I close the files, then close the lid on my laptop and sneak back into bed just as Ryan turns in his sleep and places his arm around me. I close my eyes as the words to my article are already shaping in my mind.
I know exactly how to write it. I also know it is going to create quite a ruckus when I do. But at this point, I don’t care anymore. The truth has been buried for way too long.
It’s time for it to get out, even though it is going to hurt.
Chapter 19
I work on writing the story whenever I have the time, which isn’t much these days. I am busy taking care of my family, running errands, shopping, and doing laundry. You know, the usual stuff, the things no one notices gets done, but think just kind of happens on its own.
Ryan is home with us, staying the night. Every time he leaves the house, I fear he won’t come home, but so far, he has come back every time since the day he found me with Frank in the kitchen, and we enjoy every second we have with him. But I can tell even the kids have that anxious look in their eyes, asking, how long will it last this time?
My parents are back from their trip and keep calling, wanting to see the kids. I invite them for dinner that same night, feeling like I have been keeping them from their grandchildren, and so I make a second run to Publix, thinking I can still make it back before the kids come home. I buy everything my parents like, including my dad’s favorite beer, but also make sure there are a lot of vegetables with the chicken, so my mom can see how healthy I am keeping my family.
I don’t know why. I just do it out of reflex. I am sure my parents are way more concerned about my marriage than our health right now. Yet, this is what I can control. I can’t fix my marriage before tonight, but I can make a healthy meal and make us look like we’re doing well.
I rush back through town and drive onto the base, praying I won’t be picked for a random inspection. Luckily, the car in front of me is picked out, and I can go straight through. With the groceries clinking in the back, I drive past the landing strips, toward the living quarters. We live in the south housing area, but I promised Vera I’d buy her some toilet paper and take it back to her place, and she lives in the north housing area, so I go there first. I place the pack outside on her doorstep as I know she won’t be home till later, then get back into my minivan and drive down her street, hoping the ice cream in the back hasn’t melted.
I turn a corner by the end of the street when I suddenly slow down to almost a stop. I stare at a driveway and the truck parked there in particular. It’s black and has a sticker on the back that says, US AIR FORCE inside of an American flag, and next to it, one that says, GUNS SAVES LIVES. I know both stickers and the truck a little too well.
Ryan.
I stare at the house behind it. I don’t know who lives there, but wonder if it is one of his war buddies and drive on. I pause at the end of the street, then look at my phone, unable to escape a nagging thought in my head.
Is it a woman he’s visiting? Another affair?
I grab my phone, heart pounding in my chest, then dial his number. He picks up right away.
“Hi, babe. What’s up?”
“I was wondering when you’d be back today?” I ask. I listen to his breathing. It sounds ragged—like he is in the middle of something. Do I hear voices? Another person breathing in the background? “My parents are coming to dinner, and I was wondering if you had time to make your famous spareribs? I’m also making chicken, but maybe we could grill some ribs for my dad’s sake? You know how much he loves them.”
Boy, I can lie about spareribs!
“Uhm, I don’t know. Around three o’clock, I think. I can make spareribs if you want me to. I’m at the medical center right now and don’t think we’ll be done till then, but there will still be time when I get back if I’m not too tired, that is. Jimmy is being tough on me today.”
“Okay,” I say, my heart dropping. Another lie. Is it really that easy for him now? How much can I trust what he has told me? Is everything he said the other day about him trying to get better a lie too?
“Jimmy wants me to go; we got work to do, but I’ll see you later,” he says, then hangs up.
I sit in my car, staring at the phone, a lump in my throat, wondering how long this has been going on. How long has he been lying to me?
He comes home at three o’clock exactly, almost like he has planned it. He seems distraught and stays in the garage for a long time after I see his truck arrive. I am peeling potatoes and chopping carrots as he finally enters the house.
I don’t know what to say to him. I’ve been thinking about it all day, coming up with a thousand ways to confront him. I want him to know that I saw him and that I read the messages to Sandra. I want to ask him what he is up to. But I am not sure of exactly what to say because the fact is, I don’t know who lives in that house, and the more I think about it, the more I realize that he could come up with a million excuses to explain why he was there and not at the center where he claimed to be. I wouldn’t know whether it is true or not. I am not properly prepared for a real confrontation. I need more ammunition. So, I decide not to say anything as he comes through the door.
Not yet.
He stops and stares at me, and I finally look up. I try to avoid his eyes because I am afraid he can tell something is up, but my eyes meet his anyway. I feel a pinch of anger in my stomach but manage to suppress it.
“So…how was your physical therapy?” I ask, thinking he can see straight through me. He can hear it in my voice, can’t he? Or see it in my eyes?
He doesn’t answer. He looks away. Something is off with him; he’s different somehow, in another place in his mind. He barely looks at me, just goes to the fridge and takes out the ribs. He rubs them with barbeque sauce and goes outside to light the grill. I keep looking for lipstick marks on his shirt or a different smell on his skin, but I don’t find any convicting clues. As he disappears outside with the grill, he leaves his phone on the counter, and I stare at it for a long time while preparing the salad, then pick it up and open it. I glance toward the sliding doors leading to the yard, making sure he’s not coming. I tap his password and am happy to realize he hasn’t changed it. I open his texts and scroll through them. He’s been texting his friends a lot. I recognize Chip and Ted and then some others, Sonny and Seth, among others. They mostly goof around, sending each other stupid gifs and making plans to go out for beers or a run on the beach. It all seems very innocent. Nothing unusual. I open the most recent text message he has sent, and it is to Ted. He tells him he’s gonna come by today to pick up his stuff, and thanks him again for letting him sleep on his couch while he got himself together.
I read it three times, feeling like such an idiot. Here, I had thought he was having an affair with someone when he was, in fact, just picking up his stuff after sleeping at Ted’s place for the past three days while calming down so he wouldn’t hurt me or the kids.
I stare at the door, then put the phone down, feeling all kinds of emotions rush through me. I am so confused right now. Am I just seeing things here? Sandra? This visit today? Is it all just me being super paranoid?
Maybe Ryan is actually just struggling to get better, and that’s why he kept leaving? It isn’t because he has some other woman he is seeing on the side?