Chapter 43
Now
I’m going insane.
I’m not scheduled to work at the hospital, and Michael has been attached to my side, never letting me out of his sight.
I need to get away and call that number.
Cathy’s number.
But how? I can’t even step out of the room, and he’s on my tail. Usually, I would love the attention. But not today. It’s taking every ounce of control not to become enraged and kick him out. I’ve bitten my tongue twice, only to swallow a smile and act as if all is peachy. I will have all the facts this time before I start my interrogation. He should know the best manipulator trained me—Michael.
Rummaging through the cupboards, I pick my brain for something I know I don’t have.
And damn it if Michael doesn’t have everything in stock and perfectly organized.
Maybe he’s gotten better at this game.
Hmm.
Well, I better up mine.
“Hey, what about chicken cacciatore for tonight? My treat since you haven’t had a nice home-cooked meal in a while.”
“I don’t think we have any tomato paste.”
“Oh?”
You know you don’t, Mr.
Organized.
“Well, I’ll run to the store and grab some.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“No!”
Crap.
“I mean, you seem a bit wound up.
I’ll get it.
It’s fine.”
“Are you sure? Maybe a walk to the store will help.
Jill, I’m sorry if I seem edgy.
The last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable.”
Too late.
“You…don’t seem yourself…since you’ve been home.”
I watch his expression, detecting any signs.
There is a worried look on his face, and he walks over to me.
“I know, and I’m sorry.
Come here,”
Michael says and holds me in his arms.
“I must be making you a nervous wreck.
You’re trembling.”
He notices I’m a bundle of nerves.
I should just come out and say it.
‘Michael, I know you’re cheating again.’ But something tells me not yet.
“I guess I’m very concerned about you…and your business.
You seemed a bit too preoccupied when we spoke on the phone.”
“I know.
I’m sorry.
It’s nothing to do with you.
Just…something I feared would happen.”
Like ending up in bed with…Cathy?
“Michael, why don’t you get some rest? Take a little nap or maybe go see Bindi.
She was missing her grandpa.
I’ll pick up the items for the cacciatore and drop off your suits at the cleaners.”
“You sure? I do miss my little girl.
I’ll give Monica a call and make sure she’s home.”
“Great.
I’m sure Monica’s home.
Monday is usually her day off.”
He kisses my forehead, releases me from his arms, and pulls out his phone.
I need to see inside that phone.
If only texting had been invented when we were married before—investigating would have been much more accessible.
“Hey, Monica.
You home?”
He says, walking out and on his phone.
Quickly, I snatch up my phone, feel for the paper with Cathy’s number in my pocket, and dress to head to the store.
Now in the car, I only make it to the stop sign and pull over.
Michael left five minutes before me.
So, he won’t see me parked on the curb using my cell phone.
God, this is crazy.
I can’t believe I’m going through this again.
My hands are trembling, and my lungs feel as if I have run a marathon as I press in the number.
I don’t even know what I’m going to say, or what I’m going to hear.
If there’s no answer, should I leave a message? I concentrate on my tone.
Concerned? Fishing? Or, let the bitch out.
Lord knows she’s been hiding dormant for twenty years. Walked on for the three years we were married. And know we’re married again. And it’s happening…AGAIN! Okay, calm down, Jill. Let’s just start by being truthful. You’re his wife, and you have the right to know why her number was in your husband’s pocket. But, be the grown Jill. We are all adults now. I take in a deep breath, slowly let it out and hit send. It rings and on the third ring…she answers.
“Hello, this is Cathy.
What can I do for you?”
Her voice is…pleasant; professional.
Well of course it is.
She’s probably a high-priced call girl.
“Ahh, hi.
Um, I don’t know how to say this…”
“Yes? Is there something I can do for you?”
Stop seeing my husband for starters? I should just come out and say it.
I’m sure she deals with this stuff all the time and has an already prepared speech.
“My name is Jill, Jill Danforth…”
“Jill?”
“Yes, I found your number in my husband’s suit pocket.
