35
“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t interrupt if it weren’t an emergency.” I tell Wanda. Wanda was Leeland’s assistant and she stayed in the role when Adam took over. She’s brilliant at her job, almost as cranky as her boss, and about sixty years old. I’ve always liked that I didn’t have to worry about Adam and a young female executive assistant.
Why did I never consider that that could go both ways?
“I understand.” Wanda says. She is a little shocked to see me. It’s been years since I’ve come to the office unannounced during the day.
“Susan?” Adam says when he exits the elevator. He looks good, polished. Button up shirt and slacks, no tie, of course. His face is twisted with worry. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything’s fine.” I start. “Not the boys or anything. Everyone is okay.” I say the words but he can see I’m a mess. His shoulders relax, but his face doesn’t. Obviously something is wrong or I wouldn’t be here interrupting his day.
I lead the way into his office.
“Does she need to hold my calls?” Adam asks me.
“Um, probably?” I answer, not sure what is about to happen. Will he yell? At me? Will he demand an account of every interaction I can think of with my assistant over the last year, like my Dad and my lawyer did?
“What’s up?” He says after closing the door and crossing to his desk. It’s a beautiful piece he carved himself years ago. It’s really the only thing in here that’s him. The rest is still very much Leeland’s office with old Bell documents and land maps, awards, photos of family members with celebrities and moguls, even a shot with Leeland and a former president of the United States.
He sets his phone down and unbuttons his shirt sleeves to roll them. I set my bag down in the chair beside me. But I can’t sit.
“Houston, we have a problem.” I say like a nervous idiot. “I mean, there’s, um, been a situation.”
“Okay?” He says absently, focusing on his sleeves and not me.
“I didn’t want you to hear some version of the story from someone other than me but, I, uh, I had to let Bobby go.”
“Your assistant?” He looks up, somewhat interested.
“Yeah.” I swallow, working to keep my voice even. Stick to the facts. “He hit on me. I was going to transfer him, obviously. And now he’s blackmailing me.”
Finally, Adam is paying attention. He’s looking at me, not moving. Not breathing, maybe?
He inhales.
When he exhales, he’s confused. “Your gay assistant? Bobby?”
“Huh? He’s not gay, he was never gay.”
He works his jaw and then looks away. His voice is garbled. “Blackmail you with what?”
I shake my head, getting weepy. “That’s what the lawyers said and I don’t know! Text messages he’s going to try and twist maybe? Or photos he took that I don’t know about?”
“Susan,” he says, his voice worsening, low and tight. “Did you sleep with him?”
“What! No! Are you serious? I would never do that to you.”
“Did anything else happen?”
“No, he hit on me and I told him to leave, last night. That was it.”
“Did he hurt you?” He asks, sounding more angry than concerned.
“No, it wasn’t a big thing.”
“Did he force—”
“No! No. He tried to give me a neck massage and it was clear what he was doing,”
His hands fist at his sides but his voice remains low and level. “Well, then, what could he have on you?”
“I don’t know!” I cry again. “I can’t figure it out.”
“So he’s bluffing.” He relaxes a fraction. “It…it’ll blow over.” He looks away. Silence falls between us and I wait for more. It doesn’t come.
“That’s it?” I ask. “‘It’ll blow over?’”
He runs his hand over his face.
I realize then that maybe it’s so easy for him to imagine me cheating because…
“Are you sleeping with someone?”
“What?” He jerks his head back like I’ve slapped him. He sneers, “No. I think we both know I’m not sleeping with anyone these days.”
“And there it is.” I snipe right back. “Are we finally going to talk about our marriage now?”
“No.” He stands up and looks at his closed door. “We can talk about it at home.”
I dip my chin, “We don’t have the best of luck with that.”
“Well, we’re sure as hell not going to get into it at the office.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
“I guess we’re done then,” I grab my purse. “I just didn’t want you to hear crazy rumors or assume the worst. I wanted to talk to you first and I’ve done that.”
He nods, dismissing me.
Wow.
I turn to go and pause at the door when he says, “Susan. Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, short and sweet. Still angry and shocked and confused.
He goes on, “You’ll be fine. Canton’ll be fine. This is what your lawyers are for.”
His voice is flat.
Unmoved.
I just told him another man made a move on me and he’s talking about lawyers.
