Seventy-Two Hours (11 page)

“I think that was the longest conversation we’ve
had between us in quite some time,” he remarked. “Frankly, I can’t recall the
last time.”

I reflected back a moment since I’d already
been thinking the same thing. “It was while we were selecting new siding for
the house.”

“No. That can’t be right.”

I sighed and said, “Yes, it is. Last
September.” And it was shockingly pathetic that I remembered it so vividly.
But it was, indeed, the only time I could remember just the two of us involved
in a discussion when his work didn’t interrupt us or the kids weren’t present
or I was still carrying a grudge against him because he’d stood me up for
something else. It was a relaxed discussion. Not a heated debate. No compromise.
Together we researched the different siding varieties on the internet, went to
Lowe’s, and made a selection. We even agreed on the same contractor to install
it.

“How do you remember these things? Do you
write them down or something? Store them away somewhere for future use?”

His question made me pause a moment before
answering. “I don’t know. I just do. I’ve had lots of time to reflect I
guess.”

He signaled to pass a slower moving car.
“Were you unhappy then?”

“It was building.”

“What was the last straw for you? What
pushed you?”

So much for our calm evening. Candid talk
was going to lead to more hurt feelings and another heated argument.

“I don’t know,” I answered not wanting to get
to the heart of it.

“Sure you do. Tell me.”

I cleared my throat. “It wasn’t really one
thing, Chris. It was many things over a long period of time. A conglomeration
that kept building up,” I explained. “I think if you were to really look back
on the past few years, you’d see you weren’t very happy either.”

“That’s not true.”

“Sure it is. People in a happy, healthy
relationship want to spend time together. You never made an effort to spend
time with me.”

“I wanted to, but I need to keep my job,
Jen. One son in college. Another starting. That requires me to maintain my
income. You don’t know how it’s been at work. With all the downsizing and
shipping jobs and plants overseas. My meeting last year involved the bigwigs
separating us into two groups. One group went into one conference room and the
second into another. My group was informed of the new, slimmed down version of
our company going forward and the other group was told they were being let go.
Do you know what it’s like facing someone you’ve worked with for years after a
meeting such as that and knowing they were in the other conference room?” he
said pointedly.

I looked at my hands and answered, “I didn’t
know. You never said anything.”

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

“It would have helped me to better understand
though, Chris. I’d rather be able to offer you support than feel shut out and,
well, unwanted.”

“My love for you should have never been in
question.”

“You say that when your behavior states
otherwise. You’ve always been a workaholic. I’ve known that. But the past
few years turned into something else. I could never count on you to be
around. Home and family life was all on me,” I told him. “It was as if
spending time with me was the last thing you wanted.”

“I’m sorry you felt that way. You shouldn’t
have. I assumed you knew how I felt about you and that you were fine with
taking care of everyone and everything. You’ve always been able to take
control.”

“Well, I wasn’t fine with it,” I snapped and
then reined myself in. “Not towards the end.”

“I should have seen a problem sooner. It
took until this past spring for me to see how badly things had gotten between
us. How distant you’d become.”

“You mean when you realized I’d slept with
another man.”

He didn’t respond right away. Probably
trying to stay civil since I’d mentioned the one thing that was sure to trigger
another argument. “I actually noticed something was drastically wrong about a
month before your trip.”

His response only added to my belief about
his indifference. “Way to act on it.”

“Are you insinuating that if I’d asked you
what was wrong then, you wouldn’t have slept with Stevie Boy?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“Look, I’ve been unhappy. I don’t know what
else to tell you. By the time my trip came around, I was at my lowest. Maybe
if you’d made an attempt before that, nothing would have happened. You didn’t,
so we’ll never know,” I paused and then added, “I’m to blame as well. I should
have told you.”

“But instead, you told him.”

We fell into an uncomfortable silence the
rest of the way to the cottage. He parked and we continued the silence once
inside. I sank into one of the chairs in the living room and propped my feet
up. I felt like I’d gone several rounds with a prize fighter. A complete
one-eighty from dinner a short time ago. Emotional roller coasters sucked.

My cell phone rang. Chris was closest. He
picked it up and brought it to me, but not before reading the caller I.D.
display.

“Impeccable timing,” he muttered as he pretty
much dropped it in my lap instead of placing it in my outstretched hand.

When I looked, my heart literally stopped and
my stomach lurched. Of all times for him to call.

“Aren’t you going to answer it? Maybe he
could rush up here and whisk you away. You’d have the rest of the weekend to
discuss how unhappy you are.”

The phone signaled a voicemail was left.
“I…I don’t know why he’s calling.”

He scoffed, “It doesn’t take a brain surgeon
to figure it out. He’s looking for a booty call, Jen. It’s been a few weeks.
It shouldn’t matter though because it’s
just
sex, right?”

I stuck my chin out and stated, “It could be
curriculum related.”

“If that’s the case, why didn’t he email
you? Any of your other colleagues would have sent an email to your school
account,” he argued. “Of course, what Stevie Boy has in mind can’t be sent on
the school’s email service since it’s monitored.”

While Chris continued his snide remarks, my
mind wandered to the culprit of this latest debate. What happened in Philadelphia
was meant to be a one-time thing. Steve and I had discussed it. I wasn’t
ready to start up a new relationship. Not while I was still married. There
were steps that needed to be taken first. Telling Chris I didn’t want to be
married anymore. Separating. Starting divorce proceedings. And finally, once
lines weren’t being crossed, consider dating. I wasn’t even sure Steve was
someone I wanted to continue seeing. He was nice and we did have a lot in
common, but he wasn’t necessarily my ideal choice. Having a relationship with
someone from school was bound to become common knowledge and, if things didn’t
work out, that news would spread faster than wildfire all over the school
district. Neither of us needed that.

