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toward the wall near the bedroom door. Drained, I leaned against it for support.
Andrew followed me, but he stayed a few steps away from me. “I told you because I wanted to. Because you deserved to know. And because I hoped that somewhere in your heart, you could find a way to forgive me for being so weak. And stupid. I messed up, but this doesn’t have to be the end of our marriage.”
“Wow. Thanks for the heartfelt, unbiased advice, you asshole. Don’t you dare tell me how I should feel and what I should do, because I’m going to decide what happens next. You don’t get to have an affair and still make the decisions about our future. If you cared about our future, you never would have done something so…” My voice trailed off. I stifled a cry.
Andrew reached for me. “Baby.”
“Fuck you!” I snapped. The anger was back. Big time. “Now leave. Because I can’t stand the sight of you.”
3
I didn’t ask where Andrew was going. I didn’t care. He could be running straight to his girlfriend and planning to serve me with divorce papers, it didn’t matter. If he wanted that slut he’d screwed, he could have her.
That’s what I told myself, but in my heart I didn’t believe my bold words. I might have wanted to hate Andrew for turning my world upside down, but a person can’t turn her feelings off in an instant. The truth was, I loved him, and that made the pain infinitely more intense. That and the fact that what he’d done had come as an utter shock. I thought that Andrew and I had a good, happy marriage. And people in happy marriages don’t cheat.
I spent the night alternately crying, fuming and wishing I could start this day over. I’d give anything to be back in the Bahamas, hungover and sleep deprived. At least then I’d been sleep deprived because I’d been overdosing on fun.
Now, as sunlight spilled through the blinds signaling morning, I felt nauseous and numb. My throat was parched, and my stomach was lurching. I needed water. Something inside my stomach. But I didn’t have energy to even get out of bed.
Why? That was the question I asked myself in the moments I wasn’t crying or dozing. Why would Andrew do this to me? To us. And he had the audacity to claim that he still wanted to be with me, wanted our marriage.
I didn’t understand.
My head hurt from thinking about Andrew’s bombshell, so I closed my eyes. Closed my eyes and willed the pain to dissipate.
I must have drifted off, because I jolted awake when I thought I heard a sound in the house. Slowly, I raised my head. Was that Peaches?
It had to be. She wasn’t in the bedroom with me, which meant she was somewhere else in the house. She’d likely knocked something over, but I couldn’t be bothered to get up and check it out.
I closed my eyes then whipped them open when I heard the bedroom door open. Now I knew that it wasn’t Peaches.
Andrew had come back?
Marnie poked her head through the doorway.
“Marnie?” I asked, wondering if I might be hallucinating.
She rushed into the room. “Oh, honey. What’s going on?”
“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
She plopped down onto the bed beside me, her face full of concern as she regarded me. “Andrew called. And I’m glad he did. My God—your eyes are nearly swollen shut.”
“Andrew called you?”
“Yes.” Marnie placed her hand on my forehead, feeling for a temperature. “You’re not that warm, but I’ve never seen you look this awful before. I should take you to the doctor.”
“Andrew said I was sick?”
“He just said that you might need me.”
“Hmm.” Gripping Marnie’s arm for support, I rose to a sitting position. “I need water.”
“Of course.” Marnie was on her feet in a flash. She left the bedroom and returned within a minute, holding a tall glass filled with ice and water.
I sipped, then gulped down the entire glass. I’d needed water more than I’d thought.
“I’m not sick,” I said, my voice still weak.
“Then tell me what’s going on.”
“Excuse me.” I climbed off the bed. “I need to use the bathroom.”
I made my way to the ensuite bathroom, moving slowly. I knew Marnie was concerned and confused, but she’d learn the truth soon enough.
When I saw my reflection in the mirror, I gasped. Awful was an understatement. My hair was a mess, my eyes red and swollen. I wore an expression that was beyond dejected. I looked haunted.
Given my physical appearance, including the clothes I’d been wearing from the day before that were now wrinkled, a stranger might look at me and think I’d just survived a rape.
I relieved myself, then washed my face and drank more water. My stomach grumbled, and for the first time since last night, I felt hunger pangs as opposed to nausea.
Marnie didn’t just look concerned as I walked back into the bedroom, she looked scared. “I’ve got to tell you, I’m starting to freak out here, Sophie.”
“Andrew…” I paused. Swallowed. “Andrew had an affair.”
“What?” Marnie asked, aghast.
I couldn’t repeat the words, only nod.
“He’s leaving you?”
I sank onto the mattress beside Marnie. “He says he still loves me. Still wants me.”
“What?” Marnie was outraged.
Her anger helped fuel my own. I’d spent an entire night depressed over Andrew’s betrayal, but I needed to pull myself together. Andrew had hurt me enough, and wallowing in self-pity was simply going to add to my pain.
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Shocker, huh?”
“Oh, sweetie. Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.” Marnie paused. “Have you eaten anything?” Like that was the answer to my crisis.
“Nothing.”
“Let me fix you some food.”
“Where’s Peaches?”
“She ran outside when I opened the door. Look, the cat’s going to be fine. It’s you I’m worrying about.”
I nodded.
Tugging on my hand, Marnie pulled me up from the bed. “I know what you’re going through. Believe me. And I’m going to help you deal with it.”
“Thanks.”
I walked with her to the kitchen, but she insisted that I sit in the living room and put my feet up. I did, and for lack of anything better to do, I turned on the television.
The Maury Pauvich Show was on, dealing with unruly kids who were going to be sent off to boot camp. I’d seen several shows of this variety, with bold and foul-mouthed children balking at any authority, only to end up weeping and begging for their mothers after a few days of military-enforced submission.
“They should have boot camp like this for cheating husbands,” I commented.
“What?” Marnie asked.
I could see her working in the kitchen, getting the skillet hot to fry eggs. She already had coffee brewing.
“I’m watching Maury Pauvich, and they’ve got out-of-control teens that they’re sending to boot camp. I think he ought to do a show where they send cheating men to boot camp. I’d tune in for that one.”
“Wasn’t he