Chapter 2 Anna—Late nights and mystery apps
Sipping her Diet Coke and listening to Mel and Rosa chat about rosters, Anna stared at her chicken sandwich and burst into tears. Mel put her hand over Anna’s and looked at Rosa sadly, seeking some kind of direction.
“Alright babe, what can we do? We need to sort this out, even if I have to buy a magnifying glass and overcoat and follow that sorry asshole myself,” Rosa declared.
“I’m just over it. I’ve given him so many opportunities to tell me what’s wrong. I know he’s worried about his mom, I know he’s stressed about work, but he wasn’t even this moody or unpredictable when his dad died,” Anna sobbed.
“If this was a romance novel, you’d check his phone and smell his clothes when he got home,” Mel helpfully supplied.
“Then, we’d track down the other woman, who’d inevitably give us world-class drama, and we’d take our revenge by hosing her down or something.
” Mel paused. “Nah, not hosing. Too tame. Something bigger. But legal, of course.”
“I could fuck her husband or boyfriend if she has one,” Rosa generously offered.
“But it isn’t a novel Mel; it’s a real-life problem.
But as I said, I am happy to do the stalking option,” Rosa continued.
“I already stalked his social media, but he’s done nothing in six months except review a restaurant and criticize ‘limp salad’ and share stupid inspirational corporate messages about striving and following your destined path or some bullshit. ”
“I’ll sort it out. Maybe I’m just being too sensitive,” Anna sniffled. “I know I can be. But, I mean, we’re still having sex. Not as much, but he doesn’t seem any different in that way.”
Rosa snorted. “Hah! That’s not an indication.
My dad was playing the dutiful husband in all ways while screwing knock-kneed Pauline all those years.
It’s why my cheating senses are so finely tuned.
They’re cake eaters. Of course he’s intimate with you.
He doesn’t want to lose his fiancée, the woman doing his housework and partnering him to his work events.
He’s also an arrogant dick. If he can have sex with two women, he’ll do it. ”
“That’s not helpful Rosa,” Mel admonished. “We have no proof he’s cheating. You could be accusing a good man here without any evidence at all. Even Anna doesn’t think it’s cheating, and she’s the one who should be paranoid and suspicious.”
“Cheating or not, he’s not a good man. You know my feelings on that Mel, so does Anna.
She’s so far out of his league he needs a space shuttle to catch her.
Seriously Anna, you can do better. He doesn’t treat you right, you’re never a priority, and he wears those ugly pointed shoes.
What kind of man is willing to sacrifice his pinkie toe to look like a Wall Street knob?
He cares about image. Anna, you’re a beautiful, kind, talented person.
You should be loved for that, so loved that you never have doubts about where you sit in his life.
You tick all his boxes, but he’s got the wrong boxes.
You’re hot, you look good on his arm. You have a career that he isn’t threatened by because he’s a dick who doesn’t appreciate the arts.
My abuela doesn’t like him, and she likes everyone, even her cheating bastard of a son.
” Rosa stared intently at her, with her mouth fixed in a sympathetic frown.
“I can’t think about this right now. I’ll check his phone when I get home, but I honestly don’t know what I’m looking for,” Anna replied.
“Suspiciously warm messages with a male name as the contact. Messages with just times, dates, or locations. Messages marked with a corporate name but that seem personal. Basically, anything that seems out of place, or attached to a name you’ve never heard.
Pauline was in Dad’s phone as ‘Leon – plumber.’” Rosa maintained steady eye contact with Anna as she drained her bottle of water.
Buzz.
Anna’s phone vibrated, displaying a message.
Mason: Gonna work late tonight. Save me dinner? Home about 9:30.
“Another late night. Guess I’ll be checking his phone much later,” Anna sighed. Rosa exchanged a glance with Mel. “Let me know when you want to launch the Asshole Stalking Program Anna. I’m here for it.”
______________________
Anna struggled to keep herself busy in the lead up to Mason’s return home.
The house was relatively clean, her sewing was up to date and Barnabus was fed, though he was still begging for more.
She stroked the cat’s soft fur. Barnabus was an unpredictable floofer.
One minute, he was sweet and friendly, the next, he’d turn on his fat little furred feet and show you his asshole.
