Chapter 6
I wondered what he had told her.
Maybe that we were effectively separated.
Maybe that I understood.
Maybe that our marriage had been over for a long time.
Cheating depends on stories.
Not only the lies people tell their spouses.
The lies they tell themselves.
At five fifteen, I zipped the last suitcase.
I left more than I took.
Most of the furniture had been chosen together.
The dishes.
The rugs.
The expensive espresso machine Adrian insisted we needed and barely knew how to operate.
I left the artwork from our honeymoon in Charleston.
I left the gray blanket we had fought over every winter.
I left the ridiculous ceramic sailboat we bought at an outdoor market our first summer in the condo.
Adrian had hated it at first.
"It's ugly."
"It's charming."
"It's objectively ugly."
"Then it belongs with us."
It had sat on the bookshelf for almost six years.
I touched its chipped blue sail once.
Then I left it.
Martin came upstairs with the luggage cart.
I handed him the forwarding form.
He glanced at the new address only long enough to confirm I had filled every line.
"Car service?"
"Already downstairs."
He nodded.
No questions.
No pity.
I appreciated him for that more than he could possibly know.
The elevator chimed at five fifty-eight.
And there they were.
Lauren stepped out first.
Adrian directly behind her.
The bottle of wine.
The weekend bags.
The shocked silence.
Now Adrian stood between me and the elevator.
"Natalie, can we talk inside?"
"No."
"For five minutes."
"I don't need five minutes."
"This is ridiculous."
Martin looked down at the luggage cart.
Lauren spoke for the first time.
"Adrian, maybe I should go."
He turned sharply.
"No. Just give us a second."
Her cheeks flushed.
I almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
Adrian stepped closer.
"You signed a lease without telling me?"
The question was so extraordinary that for a second I couldn't answer.
Then I said, "You brought your girlfriend to our condo without asking me."
His jaw tightened.
"Don't call her that."
Lauren looked at him.
I did too.
"What would you prefer?"
"This is exactly what I meant by drama."
I felt something inside me go still.
Not numb.
Still.
There is a difference.
Numbness is shock.
Stillness is clarity.
"Adrian, look at me."
He did.
"I am not yelling."
His mouth opened.
"I am not insulting her. I am not throwing anything. I am not calling your office. I am not posting about you. I am not asking Martin to remove anyone."