The Hopefuls(106)

As soon as I answered the door, I started crying, but Colleen didn’t say anything, just walked in and closed the door behind her. I must have looked pathetic, sniffling in my sweatpants and T-shirt. Colleen put her hand on my back and led me up the stairs gently, like I was elderly or maybe just plain crazy.

She must have wondered what was going on—if someone had died or there was another sort of emergency, I would’ve just told her on the phone. But I think she guessed that it had to do with me and Matt because she sat and patiently waited for me to start talking.

“I did something horrible,” I said. Colleen tilted her head at me, like she thought I might be kidding, but then I continued, telling the whole story, all of it coming out in one big mess of words.

When I was done, she leaned back on the couch and looked at the ceiling and then the floor and then the ceiling again. She blew a gust of air up at her bangs, making them flutter, and finally said, “Well, Jesus, Beth. That is not what I thought you were going to say.”

“I know,” I said, and then surprisingly let out a laugh. “I know, right?” It was shocking how much better it felt to have someone else know what I’d done, like confession. Already, I felt the release of telling her, knowing that she’d talk it through with me.

“How did it happen?” she asked, but she wasn’t judging me. She sounded genuinely interested, like she needed all the details before she could understand it.

“I don’t even know,” I said. And I really didn’t, which might have been the worst part. Was I looking for attention? Trying to get back at Matt? Was I bored? Was it a moment of weakness? I’d been attracted to Jimmy, I couldn’t deny that. But I certainly wasn’t in love with him, didn’t picture us running away together. The phone call with him that afternoon, his casual dismissal of things, had reminded me of his worst traits.

“You don’t know?” Colleen asked.

“No,” I said, and let out a little sob. “Maybe I’m a sociopath.”

Colleen rolled her eyes. “All right. Let’s not get carried away,” she said. And part of me agreed with her, but another part of me wondered how I could so easily betray so many people—not just my husband, but also one of my best friends.

“This isn’t me,” I said, although wasn’t that everyone’s first reaction when they cheated? No one ever stood up and owned it, declared that cheating was just a part of their personality.

“I know,” Colleen said.

“I feel like a horrible person. No really, listen. Who does this kind of thing? What if I keep doing things like this?”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t worry about that. I mean, I don’t think you’re about to start trying to seduce Bruce.” She couldn’t help but smile after she said this, and then she looked serious again. “Beth, people make mistakes, you know.”

“Not like this,” I said.

Colleen looked at me as if she was unsure of how to continue. “Do you have feelings for him?” she finally asked, and I shook my head forcefully.

“No,” I said. “It was just a mistake.”

She nodded and then perked up, as if just remembering something, and pulled a bottle of wine out of her bag. “I brought reinforcements,” she said. I stayed on the couch as she opened the bottle, poured us each a glass, swirling it around before tasting it.

“I don’t know how things got to this point,” I said. Colleen sat back down and refilled my glass, which I’d already drained.

“Well, it’s not like things sounded good the last time we talked.” She said this almost gently, like she was telling me something I didn’t know. I had a childish desire to correct her, although I don’t know why. She was right.

“I know,” I said. “I just kept thinking things would get better if I waited it out. And then I made it worse.”

“So, Dogpants is still going through his mid-whatever crisis?” she asked. I just nodded. “Well, I mean, look. Couples go through this all the time. I don’t think it’s as weird as you think it is.”

“Maybe. That doesn’t mean Matt’s going to forgive me, though.”

“Maybe not,” she said.

“I just—I know I f*cked up. But, Colleen, he was awful too. He really was. And I’m not saying that’s an excuse, but it’s true.”

“I know. I don’t think you’re trying to make excuses.”

“He didn’t even care if I was there or not. It was like I didn’t exist. Like he couldn’t even be bothered to talk to me. I moved to Texas for him, for his job, and he just didn’t even give a shit.” I got angry as I started telling her this, felt the wine warming me up.

“Well that sounds shitty.”

“It was. It was completely shitty. He was mean. It was like he was a different person or something. And I was so mad, but it didn’t matter. I’m still mad.” I got louder with each word.

“Good. You should be mad, Beth. Get mad.”

And then I felt my anger crumble and I was near tears again. “I don’t want to get divorced,” I said, sniffling.

“No one’s talking about that right now.”

“What would I even do?”

“I don’t know,” she said. Part of me appreciated her honesty and part of me just really wanted her to lie and tell me it would all be fine. “I don’t really see you eat-pray-loving your way through this. No offense.”