I walk back inside with a heavy heart. I need to find out the truth but how?
Of course I can't ask Franklin. He will just flat out deny it. This is yet another thing that I have to get to the bottom of and yet another thing that I have no idea how to tackle.
I head to the bar and refresh my tonic water with a slice of lemon, then make the rounds around the room. I walk briskly so that no one pulls me into a conversation. The few people that try, I wave to and promise to come back after using the bathroom.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Franklin near the library. Usually he is the one in the center of the room, holding court. This time he's leaning over a young woman in a waitress uniform of black slacks, a white button-down shirt, and a vest.
I watch him from afar, sliding my body just out of sight. He flirts with her and even touches her hair. Even if she's not underage, he has no shame. There are people everywhere. This is a party that we are hosting as a couple and yet here he is, making moves on someone else.
My purse starts to vibrate against my thigh. When I reach in and pull out my phone, I see that it’s a call from Henry. I let it go to voice mail.
4
Aurora
I don't like to run. I don't like the way that my chest burns with each breath and I don't like how heavy my legs feel with each step. I can't run far without stopping. I have to take breaks when my air runs out and I get a pain in my side.
On this evening, at twilight, when the city is covered in a magical sheen, I force myself to put on my sneakers and run out the door. I can run on one of the machines downstairs but it's not the same thing.
Sometimes it's nice to take your mind elsewhere and watch a Netflix show or listen to an audiobook while pounding the rubber and setting the incline. Other times, it's absolutely necessary to get outside.
I need the fresh air.
I need the sound of the city.
I need to feel myself moving through space with each motion.
Franklin and I have still not had sex. The more I find out about him, the more certain I am that I don’t want to be intimate with him, so if anything were to happen, it would be without my consent.
Honestly, I'm pleasantly surprised that he has not pushed the issue since the wedding night. He says that he's been busy, but maybe he is just occupied.
He has had lots of meetings with lawyers and various members of each department all in an effort to try to make this transition as smooth as possible. But given what I heard at the party, I wonder how much his lack of interest in me is a result of his keen interest in something else.
I pick up the pace and put one foot confidently in front of the other. The wind feels cold against my face. I pump my hands to get the blood rushing around but it does little to warm me up.
I walk past a mother rushing by me with a baby in a stroller as well as a golden retriever who is only too happy to be out and about. My mouth is parched and my lips are dry, cracked. My eye tingles and a tear forms, not from sadness but from a strong wisp of cold air that slices through it.
I want desperately to stop when I get to the first intersection but I force myself to jog in place, get a hold of my breathing, and keep going. When I pass a bodega and the smell of freshly baked bread consumes me, I am thankful for the fact that I never bring my wallet because I probably won’t be able to say no.
The cramp in my side that started out as a little annoyance has ballooned into something that feels like a gut punch with each step. I don’t make it to the end of the second block. I stop just short of the intersection, bending in half trying to get some air into my lungs.
I hate running. Did I ever mention that?
I walk for another block and start to feel better. My mind seems to become clearer and more focused. My thoughts are no longer jumbled together.
I still don’t know what to do about Henry, Franklin, this marriage, or the Tate Media empire but at least I have the thought that I can come up with a plan.
I take my time going back home. I walk a lot and run in short little bursts but don’t push myself like I did on my way out.
When I get back to my building, I get on the elevator and my mood shifts. Whatever clarity I just experienced, suddenly vanishes. Franklin’s apartment is thousands of square feet and yet it’s not enough.
Just as the elevator doors open, I see her. She has tears streaming down her face, which she wipes off with her sleeves.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” I say as she tries to get past me and into the elevator.
“Nothing, nothing,” she blurts out and continues to cry.
The girl looks to be around sixteen and that’s being generous. She is skinny and barely 5’2. Dressed in jeans and a hoodie with her hair falling into her face, she looks like any teenager you would see on the street.
“What happened?” I ask her. “Please, you have to tell me.”
“I don’t have to tell you anything,” she snaps and brushes my hand off her shoulder. “Let me go.”
I hesitate to follow her down but I change my mind at the last minute and put my hand out for the doors to open.
“What are you doing?” she asks, burying herself into the corner.
“What happened? Were you just with Franklin? Did he do something?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says, hiding her head.
“Please,” I beg. She hides within herself, clearly traumatized.
I try one more time.
“Please, tell me your name. You can trust me.”
“You’re his wife, right?” the girl asks, pulling her face slightly from behind her loose hoodie, just enough for me to see her.
Her eyes get wide just as mine narrow.
Suddenly, I recognize her.
“You were there at the party, right?” I ask. “I saw you two talking by the library.”
“Get away from me,” she says, swatting my hand away as I try to touch her.
She thinks that I’m upset about her sleeping with him, when it’s something else entirely.
“How old are you?” I ask. “What happened? Please, you can trust me.”
When the elevator doors swing open, she rushes past me and disappears down the hall.
When she glances back, I snap a photo of her.
5
Aurora
I ride the elevator back to the penthouse completely shaken up. I don't know what I'm supposed to do or what I'm not supposed to do.
There's usually an elevator operator here, pressing the buttons but today he's absent. Did Franklin arrange this, too, or is it just a coincidence?
I walk into the apartment and take off my running shoes in the hall closet. I walk quietly to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. After downing all of it, I stare out of the window at the New York skyline and wonder what the hell I'm supposed to do. If that girl was just having an affair with my husband, then that's one thing but if she was actually underage and if she was crying because he attacked her, then…
My thoughts trail off.
I knew that Franklin was a difficult and egomaniacal man.
What I did not know is the extent to which he could be cruel and unkind.
I walk to the far end of the apartment toward my bedroom. There are sounds coming from further away. My throat tightens up. It's still going on.