Chapter 3
He had dressed for an office he never intended to enter.
He had carried his laptop bag as a prop.
He had kissed me goodbye while already knowing the story he was going to tell me.
The lie had begun before he walked through our front door.
My first instinct was to call him.
My thumb hovered over his name.
I imagined him answering.
Hey, what’s up?
And I imagined myself asking the question that was already burning inside me.
Where are you?
But another thought stopped me.
If I confronted him now, I would only learn what he could invent under pressure.
I wanted to know what he would say when he believed I knew nothing.
So I locked my phone.
Placed it facedown.
And waited.
At 6:03, it vibrated.
Sorry. Still buried here.
I stared at the words.
A minute later another message appeared.
This project is killing me.
I sat at the kitchen table.
I typed three different responses and deleted all of them.
Finally I sent:
Okay.
That was all.
The salmon remained in the refrigerator.
The wine I had opened at five went untouched until, sometime after six thirty, I poured it down the sink.
I tried to construct innocent explanations.
Maybe Lucas needed a day alone.
Maybe he had gone somewhere to think.
Maybe he was helping a friend through something private.
Maybe he had an appointment he was embarrassed about.
Maybe he was buying me something.
That last possibility made me feel ashamed for even thinking it.
I stood beside the sink and whispered, “Stop.”
Because every innocent explanation collapsed against the same question.
If the reason was innocent, why invent the office?
At 6:40, Lucas texted again.
Did you eat?
I looked at the message for almost a full minute.
Not yet.
You should. Don’t wait for me. Might be really late.
Then he sent a heart.
I stared at that little red heart until I nearly laughed again.
He was speaking with the tenderness of a husband worried about his wife.
While lying about the place he was standing.
I went upstairs.
Our bedroom looked painfully normal.
His side of the bed was unmade because Lucas never remembered to straighten the sheets.
His watch stand was empty.
His charger hung crookedly from the wall.
The gray socks he had missed while aiming for the hamper the night before were still on the floor.