He wasn’t a scratcher or a biter, but he certainly made his disdain known if he didn’t have time for you.
Mason slunk in the door, looking exhausted.
“Hi Anna. What a fucking day. Lilah is pushing her bitchy face in my business again and Kate is insisting that we work together on the new account. Kate’s been managing us for years. She should know we’re like water and oil. She takes a swipe at me at every available opportunity.”
Anna walked over and rubbed his back. “Want me to heat up dinner?”
“Nah, but thanks. I’ll take it for lunch tomorrow.
We ended up getting takeout,” Mason said through a yawn.
“I’m gonna hit the shower.” He kissed her lips, put his briefcase on the sofa, and wandered off to the bedroom.
Mason was a good-looking guy. He was self-conscious about his height, which was ridiculous.
At 5’11”, he stood well over Anna’s 5’3” frame.
He had a muscular build and thick black hair.
His rich, chocolate-colored eyes were one of Anna’s favorite things about him.
She complimented him frequently, knowing his need for assurance.
For a handsome, well-built man, he had so many complexes.
Anna was comfortable with herself. She didn’t imagine she was any great beauty, but her friends disagreed.
She was brunette, with blonde highlights.
Her eyes were a basic blue, but big, and she did like their cat-like shape.
As a dancer, she had a slim body. Not much of a butt, but plenty of boobage, as Rosa called it.
These days, she was neutral about her boobs.
They’d killed her ballet aspirations, and as a teen, that infuriated her.
After weeks of not eating and trying to trim down, her dad had put his foot down.
Madame Celeste had insisted that body shape didn’t affect ballet ability, but Anna felt intimidated by the slim, willow-like bodies of her ballet peers and frustrated at her mother’s genetic boob legacy.
She had given up ballet and discovered she much preferred modern and ballroom dance anyway.
She still taught ballet but didn’t need to be a prima ballerina to teach kids under 10!
Once she heard the water running, Anna opened his case.
Boring. Just a bunch of work papers, a pack of gum, and some old lanyards and ID passes.
Gross. Dried old snotty tissues too. She crept into the bedroom, listening to his rendition of Nirvana’s “Drain You.” It was pretty bad, but she loved it when he sang in the shower.
Something in her lightened; he was the old Mason tonight.
She slipped her hand into his jacket pocket, taking out his phone.
He hadn’t changed his code. That was a good sign according to Mel.
In her novels, the cheater always changed his access code.
Not Mason. His code was still her birthday.
She opened his texts. Nothing that interesting.
Thinly veiled insults between Lilah and Mason, texts from his mom about her broken heater, and a few gym memes from his friend Brendan.
She searched all his texts for “love,” “baby,” and “fiancée,” but found nothing interesting.
She was about to lock the phone when she noticed a red icon.
He had the Hudson’s Bank app. Why? They banked with First National.
She opened the app and tried her birthday as his passcode.
It didn’t work. Neither did his birthdate.
That was weird. Why did he have a different account?
They had a few joint accounts between them and that was it.
Was it his mom’s? Did he look after her banking when she was in hospital and the rehab center?
She heard the spraying of deodorant and quickly returned the phone to his jacket pocket.
This may be nothing, but if it was something, Mel said she shouldn’t surrender what she knew because she should never give him time to hide evidence of the other woman or concoct a convincing story.
The lightness she felt earlier left her.
She still couldn’t believe he was a cheater, but the gambling theory could explain the app.
He was hiding his spending. He was receiving more commissions than ever but was he directing them to another account at Hudson’s and using them to play poker?
Years earlier, when they’d only been together for year, Mason had confessed to a gambling problem.
He’d grown up not exactly poor, but probably on the border of it.
Anna had admired his courage in confessing his problem and seeking support.
He’d confronted his feelings about not feeling like “enough,” and had worked hard to end his habit.
With the help of his mom and Anna, Mason had recovered.
He’d shifted his priorities from money, status symbols, and approval to happiness with Anna, closeness with his mom and sister, and a steady career.
No. It couldn’t be gambling or cheating. Anna’s relief was short lived. If it wasn’t that, what was it? Was he unhappy with her? The thought made her heart hurt and her breaths shallow.