Page 3 of That Birthday in Barbados
The words fell on me like boulders from the sky. I felt the blood leave my face. I tried to form the wordWhat, but my lips wouldn’t move. I stared at him, images crashing through my head, the cut line of Connor’s jaw, my sister’s pretty mouth, his hands on her face.
“Catherine?” James said my name on a note of panic. “Here, sit down.” He put a hand on each of my shoulders, guided me to the chair at my desk. “Don’t faint! Please don’t faint!”
I leaned my head against the back of the chair and drew in a deep breath. I prayed that I didn’t humiliate myself bypassing out. I tried for a word, couldn’t find one, shook my head. “Are you . . . are you sure?” I finally managed.
James stood above me, looking at the puddle I’d dissolved into, as if he had never regretted anything more than this moment. “Dear God, I so wish I weren’t, Catherine.”
I nodded once, hard, pressed my lips together and said, “Okay, then. On with the day. Would you mind going to the fourth floor and picking up the rest of the documents I’ll need for the meeting?”
“Yes. Yes, of course. It’s just that you’re getting ready to make such a big life change, and I thought you deserved to know in case. . .”
“It’s okay, James. You were right to tell me.”
Looking now as if he were going to cry, he left the office. Alone, I caught my reflection in the silver-framed mirror hanging behind my desk.
Suddenly, I saw the circles under my green eyes. And were those wrinkle lines at the corners? When did they appear? Did I need Botox? I’d hated the very idea, but maybe I’d been an idiot.
I’ve lost my looks.
There. The truth.
My shoulder-length blonde hair was in need of a cut, and could use some highlights. My skin was at its most pale winter hue.
When was the last time Connor and I made love?
The question struck me from nowhere. A lightning bolt illuminating truths I had been ignoring for months now like dirty laundry tossed to the back of the closet. If I didn’t acknowledge the problem, it wasn’t a problem.
Connor didn’t want me.
I thought he was tired. Overworked. We needed a vacation. A getaway. A reconnect.
But that hadn’t been it at all. He’d been having an affair. With my sister.
The shock of this truth hit me like a hammer in the heart, betrayal the nail being pounded into its center. My husband. My sister.
A scream formed at the base of my throat, but I swallowed it back, afraid it would tear the walls of this office apart.
Instead, I reached for my laptop, popped open the lid, entered the pass code at the main screen. I tapped the search engine icon and entered Connor’s email account service. At the login page, I entered his email address, my fingers hovering over the password box. I knew it at one time. But he changed it a few months ago when he received a notice saying someone had tried to login to his account. Or had that been a lie?
I tried a combination of his social security number and our wedding date. It took a few attempts. I hit the jackpot with the last string. I marveled for a moment how well you could know a person when you’d been together as long as I’d been with Connor. And, too, how you could not know them at all.
Once I was in, I glanced at the new emails. Mostly junk. There was one from Ed, Connor’s college roommate. I started to open it, decided not to.
I clicked on Old Mail, scrolled down the list, stopping at the sight of my sister’s email address.
My thumb hovered over the keyboard, the silence in my office now blaring in my ears like the roar of a jet engine.
I could leave it.
Would it be better not to know? Wait until the meeting was over today and then talk to Connor tonight? Maybe there was an explanation. Maybe James misread the situation.
But then it would be difficult to misread a passionate kiss.
Before I could change my mind, I clicked on the email and opened it. A chain of communication between my sister and my husband unfolded before my eyes.
I sat for a moment, staring at the words, trying to absorb them. Slowly, I backed out and clicked on the next one.
I’d opened a Pandora’s box, but I didn’t have the power to close it.
