Page 57 of The New Year's Party
Doug yelped as Bennett tweezed out the second BB. Then, as Phelps swabbed Doug’s wounds with antiseptic, Bennett rolled back on his heels and onto his rear end. He leaned on the wall with the TV just above him, eye-level with Doug’s hairy mound of butt cheek. He set the tweezers down carefully on the edge of the coffee table, near Doug’s knee.
“I’m sorry,” said Phelps as he opened a big square bandage. “However much of a piece of shit I am, try to understand that I honestly figured she didn’t know, and you didn’t know, and what you didn’t know couldn’t possibly hurt you.”
Bennett closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt dizzy.Thiswas what he’d struggled over during the Year from Hell? As he told himself he had to do the hardest work of his life and become the man his father had never been? As he forgave his wife and his best friend and made the choiceto live forever in the kind of sacrificial isolation that keeping that kind of secret requires? Phelpsmasturbating? Privately—or what he thought was privately? As gross as it was, as inappropriate as it was...
“Sorry, I’m new to the party, so let me get this straight,” said Doug, propping himself up on his forearms as Phelps squirted Neosporin on the inside of the bandage. “You thought Olivia cheated on you with Phelps five years ago? And you didn’t call Phelps on it until tonight?”
“Yes,” said Bennett, tilting his head back against the wall. The ceiling was pitched. He’d never particularly noticed that. There was a discolored spot up in the corner.Phelps should check for a leak.What was he thinking? This was a shithole shed, and the fact that it had a wall-mounted first-aid kit, frankly, was creepy as hell. Who cared if it leaked.
“But why did you think that?” said Doug. “Who told you?”
“Yeah, who told you?” echoed Phelps, patting the bandage. “You’re done.”
“A text,” said Bennett, focusing back on his friends. “More like half a dozen texts.”
Doug was on his knees now, pulling up his mud-streaked pants.
“Texts from who?” said Phelps.
Bennett spasmed, and before he could get control of himself, he laughed. He laughed because he felt stupid and confused and mad and too many other things to name. He laughed because he didn’t know what else to do. The laughter pressed out like there was someone else inside his skin, making their mad escape.
Of course it had occurred to him that whoever had sent those texts had to have been at that New Year’s party five years ago. Had to have seen or heard something.
He used to think of this person as some kind of conscientious reporter of facts. He’d imagined Hellie, or maybe Will.Feeling guilty, but also feeling responsible. Figuring Bennett deserved to know, so they would just have to do their duty.
He no longer had kind feelings toward the mysterious texter.
Whoever it was had really fucked with him.
Had they sent texts to Olivia too? Why else would she think she’d slept with Phelps?
Olivia’s confession in the car came slamming back into Bennett.
The guilt in her face. The flat desperation in her voice.
Even as he laughed and tears rolled down his cheeks, he felt sick. His gorgeous, incredible wife had tortured herself for five years over something she’d never done.
He needed to talk to her. She needed to know she was exonerated.
And then, he needed to know who had tried to ruin his marriage and hadn’t even had the balls to say who they were.
He wheezed out his final laughter, then breathed in, long and deep. There was a cramp in his side. He wiped a few tiny tears off his cheeks.
Bennett looked at his friends, who were watching him in stunned silence. His primary feeling was,Theyhave no idea.Phelps and Doug had no clue what he had been through. What Olivia had been through. What it meant to have lived five years in the destructive shadow of a lie they’d both believed. Sure, it was partly a relief to find out they’d been wrong. But there was another edge to this sword: the stolen time. The stolen joy.
Bennett could hardly count what had been taken, it was so staggering.
If the mysterious texter was standing in front of him right now, he’d be very tempted to kill them. To put his hands around their neck and squeeze. Let them feel how quickly joy could be stolen. Let them feel the destructive power of their lie, coming back at them through Bennett’s hands.
“Texts from who?” Phelps repeated, more gently.
Bennett took a deep breath and felt his fingers squeeze and release, as if the neck of the guilty party was within his grasp.
“I don’t know.”
Chapter 27
Will
