Just the Nicest Couple(12)

I turn on the TV to delude myself into thinking I’m not alone. The sound of voices brings comfort.

I find my laptop. At some point during the day, I figured out that if I check the credit card statement online, I’ll be able to see where Jake spent the night. I don’t know what I’ll do with this information. I don’t think I would go to the hotel and make him talk to me. That might make things worse. Jake doesn’t do anything Jake doesn’t want to do, but it will be good to know where he is.

I sit down at the kitchen table. I go to the bank’s website and log in, scrolling through the most recent purchases. I’m expecting to see some upscale hotel because Jake would die before sleeping at a Holiday Inn. But, to my surprise, there are no recent hotel stays. I try telling myself there is only a delay in posting, but I don’t think so because I think what usually happens with hotels is that they post pending charges the minute you check in, and then, later, refund that incidentals deposit if you don’t spend it.

Even more worrisome is that there are no charges in the last thirty-six hours at all, other than my own. There is a charge for a Starbucks near Jake’s office from early Monday morning but, after that, it’s as if Jake has gone off the grid and I wonder if it’s deliberate.

I navigate to the checking account to see if Jake took out cash. Maybe he’s using cash so that I can’t track him. Can you even pay for a hotel with cash?

I feel sick inside at the growing possibility that Jake is trying to stay hidden. He doesn’t want me to find him. He doesn’t want to fix our marriage.

What if Jake has left me for good?

There are no recent withdrawals from the checking account. How can Jake be getting by without the use of cash or credit cards? How is he paying for things?

I’m relieved to see our accounts intact, that Jake hasn’t transferred our money to some offshore account to spite me. He doesn’t hate me that much. I earn a teacher’s salary. He is a neurosurgeon. It’s no secret that Jake is the breadwinner in our marriage. I feel lucky for it, that I can do what I love for a living and still never have to worry about money. I grew up with a single mother who worked the night shift as an LPN. We didn’t have much. Sometimes even the cost of gas was too much to afford. I started working when I was fifteen, to be able to contribute to the cost of groceries, the mortgage and utilities. Since getting married to Jake, I’ve gotten used to being able to buy things without having to think twice about the price. I don’t know that I could go back to the lifestyle I grew up in, not that I would ever have to because I have Jake. And because, even if, God forbid, he left me, we’d split everything down the middle.

My cell phone rings. I practically fly out of my chair at the sound. It’s the first time in two days that it’s rung and, after all this time of begging and pleading with it to ring, it finally is.

Thank God. Jake has come to his senses. He’s ready to talk it out. He’s forgiven me.

I reach for my phone, lying facedown on the table. I flip it over and look at the name on the display, expecting it to say Jake. My heart sinks. It’s not Jake. It’s our friend Damien.

I answer the call, though my first instinct is not to answer, but to leave the phone free for if Jake calls. But maybe Damien knows something that I don’t. If Jake would sleep on anyone’s sofa, it’s Damien’s.

“Hi, Damien,” I say.

“Hey, Nina. I’m sorry to bother you,” he says.

“You’re no bother,” I tell him. “You’re never a bother. How’s Anna?” I move from the kitchen table to the butler’s pantry for the wine fridge. I pull out a chilled bottle of white and pour myself a generous glass, lifting it to my mouth without putting the bottle away. My nerves are frayed. I balance the phone on my shoulder, bringing both the open bottle and the glass back to the table with me.

Damien’s excitement is palpable. “She’s pregnant!” he announces, and I’m so happy for Damien and Anna because they’ve been trying to get pregnant for years. It wasn’t happening. It was one failed attempt after another. They went through fertility drugs, and then artificial insemination. Damien and Anna were always very candid with Jake and me about the process and the struggle, mainly, I think, because Jake is a doctor and because we’re their only friends without kids. It was easier to talk to us about it than with other friends. Jake and I are at that point in our lives where almost everyone we know has or is having kids, except us.

The last I heard, Damien and Anna were trying in vitro, which is obscenely expensive. They don’t have the income for it. The cost alone was almost enough to make them give up. They had agreed they would try one time, but that they didn’t have the savings to go for it more than once.

“That’s amazing!” I say. “I’m so happy for you both.” I am happy for them, so happy, though I have to force the enthusiasm into my voice because I’m not in a happy place myself.

“You want to hear the best news?”

“What could be better than that?” I ask.

“Twins. It’s twins, Nina.”

I feel so happy for them. Anna is amazing, the kind of woman who radiates kindness and warmth. “Anna will make the best mom,” I tell him. “She was born to be a mother. How far along is she?”

“Thirteen weeks. It was mum’s the word until after her first trimester, but now I’m stopping strangers on the street to tell them.”