Page 64 of Deprived No More

Pulling out my phone, I pull up the text notification and slide it across the table to her. Watching, I see her face turn a shade paler than her normal fair tone as she reads the two messages to herself. Her face shoots up to mine, eyes wide, looking horrified. “Kat. These texts. Is there someone you could’ve had an encounter with that believes you really want them too? Or do you think this is more dangerous?”

“I’ve never done anything to give someone the impression I’d be interested in a relationship outside my marriage,” I say with a little more vigor than is probably necessary given my recent interactions with Holden. “But the voice message he left has really put me on edge. The voice sounded distorted but they said marriage was just an obstacle we could get around or something like that.” I shiver recalling the moment I played it for the first time.

“What did Nick say?”

I feel a familiar lump in my throat and have to acknowledge it’s not the eggs laid from free-range Hanover hens.

“Kat?”

“I haven’t told him yet. They just came late last night. I haven’t had a chance to figure out how to handle this yet. I got home late, and he had to work early, and the kids needed to be-”

“Kat!”

I stop making excuses and look at her. I know she’s right. I want to tell him. I’m just so scared of how it will go.

“You almost lost him once for this very thing,” she reminds me.

“I know. But, Olivia. He has such a temper. There was a misunderstanding recently at work, and I thought they’d call security on him.”

She looks puzzled, but I don’t want to reopen that awful experience with Holden in the parking lot. And how would I possibly explain him to Olivia when I can’t wrap my head around that guy?

“I’m going to tell him. But I need to find the right time.” I won’t make that mistake again.

“Kat. Are you sure it’s Mark?”

“Who else would it be? I mean, what is the likelihood of another person doing this to me? Plus, I just saw Mark for the first time in nearly eight years. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

She sits silently for a moment. Picks up her fork and begins to nibble at her omelet. “Kat?”

“Yeah?”

“What if this time is different?”

Now I put down the fork. What does she mean?

“Hear me out. What if this time, it’s someone who thinks you’re interested too? I mean, granted, they’re delusional. But where Mark was mad that you didn’t have the same feelings and appeared to be punishing you for it, perhaps this person thinks you feel the same.”

Slumping back in my seat, I try to consider her theory. But it doesn’t make sense. “Olivia, I feel like everyone knows I’m married.”

“Kat. This isn’t the forties. Marriage doesn’t have the same sacrament it used to.”

“It does to me!” I bite back. Looking about the restaurant, I can see several heads have turned in our direction and realize I may have been a little too passionate about my answer. “Sorry.”

“Kat. I know you’d never do anything to jeopardize your vows. But whoever is sending these texts may not have the same opinion of your vows. People are crazy.”

Grabbing my fork, I dig back into my eggs. She’s right. I feel like I’m constantly attracting crazy. We eat in silence for several minutes. The conversation has put a damper on my appetite. Deciding to box the rest of my food to take to the hospital with me as I complete my charts from last night, I take a few sips of coffee to clear my head.

“You know… there’s this guy.”

Olivia’s head immediately pops up from where she’s been spearing a slice of avocado on her plate. “What guy?”

“There’s a surgeon from Nick’s practice who has been, well, for a better word, odd.”

“In what way?”

“Apparently, Nick doesn’t like him at all, but he’s been nothing but nice to me. I went out for a glass of wine recently when Nick was in town. He was on-call, and I was grappling with how to approach him about another baby. This guy just happened to be there. He said some things that have me wondering if you might be right about the possibility he thinks I’m sending mixed signals. I’m not, I swear. But he was rather forward. Plus…”

“Plus, what?”

---