And I think he was talking to you this morning.
Michael Danforth.”
Complete silence.
I don’t think she’s even breathing on the other end.
“Jill, you said your name was?”
“Yes.
Please, just be truthful with me.
Michael was unfaithful in the past.
And now we’re married…”
“Look, Jill,”
she cuts me off.
“I can’t discuss anything about Michael with you.
You will need to discuss this with him.”
“But…please.
I want the facts before I talk with Michael.”
“I can’t do that.
Please discuss this with your husband.
I’m sorry…”
“No, please…just tell me if he talked to you today.”
I hear her sigh into the phone.
“Yes, he called me today.
That’s all I can say.”
“Okay…thank you, I guess.”
“Goodbye,”
she says, and I hear the beeps when her call ends.
I drop the phone to my lap and cry with my head over the steering wheel—just like I did as a pregnant, married teenager years ago.
And you know what? It feels no different than it did twenty years ago.
What am I going to do?
“I’ll tell you what you’re going to do.”
Looking up, Tammy—Marilyn—sits in the passenger seat, blowing on her nails.
“Tammy.
Oh, Tammy.
It’s happening again.”
“Jill, dry it up.
Be strong.
We’ll get through this.”
“How? Why did you talk me into marrying him again?”
“Jill, I’m dead.
So, you can’t blame me.
I’m just a figure of your imagination.
And maybe this is too.”
“No.
It’s not.
I just talked to her—Cathy McGregor.”
“Who?”
“You know damn well who.”
“Jill, I’m dead.
I’m only in your head.
So, stop thinking I have some magical powers.”
“But you’re always here in times like these.”
“I was when I was alive.
Now, I’m here in spirit.
Your spirit.
And here’s what you’re going to do.
Drop off Michael’s suits, pick up the list of items—that you forgot to write down, and then you’re going to make Michael our chicken cacciatore.”
“And then what?”
“Talk to him.
Don’t accuse him of anything.
Maybe he’ll open up.”
“Open up? Hell no, he’s not going to open up.
You think he’s going to say, ‘Hey, Jill; by the way, I’m fucking around on you again.’”
“No, but he will know that you know something.
Let’s play it smart this time.
I’ll get you through this.”
And then…she disappears.
My phone rings and I jump.
Michael’s name lights up the screen.
I look in the rearview mirror and wipe my eyes.
Clearing my throat, I answer as calmly as I can.
Play it smart.
“Hey, Michael.
What’s up?”
Sounded convincing.
Yeah, what’s really up?
“I have someone here who wants to talk to you.”
Oh shit! Is it Cathy? Did Cathy call him right after I called her?
“Oh?”
“Gammy.”
Shew.
It’s Bindi.
“Hi, Baby Bindi.
Are you with Grandpa?”
I don’t hear her answer, but I know she’s nodding her head.
“It’s me again.
Hey, Baby.
I got Bindi for the night.
So, I hope that’s okay with you.”
How are we going to talk with a baby in the house?
“No, that’s fine.
Want me to pick something up for her?”
“No, she’s had your cacciatore before.
I just cut it up really small.”
God, Michael.
Why are you doing this? You’ve become the perfect husband, father, and grandfather.
Why do you want to ruin what we have?
“Okay, maybe some ice cream?”
“Bindi,”
I hear Michael say, “You want Grammy to get you ice cream? That’s a big nod.”
“Okay, I’m just leaving the cleaners.”
Lie.
“I’ll be home soon.
Kiss Bindi for me.”
“I will.”
I start to end the call when he says, “I love you, Jill.”
“I love you too, Michael.”
And that’s why it hurts so much.
. . . . .
It’s been two days of biting my tongue into oblivion.
Michael has been overly sweet, attentive, loving, and regretting the past.
And maybe that’s how older men have affairs.
Kill their wives with kindness while having sex with other women.
At the same time, the younger ones find fault with what they have because there’s something different they want. I’m not too fond of both.