I considered listening to the voicemail just
to see why he was calling, but even I knew it wasn’t the time for it. No time
was really. The phone incident should have never happened and I hated myself
for it. My marriage was failing. No ifs, ands, or buts. My actions certainly
helped to rush it along on its path to destruction.

“Why don’t you go and pack your bag. We’ll
go home. You were right. This was a bad idea and it isn’t going to change anything,”
he said in a defeated manner.

I turned and met his eyes. “Chris, I’m sorry
he called. I don’t know what else to say. He shouldn’t have.”

“You’re damn right he shouldn’t have.”

“I swear I haven’t had any communication with
him in three weeks.”

“You mean since the last time you fucked him?”
he asked as he headed to the fridge.

“You don’t have to be so crude about it.”

He made quite the ruckus before coming out
with a bottle of beer. He popped the top off and took a huge pull from it.
“So, is that the last time?”

“Since we’ve been in contact?” I waited for
his head nod. “Yes.”

He ran his hand over his face. “You ended it
with him?”

“I wouldn’t call what happened as starting
something so I don’t think ending it would be accurate either.” I felt the
need to set things straight once and for all.

“Damn it, Jen!” he shouted before he finished
the last of his beer in one giant gulp. “Regardless of what you’d call it, I
see it as starting something the moment you cheated on me with him. Especially
since it happened more than once. And now this guy…this son-of-a-bitch is
calling you on the weekend. A holiday weekend no less. Family time. During
your goddamn summer vacation from school. So, yes, I’d say you started
something that’s left him with the understanding there could be more. His
intentions are loud and clear.” He paused as the angry diatribe seemed to ebb
and defeat settled in. “I’m going to pack. I’m ready to go.”

As he started to walk away I called, “Wait.”

“No,” he said as he started up the
staircase. “It’s over. I’m done.”

“But you wanted to stay for the weekend,” I said
almost as a plea which was crazy in light of the fact I’d been begging to go
home since we’d arrived.

“It doesn’t matter what I want.”

“Chris, I know that you were hoping this
weekend would bring us back together. I’m sorry it isn’t turning out the way
you planned. It was a nice idea.” I wiped away a stray tear and cursed under
my breath over what I was about to do. “Let’s stay. It’s only two more days
and it’s really nice here. The cottage. The lake.”

“You’re just saying that because you feel
guilty.”

“No. Really. It’s almost 7 o’clock. If you
don’t want to stay until Monday, we could at least wait until morning to leave,”
I reasoned.

“Fine.” He resumed his trek upstairs.

When it was evident he wasn’t returning
anytime soon, I decided to access my voicemail. As Chris had already guessed,
Steve was hoping to see me sometime over the weekend. He missed me. A lot.
Apparently, he couldn’t stop thinking about me or the last time we were
together.

The last part made me shudder. Sneaking sex
in a car parked along a dirt road, in the middle of nowhere, wasn’t something a
respectable adult did. Especially not when that adult was married to someone
else.

It was never my intention to toy with Steve’s
feelings. I’d been frank with him. I told him I wasn’t after a serious relationship
with him. In fact, I’d been emphatic when I said I didn’t want a new
relationship whatsoever. It was only sex. And he had agreed.

Calling me like he did was completely careless on his behalf and
the more I thought about it, the angrier I became. That was when I decided to
go for a walk with my phone. Find somewhere I wouldn’t be overheard before I had
a talk with Steve.

The lane continued past our cottage and,
although it was a no-outlet road, I wasn’t sure how far it went until I’d reach
the end. Ten minutes into my walk, I felt comfortable making the call. I’d put
enough distance between myself and the cottage and had a good idea what I’d say
if he answered his phone.

He greeted me after the second ring with, “Hey,
beautiful, you just made my day.”

“Steve, what were you thinking when you
called me like that?”

“You’re angry. I’m sorry.”

“You’re damn right I’m angry. We had an
agreement. It was done. We weren’t going to do this anymore.”

I heard him sigh over the line. “We did, but
I can’t get you out of my mind, Jen, and I had to call you. I want to see you,”
he said and I could picture him with his face lighting up with boyish charm.

Steve looked the part of a history scholar
with his refined bone structure and grown-up full beard. But then there was
this ever-present boyish side where his eyes sparkled with devilment and his
mouth always seemed to hold the makings of a smirk in preparation for the next
acerbic remark he uttered or observation.

“My husband didn’t like your timing.”

“Relax. We work together. Just tell him its
school related,” he suggested softly.

I scoffed, “That would have worked if Chris hadn’t
confronted me about you yesterday.”

“What?”

“The last 24 hours haven’t been very pleasant
as you can imagine.”

“Didn’t you deny it?”

“My marriage was already ending, Steve. I
wasn’t going to deny it and add insult to injury,” I said tiredly. “He knew
when it happened.”

He was quiet for a beat before finally
saying, “Are you alright?”

I gave his question some thought and
answered, “No, actually. I’m not. It’s been harder than I expected it to be.
I found Chris crying earlier. I hated seeing him like that.”

“You said it yourself. He’s never there.
Especially when you needed him the most. He doesn’t deserve you, Jen,” he
repeated everything I had told myself aloud when I was justifying my behavior
before I slept with him.