I don’t respond, I just leave. As I make my way back to my car, blinking away tears, I send a few texts and make a few plans for this evening. It’s time.
_____
“Susan?” Adam says from the kitchen I think. I make my way out from the closet where I just changed. I have on a big thick sweatshirt. Comforting. A layer of protection.
“Where are the boys?” He asks when he sees me.
“At your mom’s. For the night.” He sighs, looking down, hands on hips. “I ordered barbecue.” I gesture to the table.
He nods and says, “I’m going to go change.”
I’m sitting at the dinner table when he comes back but I haven’t bothered making a plate. There’s no way I can eat. He sits down across from me. He doesn’t grab a plate either.
I clear my throat.
“Are you happy, Adam?”
He huffs and grabs the back of his neck. “That’s what we’re starting with? Happy? Are you happy?”
“No. I mean, sometimes, but…not a lot of the time.” He shrugs as if I’ve just proved some point of his. “I mean, work is stressful for both of us, the boys are a lot right now and they have been exhausting for a long time, but, I still love a lot about our life.” He clenches his back teeth, staring a hole through the table. “Do you?”
He glares at me. “You know I do.”
I scoff, “No. I don’t. All I know is you’re angry. So angry all the time. We don’t go out, we don’t talk, we don’t laugh, we don’t have sex anymore, what…what are we doing?”
More tension in his jaw.
“Are you…in love with someone else?” I ask, kind of surprising myself.
“What the hell? You’re the one with the lawsuit happening, not me!”
“Yeah, and that you didn’t get mad about.”
He stands, exasperated, “What, so now you want me to be mad?”
“No, but you didn’t answer my question, did you. Maybe you didn’t care because you have someone else?”
“No, Susan I don’t have someone else! Seriously, what the f—” He cuts himself off but he’s clenching his fists so hard, his hands are white at his sides.
“Well, what is it, then Adam? You know you forgot our anniversary.”
His eyes go wide. “Damn it. I did. Then I realized and shit, I forgot again.”
“I figured. And did I get mad at you for forgetting? No.”
“Sure, you didn’t get mad.” He says, sarcastic.
“I didn’t! I just let it go.”
He snorts. “Is this you letting it go?”
“Ugh! Forget about our anniversary and just answer the damn question, Adam. Because it was before this last year, before we stopped having sex, before the baby was even born. It’s been years of it so tell, me, why? Why are you so freaking angry all the freaking time?”
“Because here I am,” he spreads his arms wide. “ You’re unhappy? In the life you wanted? The life you lined out for us year by year, event after event, achievement after milestone after goal, checking them off one by one and you’re unhappy? I never wanted this!”
His voice bellows so loud the house shakes. Or maybe it’s just me. My breath is wobbly like my legs as I stand up to look him in the eye.
At least he finally said it out loud.
Made it plain.
He never really wanted me.
“This is hopeless. We put in the time, we did the arrangement. I think we…we can be done now.”
“Done?” He asks softly.
“Yes, I, I think you should move out.” I say, mouth trembling and eyes filling. “Stay in the cabana until you find a place.”
He’s panting, frozen, staring at me. He opens his mouth like he’s going to protest, and part of me hopes he will. A silly, stupid part, that’s still that twenty-two year old girl, in love with a broken, angry boy who will never love her back.
“I’m sorry.” He finally whispers.
“Me too.” I say before turning and making my way to the shower. Under the water I can cry quietly and he’ll have time to pack up his things. I do cry, but I also start on my next list. How to tell the family, what to do about the boys. How to rebuild my life on a new foundation. One without Adam.
Logistics and strategy, that’s what I do.
I might be sobbing, leaning on the shower wall to stay upright, tired and broken, but I can figure this out. I will.
_____
“What are you working on?” Jenn asks me, her eyes narrowed.
“Same ol’ same ol’” I say. “Getting into a new groove with Addison.”
She takes the bait. “Ugh, I can imagine. Cece better never leave me. Such a pain starting over with a new assistant. Like getting a new right hand.”
“Totally,” I say, looking back at my laptop.
My sigh that prompted Jenn’s question actually had nothing to do with Addison or Canton International. It’s about Leeland damn Bell.
The man knew what he was doing when he forced the arranged marriage issue. Sure, Adam and I could just get divorced, put ourselves out of this limbo hell we’ve been in for months.
