Taking Chances (4 page)

“He is, in his own way.” Why was I defending him?

“I was kidding. I’m sure his stories about his trip to Asia are all the more fascinating after you’ve heard them twenty times,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. I laughed, knowing that Harvey must have been holding animosity towards Greg, even if he hadn’t shown it up to that point. And, yes, Greg brought up Asia a lot.

“Are you going to punch my husband?” I asked. When he didn’t answer I then asked, wide-eyed, “You’re not going to kill him, are you? Or anyone?” I never heard Natalie talk about Harvey as being the jealous type, but what if...

“No. No killing, no punching. Possibly a wall or two, but then again I’ve already done that.” He showed me his fist, and I saw that his knuckles were red and raw.

I told him my own feelings, glad I could discuss this with someone. “I’m not really angry— more like hurt, but I believe I’m putting it off somehow. It’s as if I’m waiting for the proof from this PI until I can experience the extent of my emotions about all of this.” I sipped from the delicious margarita, and the effect of the alcohol was instant. It must have been because I hardly ever drink. “What will you do?” I asked, knowing my own fate— return to my hometown.

“Not sure. I think about whether I can forgive her if that’s what she wants, but then I want to punch another wall. I’ll just have to wait until Thursday when Gus comes back to report on what happened.”

After a while we said goodbye, and I told Harvey to go on ahead and leave while I went to the bathroom. I stared at myself in the mirror, not having seen a tipsy Audrey in a long time and rather enjoying it. Then the room appeared to be tilting.
Is this what one margarita does to me? I’m drunk
, I told myself. Now how will I get home? I can just sit at the bar and drink water until I’m fine to drive, I reasoned. After thinking on it for several minutes, I decided to take a stroll in the park across the street and clear my head.

“You OK?” said a voice behind me as I stepped out of the bathroom. Startled, I yelled and saw it was Harvey, who then put his hands over his ears. I laughed, giggling really, and found that I couldn’t stop. He ushered me outside while people stopped eating to watch us leave.

“I’m sorry,” I said, wiping tears from my eyes, and then I started laughing again when I saw the amused look on his face.

“You’re a cheap drunk,” he said matter-of-factly, and I nodded my head.

“Why are you still here?” I asked.

“Well when you said you were going to the bathroom, I saw you turn around and practically fall over, so I decided to wait and check on you. I hope you weren’t planning on driving.”

“Nope, I want to go on the swings,” I pointed across the street at the park.

“I don’t think there are swings in that park.” he said, leading me towards it.

“Impossible,” I stated. “A park must have a swing.”

When we reached the sidewalk that leads into the park, I told him, “You can go home, Harvey. I’ll find the swing myself... I’d like to be alone, anyway... I’m not really drunk.” Then I walked off into the wooded trail, leaving Harvey with no choice but to follow me.

“You know, I’d noticed you never order drinks when we all go out to eat. Are you normally against alcohol or something?”

“No, I’m all for it. I feel great right now. As if my husband wasn’t sleeping with my best friend. Soon I won’t have a husband or a best friend, but right now what I care about is that swing. I hardly drink because it triggers my migraines, and I know in a few hours I will suffer, but right now I will enjoy it. Let’s turn left. I think that’s where the swing is.”

“Jesus, that sucks. So you never drink?”

“Not unless I’m willing to hide in my bedroom and turn off all the lights later on.”

I heard him following me as I tripped over roots and fallen branches. An urge to to run from him and yell “Hide and seek” came to me, but I was afraid he already thought I was nuts. Where was that swing?

“But you don’t have to babysit me. I won’t throw myself in front of an oncoming car or streak through these woods or anything.”

“I hope not,” he said with a chuckle, “But I’d be more comfortable staying with you until you’re sober.”

“That could take years!” Shouting to the trees released some of my pent up energy. “I might become an alcoholic now. I have to become something else now that I won’t be a wife.”

“You’d have a constant migraine,” he yelled back.

“But it would keep my mind off my failed marriage.”

Then he reached for me and put his hands on both of my shoulders. “Listen to me, Audrey. This is not our fault. Whatever happens, they made that decision, so the marriage failing is not on us.”

“But everyone will think there’s something wrong with me. Everyone will somehow know why we are getting divorced. Or worse— I’ll stay with him, and everyone will know he cheated on me.” I was looking at him at first, but then shoved my head into his chest, knowing full well I would not stop the tears this time. And out they came.

He rested his hands on my back, trying to comfort me. “That’s not how this will go down. No one but them and us needs to know anything. And Gus, of course.” I looked up at him and smiled, once again glad I wasn’t in this alone.

“So, where is this swing again?” he asked, obviously humoring me.

