Off the Deep End (57)

The space only grew inside him, and the more it grew, the more I shrank even further back. Eventually, he started referring to his running group as his running family, and their activities grew beyond morning runs. Sprawling into weekend activities. These long outdoor adventures—kayaking, hiking, and boating. Suddenly, Shane was this huge outdoor enthusiast that he’d never been before.

“I’m going to grab some more water and make some popcorn. Do you want any?” he asked late one Saturday night while we sat in front of the TV watching a movie together, although I had no idea what was going on in it because I couldn’t pay attention. I was only going through the motions, and I was barely doing that. I couldn’t believe he was still up. He’d spent all day rock climbing at Taylors Falls, and I’d expected him to be exhausted when he came home and go to bed early, but he wasn’t showing any signs of slowing down.

“No thanks,” I said, and he hurried off into the kitchen. He’d probably make enough for both of us even though I’d said I didn’t want any.

His phone flashed with alerts on the coffee table next to me. I picked it up. Not because I was being nosy or expected there to be anything. I was just bored. Looking for a distraction. He was getting blown up with texts from someone named Chloe.

I had SO much fun today!!!

Baby, it’s only been a few hours but I miss you already.

When can I see you again?

Each text was filled with annoying emojis. Heart faces and googly eyes. I scrolled up. There were hundreds of texts between them. I scrolled all the way up to the beginning. She was the one who had invited him to join the running group. They’d bumped into each other at the grocery store.

Hey hon. So sorry you’re going through all this. Here’s all the running info. PLEASE don’t be afraid to reach out.

He hadn’t been. I read through their exchanges like I was reading a short story. Flirty texts and cute selfies mixed in with all the planning for their adventures. There wasn’t anything racy yet—no nudes or penis pics, but it was only a matter of time. I set the phone back on the coffee table and tried to figure out how I felt about what I’d just discovered.

Shane walked back into the living room a few minutes later. “Should I put on extra butter?”

“Whatever you feel like. It doesn’t matter to me,” I said. I grabbed his phone off the table and handed it over my shoulder to him. “You forgot your phone, and someone has been blowing it up.”

I didn’t say a word about what I’d seen. I could’ve. Easily. There was a chance if I’d spoken up that night and let him know I knew something was going on—that he was falling for Chloe—I would’ve been able to stop it. I could’ve easily saved my marriage. There was plenty of time. They hadn’t crossed any egregious lines. Nothing you couldn’t forgive or come back from. Not yet anyway. But I didn’t. I kept quiet. I let him continue.

I watched the way his eyes lit up when he was on the phone with her and how his lips made a half smile like he had to hold himself back from full-on grinning whenever they talked. I could tell when she’d embarrassed him with one of her texts by the way the red crept up the back of his neck while he read it, and the way he’d type and retype his texts back, trying to compose the perfect one. I watched my husband fall in love with another woman right in front of me, and I did nothing.

“That’s when I knew I was dead inside,” I say after I finish filling Dr. Stephens in on all of it.

“What do you mean?”

“How do you know your husband is going to have an affair and do nothing to stop it? Not even try to intervene?” I hadn’t done anything. Not once.

“It doesn’t mean you couldn’t stop it now.”

I shake my head. “I couldn’t step back into my life right now even if I wanted to. Once you reach a certain place in the breakdown of a marriage, you cross over the point of no return. We crossed that point a long time ago.”

He looks sad like he’s feeling sorry for me, and I don’t like it. I don’t want his pity, but he doesn’t feel bad enough to stop his line of questioning. “Detective Hawkins says that Shane doesn’t trust you to come home yet. How do you feel about that?”

I roll my eyes. “He just doesn’t want me there because he’s moving Chloe in. It’s definitely in his best interest to keep me locked up.” The scariest part is how easy it’s been for him to do just that.

He testified at my conservatorship hearing and gave a stellar performance. I wish I would’ve recorded it. He convinced the judge with his tears and over-the-top concerned expressions that he only wanted what was best for me, for me to be safe. He shared early grief moments with her that felt like huge betrayals—how I’d wet the bed because I was too depressed to move and stopped responding to my name being called. I still can’t believe he shared those things with the rest of the world and twisted them into something terrible. He also made it sound like there were signs of my instability before this, but that’s not true. There wasn’t a single sign of anything. I was fine. Perfectly healthy. Perfectly sane.

“Have you guys talked about a divorce?” Dr. Stephens asks next.

“We don’t talk much anymore. It’s weird . . .” I can’t explain it to him, but my love for Shane died with Gabe, and I wasn’t sure it’d ever come back. We’d grown into a threesome. The two of us no longer made sense. “Everyone always says that their lives revolve around their children, but ours really did. Gabe was the center of our world in every way. People talk about how there’s all this pressure on only children, but what they don’t realize is that there’s an awful lot of pressure on their parents too. It’s like you only have one shot to get things right, you know? And we’d both felt that. It was our only opportunity for all things kid related. I might’ve been a tiger mom, but there was no question Shane was a tiger dad.” The memory shoves its way into my consciousness. A blue shirt with white lettering calling Shane just that. Gabe picked it out for him last Christmas because he thought it was hilarious. Shane loved it, and Gabe loved making his dad happy. His smile was as bright as the Christmas tree lights sparkling behind him in the picture. I shake my head like I need to physically dislodge the memory so I don’t start crying, and continue where I left off.