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Throwing my earbuds on the kitchen counter, I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and down it one go. It’s scorching today, and I’m sure I’ve lost a few pounds in sweat alone. I’m halfway up the stairs when the doorbell rings, only increasing my level of irritation. All I want is a damn shower. I can’t hide my surprise and unease when I open the door and find Erin.
“Do you have a minute?” I’m taken aback by her straightforwardness. Normally Erin’s unfailingly polite, but she seems agitated.
“Sure.” I nod, stepping aside so she can enter.
“Can I get you something to drink?” She shakes her head and follows me to the lounge, taking a seat on the edge of the couch and wringing her hands together. My unease grows as I stare, waiting for her to speak. She’s wearing a pair of tights with a slouchy t-shirt, her hair in a messy ponytail. I’ve never seen her not put together.
The silence stretches till I can’t hold back any longer.
“Is everything okay?”
“I need to ask you something.” Her voice is hesitant, and the look she shoots me is almost pained. “The other day you asked me some questions…about Monica.” A hole opens in the pit of my stomach. She takes a deep breath, and her next words are rushed. “I need to know why.”
I’m speechless. I thought I was doing a good job with my casual questions, but obviously not. We enter into a staring contest, and it looks like she’s holding her breath. The biggest part of me feels that it’s none of her damn business, but a small part wants to tell her. Wants to make her believe me so that I can pay Monica back, even if it’s only in a small way.
I clasp my hands and look down at them. “Why?” She looks confused, so I clarify. “Why do you want to know?”
“I found out some things about her…” Her breath is shaky, and tears pool in her eyes. “And my husband.”
Oh, God. What do I say to that? My situation is bad enough, but Monica is Erin’s sister. That is just…I can’t even begin to comprehend the betrayal she must be feeling. My world would crumble if Lillian ever did that to me.
“And then I remembered you asking questions about her, and I got to thinking how strange that was, seeing that you don’t really know each other.” She shrugs, but her eyes are pleading.
I close my eyes, debating what to do. I don’t owe her anything, but the woman sitting in front of me is a shell of the woman I’d come to know over the years. Admitting that my husband had an affair with her sister, compared to what was done to her, will surely hurt my pride more than it would hurt her.
“They’ve been sleeping together for more or less six months.”
“Okay.” She nods, her eyes unfocused, staring at the ground. “Okay.” Her eyes meet mine but dart away again. “I’m really sorry.” Her top lip wobbles, and she looks seconds away from a breakdown. “I had no idea she was capable of doing these things.”
I reach out and take her hand, giving it a squeeze. We are both victims in this, and I can empathize with what she’s going through. “You are not your sister. You have nothing to apologize for.”
She nods but seems unconvinced. “How did you find out?”
“She confronted me with proof. You?” Look at us, bonding over both our husbands’ infidelity. It would be funny if it wasn’t this tragic.
“Someone sent me a video…of them together. That wasn’t you, perhaps?”
I shake my head. “No. I had no idea.” And even if I did, I’m not cold-hearted enough to do that. She stands up with a sigh.
“What are you going to do now?” I ask, standing up.
“Start over, I guess. I’ve put the house on the market. I think a change of scenery will be good for me and the kids.”
“Where are you going?”
“Fairhope. I grew up there. We moved for Anthony’s job, but I’ve never really felt at home here, so I think I’ll go back. It’s a nice place to raise kids.”
She looks so dejected I can’t help but pull her in for a hug. I’m sweaty and stinky, but I don’t care. She looks like she needs it. Her arms wrap around me and squeeze tightly.
“Don’t be a stranger,” I whisper in her ear, knowing even as I say it that we will probably end up never talking again. Sometimes starting over means putting the past behind you, and that’s what I’ll become. Part of her past.
***
“Alexis!”
Once again, I only make it halfway up the stairs when I hear my name being called. Shoulders slumping, I turn and make my downstairs—again. I should just give up on having a shower anytime soon.
I find Eric in the kitchen, head halfway in the fridge.
