was using the downstairs extension. She went even further than that. Every night she dialed the weather number before he came home, then, in the morning she hit the redial button. Only once had a different number come up. She’d written it down but hadn’t had the nerve to call it yet.
Paranoid. That’s what she’d become. But who could blame her? Living in uncertainty and dread was taking a toll on her. This week she’d decided to do something about it. Something constructive. Whether Keith was having an affair or not, their marriage was in trouble. She couldn’t do anything about his behavior, but she could do something about her own. She’d bought a marriage book at the Cottage Christian Bookstore and had discovered plenty of things she could improve. Number one on her list was a date night.
And here she sat alone. He’d said he could leave the bank at closing, but where was he? Was work his only mistress, or was there someone else? why couldn’t he just tell her the truth and put her out of her misery? Not knowing was awful.
She dabbed at the corner of her eye with the starchy cloth napkin.
Stop thinking like that before all your makeup runs off your face.
Blinking to clear her vision, she glanced around the busy dining room. No one seemed to have noticed her emotional lapse. She wanted to keep things light tonight, have fun like they used to when they were dating.
Suddenly Keith slipped into the chair across from her, and she choked back the reprimand that formed on her lips
He held out his hand, palm up. “I know. I’m sorry. An emergency came up.” He picked up the menu. “Have you seen these prices?”
Only for about a half hour.
“They’ve always been high.”
And you never complained when we dated.
He closed the menu and sipped the iced tea she’d ordered him. As he brought the glass to his lips, she saw it.
A long black hair hanging from the stark whiteness of his sleeve. She froze. Every muscle, every fiber of her being froze. Except her heart, which throbbed fiercely. She looked at his face as every doubt from the last week seared her memory with the same ferocity as the moment she’d found the condom on the floor.
He noticed. “What?” he asked with annoying innocence.
What? How about, “I found a condom in your pants two weeks ago”? What about, “You’re never at work when I call”? Or, “You have another woman’s hair dangling from your sleeve”?
Her eyes filled with tears again.
“What?” he asked again, this time with a measure of irritation.
The waiter appeared out of nowhere. “Are you ready to order?”
She shifted her gaze to the peach tablecloth and blinked rapidly.
“We need a few minutes,” Keith said.
The waiter disappeared, and she dabbed at her eyes again.
“Do you mind telling me what this is all about? I thought this was supposed to be a nice evening out.”
“That was before I saw
that.”
She gestured to the hair, which now clung to the tablecloth.
He looked down at the table, then his shirt. “What?”
“The hair.” She hated the tremble in her voice.
His gaze found the evidence. He plucked it off “You’re upset about a hair on the tablecloth?” His eyes mocked her.
“It was on your shirt.” She sniffed.
Keith flicked the hair onto the floor, then lowered his voice to a whisper. “Have you lost it, Nat? I work in a bank, for crying out loud. There are women who work there, you know. Not to mention the customers.”
She wavered. Was she being overly suspicious? She didn’t know what to believe anymore. Her eyes glazed over, and she felt a sob rise in her chest. She was on the edge of losing it. She covered her mouth.
He cursed, then reached into his wallet and withdrew some bills, flinging them onto the table. Then he threw his napkin down and rose to his feet. “If this is your idea of a good time out, I’d just as soon be at work.”
Every eye in the room except hers seemed to follow him out the door.
“Hey, Hanna,”
Paranoid. That’s what she’d become. But who could blame her? Living in uncertainty and dread was taking a toll on her. This week she’d decided to do something about it. Something constructive. Whether Keith was having an affair or not, their marriage was in trouble. She couldn’t do anything about his behavior, but she could do something about her own. She’d bought a marriage book at the Cottage Christian Bookstore and had discovered plenty of things she could improve. Number one on her list was a date night.
And here she sat alone. He’d said he could leave the bank at closing, but where was he? Was work his only mistress, or was there someone else? why couldn’t he just tell her the truth and put her out of her misery? Not knowing was awful.
She dabbed at the corner of her eye with the starchy cloth napkin.
Stop thinking like that before all your makeup runs off your face.
Blinking to clear her vision, she glanced around the busy dining room. No one seemed to have noticed her emotional lapse. She wanted to keep things light tonight, have fun like they used to when they were dating.
Suddenly Keith slipped into the chair across from her, and she choked back the reprimand that formed on her lips
He held out his hand, palm up. “I know. I’m sorry. An emergency came up.” He picked up the menu. “Have you seen these prices?”
Only for about a half hour.
“They’ve always been high.”
And you never complained when we dated.
He closed the menu and sipped the iced tea she’d ordered him. As he brought the glass to his lips, she saw it.
A long black hair hanging from the stark whiteness of his sleeve. She froze. Every muscle, every fiber of her being froze. Except her heart, which throbbed fiercely. She looked at his face as every doubt from the last week seared her memory with the same ferocity as the moment she’d found the condom on the floor.
He noticed. “What?” he asked with annoying innocence.
What? How about, “I found a condom in your pants two weeks ago”? What about, “You’re never at work when I call”? Or, “You have another woman’s hair dangling from your sleeve”?
Her eyes filled with tears again.
“What?” he asked again, this time with a measure of irritation.
The waiter appeared out of nowhere. “Are you ready to order?”
She shifted her gaze to the peach tablecloth and blinked rapidly.
“We need a few minutes,” Keith said.
The waiter disappeared, and she dabbed at her eyes again.
“Do you mind telling me what this is all about? I thought this was supposed to be a nice evening out.”
“That was before I saw
that.”
She gestured to the hair, which now clung to the tablecloth.
He looked down at the table, then his shirt. “What?”
“The hair.” She hated the tremble in her voice.
His gaze found the evidence. He plucked it off “You’re upset about a hair on the tablecloth?” His eyes mocked her.
“It was on your shirt.” She sniffed.
Keith flicked the hair onto the floor, then lowered his voice to a whisper. “Have you lost it, Nat? I work in a bank, for crying out loud. There are women who work there, you know. Not to mention the customers.”
She wavered. Was she being overly suspicious? She didn’t know what to believe anymore. Her eyes glazed over, and she felt a sob rise in her chest. She was on the edge of losing it. She covered her mouth.
He cursed, then reached into his wallet and withdrew some bills, flinging them onto the table. Then he threw his napkin down and rose to his feet. “If this is your idea of a good time out, I’d just as soon be at work.”
Every eye in the room except hers seemed to follow him out the door.
“Hey, Hanna,”
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