My husband sneaks in from the pool house in the morning, showered and dressed. I don’t think the boys have any idea he’s sleeping out there. I usually give him a polite smile and stay out of his way as he greets the boys and then loads our oldest up for school.
He’s asked me how I am and I’ve said good. I’ve asked him if he’s okay and he’s said Yup. We’re still the poster children for healthy communication, obviously.
Still, it’s comforting to have him in the pool house. At night a dog will howl or one of the kids will wake up and say something deeply creepy about seeing a smiling man in the closet or some other nonsense. While I haven’t woken Adam up over it, I like that he’s there. He’d beat the crap out of a smiling manghost to protect his kids.
“I’m out,” Jenn stands. “You staying long?”
“Nah.” I say, unsure if I will stay long or not. Adam is feeding the kids dinner tonight because I’m supposed to have a late meeting. The meeting was canceled but I’m not eager to run home and see Adam being super dad, a role he’s always filled well. It’s too painful thinking about how it’ll change once he moves out for good.
And I need to sit here and think. Because the truth I’m discovering is just how complicated it will be for Adam and me to divorce. Leeland spelled out the repercussions if we divorced, since no other Bell ever has, it’s not pretty. Legally, we can probably work it out with how skilled our lawyers are, but there’s also the public piece.
Adam was right that I laid out goals for us and we achieved them. We’ve been in local and national magazines, made 40 under 40 lists, been on countless podcast interviews. Almost always together. He never protested, though. He might tease me or complain about wearing a suit but he was always right by my side, every time.
Why didn’t he ever say anything if he hated our life so much?
And then there’s my family.
The Canton International brand is basically synonymous with family values. We’re one of the biggest and most well known “Bible Belt” corporations. A divorce in our family will not be easily swept under the rug.
This is going to look bad.
And, it just really hurts.
I keep waiting for Adam to say he didn’t mean it. To say he wants us to talk more, to try. But he doesn’t. I’ve caught him staring at me once or twice but it’s not with any kind of love or longing in his eyes. More like he’s just making sure I’m not about to implode.
My phone buzzes.
Skye.
Skye is calling? She never calls.
“Skye? What’s wrong? What happened?”
I can hear her rolling her eyes. “Everything is fine, Suze.”
I pile on. “No one is dead? Injured? Bleeding?”
“Very funny. Great reminder of why I love calling you so much.”
“Alright, alright sorry.” I straighten in my chair. “What’s up?”
“I need some advice,” she says over the noise of New York City in the background.
“Is this about Sam’s texts while I was sleeping?”
Our sister group text has been blowing up about some hot guy that showed up at Skye’s recent art opening. But Skye reminded everyone that she has a boyfriend, Paul. Paul was nowhere to be found on her big night, however.
“Sort of. I just…when do you know if, like, the spark of a relationship has totally gone out or if you need to just work harder at it?” I don’t respond. I can’t. “Suze?”
I sigh before asking, “Skye, if Paul ended it tomorrow, would you be sad?”
“I mean…maybe—” I cut her off and press the issue, keeping my voice level. “Would you be devastated, though? Like beyond a couple weeks of rocky road and chardonnay. Would you have trouble functioning?”
“No…No, I think I’d be fine.”
“Then you have your answer.”
She sniffs and her voice sounds as wobbly as I feel, “So, the sign of a good relationship is if you’re some kind of dumbstruck weepy codependent? I mean that’s not me, Suze, it’s just not.”
“No, but if it’s real love, it’s unbearable to live without.” I’m barely able to say it. But I go on. “And Skye, you deserve that. Real, crazy love.”
And I do too.
And the truth is Adam and I don’t have that anymore. Maybe we never did. Maybe he never did. I did.
Gosh, I loved that man.
Our newlywed days were the happiest couple years of my life. We talked. Not a lot, but enough. We played together. We flirted. We watched all my favorite 90s movies, and his westerns and action flicks. We had unbelievable amounts of sex. I look back now and can’t believe it, we were like rabbits.
But a few weeks ago he walked right out of our backdoor and into the pool house without a word. Even though this separation has been breaking my heart, hurting my soul each time I see him walk through the yard, every time I hear his car leave the driveway, it’s not hurting him .
Because he never wanted this, wanted me, anyway.
I stay on the line for a few more minutes with my sister, and then when she hangs up, I keep my hand on the phone.
Time to actually call a divorce lawyer.