Today is my half-day at the hospital, and I’ve called Cathy’s number six more times.
Only to have it go to voicemail.
She has my number now.
Indeed, she’s said something to Michael.
If she has, he hasn’t said anything. I do detect something in his demeanor. Last night before bed, he sat up and waited for me while I brushed my teeth. He looked like he wanted to talk when I walked in.
“Hey, what’s on your mind?” I ask..
“You.
Always you.
Never doubt that.”
It was hard to accept his sweet talk, and I tried to get it out of him.
“Michael is…is there something going on?”
He looked at me intently, about to spill something.
He looked down and then pulled me to him.
“I just have a lot of regrets.
That’s all.
Let’s focus on what we have left.”
“Left?”
“Now.
Let’s focus on us, our life and do all those things you talk about when we were young.
Maybe you should quit your job.
We could travel around.”
“But, what about Monica and Jordan, and Bindi?”
“We’d be back.
Maybe take Bindi on vacation with us.”
Did he want me gone, so as not to find him with Cathy?
“Michael, I can’t quit my job.
I love my job.”
“Okay, but the offer still stands if you change your mind,”
he said and turned off the lights.
As he slept, I watched his face in the moonlight and wished I could climb into his mind.
Pulling in, I park in the garage and see that Michael is not home.
Perhaps he took Bindi to the park.
But, it’s pretty cold today.
This will give me time to search for something.
But what? All his expenses are paid through his business. How clever. I must be cleverer.
I throw my purse and bag of scrubs down and run to the computer.
Tapping on Michael’s expense account in the Danforth Jet Center file, it opens, and I scan my eyes down the columns.
But everything looks legit.
Of course, it’s not like he’s going to put a column for sex.
Look. Look. It has to be here. And then I spot it. The travel log column. Where’s his flight ticket? Nothing in here shows any expense, travel, or food for the last year. The previous travel expense was dated two years ago. Yet, everything else has dates of at least two days ago. Why wouldn’t he add last week’s travel expense?
I hear the door from the garage into the kitchen close.
Michael.
I minimize the excel spreadsheet and crane my neck to see if he’s coming.
“Michael? Is that you, Honey?”
He doesn’t answer, but I hear him talking to someone.
He’s on his phone.
I wait for the screen to go dark before leaving and walk out to find him on the phone.
He looks up, and his face changes expressions.
“Look, I can’t talk right now.”
He seems very upset and ends the call.
“Is everything alright?” I ask.
“Just…some shit at the jet center,”
he says, running his hand through his hair.
“Michael, what’s going on at the jet center? I’m tired of you keeping me in the dark.”
His head swings back, and his eyes show anger.
“I think we should talk about it.”
“Jill, I don’t want to talk about it.
I don’t want to talk about anything.”
He is angry—and frustrated. At me?
“Don’t bite my head off, Michael.
Something is going on, and I have a right to know, don’t I?”
“I’m sorry.
I…it’s just been a frustrating day.”
Looking around, I notice I don’t see Bindi.
“Where’s Bindi? Isn’t she with you?”
“I dropped her off at home.”
“With who? Monica and Jordan don’t get home for another hour.”
“Jill, will you stop badgering me?”
A wave of panic runs through me.
The room is dead silent as he looks at me with fear in his eyes.
“I didn’t mean that.
I’m sorry.
It’s just been a bad day.”
“Was Bindi being a handful today….”
“No, and I called Monica to see if she could get off early.
I had to meet with associates from the jet center in town.”
“Well, why didn’t you call me?”
“Jill, I don’t know.”
His voice is rough, and he’s becoming angry again.
We stare at each other, and I can’t take it any longer.
“Who’s Cathy?”
He stares at me in disbelief; then, that anger rises.
“She’s nobody,”
he says and begins to walk away.
“You think I don’t know, Michael? I was trained by the best—you.
I found her number in your suit pocket.”
He stops and turns around.
“What’s this about, Jill?”
“I think you know.
You’re back to having your affairs again.”
