She ordered a pot of black coffee at seven o'clock and put on a sweater and a pair of jeans. She went to the seven-thirty mass at St. Jean Baptiste on Lexington Avenue, and she held Brad's rosary beads in her hands, but she couldn't concentrate enough to say the prayers. She just knelt and stared into space. And when the mass ended, she walked back to the hotel. She didn't know what to do with herself all day. She wasn't due home till four or five, and she was afraid to go for a walk or leave the hotel, because she might run into them.
Brad called her when he got up. It was eleven o'clock for Faith, and he was worried about her, but she sounded all right. She said she was going to play it by ear when she got home. She just had to see how she felt, which Brad thought was reasonable.
“Just don't take any shit from him,” he reminded her, and for the first time since the day before, she smiled.
“I won't. I promise.”
“Call me when you can.” He was going out to play tennis with a friend, and he had promised to do an errand with Pam. She wanted a new stereo system for the living room, and he had said he would look at some with her. But he was carrying his cell phone, and told Faith to use it if she called the house and he was out. He was entirely available to her, and he didn't give a damn what comments Pam made. It was easy enough to explain to her, although he didn't think he would. He had nothing to feel guilty about, and neither did Faith. Their friendship was entirely clean, and completely pure. Unlike some of Pam's. He thought Pam might even feel sorry for Faith if she knew. She hated it when women were taken advantage of, or abused, and she would have told her just how to let Alex have it right between the eyes, better even than Brad could. But he was doing his best on her behalf.
Faith languished in her room all day, and at five o'clock, she called the bellman to carry her bags, and had the doorman call her a cab. She had too much stuff with her to walk the two blocks to the house. She let herself in with a shaking hand as she turned the key. The lights were on in the hall, and there was no sign of Alex. She assumed he was upstairs. She put her bags down in the hall, and walked slowly up to their room. The bed was made, and everything looked impeccable. She figured he must have made the bed himself. She wondered if he had had the decency to change the sheets, but she didn't look. He was sitting in his favorite chair by their bedroom fireplace, reading a book. He was the portrait of innocence itself. And he didn't even have the grace to look up at her, as she stood watching him. And for an instant, she felt a wave of disgust and hatred and hurt wash over her. She had to fight back tears.
“You're late,” he said, without looking up, and she couldn't believe his nerve. She didn't answer him, and he finally glanced up at her. She hadn't moved since she walked in. “How was the trip?”
She didn't answer his question, but proffered one of her own. “How was your week?” He could read nothing on her face, nor she on his.
“Long. Difficult. We had a lot of work.”
“That's nice,” she said, and sat down across from him. And as she did, she knew that she couldn't go on with the charade. She had to tell him the truth, as she knew it, whether or not he did.
“What did you do in Washington?” He could see something in her eyes, but he didn't know what it was. He kept talking to her while he tried to figure it out.
“What did you do in New York?”
“I told you,” he said, sounding irritated, “I worked. What do you think I did?” He was about to go back to his book, but stopped short at what she said.
“I'm not sure. I came home yesterday, Alex. We finished earlier than planned.”
“What do you mean you came home yesterday?” He looked stunned. But he made no admission of guilt.
“The professor's mother got sick and she had to leave, so some of us came home. I got in at two o'clock. I stopped to buy groceries, I thought I'd make something you really liked, and I came home. You know, kind of like Goldilocks … who's been sleeping in my bed? Whoever she is, she has fairly big feet, long black hair, and wears a thong.” His face went pale, but he said not a word for a long beat.
“Where've you been since yesterday?” he said accusingly, trying to turn the tables on her. Brad had warned her about that, so she was prepared. She wasn't buying it.
“I went to the Carlyle as soon as I figured out what you were doing here. I thought I'd spare us both the embarrassment of making a scene in front of her. What's happening, Alex? Who is she? How long has this been going on?” Her eyes never left his, and he had never seen her that way.
“That's irrelevant.” If he could have denied her existence entirely, Faith suspected, he would have. But there was no chance of that with everything she had seen. “If you weren't jaunting around pretending to be a kid, going to school, things like this wouldn't happen.” It was exactly what Brad had predicted he would do. He was trying to blame her for what he'd done.
“Does that mean when you go on business trips, you expect me to screw around, and it's your fault? That's pretty much the same thing.”
“Don't be ridiculous. I have to work for a living. You didn't have to go back to school.”
“And you think that gives you license to cheat on me? Wow, that's certainly one way to look at it.”
“I told you you were taking a risk when you went back to school.”
“I didn't realize your cheating on me was the risk you meant. We're playing for high stakes here, aren't we?” She was furious but she still didn't know what she wanted from him, or what the outcome would be. Neither of them was backing off and he was still trying to blame her. And as she looked at him, he got out of his chair and paced around the room.
“This is all your fault, Faith,” he accused without batting an eye. She couldn't believe her ears. “If you hadn't been such a damn fool about going back to school, this would never have happened. You threw our marriage out the window the day you did.”
“No.” Faith had white heat in her eyes and faced off with him. “You threw it out the day you brought that bitch into my bed. How dare you do such a thing!”
“How dare you speak to me that way! I won't tolerate that from you, Faith.” He was trying to fight fire with fire.
“You won't tolerate it? How do you think I felt when I came home and found her underwear in my bed and her hair in my sink?” There was very little he could say to that, but Faith wasn't prepared for what he said next. But he wasn't willing to let Faith have the upper hand.
“I'm moving out,” he said, and then walked into his bathroom and slammed the door. She could hear him slamming and banging in his dressing room, and twenty minutes later, as she sat on a chair looking stunned, he was carrying a valise. She didn't say a word to him. She couldn't even think of what to say.
“Where are you going?” She looked devastated. This was a nightmare come true. And suddenly she was wondering if it was her fault, if she had been too hard on him, if she was to blame because she'd gone to school. She didn't know which end was up anymore.
“I'm going to a hotel for the time being. You can call me at my office if you want to speak with me.” She wanted to tell him that her lawyers would, but she didn't want to jump the gun, just to have the last word. She didn't even know if she needed a lawyer yet, and she didn't want to ask him if she did.
“Are you in love with her, Alex?” Faith asked pathetically. She knew she'd hate to hear it from him if he was, but she wanted to know.
“It's none of your goddamn business whether or not I am,” he said viciously. Not once since she'd confronted him had he apologized to her.
“I think I have a right to know. Who is she?” Faith sounded calmer than she had. There was so much she wanted to know.