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dye-job Dennison? Come on!
    “Of course. I’m here if you need me.”
    “I feel so much better knowing that.” Ewww! It was like I
couldn’t stop!
    When I had collected my children, I drove
home on autopilot, lost in my own disturbing thoughts. I was perplexed by my
earlier behaviour. Never before had I considered Mr. Dennison even remotely
attractive. Besides the bad hair and clothes, he was also married, the father
of four, and my children’s grade school principal. And there I was, so syrupy
sweet: I might need to call on you for backup . God! I was sick.
    Surely, this must be the kind of attitude
that prefaces an affair. The lonely housewife starts to see extra-marital
relationship potential in everyone. I would have to stay in my house lest I
start something up with the pimply faced check-out boy at Safeway, or the hairy
old Greek man who owned the gas station at the entrance to Aberdeen Mists. What
if I had to go to the dentist? Dr. Gillespie actually was quite good looking!
I’d have to find a new, female dentist immediately.
    I pulled into our driveway and parked the
SUV, standing patiently on the pavement as my children scrambled to grab their
backpacks, discarded coats and other school paraphernalia. Our mailman, Leon,
was across the road, finishing his rounds. I returned his friendly wave. Gee, I
had never noticed how muscular Leon’s calves were. All that walking must really—I
stopped myself short. “Hurry up kids,” I barked. “I don’t want to stand out
here all day.”
    I would phone Paul. Hearing my husband’s
voice would have a calming effect on my horny, adulterous imagination. This
time, I would insist that we resexualize our marriage. There would be no more
pushing it aside for work obligations or dinner guests. I was careening, out of
control, into dangerous territory. I was terrified that I would destroy my
marriage, my family, out of sheer loneliness and desperation. Something had to
be done to stop me. Just as I reached for the phone, it rang.
    “Hello?”
    Jane’s voice on the other end of the line
was shaky. “Paige. Thank God you’re home.”
    “What’s wrong?”
    “It—it’s Karen.” Jane seemed to be crying.
    Oh no. Doug must have found out about the
affair and kicked Karen out. Oh shit! I hoped I hadn’t given it away last
night. “What’s wrong? Is she okay?” My voice was thin with panic.
    “Oh God, Paige, no, no she’s not.”
    “What happened?”
    “Oh God! Oh God! I can’t believe I have to
tell you this.”
    “What? What!”
    “Karen’s dead.”

Chapter 8
     
     
    Karen couldn’t be dead, she just couldn’t.
She was too young, too pretty, too full of life… And she lived in Aberdeen
Mists for Christ’s sake. People did not just up and die in Aberdeen Mists! But
Jane assured me that it was the awful truth. She had first hand knowledge.
Apparently, Daniel had decided to come home from work early to give Jane a
little ‘afternoon delight’. As he drove past Karen and Doug’s house, he noticed
an ambulance and two police cars out front. When he arrived home, he notified
Jane, who raced to the scene.
    “When I got there, she was already gone,”
she said, in a voice gone nasal from crying.
    “Gone?” I was having trouble comprehending.
“Gone where? Gone how?”
    “Dead, Paige.” She snapped. “She was
already dead. The coroner said it was a head injury, probably caused by a fall.
And Doug… Oh God, poor Doug…” She began to cry again.
    “Doug was there?”
    “H-he found her… lying in the attached
garage. He’s absolutely devastated. He’d been in Chicago on business, but Karen
called him and said she needed to talk to him when he got home. Something in
her tone made him decide to catch an earlier flight. When he first arrived, he
thought she wasn’t at home, but then he went into the garage and . . . and
there she was!” Jane’s voice dissolved into sobs.
    I should have been crying, too. Why wasn’t
I? I loved Karen, would miss