The next text from Dan was marked 10:09 last night.
Hoped to hear from you before getting to bed early. Still trying to get my body clock adjusted for the four a.m. wake-up call on Monday. Why didn’t you call/text tonight? Everything OK? D xxx
Is everything OK? Actually, falling in love has made everything beyond OK. It has changed the landscape of my existence. But if I indicated now that ‘we need to have a serious talk’ — a hint that things between us had, as far as I was concerned, reached the endgame phase — I knew that he might start bombarding me with calls or texts today. And I wanted this day with my love to be free of such interference. There would be seriously trying days ahead with Dan; a rite of painful passage I’d have to negotiate, and help him through as well (though I already sensed that his initial shock would be usurped by rage when he knew that I was in love with another man). But for now.
Hi there. Girls’ night out yesterday evening with three radiologists. A little too much wine ingested. Am suffering bad head this morning. Remember my friend Sandy Nelson? Working at Mass General in Radiology. She’s asked me over for dinner to her home in Somerville tonight.
In the recent past I would have read through even the most benign text to Dan several times over before dispatching it — because I had become so super-conscious of my husband’s ability to find grievance in even the most seemingly straightforward of words. But this morning I just hit the ‘send’ button on my phone, while hearing Richard next door tell the realtor:
‘So if you can get a yes from the seller today I can come in and see you at your Mass Ave office tomorrow at nine a.m. to sign the paperwork, and arrange my bank to transfer the deposit — a deposit that will be refundable if my surveyor finds something very wrong with the place. But that’s not going to happen, right? OK, I’ll keep my phone on this morning and afternoon. But tell the guy, the offer is non-negotiable. And as you know, I’m a cash buyer.’
Bing. A new text on my phone. As expected, from Dan:
Envy you the night out. And dinner with Sandy sounds like fun. Hope hospital will cover extra night at hotel.
Leave it to Dan to think about the extra cost. But I decided to put his mind to rest:
Sandy asked me to stay the night — so no cost involved. Hope you’ll get a good sleep tonight — and that new job turns out better than you imagine. It’s a good re-start, and will hopefully lead to better things. L xxx
As I dispatched this, a thought crossed my mind: might Dan somehow try to contact Sandy during the course of the evening? Then again, he hadn’t seen Sandy in years — we’d first met when we were both doing the radiographic technicians course at Southern Maine Community College — and she dropped in to see us with her then new husband (whom she subsequently divorced) once thereafter in 2002. We’d kept in touch since then by email — and I knew she was now living with a new man in Somerville. But if Dan couldn’t get through to me on my cellphone — that is, if he even tried to get through — would he call Information for Somerville and try to find Sandy’s number? Maybe I should give her a call and ask her to cover for me just in case. But I’d then have to explain everything to a woman I consider more an acquaintance than a friend. Maybe I am being wildly over-cautious here. Maybe this is the reason why I am so glad that Richard and I have cut straight to the chase, and are starting a life immediately together. No months of sneaking around. No cavalcade of lies, or the need to invent scenarios to cover our tracks. Just the blunt truth: I’ve fallen in love. Our marriage is over. I’m moving out.
But in the meantime, there were certain essential immediate things to take care of. Such as.
A fast text to my colleague Gertie: could she cover my morning shift tomorrow?
Bing. Gertie texted me right back:
Let me cover your whole day tomorrow — if you are willing to do my all-day Saturday shift this weekend. Would love to get out of it.
Great news. This meant I wouldn’t have to rush back early tomorrow morning. More time with Richard. I texted straight back:
You’ve got a deal. Can you please inform hospital admin today that we’re trading shifts. You’re a star. L xxx
And then there was a very important text I needed to send to Lucy:
Can’t talk right now. But something rather momentous has arrived in my life — and I was wondering if I might be able to drop by tomorrow sometime? Is that apartment of yours over the garage still available?
Well, that was being all but direct. But Lucy was my best friend. And I needed a best friend to talk to before I dropped the bombshell on Dan.
Bing. My luck was holding when it came to instant responses.
Well now you have me more than curious! Am just working morning tomorrow at library, so drop by whenever after 1 p.m. Yes, the apartment is still empty. If you need it, it’s there. And if you can talk, I’m around all day today. So want to know the story behind all this intrigue. Love — Lucy
Intrigue. How I wanted to text back: It’s not intrigue. It’s the love story of the century! Prudence stopped me from such rashness. Anyway, Lucy would know the entire saga tomorrow. So I just wrote:
All will be revealed when we meet. You’re a great friend.
Bing.
Oh God, Dan again.
Seems like you’re doing your best to stay away from home as long as you can. and who can blame you, right? I mean, who would want to come home to me? But thanks for wishing me well in the new job. Really appreciated.
Now I did feel aggrieved. This was Dan’s ongoing repertoire, his schtick. Having made reconciliatory gestures here he was again, being bad-tempered and small — and knowing so well that such behavior always disquieted me.
As I read this a coldness — one that I had always fought off in the past — took hold of me, letting me know: This is truly finished.
‘Some bad news?’ Richard asked. I looked up from my phone, trying to wipe the tension off my face, then telling myself: Why don’t you, from the outset of this new love, make a commitment towards communicating what is actually on your mind. rather than self-censoring and shoving all that you are thinking, feeling, under the proverbial carpet. So:
‘My husband is making me feel bad about spending an extra day to see an old friend in Boston. And he’s also letting me know he already hates the job he’ll be starting tomorrow.’
‘He never really saw how wonderful you are, did he?’
I shut my eyes and felt tears.
‘You lovely, lovely man,’ I said.
He came over and put his arms around me.
‘You are extraordinary,’ he said.
‘As are you. And I bet that’s something she’s never told you.’
He just shrugged. And said:
‘Does that even matter anymore?’
I kissed him. Then said:
‘You’re right. All that matters is—’
‘Us.’
We began to kiss again. Deeply this time, our hands slipping into each other’s bathrobes.
Bing. It was Richard’s cellphone. He ignored it, especially as we were both so quickly aroused. Bing. The tone again. And when it went ignored again, the actual phone then started to ring.