Because (Seven Year Itch #4)(13)

After I pick up Aberdeen and arrive home I’m in a fowl mood. It’s self inflicted, and I’m bitter about that. I scroll through my phone and call Brandon. He answers after the third ring. “Hey, babe. What’s up?”

Just like nothing happened the night before, he’s calm and collected. I wonder if he’s around other people. “Nothing. I just got home. I was checking in. Ab still hasn’t gotten sick again. She seems fine now.”

“Good. Listen, I’ll probably be late getting home tonight. We have a meeting at five and then the guys were going to go out for dinner.”

“When were you going to tell me about it?” I was becoming angry. “If I didn’t call were you even going to let me know?”

“Don’t start on me, Shay. I just found out about it fifteen minutes ago.”

“Whatever.” I roll my eyes and do my best to calm down before I say something I know will set him off. “So I guess you won’t be eating with us tonight?”

“Is that going to be a problem?” He said it with authority, it irritated me. He wasn’t my father, he was supposed to be my equal. “Hello?”

“No. Just do what you want. We’ll be here when you get home.” I hung up before he could say anymore. I don’t know why I expected him to act differently. Aberdeen was better and he had no reason to rush home for us.

Settled on the fact that I couldn’t do anything about it, I sit down and watch television while Aberdeen plays in her room.

A tap on my arm wakes me. I’m still tired from the previous night and must have fallen asleep. My daughter stands in front of me with her hands on her hips. “Mommy, I’m hungry and it’s dark outside.”

I’m immediately alerted by this, so I jump up and head to the kitchen where I find it to be after six. She’s followed me. I spin around and address her. “I’m sorry. I must have dozed off. What would you like to eat? I’ll make you anything you want.”

“Pizza,” she says with her two missing front teeth showing.

I tap on my chin and consider having pizza on a non-scheduled night. We usually order on Thursdays when it’s buy one get one at the local delivery place. “Okay, but on one condition. You have to get a bath while we wait for it to be delivered.”

She smiles and wiggles her body from side to side. “Okay.” She then searches the room. “When will Daddy be home?”

I look at the clock again, even though I already know the time. He said he had a meeting at five and then was going to go out with people from work. “I don’t know. Do you want me to call and see?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to order dinner first and then I’ll call him. Go on and start the water. Don’t forget to take your pajamas in the bathroom with you. Top drawer of your dresser, young lady. Don’t you dare pull everything out either.” She was notorious for making a disaster of her folded clothes just to find one item. I was constantly refolding, and since I did it four days a week at Target, I didn’t want to spend extra time doing it over again.

She hurried out of the room while I made a quick call to get dinner on the way. Afterwards I hit the button to dial Brandon and waited for him to answer. It rang three times, and just as I was about to hang up I heard a female’s voice. “Hello. Brandon’s phone.”

“Where is Brandon? Who is this?”

“I’m just a girl you obviously don’t know.”

“Well, girl I don’t know, where is my husband?”

She giggled. I could hear cheering behind her. “He’s preoccupied at the moment. I think he’s dancing, but it’s pretty crowded. Maybe you should call him back later.”

I opened my mouth to order her to get him, but noticed the line had gone silent. She hung up on me.

I was furious.

This wasn’t happy hour with the guys. He was out at some bar living it up while I was home with his daughter, trying to be both a mother and father in his absence.

It took everything I had in me to keep calm for Aberdeen’s sake. For once, I promise myself I won’t overreact. I’m going to push through my fears and wait until he comes home and explains. If I want to fix my marriage I can’t continue to accuse him of anything when there could be a logical explanation as to why he’s dancing at a bar while a female picks up his phone and answers.

Who am I kidding? I’m freaking out. This is exactly what is ruining my marriage; my inability to trust my husband.

It’s hard to get through dinner when my mind is drowning with worry. I can’t eat, and watching my daughter scarf down two whole pieces makes me want to vomit. I manage to keep her occupied so she doesn’t ask what’s wrong. I can’t involve her in one of our fights. She’s overheard too many as it is.

After dinner I tuck her into bed. I’m wide awake at this point, eager to get to the bottom of the newest mystery. I think in some ways I knew if I caught him in the act I’d be able to stop assuming. I want the truth, even if it will crush me completely.

It’s after ten when I hear the back door opening. I’m on the couch, impatiently waiting to attack. He tosses his keys on the kitchen tables and walks into where I’m sitting. As soon as our eyes meet I turn off the television to give him my undivided attention. It’s also to prevent him from being distracted. I want to see the look on his face when he explains where the hell he’s been all night.