He licked my face, and I squeezed him with love.
The sweets came first.I made blondies and eclairs, two of my favorite desserts. Then I tackled some savory treats, including Rory’s favorite, a simple snack mix made with Amish butter and vegan Worcestershire sauce. If he didn’t eat it all when he returned home, I’d bag some up for friends and family. I almost had a handful but was afraid of completely losing control.
Once the ovens were full and every burner on the stove occupied, I considered dinner. I flipped through a few cookbooks for ideas and decided on a vegetarian cassoulet, a perfect winter meal. While singing along with a radio station playing show tunes, the air energized with my elation, I went to work.
During a quiet moment in between steps in the recipes, I took a break to reach out to a few friends and family. Along with being a bit of a mess the past year, I’d nearly alienated myself. I texted Jasper first, just to tell him I loved him. I called my parents in Virginia; I even invited them to visit! I called Erica and talked to her for forever; she was excited for me. I said, “Told you so!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said back, but she didn’t sound convinced. I knew she wanted me to be happy, but for some reason, it was hard for her to trust Rory.
I was in such a jolly mood I even called a few friends from college with whom I hadn’t been in contact for more than a year.
After a well-deserved nap cuddling with Philippe, I went down to admire my work. You should have seen the eclairs. I picked up one of those stunning creations and admired this piece of art. In my earlier baking years, I would have rolled out a green fondant icing and used a holly cutter to make three holly leaves. I wouldhave put the leaves together on top of white icing, then squeezed three dots of red icing at the base of the holly leaves. As I became a more experienced chef, I learned how to use healthier ingredients and stopped using food dyes. To replace the green fondant hollies, I used mint leaves. Rather than the dots of red icing, I used pomegranate seeds. I know, I know. I’m brilliant.
I couldn’t bring myself to eat the beautiful pastries. The slippery slope of breaking my diet scared the heck out of me. Oh, well. Feeling skinny might just be better than enjoying good food. My confidence slipped for a moment. What if I did gain weight? What if I grew my hair back out? Would Rory and I have to relive all those hard times?
Steering away from troubling mental waters, I told myself that it wasn’t just my new body and haircut that had gotten Rory back. Ultimately, it was the love I’d shown, the love I’d refused to let go.
Still, I couldn’t bring myself to indulge.
I texted Rory and told him about dinner tonight. I hoped he’d text me right back, but no such luck. I rationalized that I couldn’t expect that suddenly he’d be free all the time and waiting to instantaneously return my every text.
With time to spare, I climbed the stairs to our cozy sitting room, where I liked to watch the news while I ironed. To some, I might sound like such a boring housewife, but I enjoyed ironing, and for me, nothing was dull about my duties. It was one of my most satisfying callings and one of my greatest challenges. Call me old-fashioned, and you’d be spot-on. I loved being a housewife and homemaker, especially when my efforts were appreciated.
I collected a few articles of clothing out of the dryer and a handful of shirts from Rory’s closet. Each of those shirts had my little trademark crease in the back collar. I thought I’d better iron those out now that life was back to normal. I didn’t want him thinking I still held a grudge. I was almost dancing as I set up the ironing board and started on his first shirt. A super-comfy shagrug covered the hardwood floor, and I loved to squish my toes into it as I worked.
The news on the screen hanging on the wall, much to my delight, mirrored my joy. Rather than the typical crime or theft or murder, the first piece I caught was about a young Girl Scout who’d been doing card tricks for the elderly at a nearby retirement home. “Bless her heart,” I said. Then a piece ran about a dog that had been missing for three months and finally returned home. I looked down at Philippe. “Don’t you ever go anywhere, sweetie.” Raw tears dripped down my cheeks. What a lovely world we live in.
It goes to show you, when you see what you want and you go after it, you can get it. I saw what was wrong with our marriage. I saw that my partner needed me. And that’s what I did, I showed up for him. That’s what love is.
As I grabbed the last shirt and ironed the last mischievous crease, a breaking news alert flashed along the bottom of the screen. The words that spread across the screen hit me like someone had taken a baseball bat and struck me in the chest.
Rory Simpson infidelity caught on tape!
The breath ran from my lungs as my chest imploded. The iron fell from my hand. I barely heard it drop onto the shaggy rug. I stared, dumbfounded, at the TV and listened to the reporter. “Burlington mayor Rory Simpson has been busted committing sexual acts with a woman who is not his wife.”
My phone buzzed and dinged.
The reporter on the television warned of graphic images, just before an enlarged image splashed all over the TV screen. There he was, sitting in his car, and he wasn’t alone.
My husband, Rory Simpson.
The mayor of Burlington, Vermont.
The Poultry Hater.
The Dream Killer.
The Deceiver.
The editors had blurred out his crotch, but the amateur video showed my cheating husband in the front seat of his sedan with a topless woman performing oral sex on him. I didn’t recognize her at first. All I could see was a brunette face down in my husband’s lap. He was leaned back on the reclined seat with his eyes closed, and his lips were moving enough that it was obvious he was mumbling something. What was he mumbling? Instructions? Encouragement? Gratitude? He held one hand on the brunette’s back.
Bile crept up into my throat.
The woman raised her head. It was Nadine, the person Ithoughthad been a friend.
Rory kicked out a slimy grin as he pulled her up toward him. Almost as if rewarding her for a blow job well done, he kissed her monstrous blurred-out breasts. I couldn’t believe such an explicit video had been so quickly released for public scrutiny. Released before I had been forewarned. Released before I could contact my son. Released before my whole world fell apart. Why would they even show such images at all?
Where was Rory in all this? He must have known about the video. I wasn’t watching it live, for God’s sake. I was sure this incident had happened at least a day before. Why had he not told me before the damned video went public? Why had he come to me last night and tried to make me believe I was the most important thing in his life? Why? Why? Why?
