Page 21 of The New Year's Party
The FindMyMan app opens with a tap of my finger. There’s always a moment of panic as it loads.Let’s see. Let’s see if I get to keep on keeping on.
I gnaw on my lower lip. Wait. Wait some more.Oh...
The plummet of my heart is familiar, but it still feels horrible.
Okay, Hellie, don’t jump to conclusions too quickly...
I lift the phone closer to my face and expand the blue dot that is Doug, which is hovering over the Windsor Tavern on Franklin. Which can’t possibly be right, because my husband is not only supposed to be at work, but he’s sober. Eighty-nine days. I’m actually surprising him tomorrow with a ninety-day gift—a leather bracelet I ordered on Etsy with a hand-tooled charm of the number ninety. Maybe the app isn’t loading... Maybe the Wi-Fi signal isn’t strong enough... I check the Wi-Fi. Five bars.
“Hellie? Everything okay?” It’s my manager, Brie, but I don’t even attempt to hide my phone. Why hide anything now? My life as I know it just ended in one silent, invisible explosion.
“Actually, something just came up,” I say. “Mind if I leave a few minutes early? My shift is almost over.”
“It’s no problem!” says Brie. That’s the other thing about being me. People love to accommodate me. I try not to take advantage of this. Actually... I vaguely remember that Brie owes me anyway for covering a night shift last week and a morning shift the week prior.
“Thank you. I really appreciate it,” I say. I can hear the strain in my own voice.
“It’s really no big deal,” says Brie. “Go take care of whatever it is. Hey—you got your big party tonight, right? Which dress did you go with? The red one or the green one?”
“The green one.”
“Send pics, okay?”
“I will,” I promise before making my exit.
I whip off my apron as soon as I’m outside. The bells jingle behind me as I make for my car, hunching my shoulders against the cold since I didn’t bring my coat. I had planned on going straight home after my shift and catching a few winks before it was time to get dressed for the New Year’s party.
I’d planned on...If I ever wrote out the story of my life, that would be the opening of every chapter. The last seventeen years’ worth of chapters have all been with Doug. It feels strange to know that I’m probably entering the last pages of our story.
There have been times I’ve imagined this, reaching the end of us, and sometimes it tasted like relief. Like a really deep sigh. Not like happiness, not that, but maybe like... rest.
Instead, it tastes like something very different. Not dread, though there sure is some dread... not even disappointment, though that’s there too...
I get into my car and grip the steering wheel, squeezing as tight as I can. I stare at my hands and the yellow-white knuckles that look like they’re about to burst through the skin. Those pale, worn, bony hands... they can’t possibly be mine. I haveyounghands, soft hands, inexperienced hands. Hands that have yet to hold a baby. Sure, they’re hands that have washed dishes and poured drinks and served customers, they’re working hands, but they have yet to do the work that I want to do with them. They can’t be wasted and old yet.
No, reaching the end doesn’t taste like relief, or rest. It tastes like anger. Deep acidic anger, burning away everything I’ve worked for my entire life, everything I’ve invested in, and burning me away too—my entire identity, everything dissolving into that blue dot on that stupid app that’s not moving when it’s supposed to be moving.
I briefly consider calling Doug... but what would I say?Why aren’t you at work?Would he lie, try to say he’s with acustomer, or at the office? Do I want to explain that I’ve been tracking his location for the past year and a half?
I start the car, but I don’t put it in Drive yet. I pull the bracelet out of my purse and stroke its soft band, gently scraping my nail against the little ridges of the ninety on the charm.
Maybe I should let it go. Go home, take a nap. Wait to see if Doug is honest about his day when he comes home. Wait to see if there’s some mistake, some explanation that makes sense...
But I’ve been hunting for the truth for too long, and like a trained dog, there’s no way I’ll be able to sleep with the scent of deception in my nose.
I stuff the bracelet back into my purse. Put the car in Drive. Pull out of the parking lot. And instead of heading east toward home, I head west.
Toward the truth.
Part 2
The Party
Chapter 9
Olivia
“We’re making good time,” said Bennett as he took the exit to Michigan City. He was looking handsome in dark jeans, a bow tie, and Chuck Taylors. And, as usual, he was making a statement that didn’t require an answer. Olivia made a noncommittal mmm-ing sound in her throat.
