“Real love. Genuine, honest-to-God love.”
“She wouldn’t know what love looked like if it was standing right in front of her and bit her on the nose. She was unhappy during my entire childhood. She cried every single night. My father finally dumped her for someone else, and I never saw him again.”
“No. Your father dumped her because living with her made him miserable. Guaranteed. No man goes through the hassle of a divorce if he’s happy at home. I’m going to guess that alcohol probably brought on her depression. The fact that another woman was there in the wings is almost immaterial.”
“So, you think that she destroyed us because of her wounded pride?” she said.
“Absolutely.”
“But did she succeed?” Eve asked.
“I’d say not completely, right?”
“We are in each other’s lives anyway,” Eve said. “And I still love you.”
“And I love you, Eve. I always have and I always will.”
It was the most natural thing in the world to say. There. At last it was out in the open. I sat down on the sofa and pulled her over next to me. I put my left arm around her and she leaned into me the exact same way she used to so many decades ago. It would’ve been so easy to let that robe slip. I knew I was crossing a line of propriety, because I would never have done this if Eliza was in the room. Not in a million gazillion years. And this had nothing to do with Eliza. Eve was a whole other situation. Eliza was my wife. I loved them both. Just differently. But at last there was honesty between us, and that seemed to excuse me for stealing a moment. I mean, it’s not like I had her legs in the air.
“Oh, Adam. I’m so exhausted. I’m so tired of Carl’s lies.”
I was still having a hard time getting my brain wrapped around the idea that Carl would cheat on Eve. It just didn’t ring true. He might have given himself a few strokes on the golf course, but I’d always thought that was because he couldn’t stand to lose. Not because he was a womanizing lowlife.
“Cookie probably pushed you up the aisle to marry Carl. Am I right?”
“He’s a doctor. She thought he could give me a certain status. And I was pregnant.”
“Please. That’s a topic for discussion another time. I’m going to guess she didn’t even care if you loved Carl. She only wanted you to not love me.” I leaned forward, refilled my wineglass, and took another sip. Somehow, I was making the occasion about Eve and me instead of Eve and Carl. But the question of Cookie’s motivations had bothered me for years. This was as good a time to ask as any. Eve then took the glass from me and drained it. I was impressed. “If you got married and had a baby, in her mind, you’d be taken care of forever. That’s how women of her generation used to think. Your happiness was never part of the equation to her.”
“Carl only married me because I was pregnant.” Eve yawned and put her head in my lap.
“Well, I don’t agree with that. He loves you, Eve. He does.”
“Carl loves medicine. He loves being a doctor. He loves the adoration of his patients.”
“Show me one that doesn’t,” I said. “But that still doesn’t mean Carl doesn’t love you. And I don’t think he’s screwing his nurse.”
That’s what I said, but what I was thinking was something entirely different. All things being equal? If I wasn’t screwing Eve—and I’d had a lot of opportunities over the years to do it—then there was no way Carl was screwing his nurse. Thinking about having sex and actually doing it are two completely different categories.
We were quiet then for a while and I realized Eve was fast asleep. I should’ve jostled her and sent her to bed. I should’ve disengaged, substituted a pillow for my lap, and gone home. I did none of those things. I looked at her. She was absolutely angelic. I loved having her close to me so much that I put my head back on the sofa and went to sleep as well.
The next thing I knew it was morning and I was being yanked off the sofa and held by the front of my shirt, looking into the angry face of my good friend Carl. Yes, that son of a bitch had his fist drawn back and aimed at my jaw.
“Stop!” Eve screamed.
“Hey! Wait!” I managed.
“I can’t believe that my good friend Adam is screwing my wife! You fucking asshole! I ought to rip you to pieces!”
“Stop!” Eve screamed. “Stop it right now!”
“Shut up, Eve.” Carl looked at me with the face of a madman. “If I had a gun, I’d blow your fucking brains out!”
“Carl! Nothing happened! Adam didn’t even touch me!”
“She’s telling you the truth, Carl,” I said. “Listen to her.”
“I came here because I found all the sexy text messages from your trashy little nurse. I’m leaving you, Carl. You can have her!”
“What? You mean Shonda?”
The screaming and the accusations went on for a while. Meanwhile, Carl stood over me, my shirt twisted into his fist, which was approximately the size of a ham.
“I wouldn’t touch that filthy little whore! I’ll fire her this afternoon! She’s nothing but a crazy gold-digging bitch desperate for another husband.”
“Swear to me you’re telling me the truth!” Eve shouted.
“I swear it on a stack of Bibles!” Carl shouted back. Then he looked at me and eased his grip on my shirt slightly. “You swear to God you’re not screwing my wife?”
“I swear it on my mother’s grave! I’m screwing my wife! Whenever she will let me, that is. Truth.” But I could’ve had Eve’s clothes off in about two minutes, I thought. Boy, talk about a missed opportunity.
“Then just what the hell are you doing here on my sofa?” Carl asked.
“That’s a legitimate question,” I said, racking my brain for a plausible excuse.
Eve stepped up quickly on my behalf. “He was here telling me that you loved me and that there was no way you were being unfaithful to me. That’s the truth, Carl.”
“You were?” Carl said to me. “You swear?”
“I already told you nothing happened between us,” I said, deciding a dollop of self-righteous indignation was appropriate. “You want to let go of my shirt now?”
He released me, and in the back of my mind I knew I had escaped some serious hurt that I probably—no, definitely—deserved.
“Adam, I came here looking for my wife. Suffice to say, I am not happy about what I found when I got here. Let’s leave it at that for now,” Carl said.
“We’ve been friends for a long time,” I said. And if I were in his shoes, I’d be pissed too.
There was a knock on the sliding glass door and we all turned as if on cue to see who it was. There stood Eliza. She was not going to like this story.
The door slid open.
“I brought a picnic for us, Adam,” she said with a furrowed brow. “I drove back late last night from Duke because I wanted to surprise you. But it looks like you all started the party without me. What exactly am I interrupting?”
chapter 11
eliza’s fury