The Rules of Dating(101)

After my attorney left, Maya and I compared notes. We walked toward the train station rattling off questions and answers.

“What did you say for how many times a week we go out to dinner?” I asked.

“I said what I’ve witnessed so far—maybe once, at the most.”

I blew out a deep breath and nodded. “Good…good. I said the same thing. How about scars? Do you have any?”

“Just the C-section scar.”

I stopped in my tracks. “Saylor was born via C-section?”

“Yes.”

“How come?”

“She was breach.”

I shook my head, suddenly feeling rattled—though it was less about how the interview went and more that I didn’t even know how my daughter had been born.

I ran my hand through my hair. “I had no idea you had a C-section. I said you didn’t have any scars.”

“That’s the only one.”

“Do you think we have to get every question right? Is it like high school where a sixty-five is passing, or do we have to score a hundred percent? I mean, I might not have even thought of a C-section scar as a scar. When he asked me, I was trying to remember if you’d told me about any injuries or accidents. So I’m not certain I would have said C-section even if I’d known you had one. People overlook things or forget.”

Maya shrugged and shook her head. “I have no idea what it will take for us to pass.” She held up a finger. “Oh, another one I wasn’t sure about was what color underwear you had on last night.”

“What did you say?”

“I guessed gray.”

“Good guess, because that’s how I answered. Though I wasn’t sure.”

We continued comparing answers the entire walk to the train, while we waited on the platform, and through almost the entire ride back. In the end, there seemed to be only one other question aside from the scar one that we’d gotten wrong. The investigator had asked what day garbage went out at our apartment, and Maya had said Tuesday, while I’d responded Friday. But she said she’d tried to laugh off the question by admitting she was guessing and saying garbage and repairs were my chores, and laundry and dishwasher duty were hers.

I felt like it wouldn’t be uncommon for the person who doesn’t take out the garbage to be uncertain of the day it went to the curb. Other than those two questions, it seemed like we’d done pretty well. I just hoped it was enough. Regardless, what was done was done, and by the time we got off the train at our stop, my shoulders were definitely a lot more relaxed than they had been the last few weeks.

I even felt like I could breathe a little easier as we approached the staircase that led up to street level. Just before we hit the landing, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I took it out to see who it was and tripped over something on the floor. I flailed around for a solid thirty seconds trying to regain my balance before ultimately landing flat on my ass. Before I got up, I looked around to see what I’d tripped on, and found a random work boot in the middle of the floor. I shook my head and started to laugh as I got up. “Who the hell loses one boot in the subway?”

Maya’s eyes widened as she pointed to my ass. “Oh my God, Colby! You split your pants!”

I twisted to check out the back of my slacks. Sure enough, they were ripped at the seam. And not just a little—the damn things were torn from one end to the other.

“Crap.” I laughed.

Maya cracked up. “I guess I know what color underwear you have on today.”

The last few weeks had been so stressful; I was pretty sure I hadn’t smiled once. So my pants splitting turned into much needed comic relief, and the two of us laughed harder and longer than was probably appropriate for the incident. In fact, we were still laughing when we started up the stairway to the street again. Though my laughter came to an abrupt halt when I looked up and saw the face of the woman coming down the stairs—she was definitely not smiling.

Billie.

I froze.

She froze.

Maya, completely oblivious, was still laughing as she climbed the stairs ahead of me.

“Billie, what are you doing here?”

Her face fell. “Apparently not having as good of a time as you two…”

I shook my head. “No, no, no. It’s not what it looks like. I swear.”

She held up her hands and started to walk down the stairs again. “It’s fine, Colby. I need to go so I don’t miss my train.”

“Billie, wait!” I chased after her.

But she rushed through the turnstile and shook her head. “Just go, Colby. Your wife is probably waiting for you on the street.”

***

Hours later, I was sitting alone at my kitchen table with an empty bottle of tequila when Maya walked in. I hadn’t seen her since the incident with Billie this afternoon.

“Where were you?” I slurred.

“I saw Billie get upset, so I thought I’d make myself scarce for a while. Is everything okay?”

I drank the last of the alcohol in my glass and guffawed. “Sure. Why wouldn’t it be? The woman I love doesn’t want to see me because I’m living with another woman, who happens to be my wife, and then today she saw what looked like me having a great time with said wife.” I shrugged. “Everything is just fucking peachy.”