The Affair. Colette Freedman
often sit up half the night reading. When Robert got into bed he would snuggle down beside her, head almost lost beneath the duvet, arm draped across her stomach. When he heard her light click off, he would mumble, “Love you.” And then he would turn, the small of his back resting against her, comforting her. His breathing would settle, and he would fall asleep almost immediately. Last thing at night and first thing in the morning. His warm touch and a simple sentence bracketing her day. It had given her extraordinary pleasure.
Kathy dressed hurriedly, pulling on a pair of black jeans and fishing out a thick turtleneck sweater. The temperature had been falling steadily, and the forecasters were suggesting that there might be a white Christmas. She found her UGGs in the back of the closet. Robert had given them to her as part of her Christmas present two years ago. They were hardly the sexiest of presents, but they were practical and comfortable. Something easily taken for granted. Just like Kathy. She pushed her left foot into a boot and tried to remember what he’d given her last year. Something very ordinary, she knew, something . . . Kathy shook her head. She couldn’t remember.
Last year, amongst other things, she’d given him a state-of-the-art digital camera. When he had opened the box, his only comment had been that he hoped she’d kept the receipt so they could claim it as a business expense.
What had he given her last year? That was going to bother her for the rest of the night.
Kathy pulled her leather jacket out of the closet, then pushed the mirrored door closed and examined her reflection. Bundled up, she still looked frumpy, she decided. Frumpy and undesirable. Her self-esteem was starting to quickly spiral downward, and she left the room before she lost her nerve to do what needed to be done.
“I’ll be gone a couple of hours,” she announced to Brendan and Theresa. They were sitting in the kitchen, which now stank of burnt toast.
The two children nodded. They were glued to the small TV set high on the wall. Meredith Vieira was quizzing a contestant on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? At least it was educational.
Kathy went through the kitchen door, which led to the garage, pulled it closed, then opened it again. “Can either of you remember what your father got me last Christmas?”
“The new Jodi Picoult novel and that perfume you don’t like,” Theresa said quickly, without taking her eyes off the screen.
“Right. Thanks. See you later. Please be good for Aunt Julia.” She pulled the door closed and headed out to the garage. A book and perfume. She remembered now. The book had been great, but the perfume wasn’t even her brand. She remembered he hadn’t even taken off the price stickers. He’d picked up both at Downtown Crossing. How much thought had gone into that present?
Kathy wondered what he’d gotten his girlfriend.
CHAPTER 10
Kathy passed her sister’s SUV at the bottom of the road. Julia didn’t see her; she was clutching the wheel of the big vehicle with white-knuckle intensity, staring straight ahead. Kathy knew her sister hated driving the SUV because of its size, but she drove it because she thought it was a status symbol. Robert didn’t like Julia; he always said that she was shallow.
At least Julia’s husband wasn’t having an affair.
The thought, icy as the winter weather, slid cold and bitter into her consciousness. Julia and Ben had been married for twenty-seven years, and there’d never been any doubts that they loved one another. You just had to look at them together to realize that. Kathy wasn’t a big fan of her English brother-in-law. He’d met Julia three decades earlier when she’d spent a year in London and, rather improbably, the pair had fallen deeply in love. They were a strange couple, but clearly devoted to each other.
Kathy wondered what someone looking in on her relationship with Robert would think. Would a stranger or even a friend imagine that after eighteen years of marriage, everything was fine between them, that they were still in love, or would he or she be able to tell that something was desperately wrong? What were the signals when something was amiss with a relationship?
She suddenly smiled, realizing that she was holding the steering wheel in the same white-knuckled grip as her sister. The smile faded. If—and it was still only an if—it turned out that Robert was having an affair, she was not looking forward to telling either of her sisters, especially Julia. She knew that Julia would commiserate, though she suspected that secretly her sister would be thrilled. Her opinion of Robert would be vindicated; she would be able to say “I told you so,” and would insist on dispensing unwanted advice. Sheila, her younger, unmarried sister, would be genuinely sympathetic. Kathy resolved to speak to her first.
Kathy flicked her headlights on to high beam. They picked up stray chips of ice and snowflakes spiraling out of the sky, making it look as if she were falling into the snow. She flicked the lights back and dropped her speed.
This was insane.
No, this was necessary.
She was heading into the heart of Boston a week before Christmas, right into rush-hour traffic with what looked like a snowstorm coming in. She thought about heading back and, for a single moment, considered it seriously. But if she went back she knew she would have lost momentum. Tomorrow was a day closer to Christmas and, for some reason, that date—that significant, family-orientated date—was assuming a huge importance. She had to know the truth before Christmas. Perhaps it was simply that she did not want to go into the New Year knowing—or not knowing—that she was living a lie, that her marriage, her relationship, her love was compromised, that her future was uncertain and her past unknown.
She turned the heat on at full blast. It made little difference to the temperature as far as she could see. At the bottom of the road she turned to the right, which bypassed one of Brookline’s main streets. She could see that it was solid with cars, no doubt drawn to any one of the quaint little shops that did terrific business at this time of year. Traffic was heavy, but most of it was heading out of the city. Commuters going home for the weekend.
Kathy nervously eased the big car out onto Commonwealth Ave, trying to remember the last time she had driven herself into the city at night. Whenever they went out in the evening, Robert drove.
Deep in the folds of her coat, her cell phone chirped and buzzed. Keeping her eyes on the road, she fished into the pocket, pulled out the phone, and hit the button that turned it into a speakerphone.
“Kathy?” Robert’s voice was tinny and brittle. “Where are you?”
“In the car,” she said, knowing it was an answer he hated. He knew she was in the car—he wanted to know exactly where she and the car were.
“I’ve just called home. The kids told me you’re heading into the city to go shopping.”
She could hear the incredulity in his voice.
“Yes,” she said, keeping her voice carefully neutral.
“Kathy, I really don’t think this is a good idea. Traffic is shit, and the weather is closing in. Forecasters are promising more snow and maybe black ice this evening.”
“I need to get a few things. I thought I’d head to Newbury Street,” she continued, ignoring his statement. Then she smiled bitterly. “If there’s a problem with the weather, I could always drop into Top of the Hub, meet you there. We can drive home in your car, and I’ll come in with you in the morning to pick up my car.”
There was a long pause. She was determined not to break into it.
“Did I lose you?” came his voice at last.
“I’m still here,” she said shortly. The traffic ahead of her was a wall of stationary metal. She groaned; she should have just taken the T. It would have been faster and safer. “Where are you?” she eventually asked.
“Still at the office. Jimmy’s coming here around seven.”