His smile is all too condescending as he shakes his head.
“That’s what you think.
I’m sleeping around?”
“Why would I not think that?”
He doesn’t respond and walks away.
“That’s right, Michael, just walk away like you did before.”
Still no response as he shuts the bedroom door hard, and I jump.
I’m about to run to the room when the doorbell rings.
Shit, not now.
Moving the blinds, I see Casey standing on the porch and go to open the door.
“Casey, what’s up? Is everything okay?
“Yes, is Michael home?”
Why would she need to speak with Michael?
“Yes, he’s in the shower,”
I say, and I see Bindi’s favorite teddy bear in her hand.
The one she naps with.
“I forgot this when Michael picked her up today.
I know she can’t sleep without it.
And could you tell Michael that I switched my classes around? And I’ll be able to watch Bindi next week as well?”
“You’ve been watching Bindi?”
“Yes, the last few weeks.
It’s not a problem.
It’s kind of a nice distraction with Mom gone and all.”
I have no idea how to respond, so I take the teddy bear and thank her.
“I’m glad, and thanks for bringing it over.
I’ll let Monica know we have it.
And I’ll let Michael know, too.”
Boy, will I ever, I think, squeeze the bear.
When I look back at Casey, Tammy, not as Marilyn, is standing beside her daughter.
Tammy strokes her hair, but I know she’s only my imagination.
“Okay, thanks.
Bye, Jill.”
“Bye, Casey.
Tell your dad and sisters I said hello.”
“I will.”
Shutting the door, I hear Tammy.
“I miss them all so much.
I can’t believe she’s in college.
Looks like they’re doing well.
It’s the best I can expect.”
“Now, why are you here?”
I say to a figure of my imagination.
“It better be to offer me support.”
She’s not looking at me but past me.
There’s a faraway look in her eyes.
Then, I finally hear her.
“That’s not why I am here, Jill,”
she whispers and walks away.
I watch her move to the door, where Michael is on the other side.
She looks at me, then disappears.
Get a grip, Jill.
I march to the bedroom and start to open it when I hear Michael speaking quietly on his phone.
I carefully crack open the door and see him pacing and whispering.
“I can’t do this anymore.
I hate lying to her.”
A pause.
“She called you? When? Fuck! She said she found your number.
You didn’t tell her anything, did you? Because she’s been acting suspiciously.”
Cathy.
He’s talking to Cathy.
I should bust in there and tell his ass to get out.
But instead, I continue to listen.
“Yes, I have a sitter for my granddaughter all of next week. God, this has got to work. I can’t lose everything again.”
I can’t take it any longer and push open the door.
Michael swings his head, looking at me with fear.
I don’t walk in but stand in the doorway, my arms crossed.
“Look, I have to go.”
“No, you don’t, Michael.
Continue your talk with Cathy in front of me.”
He looks at the teddy bear in my hands.
“Casey dropped this off.”
His chest heaves with defeat.
“She’s here.
Yes, right here in the room with me.”
Amazingly, I’m able to stand because I’m shaking so badly.
“I can’t tell her,”
he says, dropping the phone on the bed and walking into the bathroom.
I walk over and pick up his phone.
“You’ll have to talk to me now.
Michael has left the room.”
“Jill, can you please hand Michael the phone? I need to speak with him.”
“No, you speak with me.
And then, you can talk to Michael as much as you want.
Because as of today, he’s out of here.”
I stand in the bathroom doorway and look at Michael, who looks at me in the mirror.
His look is total defeat.
“Jill, just one second.
Let me speak to Michael, and then I’ll have him return the phone to you.”
“Here, you high-priced whore needs to speak with you,”
I say, handing Michael the phone.
He takes the phone and presses his eyes shut.
“Yes, tell my wife everything.”
Handing the phone back to me, he walks out, and I put the phone back to my ear.
“Hello.”
“Jill, I’m Michael’s oncologist, Dr.
Cathy McGregor.
Michael has stage four cancer.”