“Follow me,” I said, wiping my tear-stained face on my sleeve. After a few more turns in the wood, we came upon a clearing under a large oak tree, with a wooden swing attached by rope to a low branch.

“Is this thing safe?” he asked, pulling down on the rope. After a couple of test swings himself, he jumped off and motioned for me to get on.

I felt him push against my back, and I was airborne. Back and forth, the wind whipped at my face and tangled my hair. The trees weren’t there… Harvey wasn’t there… it was almost as if even I wasn’t there. I closed my eyes and imagined what it would be like to not exist. To be nothing but the light I saw through my closed eyelids. After a while I noticed he had stopped pushing me and was sitting opposite me on the grass, watching as I slowed to a stop.

“I think I’m good to drive now.”

“I hope so. I sprained my arm pushing you for so long,” he said.

“Shut up,” I laughed, jumping off. “Let’s get out of here.”

He followed me back through the trail, walking me to my car. “Are you sure you’re fine? I’ll follow you home if you need me to.”

“No, no. I’m fine. You’re not headed home?”

“I have business nearby. I’m late, but that’s fine. It’s with a buddy of mine.”

“Oh, no! I’m so sorry I ruined your afternoon,” I said, truly feeling guilty my drunken antics had sidetracked his plans.

“It’s OK. We’re in this together,” he said, giving me a quick hug goodbye and echoing my thoughts.

I
worked
the later shift that day, sharing only the part about my miscarriage with Tammy— that alone was depressing enough. When I got out late at night, I finally called my mother, though I continued avoiding the subject of the pregnancy. Nor did I share with her my suspicions about Greg. The last thing I wanted was to worry my mom needlessly when she was so concerned about my father’s high blood pressure.

“And then,” she said as she ranted about my dad, “All he talks about is what we will do when he retires this year. I’ve told him I want to keep working at the school still, but he insists on coming up with one ridiculous idea after another.” My mother has been teaching Spanish in the town high school for longer than I’ve been alive. I would think she’d want a change of pace from bratty teenagers, but she loves them, and they always seem to love her.

“What does he want to do now? Is it still moving to Costa Rica?” He’d suggested that, Panama, and some Caribbean island or other in the past few months.

“That’s always on the table, but now he wants to buy an RV and drive around the country. It sounds lovely, but I want to be able to come back to my house after a vacation, not stay in a big car!”

“Dad is so funny. Why don’t you get him involved in the local country club? What if he takes up golf?” I suggested. I foresaw that’s what Greg would do in his retirement.

“You know he doesn’t think golf is a real sport. Maybe you need to come down here, and he and Greg can go together. Then Greg can show him how fun it can be,” said my mother. She always found a way to insert a suggestion for me to go to my hometown, Harper Fields, no matter what the conversation.

“I’d love to mom, but our vacation time is being used for the Virgin Islands,” I said, wondering if this vacation would actually take place. “Remember I leave on Friday.”

“That will be such a beautiful trip. Tia Ana used to say it was her dream to go back there one day to those crystal clear beaches,” my mother said, referring to her late aunt who had traveled the world extensively on her cheating, rich husband’s dime. They stayed together until his death— him flaunting his women to the world, her flaunting his money in everyone else’s face. It was such a farce, yet I suppose she must have accepted it. She got to experience many exciting and faraway places. I wondered if I could do that— know with certainty that Greg was sleeping with other women (including my best friend) and stay married to him because it was more convenient than being alone and poor.

“Tia Ana could have gone back if she wanted to,” I said.

“True. Audrey, I want you to tell me if you think you’ll be able to come home at all this year. I wanted to throw a retirement party for your father in September if you think you can make it.”

“Sure, mom, that should be fine. Let me know what weekend works best for you, and I’ll tell Greg,” I lied. Greg wouldn’t be coming.

We hung up, and when I got home, Greg was already in bed asleep. He left me a note on the kitchen counter like he sometimes did. It said, “Going to sleep early. I had a rough day and have to be in early tomorrow. Leftovers in the fridge. I love you.” I wanted to throw up on it. In fact, I wanted to wake him up and yell insults at him. I didn’t need any proof from Gus. All the small things we’d found between Harvey and me were enough. This façade had to end, or I would go out of my mind. I tore the note up and threw it in the trash. Then I looked up to see the pictures on the wall I had painstakingly chosen the loveliest frames for. Each picture showcased us, whether it was with our families or us alone— at a bed-and-breakfast a few hours away, on our honeymoon skiing in Vermont, on our wedding day.

