I stare at my friend, noticing for the first time that she appears to be ill at ease. Nervous almost. But why? What does she have to be nervous about?
As I study her, Nissa begins to worry her bottom lip with the point of one tooth, something she often does when she’s uncomfortable. I think back to the past few weeks, to all the times she’s seemed about to say something and then suddenly made an excuse to leave, or when she’s abruptly changed the subject to one of random unimportance. Behavior like that isn’t entirely out of character for my bubbly, eccentric friend, so I’ve never suspected that it really meant anything. But now, in retrospect…
Fear knots my stomach and questions fly through my mind.
What is this about?
What’s going on?
The longer we sit watching each other, the more uncomfortable my oldest friend seems to become.
I finally prompt her when she seems hesitant to continue. “Nissa?”
Nissa tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, her gaze sinking to her lap where her trembling fingers are fiddling with the red material puddled there. She clears her throat before she begins. My heart pounds with dread “Lena, I…”
She seems to quickly lose her courage, and when she stops again, my palms grow damp with increasing anxiety. What could be this bad? What could she have so much trouble telling me?
“I think Nate might be…might be seeing someone.”
In the space of a few seconds, a reel of memories from the past plays across the screen of my mind. Millions of happy moments that I’ve shared with Nate race by in a flash. Tropical trips and glamorous parties, erotic showers and quiet dinners, heartfelt truths and teasing lies—it’s all there, stored in the ridges and valleys of my cerebral cortex. But more importantly, they’re stored in my heart, right alongside the knowledge that my husband has and will always be faithful.
Yes, there were some tense times in our past—fights I wasn’t sure we’d make it through, arguments that had seemed unending. But never once did I ever consider that Nate might cheat on me.
We have our differences, just like everybody else. And we have our faults. I’m stubborn as hell and Nate has a temper if he gets poked the right way. But we love each other. Deeply. Truly.
We share the kind of love that picks you up when you stumble, the kind of love that catches you when you fall, the kind of love that rescues you when you need saving.
The real kind of love.
And I believe that it will last long after the door of life closes on one of us. I believe that more than I believe anything else.
What I can’t, what I won’t believe is that my husband is capable of risking all that for a fling. It’s not part of the Nate I know. And I know Nate.
Nate is my “in sickness and in health”.
Nate is my “until death do us part”.
Nate is the staying kind.
He proved that beyond the shadow of a doubt when he quit his job so we could spend the next three months together living out one of our dreams. He gave up everything so we could have this one last big adventure. Those aren’t the actions of a man who isn’t fully committed.
Those are the actions of a man who is fully devoted.
“Lena?”
Nissa’s voice jars me from my thoughts, bringing me back to the conversation. “What? Sorry. I zoned out for a second. What did you say?”
“I was just telling you that I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you. And it’s probably nothing. I mean, I know how much Nate loves you. Anybody can see that. But I know how men are, too. I mean, even my dad…” Nissa stops midsentence and shakes her head as if ridding it of an unpleasant memory. “Anyway, it’s probably something completely innocent. But even so, I couldn’t not tell you. Not for one more day. You’re my best friend. If it were me, I’d want to know.”
That’s it in a nutshell. Poor Nissa lives her life expecting news such as this. That’s what happens when you marry an asshole.
She deserves so much better.
“How long have you been carrying this around?”
I feel as much as hear Nissa’s sigh when her warm breath fans my cheek. “About a month, I guess.”
“What makes you think he might be seeing someone?”
“I saw him. With a woman. On two different occasions. Both times they were at a little bar off 7th Street.”
“Maybe it was someone he works with.”
“It could very well have been. I just thought it was odd that they were at a bar.”
“Maybe they had to work late and went out for a bite. Nate works late a lot.”
I can tell Nissa wants to argue. Her brow furrows, and her mouth opens and closes a few times. After a few attempts to quell her urge to rebut, Nissa finally manages and she gives me a watery smile along with a weak, “Maybe so. But I wanted to tell you. Just in case.”
Pity and compassion coil behind my chest wall.
I know my friend’s suspicions about her own husband are playing a role in her thoughts. It’s only natural for Nissa to include other men in her doubts, to sort of lump them all into one unfaithful heap. I, however, just don’t believe that’s the case.