by Judy Voss
What would Roger even say to his wife, Linda? She was picking him up at the airport. A black cloud of betrayal shrouded his arrival. She knew. Roger knew she knew.
Nicole made that clear. “I’ll tell her.”
Roger and Nicole often traveled together for business. As far as he could tell, this trip had been like every other trip. “I’ll tell her everything,” Nicole said bitterly as she headed for the hotel room door.
“Why? Why now? You’ll hurt Dennis,” he answered. “He’s my best friend. You’ll wreck everything. Linda will be devastated,” he pleaded.
Nicole stood in the doorway. “Time’s up,” she answered bitterly. “No promises kept. And Dennis suspects. I think he knows though he hasn’t exactly brought it up in our everyday conversations. In fact,” she added, “we hardly talk anymore.”
“Our jobs,” he said, getting whiney.
“Let me save you some time about our jobs,” Nicole said. “I’m quitting. Today. Going to Compton Company. Getting a promotion and a raise.”
“Oh!” he said. “But . . .”
“Something had to give,” she said as her parting remark.
This last conversation was two days ago, late Wednesday morning. Nicole quit her job and departed that afternoon without any notice. Just a mention to their boss that she was simply “outta here.”
“Do you have any idea what provoked Nicole to leave so abruptly?” the boss had asked Roger in an emergency call Wednesday evening. “She’s one of my best sales people.”
Roger had spent the day considering all of the consequences of their affair. Covering up his role as much as possible he had answered, “Trouble at home, I think.” He didn’t know what the impact would be on his own marriage once it all came out. Must save my job at least.
Now, on his Friday trip home, he rehearsed various scenarios in his head. The betrayal was a fact. He reflected on this week’s earlier conversations with Linda, before he left on his business trip.
As recently as this past Monday, he asked Linda, “Remember the time we drank ourselves silly and fell in love at Nicole’s party?”
“Fifteen years ago!” Linda said. “You didn’t want to go at first. I can’t remember why.”
“Mixing business with pleasure,” he replied. “We work together, travel together. Partying together seemed a bit much.”
“Maybe,” Linda said. “But they turned out to be such great people. I’m glad we went.”
And the next day on Tuesday evening, on the phone with Linda—“Miss you a lot, actually,” he said.
“Yeah, me too,” her voice came across the phone from six hundred miles away. “I thought you might forget what today is. I’m glad you called.”
He didn’t have a clue. What did he forget? Her birthday—no, that was next month. Anniversary? He was so bad at anniversaries.
“We should celebrate,” she continued.
“For sure! What’s the best way? What can I do?” He was desperate for Linda to say more.
“Oh, you know—the usual,” she said. “Show me you love me.”
No good. No new input. Not good at all. “Of course I love you. You know you’re the love of my life—that special lady who will always be first in my heart.”
“First and only in your heart, yes?”
On this Tuesday evening Linda wouldn’t know yet. Linda wouldn’t know until Nicole told her after she quit. That might have happened Wednesday night when Nicole got home. Or Thursday morning. Probably Wednesday night. Face to face with Linda? He simply couldn’t tell.
Knowing Nicole—but do I really know her? He had second, third and fourth thoughts about that. Nicole probably started her new job on Thursday. Just yesterday. Would she wait to tell Linda? Would Nicole give herself the rest of the week, then spoil everything? Would she start her new job on Monday morning and leave everything in limbo until later? He doubted that.
Once Nicole confessed to Linda, her own marriage was at risk. Right? Or did Nicole and Dennis have an open marriage? Dennis had hinted at that very idea in one of their man to man conversations, probing Roger about his and Linda’s marriage. Used to covering up his relationship with Nicole, Roger had played dumb. He had changed the subject to sports.
“Of course, my love,” Roger replied in his Tuesday conversation with Linda. “First and only in my heart.”
“Then take me some place nice for dinner,” continued Linda. “We’ll celebrate both.”
“Both?” he asked, confused.
“You getting home again after another hard week at work, and paying off our mortgage. As of today, it’s a done deal. From here on out, there will be some extra cash for us each month. So a really nice dinner at a really expensive restaurant is in order.” She laughed.
Ah, the mortgage. Yes. A milestone to celebrate. Where to take her? He only knew fancy restaurants out of town where he took Nicole on his expense account.
He thought again about his conversation with Linda on Wednesday morning. He had called her right after Nicole left. “I’ve found the perfect restaurant. Sommet de la Tour. French.” His quick search had turned up restaurants with five dollar signs indicating ‘very expensive.’ “I think you’ll like it a lot.”
“Sounds perfect!” she said, excited. “Shall we ask Nicole and Dennis to join us? Their last mortgage payment is a long way off, so they won’t be celebrating anytime soon.”
“No,” he said hopelessly. “Just us.” Celebrating anytime soon. Not really going to happen for either couple, he thought. From Wednesday afternoon on there had been silence between him and Linda. Sometimes on the road he didn’t get to call her each day. This time he had been afraid.
The plane landed smoothly. Sitting close to the exit, he was able to get off quickly. His bag was waiting for him when he arrived at baggage claim. Why today, he wondered, when any kind of delay would be welcome?
At the small airport, Linda’s car was right out front in Arrivals. Of course. What to say? He still didn’t know what would happen. He was slightly trembling as he tossed his bag in the trunk.
Linda—beautiful Linda—sat looking at him as he opened the passenger side door. Her sunglasses were perched on the top of her head, just like always. He held his breath.
Continuing to look at him she said, “Now we’re even.” She brought her sunglasses down to her eyes and started the car.
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