day together in Mexico or two weeks. Youdon’t know if he booked a hotel room for one or for two when they were traveling together, rounding up funding for their new partnership. You don’t really know where he stayed all those times when he was in Los Angeles—where she has that roomy old house in Los Feliz. And you sure as hell don’t know what he was doing when she was in New York and they were having business meetings that lasted until two in the morning.
That’s when you hack into his private email account and read the last message he received before he took off for the day. The one he didn’t bother to delete because he never knew you had his password. The message
I finally gave up my fight to write a book. I haven’t looked at the computer in four months. I wish I could say that I’ve taken a vacation with Jake and had some fun. Or at least that I joined Weight Watchers. But I wasn’t sure they’d understand about chocolate. And lately, every time I’ve suggested that Jake and I take off and go somewhere, he’s been busy. As I said, he and Andy have joined forces to work together, and they’ve been bouncing back and forth between LA and New York, rounding up the funding for their first project. In fact, they just got the final chunk of it last week. So the awards dinner for Andy that Jake and I were attending that night—the one where Jake was going to introduce her as his friend and partner—it was going to be like a celebration for both of them.
ANNIE FINISHED HER business and there was still no sign of Jake. I told myself not to get upset. Somehow, some way, Jake had gotten past me and gone upstairs. I raced into the building and up to my apartment, but it was still dark. And quiet. And empty.
I remembered that we still had an answering machine hooked up to the phone in my office. Now that we had cell phones, it didn’t get a lot of use, but sometimes Jake liked to leave messagesthe old-fashioned way. I rushed to the office and, sure enough, the red light on the machine was blinking. I pushed the button.
“Francesca?” Jake’s voice said. “Look, I know you’re probably going to blow off Andy’s dinner tonight the way you always do….” He trailed off. Then he spoke again. “We need to talk, Francesca,” he said. As if I hadn’t heard him when he said it earlier.
Annie was jabbing her nose into my stomach, which is her way of telling me that it’s past her dinnertime, and since I have an opposable thumb and she doesn’t, I’m the one to get busy with the can opener. I went into the kitchen, fed her, and tried to think rationally. According to our big clock in the foyer, it was seven. The awards dinner started at seven-thirty and the hotel ballroom where they were holding it was on the other side of town. No way Jake was coming home this late, he was probably at the hotel already. He’d gone there directly from … wherever he’d been for the last couple of hours. And whoever he’d been with.
Because suddenly I knew Jake hadn’t been alone. This was his night to celebrate his new partnership with Andy. After he’d had his Talk with me. But I’d screwed up that timetable by taking off for the park. So Jake had gone for a little advance celebration with his partner, which had lasted a bit longer than he’d thought it would. I wondered if he had a spare tux in her hotel suite—the awards dinner was black-tie, and Jake would rather chew glass than screw up a dress code.
And I had been a fool. Probably for a long time.
Here’s the thing about being in denial: When you stop, it’s like you’ve been living in a kind of half darkness and suddenly someone turns on every light in the house. All those little nooks and crannies you couldn’t quite see but knew were there are all of a sudden brightly, glaringly visible. And you start to think. You realize you have no way of knowing if your husband and his dear pal—and yours—spent one day together in Mexico or two weeks. Youdon’t know if he booked a hotel room for one or for two when they were traveling together, rounding up funding for their new partnership. You don’t really know where he stayed all those times when he was in Los Angeles—where she has that roomy old house in Los Feliz. And you sure as hell don’t know what he was doing when she was in New York and they were having business meetings that lasted until two in the morning.
That’s when you hack into his private email account and read the last message he received before he took off for the day. The one he didn’t bother to delete because he never knew you had his password. The message
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