The Dance (15 page)

Will had been late for many events over the years—class, football practice, and dates with me. But he’d never been late for work . . . until today. Before the alarm sounded this morning, a familiar and missed nudge woke me from a deep sleep. Before I had a chance to clear my head, Will’s fingers hooked around the hem of my T-shirt, pushing it up. The frequency of sex had slowed down considerably. Working on getting our relationship back had caused a kind of formality when it came to being intimate. This morning was the first time in a long time that we acted like a couple in love, each sending nonverbal permission to the other.

I couldn’t stop giggling as Will zipped around getting dressed. Like he was making a mad dash out of the room before my overprotective father came in with his shotgun. I never remembered him being so focused and caught up in me that he lost track of time. It made me feel special and loved. Shoving his wallet in his back pocket, Will grabbed his keys and flew out the door. I lay in bed for a few extra minutes enjoying the feel of happiness before getting up and starting my usual routine.

After I showered, I pulled on a pair of jeans and my light blue long sleeve T-shirt along with my gray Nike sneakers. This morning would be spent doing laundry and ironing. Before heading downstairs for breakfast, I gathered up an armful of clothes and dumped them on the bench at the foot of our bed. Will was notorious for leaving things in his pockets. And not normal things like tissue or a piece of paper he used to jot a note on. I’d never forget the time I opened up the washing machine to find our clothes covered with a fine coating of sticky caramel from the handful of Werther’s candy. So far my expedition hadn’t discovered anything until I picked up the work jeans he’d worn the day before. I reached in and pulled out his dead cellphone. In his rush to leave this morning he’d forgotten it.

I knew there was no way Will would be able to make it through the day without his phone. People needed to be able to reach him especially when he was out on a build site. Since a dead cellphone wouldn’t do him any good, I figured I’d let it charge while I did the laundry, then drop it off at his office. I transferred the clothes into the laundry basket and walked over to the nightstand where Will kept his phone charger. I plugged the phone in and within a few seconds it came to life.

As I reached for the laundry basket my gaze inadvertently landed on the lit screen. Will had the basic phone apps—calendar, weather, clock, calculator, music, and a couple construction-related ones. I was tempted to swipe to the next screen to see if there were any porn apps but I stopped myself. There was no way our relationship would survive if I kept doubting his word. Things between us were going too well for my insecurities to jeopardize it.

Suddenly, the main app screen disappeared, replaced by an incoming call. Will must have had the phone on silent. The number that popped up wasn’t familiar. But that didn’t give me pause. What kept my gaze glued to the screen was the name associated with the number, Val. It was one of those names that could go either way, male or female. As I stood trying to convince myself this Val was probably a
he
, the missed call and voicemail window appeared.

Even if Val was a woman that didn’t mean anything. Will dealt with a lot of different people in construction. Granted, the majority seemed to be male but there were women in all aspects of the business. And then there are the assistants of the business associates who’d call for whatever reason. As I stood mesmerized by the name and number, a wave of shame washed over me. Things had been going well between us, Will was making a noticeable effort and then this morning was wonderful. We were finally getting past our bump in the road, so I didn’t understand why I was letting my imagination run wild with doubts. My gaze shifted to the text message app, the number twelve hovered just above it indicating Will had some reading to do.

I stared at that number looming over the message bubble for an inappropriate amount of time. Scheming thoughts began to form in my head. It would be easy to tap the screen and open the app. Take a quick look at who was texting Will. Maybe this Val was among the texts. What if Val had some vital information he needed to tell Will as soon as possible? He sent the text and when there was no response he decided to call. It wasn’t an invasion of privacy nor a comment on my trusting Will. It was almost mandatory as Will’s wife to at least check the list of texts to see if Val’s name showed up. If not, then I’d go about my day until the phone was fully charged and I could take it to Will.

It felt as if I’d been standing and staring for a lifetime, weighing out my options. I could twist and turn the reasons for checking the text messages as much as I wanted in order to justify taking a peek, but that didn’t make it right. Deep down I knew my only intention for looking through Will’s phone was to see if watching porn was his only offense.

The knots in my stomach that had been slowly forming for the past ten minutes tightened as my trembling finger hovered over the message app. I inhaled a sharp deep breath and tapped the screen. It was as if a spotlight came from out of nowhere, shining brightly, leading me right to the name Val. But what shut all my physical systems down was the brief preview of the message—
I miss you
. I looked at the words as if they were written in ancient Arabic. I don’t know how long I stood there stuck in space and time before realization slammed into me.

It was like an out-of-body experience. My eyes witnessed my hands trembling before I felt the twitching. I saw my knees buckle before I felt the weakness set in. Instinctively my palm hit flat against the wall in an attempt to keep me from crashing to the floor. I don’t remember not breathing, I just remember the sound of gasping when my lungs begged for oxygen.

“Bryson!” The sound of Will’s voice floating up the stairs hit my ears.

Joanne taught me that words said in the heat of anger wouldn’t accomplish anything. That I should take a few cleansing breaths and calm down. Then I’d be able to express myself in a clear and concise manner.

Fuck that!

Will’s fingers wrap around my upper arm as he turned me around. “Babe, is everything okay?”

I jerked my arm from his grasp and stepped away. Looking down, he noticed the phone in my hand. By the time his gaze bounced up to mine, his expression was flat. But he quickly recovered in an attempt to look innocent.

“Thank god you found my phone. I thought I’d lost it,” he said matter-of-factly. “I got all the way to work before I realized it wasn’t in my pocket.”

Will extended his arm waiting for me to place the phone in his palm.

