“Uhhh, yeah. We were. But then I ran late, and I’m not sure if he got my text.”
His tone is off and he’s uncomfortable. He even pulls at his collar.
“Michel,” I remind him, “lying is a sin. Is everything okay?”
He nods slowly. “Yeah, of course. Why would I lie?”
“I don’t know.” I eye him. “Why would you?”
He loosens, rolling his eyes. “You’re worrying too much, Co. We just crossed signals. No big deal. And the bright side? You get a free breakfast.”
He thrusts the sack at me, and I take a cup of coffee, even though I know I won’t drink it. Now that I’m pregnant, I have to give up caffeine.
“Thanks, bro,” I tell him.
He grins. “Anytime. You need anything else?”
“Nope. I’m just going to eat my newly acquired breakfast and then maybe shower.”
He pats my back, and before he’s even pulled out of the drive, I’ve texted Jude.
How was Michel this morning?
Because something isn’t right.
I feel it.
I feel it.
Jude doesn’t answer until I’m throwing my breakfast trash away.
Fine, why?
My heart pounds and pounds. Because why would he lie to me?
No reason, I answer. Have a good day.
I try to enjoy my own, but it’s almost impossible...because something something something niggles at me.
Something tells me that everything is wrong.
I consider digging around, and trying to find things out on my own, but decide a direct approach is best.
I call Michel.
“Hey!” he answers. “Don’t blame me if the breakfast was crappy. I didn’t make it myself.”
I roll my eyes even though he can’t see. “No, it’s not that. Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.” His answer is immediate.
“It’s about Jude,” I warn him. “I don’t want to believe it, but I feel like something might be going on.”
“What do you mean?” Michel is cautious, his words slow. I know I have to tread lightly here. Michel is a priest, and he loves me, but Jude is still his twin brother. I know his allegiance will always lie with him.
“There was something weird about this morning. He told me that he was meeting you for breakfast, but he didn’t. And when I asked him how you were, he said fine.”
Michel is silent.
My brother-in-law is still silent, for one beat, then another.
“Michel?”
He sighs. “Yeah. I...I don’t exactly know, Corinne. But I do know this. He’s been very worried about you lately. And you know him. When he’s worried or upset, he withdraws. He probably thought it would hurt your feelings to tell you that he just wanted some alone time.”
“You really think nothing is going on?”
“What do you think would be going on?” he asks, and he’s still careful.
I feel sillier by the minute. “I...worry that he might be seeing someone.”
“Oh. Don’t worry about that, Co. No way. I know my brother, and he wouldn’t. He loves you. He’s always talking about you, always worrying about you. I swear—it’s just this time of year. He’s always worried that he’s going to say something that will trigger you.”
I consider that.
“Well, if he wasn’t with you, where was he this morning?”
Michel’s answer is immediate. “Probably taking some alone time. Running or eating. It’s all he ever does. And when he’s upset, he likes to be alone. He hasn’t been calling me much lately, so I know he’s troubled.”
I’m troubling him.
That thought makes me feel guilty and troubled myself.
“Thanks, big brother,” I tell him softly. “I’ll talk to him. I don’t want him to tiptoe around me. I’m not made of glass.”
“I know you’re not,” he answers. “I’ll talk to him, too.”
“You don’t have to,” I start to say, but he interrupts.
“I want to. You know I love both of you.”
“I know.”
32
Two days, twelve hours until Halloween
Jude
My thumb taps my desk, and I stare out my office window, into the street.
Halloween is just in a couple of days, and it’s a good thing. The jack-o’-lanterns are starting to shrivel. I notice that someone’s scarecrow has lost its head in the wind. It rests in the dead grass twenty feet from the rest of the straw body. For some reason, it seems eerie.
I stare at it, watching it tumble and roll, and I push away my growing concern about my wife. It’s while I’m staring at it that I notice a beat-up truck idling down the street, with my brother’s familiar face inside.
I greet him at my office door. “Hey! What are you doing here?”
Michel brings the cold October air in with him as he breezes past me.
“Be my guest,” I offer wryly, closing the door after he enters.
I trail behind him and wait for him to get to his point.
“Are you okay?” I ask as he takes a seat across from my desk.
He shakes his head. “No.”
I’m startled, then concerned. “What’s wrong?”
I sit down and Michel shakes his head.
“I was at your house earlier,” he mentions. “And you weren’t.”
He stares, and I pause. “So?”
“So, your wife was under the assumption that you were with me. But you weren’t.”
Fuck.
“Um, I...”
“I told her that our signals must’ve gotten crossed. But I know something is up, Jude. I feel it, and she does, too. Tell me what it is.”
My shoulders drop, because I’m sure he does feel it. He knows me too well for me to lie.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I try to tell him. But as I knew he would, he doesn’t let that fly.
“Jude,” he says sternly. “Tell me. I mean it. I have a really bad feeling. What’s going on?”
One look at his face, and I know that stalling isn’t going to work. Or lying. Or excuses.
“I don’t know,” I tell him honestly. “I have no clue what I’m doing, or what I’ve gotten myself into. I only know that I wish I hadn’t.”
“This has to do with the girl at the diner? Zoe?” Michel’s question is plain and knowing.
“Yeah.” I don’t even ask how he knows.
“Son of a bitch,” he swears, staring out the window, away from me. “You have to end it.”
“That’s not necessary. I mean, yeah. I have to get away from her, but I haven’t actually done anything with her. Not really.”
Michel sighs and situates himself in his chair. His white collar is stark in the room, a glaring reminder that he’s everything that’s good in the world, and right now, I’m everything shitty.
“Do you know how many times I hear that in the confessional?” he asks. “Countless times. But, Father, I haven’t acted on it. But, Father, it was just emails. Or texts. I haven’t really sinned. I hear it all the time. I never thought I’d hear it from you, though. Jude, any time or attention that you place on someone other than your wife is infidelity. You’re being unfaithful to your wife right now. Do you realize that?”
“I’m not,” I protest, but his words slam into my heart.
“You are,” he argues. “Don’t try to tell me you haven’t done things. Phone calls or texts or lunches or whatever. I already know. I don’t know everything, but I know you, and I can see it on your face. You’ve got to put a stop to it. If you don’t, there will be severe consequences. Do you love your wife?”
“Of course I do.” My answer is immediate.
“Then end whatever this is with Zoe. She’s nothing to you, Jude. She might be lovely, but you’ve got a beautiful wife and a life you’ve worked hard for. Whatever you’re seeing in Zoe...it’s just because she’s new. That is all. End it immediately before it gets out of hand. I’m saying this as your brother, and I’m advising you as a priest.”
I stare at the floor. “I don’t even know how it got this far,” I finally admit. “She’s really into me and pays me attention, and, Jesus, it sounds so pathetic.”
Michel doesn’t argue. He’s simply silent.
“She started texting me, and I... It hasn’t gone very far,” I tell him. “I would never.”