“Don’t be crude,” Buck says. He picks up his wineglass and drinks. He doesn’t appear to be leaving.
I should have seen this all along. They are having an affair. And now she is coming clean, telling me everything, even though it was supposed to be our best day ever. That’s fine, though. I suppose I knew it somewhere deep down. Best to air the dirty laundry, get readjusted, and then figure out next steps. I have my plan, and now I know she has one, too. Impressive. Mia has played me perfectly. I’ve fallen into her trap, even as she slipped out of mine. I will not allow her surprises to end the night, though. I will win.
But what exactly does she know?
Mia slides a piece of paper in front of me. I recognize it, of course. It’s the letter from her uncle. The one I opened and hid.
“Recognize this?” she asks. The cottage seems very quiet. I feel Buck lean forward, looking at the document.
“I do. But again, why is he here?” I say. “Why are we discussing a letter from your crazy uncle in front of our neighbor? This is a private family matter, nobody’s business but ours.”
I see Mia send a look to Buck. A look she should be giving me. We’re the team here.
“Look. We can talk about everything once we’re back home,” I say. “It’s late, past eleven. We never stay up this late. I’m calling it a night, and that means you are too, right, honey?” I stand up, feign a yawn and pop my knuckles. It’s a bad habit, a low-class habit, I know.
“Paul, I know you tried to claim my mineral rights, the ones Uncle Derrick wrote to me about,” Mia says, her voice quavering. This is hard for her. Poor Mia. Maybe I’ll tell her a little story, just to calm her down.
“I was just researching things for you, but if you’d like to paint me as a criminal, go ahead,” I say. I walk around the seating area until I’m standing directly behind Buck. His neck is exposed, just within reach if I take a step forward. I can feel his flesh in my hands, his neck snapping nicely.
Mia has become unrecognizable. It’s as if she changed overnight into a sneaky, manipulative woman who hides things from her husband. Meanwhile, Gretchen always treats me nicely. She is the perfect woman for me, I realize at this instant. It all starts with chemistry, which we had that day at her store in the mall. And then it deepens as I test her to see how receptive she is to my rules, my way. Will she pick me over a movie night with her girlfriends, for example?
Gretchen does not disappoint. She’s a better listener than Mia even. She wears skirts and dresses, as I request. She’d never wear ridiculous sweatpants that made her look like a hog. Whenever I spend time with her, she treasures it. Sometimes, after a particularly intimate lovemaking session, she cries when I must leave and go back home. She’s hooked on me like crack. I know she wants more, deserves more of me.
I tell her I love my wife, but Gretchen knows there are issues between Mia and me. I mean, I’m with Gretchen every day, as long as possible. When we aren’t making love, we’re cooking a gourmet lunch together because unlike certain people she’s actually a great cook, or plotting vacations to faraway lands. I tell her stories about television commercial shoots in Hollywood and assure her she’ll come with me the next time I’m on location. I see how her eyes sparkle with those promises. We both know it’s just a matter of time, I guess.
Gretchen is the reason why I’m more comfortable letting Mia go now. I often wonder what she’d think of raising the boys with me, although I haven’t asked her yet. She’d be great, I know. She’s very patient. I’d get her a large home in the suburbs, a different suburb, and we would raise the boys there together. Mia would never see them again.
Oh, I don’t mean that. Don’t worry; it’s the tension I’m feeling with this stranger in our home.
“Paul,” Mia says. “Sit down. Please.”
“I’m tired, Mia. I’ve tried to make this the perfect day, the best day ever, but you’ve insisted on ruining it, every single step of the way. I’m over it. I’ll see you upstairs,” I say. “And he should leave. Now. I’m finished with this little ménage à trois.”
I take a step toward the stairs.
11:30 p.m.
22
It’s frustrating being forced out of the comfort of your cozy, designer-decorated family room by an irrational woman and her sidekick, the garden troll, but the circumstances leave me no choice.
As far as the mineral rights, Mia is correct. I want the rights in my name, and I’ve been working good old Uncle Derrick to help him see the light. We almost have a deal, Derrick and me, but Mia need not know that. Derrick is so easily manipulated. He believes everything I whisper in his ear about how close I am to his brother, Mia’s dad, and how I’m working for their brotherly reconciliation.
And, just as easily, when I tell him of his brother’s pretend betrayal, he’ll believe me and want to make sure no other Pilmer inherits the land. It’s a clean slate with a Strom, this Strom, in charge. I’ve almost tied up this loose end.
M. Pilmer. My wife signed her name that way at the Italian restaurant. I stop at the foot of the stairs. I suddenly see everything very clearly; my busy mind focuses on one thing. Mia.
I turn and look at my wife. She meets my gaze. From across the room, she says, “Paul, I’m leaving you.”
I shake my head. “No, Mia, you’re not. The mineral rights aren’t worth more than five hundred dollars a year at this point. It’s nothing. I was just simplifying things, getting a handle on them, and then I was going to share the good news,” I say. My heart is pounding. People don’t “leave” me. I “leave” people when I’m finished with them. She has gone insane. She’s jealous of the fabulous life I lead without her, and I’m to blame for that.
“It’s not about the mineral rights or Uncle Derrick,” Mia says.
I watch as Buck stands. He has positioned himself between my wife and me. I must lean to the right to make eye contact with her, to direct her and coach her as I typically do.
“Can you get out of our house now?” I ask, moving rapidly toward Mia. I cross the family room and find myself face-to-face with Buck who, instead of moving out of the way, has become a human roadblock between my wife and me. We are the same height, but I have more weight on me, and more anger. I have the fire.
Something has come between us, dear, I think, and it’s the fucking neighbor.
I take a step to the left. Mia is now directly in front of me.