My Husband Brought His Mistress Home for the Weekend

by

Chapter 4

THEME:
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She was quiet.

I watched a woman carry groceries through the lobby.

"I don't want to spend another year waiting for something undeniable," I said. "I don't need to catch him in bed. I don't need photographs. I don't need him to confess. I already don't recognize who I am in this marriage."

Emily understood more than I wanted her to.

"Did you find somewhere?"

"I think so."

The apartment was smaller than Unit 2304.

Much smaller.

It had two bedrooms, old hardwood floors, white cabinets that had been repainted enough times to soften their edges, and a narrow balcony facing a row of maple trees instead of the water.

The bathroom tile was outdated.

The building had no concierge.

The elevator made a small groaning noise on the way to the fourth floor.

I loved it immediately.

Not because it was beautiful.

Because when the leasing agent opened the door, I had felt something I had not felt in my own home for months.

Relief.

Six days before Adrian brought Lauren to the condo, I signed the lease.

I told myself I was creating an option.

That was how frightened I still was of my own decision.

An option.

Not an ending.

Not yet.

I bought nothing for the apartment except a kettle, towels, sheets, and one inexpensive floor lamp.

I kept them in Emily's garage.

I did not imagine some dramatic exit.

I thought I would wait until Adrian and I had one final honest conversation.

I thought perhaps he would tell me the truth if I made it clear I was ready to walk away.

Then his text arrived.

Lauren is coming this weekend.

Please don't create drama.

It was almost generous in its cruelty.

It removed the last excuse I had been saving for him.

I left work at three thirty.

Martin looked up when I entered the lobby dragging three empty suitcases behind me.

He stood.

"Mrs. Mercer. Need a hand?"

"Not yet."

He looked at the suitcases.

His expression changed only slightly.

Martin had seen residents arrive after affairs, divorces, funerals, reconciliations, evictions, marriages, and drunken New Year's Eve parties.

There were very few human disasters that could surprise a man who worked the front desk of an expensive building.

"Could I get a forwarding form?" I asked.

He did not ask why.

He simply opened a drawer.

"Of course."

That kindness nearly undid me.

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