Thursday morning arrived with a low gray sky.
I made coffee for myself and sat at the kitchen table.
Tony came downstairs dressed for work.
He looked as though he hadn't slept well.
For a moment, he stood beside the counter without touching anything.
Then he poured himself a cup.
Neither of us mentioned Dakota.
Neither of us mentioned Friday.
I was tired of waiting for him to decide when I deserved an answer.
He carried his mug to the table.
"Are you going to be home tonight?"
"Yes."
He nodded.
"I'd like us to have dinner together."
I looked at him.
"We live together, Tony. We can have dinner together."
He looked down at his coffee.
"I meant without this hanging over us."
I set my cup down.
"Then you know what you need to do."
He didn't argue.
He left a few minutes later.
I watched his car pull away, then turned from the window.
The folded note wasn't in my hand anymore, but I could still picture its creases.
I had read those two sentences so many times that I could remember every word without looking.
I didn't need to read them again.
I needed to understand why they existed.
The day passed slowly.
I tried to distract myself by cleaning the kitchen cupboards.
I took out the mugs, wiped the shelves, and put everything back in its place.
When I reached Tony's favorite mug, I paused.
It was white with a thin blue line around the rim.
There was a small chip near the handle.
He had dropped it once while unloading the dishwasher and insisted it was still perfectly good.
I had teased him about keeping a damaged mug when we owned plenty of others.
He had told me it was his favorite.
I put it back on the shelf.
I didn't want to turn every familiar thing into evidence.
That was another way fear could change a person.
It could make you suspicious of the very details that had once made your life feel safe.
Late that afternoon, I saw Dakota outside her house.
She was bringing a small box in from her car.
For a moment, I considered walking over.
Instead, I watched her carry it through the doorway.
She had moved into our neighborhood only a month earlier.
I thought about how little I actually knew about her.
I knew she was twenty-nine.
I knew she liked flowers.
I knew she had brought cookies to introduce herself and coffee to greet Tony in the mornings.
I knew she had written a note that frightened him.
Everything else was a blank.
I had filled that blank with the most obvious explanation.
Maybe that was human nature.
Maybe it was simply easier to imagine an affair than to accept that someone could know a secret about your marriage that you didn't.
I couldn't decide which possibility frightened me more.
Tony returned home before dinner.
He came into the kitchen and set his keys on the counter.
Then he stood facing me.
"I want to talk."
I dried my hands on a towel.
"All right."
He looked toward the hallway, as if checking that we were alone.
The gesture made me angry again.
"There is nobody here, Tony."
"I know."
"Then stop looking around like someone is listening."
He closed his eyes briefly.
When he opened them, he seemed more tired than frightened.
"I haven't known how to tell you."
I held the towel in my hands.
"Tell me what?"
He looked at me.
For several seconds, I thought the answer was finally coming.
Then his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen.
I watched his face change.
He didn't answer.
He turned the phone facedown on the counter.
"Was that Dakota?" I asked.
"No."
He said it too quickly.
I didn't challenge him.
I had reached a point where I didn't want to drag the truth out of him one word at a time.
"If you have something to tell me, tell me," I said. "If you don't, I'm not going to spend another evening asking."
He looked stricken.
"Jennifer, please don't give up on me."
"I'm not giving up on you."
I placed the towel beside the sink.
"I'm asking you to stop making me live like this."
He lowered his head.
I walked past him into the living room.
For a while, I sat alone on the sofa.
The television was off.
Outside, a car passed slowly along the street.
I could see the faint reflection of our kitchen window in the dark screen.
I thought about the first morning Dakota had offered him coffee.
How easily I had accepted it.
How easily Tony had accepted it, too.
There had been no argument, no accusation, no reason for either of us to think that a small act of kindness would become the center of our lives.
Now the same kitchen felt like a place where I had been waiting for permission to know my own husband.
I wasn't going to keep doing that.
When Tony came into the living room, I looked up.
"Tomorrow is Friday."
He nodded.
"I know."
"I won't ask you again."
He stood beside the sofa.
For the first time in days, he didn't ask me for more time.
He didn't ask me to trust him.
He didn't tell me that everything would be fine.
He simply nodded again.
I went upstairs and got ready for bed.
Tony followed later.
We lay in the dark without touching.
I listened to his breathing and tried to remember the last night we had gone to sleep without anything unsaid between us.
I couldn't.
That frightened me more than I wanted to admit.
Still, I had made my decision.
Friday would come.
And I would hear the truth, one way or another.
Click here to continue reading: PART 8: When Friday Arrived, I Finally Understood Why Dakota Had Refused to Keep Carrying a Secret That Belonged to My Marriage
I Thought Our New Neighbor Was Simply Being Kind Until My Husband Read Something He Never Wanted Me to See
Part 7 of 8