I stared at that picture of our wedding, and the whole day played before my eyes like a movie. It was such a glorious day, everything perfect to a fault. The weather cooperated after there had been threats of a tropical storm, but it veered to the west just in time. The bridesmaids, including Natalie, all looked beautiful in their dresses and were such a joy to me. I smiled the entire night because I couldn’t help it. I was so wonderfully happy to be marrying my best friend surrounded by my family and friends. It was incredible how many people took the time to come to our celebration and danced the night away with us. Greg and I took center stage most of the evening as our friends danced around us. I don’t think I’d ever felt more loved. When we said our vows Greg choked up, and I’ll never forget how that made me cry all throughout my own vows. I’d never seen the video of our wedding again. I’d have to search for that someday. Someday… if we didn’t get divorced.

The harsh reality blindsided me, as it always did if I didn’t think about it for a while. It was like a bucket of cold water hitting my face every time I remembered. I needed to decide what I would do so I could be prepared for what I might hear from the PI. But for now, I wanted to forget again, about Greg, even about myself. I found my favorite sitcom on Netflix, settling in for a binge session since I had the afternoon shift again the next day.

T
he next two
days were spent without Greg.
I better get used to this
, I thought. My mind shifted from divorce to forgiveness every five minutes. I was unsure of what to do with the information once it was laid out in front of me. I wanted to think that I could give Greg a sassy speech, and he would feel ashamed for the rest of his life, but I was afraid that I would be overly emotional and hurt. It was exhausting not knowing which way to act once I learned the truth. When I sat down to eat dinner alone on Wednesday night in front of the TV, I came to a conclusion. I would not teeter on the edge of indecision anymore. I knew what I would do.

The next morning I woke up still in agreement with what I had decided upon the night before. I could move forward now that I had a plan. Living in uncertainty was way more draining than anything else, like living in limbo. Once I was presented with the proof, I would adhere to my course of action because it would ultimately make me happy.

The PI was on the same flight back as Natalie and Greg. He was to meet Harvey and me again at the same restaurant Thursday in the early afternoon. The plane landed at 10 AM, but I told Greg I couldn’t meet him at the airport because of work. It was important I didn’t see him again until I saw the PI. I had arranged it so I could start my vacation from work one day earlier.

I was at the restaurant first, taking off my sunglasses and picking the first booth by the door when Gus and Harvey walked in. We said hello to be polite, but we all knew what we were there for, and there was no reason to delay. Harvey was staring at the manila envelope in Gus’s hand, and I was too. We sat down, and I waited for Gus to drop the bomb.

“I’ve been on two plane rides with them both. I’ve seen them at the hotel, at dinner, at the business meeting, at the airport. All hours of the day I kept watch, I took pictures…” he said as he pulled out several photographs of Greg and Natalie at dinner, at their meeting, at the hotel lobby. The pictures showed my husband and my best friend as they always looked. “… And I saw nothing to suggest either of them was having an affair, not with each other, not with anyone else either,” he concluded. It was quick, and it was over. And I did not understand.

“Wait, nothing at all? No sneaking into each other’s rooms?” Harvey asked, sounding more mad than relieved. I was in shock.

“I planted a camera in the hallway which had a view of both doors to their rooms. Not once did they go into each other’s rooms. I saw no evidence of anything physical, not even so much as a hug as they left the airport to go home, her in her car and him in a cab.”

“We live on the same block. Why wouldn’t they go home together?” I asked, trying to make sense of everything.

Harvey scratched his chin and said, “Natalie was going to the office from the airport.”

“If you need anything else from me you have my number,” Gus said, leaving us with the photographs.

I looked up at Harvey and shook my head, “What about the money clip? Greg’s blowjob comment? The late nights? Natalie’s face when I told her that Greg and I were going to try to have a baby?”

“I was the most convinced they were having an affair, but we have to accept that they were all strange coincidences. Shit.” He paused. “You and Greg are going to try now?”

“I suppose,” I said, more like a question than a statement.

“Natalie and I tried for a year and we couldn’t,” he said, looking down at his coffee.

“Wait, what?” I asked, wondering if we had just made up our own little drama in which our spouses were fucking each other. Had we? It was like a Shakespearean drama. “If you guys were having trouble conceiving, then that would make sense out of the look she gave me when I said Greg and I were going to give it a shot. It also makes sense she’d want to stop having sex for awhile if it had become something of a chore, or if it was disappointing when it didn’t end up getting her pregnant,” I said, my voice getting a little louder.

“Maybe, but she didn’t tell me anything about you and Greg trying and her thoughts on that. Or about her own thoughts on sex with me,” he said as if defending himself.

“Well, did you ask her?”

“Did I ask her if you and Greg were trying? No I haven’t learned to read other people’s minds yet, sorry,” he said defensively.

