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Tuesday, April 2, 2013
C is for Caught
love you anymore, Paul. Can’t you just accept that?” My wife of fifteen years
threw a handful of clothes into the open suitcase on the bed. I couldn’t
imagine her not folding them into neat little stacks, each shirt or pair of
jeans categorically paired with its match. She tossed in a cluster of
undergarments; all the really sexy stuff, I noticed. Where had she been hiding that?
Jane.” I reached for her hand but she pulled away. “Can’t we talk about this?”
packing just long enough to glare at me. “What about last week? I wanted to
talk then, but you just couldn’t get away from the office.”
“I was here
all day Sunday. Why didn’t we talk then?” I said, feeling control slipping
her eyes. “Your body might have been here but your mind darn sure wasn’t. Who
was she? The girl on your laptop?” Her nose crinkled up in that way I always
found so cute.
just. . . “ I felt my face burning.
You’re blushing. How does it feel to be caught in your little lie? I certainly hope she’s worth it.”
She sat on the corner of the bed, a lacy bra dangling from her slender fingers,
the C-cups pointing up at me. A single tear rolled down her cheek.
With my finger, I touched her cheek and wiped at the tear. She closed her eyes and pressed against
my palm. I felt her shaking.
what you think,” I said. “Tina, the lady on my laptop, is with the adoption
agency. I wanted to surprise you. They found us a baby. A little baby . . .”
knocked me over when she jumped into my arms, pulling me so tight I thought I might
strangle, kissing every square inch of my face, yelling over and over, “I love
you! I love you! I love you, Paul!”