Les Hommes Ch. 01

We're out on the patio on a Friday night and all seems good. A little husband and wife chit-chat, you know the kind. Her friend Cherise in marketing is due any day now. Vinny in maintenance fell from a ladder but seems OK. How are the novel and the Atlantic article coming? Just OK, and not great. She reminds me of the lunch I have tomorrow with Roger. With Claire out of town it will be good for you two guys to catch up. Then her promotion, youngest ever in the position, and she'll finally be able (mostly) to get off the road. Such an amazing woman. Then back to Cherise. Why has no replacement been named, she's going to be out six months?

Which was perfect, what we both needed. Anna had been jumpy over the last couple of weeks, which was probably the new job. Back and forth, had me off balance, kind of lovey-dovey one minute and short with me the next. It was good to see her relax, breath deep and her kick back with a nice glass of wine. After a while, we grew silent, each of us staring up through the big oaks to the fading evening. The night air was perfect. The whole world was still.

That's when it started.

Anna says, "Bill, we need to talk."

Words no husband wants to hear. Ever.

I give it a moment or two then say, "Uh, sure. What about?" Please let it not be about us.

Anna takes a long pause, looks away and then back at me. She says, "About me, us."

Now I'm nervous. "What about us?"

She fidgets in her chair and says with the little stutter she gets sometimes, "Let's s-start with me."

"OK," I say cautiously. Please God don't let her be sick or dying or fed up with me or...

She hesitates again and finally says, "I have a confession to make."

Also words he does not want to hear.

I stay mum. This is now her stage.

We are Bill and Anna Smolizenzhy-Rogers, though she still goes by what she calls her 'birth name' Rogers. Anna and I have been married for four years, right out of school, grad school for me, undergrad for her. Now I'm a little over 26 and she's 24. I'm a writer, she's an accountant. Good careers, good home, good marriage, a solid marriage. A beautiful wife, a loyal and loving person, a highly intelligent and successful woman. At least that's what I thought.

But now this, a talk about us.

I give her time. She fidgets again, does not know how to start. So I say, "Confession? About what?" As if I don't know what confessions are.

"I was...it's hard to say it..."

"Go ahead."

"I was...unfaithful."

I stare at her, speechless. I knew it would be that. But hearing it out loud? A different thing entirely. How is this possible? It smacks me hard in the gut. For a second I think I'm going to be sick to my stomach. But I'm angry too, which helps the sickness pass. I grip the arms of my chair hard. I grunt and say, "You were? You are, like now? Seeing someone?"

"No, not now."

"When?"

She pauses. "About 18 months ago."

Well, better than now. Unless she's about to tell me she's getting back with... You know the next thing that would bubble up in any husband's head. Who?

"With who?"

"It's 'whom'"

I waited. "OK, whom? If it's that asshole Randy down at the store, I'm going to kill him."

A month earlier I caught Randy checking out Anna's ass while she was bent over scanning the low shelf for her special pasta. The skirt she had on didn't help. He made a humping motion, his hands measured to each side as if holding her hips, fucking her from behind, a little skit to entertain his co-worker. Yes, she has a very nice ass, I'm sure loads of guys check it out. But she knows Randy and I know she likes him. We both know how much he loves flirting with her. And he is, I have to admit, a pretty good looking guy.

Anna laughs nervously and says, "It wasn't Randy. I told you that was all your imagination."

"The way he was looking at you, I almost went over and said something in front of all of his customers." I hadn't told her about the humping, seemed like TMI.

"Bill. Are you listening? It wasn't Randy."

"OK, who?" I tried to catch myself on the grammar but it came out that way. Maybe it wasn't wrong this time. She didn't correct me.

"I don't see what difference it makes."

"Yeah? Can I be the judge of that please?"

"It's no one you know."

I wait, let her get the message.

She gives me a nervous stare. "You really need to know?"

"Yes, I do."

She pauses, thinks it over and then blurts it out. "John Farrell, from work, and..."

"John Farrell from work," I mimicked, "What an asshole."

"Wait, calm down. You don't even know him."

"Asshole. And you...don't you tell me to calm down!"

"You're right. I shouldn't. But please keep your voice down. We do have neighbors."

Is this just her first move? Is she about to leave me for this asshole? I begin to panic.

"You! Anna! I can't believe it, that you would do this to us." Which, when you are panicked, is going to come out as a whine.