My mouth hung open for a second before my brain ordered it to function. “Who is Val?”

“I’m not following you, babe. Listen, I gotta get back to the office. I just ran in to get my phone.”

As I stood there still in shock, Will grabbed his phone and headed toward the door. Another second and he’d be out of sight and on his way back to the office. Somehow I forced my legs into action.

“Who is Val?” My voice sounded stronger and louder than I expected.

Will continued out of the bedroom and down the hallway. Picking up speed, I slipped past and positioned myself directly in front of him. He stopped abruptly.

I looked him in the eye and repeated. “Who. Is. Val?”

His shoulders shrugged nonchalantly as he gave me a relaxed smile. “Babe, I don’t have time for twenty questions. Maybe when I get home tonight.”

He tried to pass me but I blocked him.

“It’s not a game, Will.”

His calm expression dropped, replaced by an irritated one. “Nobody important.”

“I’m going to need a little more than that.”

He hesitated, his gaze scanning the hallway. “Val is a programmer for Virtual Life.”

I narrowed my eyes but remained silent, forcing him to elaborate.

“I told you, I get on the site for mindless crap. They assign each user a programmer in case there’s a problem.”

“And this Val?”

“One of the programmers who helps people with the technical aspects of the site.”

“Is Val a she?”

Cocking one brow, he pursed his lips like a smartass teenager. “Yeah, women can be programmers too, you know.”

“Why does she have your phone number?”

“You have to give them your contact information. Sometimes it’s easier for them to talk you through a problem rather than show you on screen.”

“Why does she miss you?”

“What are you talking about?” He still wouldn’t make direct eye contact.

“The first line of the text she says she misses you.”

“You’re going through my phone?” he said, defensively.

I certainly wasn’t about to admit to him that I had tapped the texts on purpose. Besides, my snooping wasn’t the issue. A strange woman was sending my husband texts telling him how much she missed him. I suddenly remembered the voicemail. Nausea bubbled up in my throat with just the thought of it.

“I accidentally hit the icon and the list opened up.”

“Accidentally?” He accused.

“Really, Will? You’re going to flip this around on me?”

“I’m not flipping anything. I just don’t appreciate being accused of something I didn’t do.”

“Then let me read the text.”

“I don’t have time for this shit. I need to go.” He tried to get past me again but I blocked him again.

“If you don’t have anything to hide then let me read it. I promise not to take long.”

“This is ridiculous.” He huffed.

We stared at each other, deadlocked in the hallway of the home we’d built together. At this point there was no reason for me to read the text or listen to the voicemail. Will may not have verbally confessed anything but his actions spoke volumes.

“You could end it in a second just by handing me the phone.”

“I don’t know what else you want from me, Bryson. I work my ass off to provide for you. I put you in a beautiful home and car. I even took time out of my schedule to go to the fucking counselor. And it’s still not enough for you. All I ask is for you to take care of the house and our kids. That is if we ever have kids.”

I was standing strong until he sucker punched me with the last sentence. No matter how many times I heard the words, “The miscarriage wasn’t your fault, Bryson,” it never sunk in. There was always a part of me that felt I was the sole cause of losing our child and not being able to get pregnant again. I knew Will blamed me, I could see it in his eyes. He knew what my Achilles’ heel was and used it at the first opportunity.

“So you haven’t gotten anything out of this deal?” I said.

“I just don’t think I’ve asked for that much in return for what I’ve given.”

“I’ve supported you, been patient, and have tried to understand the things you’ve done. I let you touch me this morning and . . .” I choked back a sob. “I did it all because you’re my husband and I love you. I never asked for the big house or the fancy car. All I ever wanted was your heart.”

He shook his head and chuckled sarcastically. Will disappeared into a blurry haze as tears flowed quietly down my face draining me of all strength. I was on the verge of a complete collapse when he took a step forward trying to escape. Out of nowhere a bolt of energy fueled by hurt and anger took over my body and I snatched the phone from his hand.

“God dammit! Give me the phone back, Bryson!”

“I want to read the text!”

“You have a lot of fucking nerve!”

I tapped on the screen and scrolled through until I saw Val’s name. Just as I was about to open the message, Will slapped the phone from my hand. Will and I had had arguments before but never had they come close to physical.

With his jaw clenched, he growled. “Fine! You want to know who Val is? She’s a woman I met through VL and we hit it off. She asked for my number and I gave it to her. She has a boyfriend and she knows I’m married. It’s just a friendship.”

“Then let me read the text,” I said through clenched teeth.

“For Christ sake, Bryson! I already told you everything. I haven’t been online for a couple of days that’s probably what the text is about.” He paused for a moment. “I’m not giving you the phone. I haven’t done anything to cause you to mistrust me. This is all on you and your insecurities.”

Snatching the phone from the floor, he roughly pushed past me, stormed down the stairs, and out the front door. Even from inside the house the screech of the tires in the driveway pierced my ears.

Dazed, I walked back into the room and sat at the foot of the bed.

He promised he’d stop all non-work-related online activity.

I believed him.

He’s been lying all this time.

Trying to clear my head and get my thoughts in order, something occurred to me. From the night I caught him in the office until this morning, Will has never actually apologized for any of his actions. He’d justified them and made excuses for them, but never appeared to be remorseful for them. He’d witnessed my tears and heard my gut-wrenching sobs, but neither made an impression on him. I felt like such an idiot thinking he cared about saving our marriage just as much as I did. A committed marriage was about two people coming together to make a life, each putting in the effort even during the times when they didn’t feel like it.