Page 37 of One Week
How many times has he fucked her?
Does she know he’s married with kids?
She has to, the man is famous… it’s right there on his fucking Wikipedia page.
Fucking whore.
I load the dishwasher. It’s one of those tasks I’ve done a thousand times, it doesn’t require conscious thought. “I’m going to lie down in my studio,” I tell him. It’s usually where I go when I want a little peace and quiet — it’s quiet up there in the loft. The kids don’t venture up there too often. There are no toys, no television, just a desk and sofa, an easel, and my art supplies and books. Elsie, on the other hand, is always there. I think she likes the quiet too. When she’s up there, the kids don’t bother her. I think she also likes how warm and bright it is up there. She loves to bask in the sun streaming through the windows. It is a quiet bright airy space… our little haven.
I kiss Emma and Theo. “Daddy’s going to put you to bed tonight, okay? Mommy’s not feeling well, so I’m gonna go lie down upstairs.”
Emma’s brows knit together. “Will you be okay?”
I smile. “I’ll be fine… too much wine.”
“Alcohol is bad for you,” she tells me, matter-of-factly.
“I know.”
“Love you,” Theo chimes in. His sweet little voice tears at my insides.
I’m crying by the time I reach the stairs to my loft.
How long has this affair been going on? Weeks? Months? Years?
When did they meet? Where?
Do they make love? Or just fuck?
I want all these questions answered. But I can’t even bring myself to look at him to ask them.
I lie on the sofa, in tears, face down on the cushions. My whimpers can barely be heard — I’ve always been a quiet crier. I don’t cry often, and when I do, I don’t want anyone to know — it’s my little secret. I’m no attention-seeker, and certainly not a drama queen. I hate drama. I hate this.
Elsie, who had been snoozing in her cozy cat bed, knows something’s up. She inches closer, and comes to see me. She sniffs my elbow, and I turn to look at her. She settles her white paws on the edge of the sofa, leaps up and snuggles up close. She nudges her sweet little nose up against mine. Her whiskers tickle my face as she licks the tears off my cheeks.
A smile curves my lips. “You’re coming with me,” I tell her. “When we get a divorce.”
I can’t believe I’ve uttered the word ‘divorce’. This is a taboo word for me — just the thought of it gives me hives. I don’t want a damn divorce. But I don’t want a fucking cheating husband either.
We can’t get a divorce — we have two small kids.
Fuck. When did my life become such a fucking mess?
A divorce would tear our world apart. I can’t imagine it: the kids being shuffled back and forth between the two of us, like freakin’ boomerangs. They’re too small to understand — a divorce would break their little hearts. And what about all the wonderful years we’ve shared? John has always been such a great husband — he’s been my real-life prince. And we’ve always had passion, which is a precious and rare thing.
It’s just been these past few months…
It all makes sense now… the constant travel, and his distant behavior. I should have known. The affair must have started months ago.
I stroke Elsie’s back, and she purrs loudly.
I try to think about it logically.Where would I go?
Damn it, I wouldn’t go anywhere. He’s the one who’s cheating, so I’d kickhimout obviously. But the kids would miss him so much. They’d wonder why he was never here. I could always tell them that he has to go on business trips, lots of business trips.
Was it so bad, what he did?I ask myself.
Yeah, it was. He’s a dog.