"I'm sorry, Bill, really I am, so sorry. But I had to tell you the truth. It's over with him, been over a long time."

"But when, how?"

"You sure you want to know?"

"Yes I do," I say emphatically, "You're my wife, goddamit! I should be able..."

She takes a minute, has to breathe in and out hard a few times then speaks.

"John and I did that big project together back then. Remember I had to go to Kansas City a bunch of times?"

"The Big Walrus bankruptcy?"

"No, that was Phoenix."

"Simpletonix?"

"Tallahassee."

I was out of guesses so I just stared at her.

"Maisie Bites, acquisition, restructuring, all those 10-07Bs and 13Ys, board meetings, executive reviews, auditors up our behinds, weeks of billables."

"Aaah." Glad to have that settled. I had some dim recollection. Those Maisie Bites were pretty good donuts, the lemon filled especially. It's the donuts that place it for me. It's coming back. Yeah, Kansas City. Right. Just after my first novella got published. Anna and I might have had some issues back then.

I had always hated that Anna travelled so much for work, always made me nervous when she'd leave on a Monday morning for three, four or even five nights away. In her new position it will be much less. Three days from now she becomes Assistant Regional Manager and it will be almost all local work, maybe away one night per week.

Then it occurs to me. She's ready to get off the road, settle down. Leave me and move in with this asshole Farrell. Probably have a baby in six or seven months. Is she pregnant from him already? Is that why she's telling me now? Wait, she said 18 months ago.

I gather myself and say, "Right, Kansas City, the city of lights. Go on."

"Ummm, not really. He and I..."

"This asshole Farrell?"

"...he and I were co-leads. We went out there five times."

"And that's when you two...?"

It's beyond twilight. I see her nodding in the dark shadows. Then I see tears streaming down her cheeks. Maybe it's not the end, maybe this will be OK, but...

"All that time you were sleeping with him?"

"No. I mean not all five."

"Well?"

"The last three. Was about two months."

I feel the anger bubbling, getting the best of me. "But why Anna? Why? You know you mean the world to me. I thought like an idiot that you loved me too. Why?"

"Bill, I do love you. More than you will ever know. I did then too. And it's over."

"Hmmmph," I look over at her closely and ask, "it's over? Completely over?"

"Yes."

"Who broke it off? Was it you or him?"

"It was me. I couldn't go on lying like..."

"Did he suffer?"

"Suffer? Like get upset?"

"Yeah, suffer."

"I guess a little, he didn't kill himself or anything. Wasn't like we were in love."

Well, that was some good news, if it is good news. On the one hand of course I didn't want her to be in love with an asshole like Farrell. On the other hand if she was not in love then what's her excuse for cheating? Just a desire to get banged on the road? Some frequent flyer cock?

"And now? You said it was eighteen months? You waited all this time? Why are you telling me this now?"

"I...I realized...I know now...knew it even then...that lying is horrible, like a disease. That's what got to me. I lied to you, you didn't deserve that. I was making stories up about dinners with colleagues, about working till 10 at night. I was careful not to mention his name after the trips. That's why. I lied to you and it's been eating at me a long time."

"Hmmpphhh"

"It's not the person I ever wanted to be. It's not the wife you deserve. I'm really sorry about it, about lying to you and hurting you."

"Ahhhgggg."

"I'll make this vow to you, it won't happen again."

"Didn't you already make that vow once before?"

"I know. But I can't change the past. I make it now and hope you will believe me, that I'll be honest."

"Phhht."

We go quiet again, me gripping the arms of that chair harder and harder, Anna crying and sniffling, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose. My stomach is acting up again but I have to control it in front of my wife, have to be the man here.

"I really am so, so sorry. Can you forgive me?" Anna is looking at me, drying tears with the sleeve of her blouse. I stay silent.

Who is this Farrell asshole? I remember her mentioning him once or twice. That must have been before the affair, before she felt any guilt association with him. But I'll get him. Won't I? There has to be some way. This asshole Farrell is a dead man. Not that I'm the violent sort, so not the real dead, but something.

The two of us go stone cold silent. After ten minutes Anna rises, says, "I love you Bill. I always will. No matter what happens in the future, I will love you. I will never lie to you again, please remember that." She goes into the house. We are done for the night.

Fifteen minutes after she leaves I lose my lunch and dinner on the garden lawn. Ten minutes after that I go back in alone. I'll sleep on the couch, something no husband wants to do.