Broken Country (Reese’s Book Club)

45. Wednesday Evening

Wednesday Evening

“It’s the pub every night now, is it?” I say, trying to keep my voice light when Frank gets up from the table the moment our supper is finished.

“So it would seem.” He’s trying to sound lighthearted, too, but I pick out the tension in his voice, and the sadness.

Frank does not ask me if I want to go with him as he might have done even a week ago. We ate our cheesy baked potatoes in near silence, me hating myself for every attempt at conversation. There is nothing in my head except, “Are we going to be all right?” “Please don’t hate me,” and, endlessly, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” From time to time, I caught him watching me, but it was impossible to know what he was thinking.

“Frank—” I say, as he’s about to go out the front door.

He turns around. Waits. “Yes?” he asks, when I can think of nothing to say.

Nothing and everything.

“Have a good time” is all I manage, cursing myself silently for the inanity of this.

“Good night, Beth,” he says.

Already we are becoming strangers.

Alone now, I walk around the kitchen, unable to quell the storm of thoughts. What should I do? Please, someone, anyone, tell me what to do. There is no one I can turn to, no one who could offer advice without chastising me with their words or their eyes, their judgment. How is it you continue to hurt your husband like this? A man who has loved you from the very beginning? It’s because I am innately bad, all the way through. I must be, for how else would I be able to betray Frank like this, not once, but day after day? How is it that even now, with the blackest of hearts, I will go to bed longing for the morning to come. For in the morning there is Gabriel again.