Page 12 of Shining Pearls
She didn’t hesitate in the slightest. “Yes! Hand me your phone.” Once he gave her his cell, she quickly typed in her contact info. “Now you have my digits. Text me so we can decide on the details.”
With that, she resumed her trek to the bathroom. After taking a few steps, she turned back, beamed over the fact that Dean was watching her leave, and gave him a cute finger-wave.
As much as I wanted to be happy for Dean, I felt nothing but annoyance over the entire flirty exchange. Dean was an amazing man. He deserved to be the love of someone’s life.
Staring down and tucking a greasy strand of hair behind my ear, I said silently to the Formica table top,Please don’t let him fall for pretty, perky, and perfect Molly.
10
Claire
Although I had believed that I would never enjoy tasting anything as much as that first sip of Diet Coke after my escape, tucking into Alex’s spaghetti was beyond marvelous.
“Oh-my-gah!” I moaned around a mouthful of pasta––lost in sheer delight.
Alex and Hannah were both ignoring their own plates, in favor of watching me enjoy my food. Once I swallowed that first delicious bite, I said, “I’ve missed real food almost as much as I missed you two and Pepper.”
Concern immediately darkened Alex’s gaze. His teeth were gritted together when he asked, “He didn’t feed you?”
“Oh, he did.” I assured him. Staring at my plate as I swirled a second set of spaghetti strands around my fork, I added, “I was given a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a container of orange Jell-O at 11 a.m., and a tuna salad sandwich with chips at 5 p.m. sharp. Each meal included a small cup of room temperature tap water.”
It was the first details I had shared with them about the long, monotonous days of my captivity. I could tell by the greenish pallor of Alex’s face that he felt sorry for me. Trying to make light of it, I tilted my head and said, “It could have been much worse. But I’ll probably never eat peanut butter or tuna fish again.”
“I don’t like tuna fish anyway.” Hannah scrunched up her button nose in distaste. In a show of extreme solidarity, she added, “But if you don’t want peanut butter, we won’t eat it either, Mommy.”
She looked to her dad for confirmation, so Alex nodded his agreement.
Tears welled in my eyes as I gazed at my thoughtful daughter. Peanut butter was a staple in her diet, so her offer to give it up for me was an enormous sacrifice. “You can still eat peanut butter, sweetheart. I’ll just have something else when you do.”
The little girl sagged with relief over my permission for her to keep eating her favorite sandwich. Although I hadn’t believed it to be possible, I loved her even more in that moment.
“Our food is getting cold.” Alex reminded us, so we all dug into our plates.
When Hannah slurped a long spaghetti strand into her mouth, it slapped against her chin on the way in and left a streak of tomato sauce in its wake. I leaned over to swipe a napkin across the mess and said, “That’s not very ladylike.”
“Aunt Jo says eating is meant to be a messy affair, and then you clean up afterwards.” Hannah blinked her huge blue eyes up at me, obviously unaware that ‘Aunt Jo’ was the last person in the world I wanted to hear about.
Alex cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the turn our conversation had taken. Giving Hannah a solemn look, he said, “Mommy doesn’t want to talk about Jo.”
The little girl’s brows furrowed together in confusion. She blinked several times as she tried to comprehend this new information.
An uncomfortable mixture of jealousy and guilt bubbled in my stomach as I realized that my daughter loved this woman. Just as Hannah got me back after a year away, we were ripping her away from the only other mother-figure she had ever known. It wasn’t fair to do this to her.
Taking a deep breath to summon as much courage as I could muster, I forced down my envy and said, “No, it’s perfectly fine to talk about her. In fact, I think I would like to meet her one of these days.”
I ignored Alex’s quick intake of breath, choosing instead to focus on Hannah’s relieved smile, as I did my best to put on a confident façade––even though I had no idea what I might have just volunteered for.
Later that night,when I climbed into bed with my husband, my body was thrumming with anxiety. There was a bitter part of me that wanted to remain angry with Alex over his indiscretion. The rational side of me knew, though, that he would never have been unfaithful if he hadn’t truly believed I was gone for good. It was unfair to blame him for trying to glean a tiny bit of pleasure and happiness from his life without me.
Alex seemed nervous as he stared up at the ceiling. I could hear his breath coming in quick pants from across the expanse of our mattress. He was giving me space, and I appreciated that, but I also knew that for things to have any hope of getting back to normal, we needed to be intimate with each other sooner, rather than later.
The space between us seemed monumental, even though we were on the same bed. I longed to reach out and bridge the gap, but mental images of pretty, young Josie kept flashing like a slideshow in my mind.Had she slept with Alex in this very spot? Had they made love in our bed?
Just wondering about it made me feel queasy. I didn’t have the nerve to ask Alex if she’d been in here with him because I was too afraid his answer might be in the affirmative. Instead, I focused on the ceiling and tried to drum up the nerve to reach out to my husband.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I realized that I had a choice to make. Either I could be self-righteous and resentful about this until my marriage eventually fell apart, or I could accept his affair for what it was and try to heal our relationship and move on. It wasn’t a difficult choice when I looked at it like that.
I couldn’t––and wouldn’t––imagine my life without Alex. He was the love of my life and the father of my child. He was my everything.
