Page 59 of The Vow

“I’ll be gone a couple of hours. I need new typewriter ribbon, and then I want to leave fresh flowers for your mom.”

Alex was dressed in a white, pleated A-line skirt and matching sheer white blouse. Her hair was styled, and she wore more makeup than I’ve ever seen her wear. I wanted to tell her that ma didn’t care if she showed up in sweatpants, but the tension between us was at an all-time high and I was too tired to fight.

“You’re still working on the book?”

“Of course.”

“I never hear you typing.”

“You don’t hear a lot of things these days. Sometimes, I’m talking to you, but you’re zoned out.” She was using a compact mirror to avoid looking at me. Before leaving, she added, “I won’t be long.”

The last vestiges of summer have nearly vanished, replaced by a cool breeze and the dawn of a season when flora sleeps. It’s comforting, as if I’ve found my proper place on earth. The playground demolished, I could hear the birds and the occasional hum of a passing vehicle. I’m drowsy, but don’t want to sleep because the nightmares, they will come.

The phone is ringing, but it isn’t. It sounds different. Alex forgot to bring my cell phone with her. There was a time when I was greedy for her affection, and while I’m of no use to her now, it hurts me to think that she’s become indifferent towards me because if the opposite was true, she wouldn’t have carelessly left the phone behind.

I could see it dancing as it vibrated on the dinner table and then it stopped. Curious, I rolled my chair to the dining room and picked it up to browse the call history. Most of the calls were made to our landline. There were calls made to Nicky’s, the pharmacy, and the laundromat, but I didn’t recognize the last number. Whoever it was, left a voicemail: “Hey Alex. I know I’m not supposed to call you on this line, but I have to cancel for Friday. Don’t worry. I’ll still pay you. Sorry for the short notice.”

Confusion muddied my thoughts. Someone was paying her for something, yet I haven’t seen a dime. My finger dialed instinctively like it had a mind of its own.

“Alex... hey.”

“Who is this?”

“Fuck. Sorry, man. I didn’t know she had a pimp. I said I’d still pay her.”

The bile rose to my throat, mixed with feelings of repulsion. The word “pimp” evoked unholy images of body parts detached from the heart. There was an old T.V. crime drama I used to watch. The cop pretended to play along with the villain so he could get the information he needed. I was about to play my own version of a deranged Columbo.

“I don’t recognize this number and Alex hasn’t mentioned you,” I said, swallowing bile.

“It’s not her fault. We agreed I’d stay anonymous. She doesn’t know my real name.”

His voice sounded normal which made it worse. Had he portrayed himself as psychotic, he would have been easier to blame. “How did you meet? I manage all her clients.”

“The bartender was talking to a couple of fellas at the Country Club. Said she’s the best in town. It’s an exclusive club.”

The asshole chuckled. He chuckled.

“Glad she’s popular among the elite. You said you’re anonymous. What does she call you? So that I can keep track from now on.” I was sickened by my own lies.

“Scarpetta. Don’t ask me. It’s some Italian word. I kind of like it. Reminds me of Baretta.”

Swiping my hand across my mouth, I wiped away the evil things that lingered on my lips.

“How long?”

“Have I been seeing her? A couple of times in the last three weeks. Listen, please don’t tell me wife. She just had a baby, and... well, you know how it is.”

I dropped the act, along with the last semblance of sanity that hung from a thread in my brain. “If you ever go near her again, I’ll fucking tear you apart. I’ll fucking tear your heart out and send it to your wife in a pretty little box.”

“Are you threatening me? This is a business agreement, pal.”

“A business agreement is what you have with your accountant, you ignorant parasite. I’ll fucking rip you apart. There’ll be nothing to bury, you fucking little...”

The dial tone filled my ear. I threw the phone clear across the room attempting to rid myself of the revolting truth. The love of my life was a harlot.

I could hear the key turning in the lock on the front door. My hands gripped the arms of my chair to prevent myself from slithering towards her like a snake, to poison her with my venomous words.

“I realized I forgot the cell phone. I hope you didn’t need me?”