“I mean, did you ask how she felt every time a month went by, and you guys still weren’t pregnant? You never once thought she might want to take a break from that disappointment?” I accused him. I blamed him of all of this— of making me question my husband, my best friend of over 15 years, of making me waste $800 on a stupid private investigator named Gus.

“Yea sure, trying. But not having sex with her husband. What does one thing have to do with the other?”

I groaned and stood up. “Men are idiots,” I proclaimed, and then mentally excused my wonderful husband from that statement. Not that he hasn’t done idiotic things in the past, but at that moment he was a saint in my eyes. I just wanted to go home, forget the past week, and worship him.

I left the restaurant, jumped in my car, blasted the radio, and sped to the house eager to see Greg. Unfortunately, he wasn’t home. I saw he had texted me to say he was going to the office for a couple of hours to finish up the last of the paperwork before our trip the next day.

While I had made my decision last night of what to do if Greg was cheating on me, I had packed my suitcase for the Virgin Islands. No matter which way I decided, I was going on that trip. I was safe to say now that if Gus had told me they were having an affair, I would have left Greg forever. St. Thomas was just going to be my first stop on the way out. But now that I had learned it was not as we feared, I felt uber guilty about all the snooping around. Not only that— I hired a private investigator! How pathetic! How could I not trust my husband?

Greg’s suitcase was packed in less than 15 minutes, and I stood it next to mine by the front door. We would throw all the last-minute things into a small separate carry-on bag. I was absolutely in need of this vacation. I went to the bathroom to shave all the places that need to be shaved when you will be seen in a bikini and then made a delicious Italian dinner. When Greg walked in the door, I jumped on him, nearly unsteadying him. I gave him kisses all over his face, and he responded in return.

“How was Chicago?” I asked after he’d put me down.

“Great city, but I didn’t have time to enjoy it. It was meeting after meeting. How were you here?”

“I missed you,” I said, smiling my best wifely smile.

“I missed you too,” he said, kissing me softly. Then he sniffed, “Is that dinner I smell?”

“Yes. Go change, and we’ll eat.”

The next morning was a mad dash around the house getting everything together— phone chargers, cash, sunglasses, sunscreen, hats— everything you need for a beach vacation. Next thing you know we were setting the house alarm and on our way to lovely St. Thomas. But first, we were picking up Nat and Harvey. I was curious to see how Harvey would behave, but honestly, I wished they weren’t coming. I’d much rather not still be hiding stuff from my husband, and the fact that I was would inevitably pop up in my mind whenever Harvey was around. Plus I’d been wishing awful things about Natalie, and now I had to make it up to her somehow without her realizing why.

“Are you guys ready?” Natalie shouted into the car as she slid into the backseat. “Drinks on the beach! Tanning all day! I’m overdue for some sun.”

I laughed, and Harvey put his arm around Nat, giving her a small hug, and I tried to avoid eye contact with him. Greg responded by putting island music on, and we cheesily jammed to Beach Boys “Cocomo”.

T
he flight was
uneventful until we were suddenly over the most unrealistic sight I’d ever beheld. Turquoise and then aquamarine waters surrounded green islands, and I had my nose pressed to the airplane window watching the beauty unfold beneath me.

We landed, and it was off to the hotel, a sprawling resort on the cliffs with a private beach you had to take a shuttle down to. By the time we unpacked and walked around the hotel, we were hungry. There was a small poolside café where we had sandwiches and fruity drinks. Well, mine were non-alcoholic, but I didn’t mind. The last thing I wanted was to get drunk again off of one cocktail.

The four of us spent the rest of the day drifting from the beach to the pool and back to the beach. I applied almost an entire tube of sunscreen throughout the day, trying to protect my fair skin. Greg refused to put any on, and I struggled not to laugh when we got back to the room. His chest was bright red, but I decided not to tease him about it. I was still punishing myself for not having trusted him and giving him an “I told you so” would not make me feel any better. Not that I should feel better. I was confused and considered telling Greg about the whole thing— just coming clean and being honest with him should help us both grow closer, right? Or was it to lessen these feelings of guilt?

We were getting ready for dinner, and I had just gotten in the shower, when Greg opened the bathroom door to tell me he was going downstairs to see if they sold aloe vera in the small hotel shop. I again tried to hold back my laughter. If he would have just listened one of the ten times I asked him to please put on some sunscreen, then he wouldn’t be in pain right now. He was going to have a nasty peeling situation in a few days, and this was just our first day in the sun. I showered quickly and put mousse in my hair, leaving it to air dry. I applied face moisturizer, added a bit of lip balm and mascara, and was all ready to go. Five minutes later, and Greg was still not back. I dialed Natalie’s room to see if they were ready.