An Anonymous Girl(91)
If she so much as touches Becky, I’ll kill her, I think frantically.
I’m gasping and crying by the time I throw open the main door of the building and run outside. The icy winter air feels like a slap against my face.
I spin around on the sidewalk, frantically looking around for Noah. Inside my pocket, my phone starts to vibrate again. I want to rip it out and throw it against the sidewalk.
I don’t see Noah anywhere. My tears stream down harder. I was beginning to think I could depend on him.
But now I realize I can’t.
I’m about to turn around when I glimpse a puffy blue coat a block away. My heart soars. It’s him. I recognize the back of his head; I already know his walk.
I start to run, weaving past people.
“Noah!” I call out.
He doesn’t turn around, so I keep running. I’m panting and it’s hard to pull enough oxygen into my lungs, but I force my legs to go faster.
“Noah!” I cry again when I’m closer. I want to collapse into his strong arms and tell him everything. He’ll help me; I know he will.
He whips around.
The expression on his face stops me as abruptly as if I’ve slammed into a brick wall.
“I was starting to fall for you,” he says, biting off every word. “But now I know who you really are.”
I take a step toward him, but he holds up a hand. His mouth is a grim line. His soft brown eyes are hard.
“Don’t,” he says. “I don’t ever want to see you again.”
“What?” I gasp.
But he just turns around and keeps walking, moving farther and farther away from me.
CHAPTER
SIXTY-ONE
Sunday, December 23
My premature retreat to bed allowed for a particularly early rising time this morning.
It will be a busy day.
When my phone is turned on, it reveals a new text from Thomas. At 11:06 P.M. last night, he reported that his patient was stable at Bellevue and he apologized again for the truncated evening.
A reply was sent at 8:02 A.M.: I understand. What are your plans for today?
He wrote that he was en route to his squash game and breakfast at Ted’s Diner. I’ll catch up on paperwork this afternoon, he wrote. Movie tonight?
The response he received: Perfect.
His morning activities are just as he described: He exits the gym, dines at Ted’s, and heads directly to his office.
Everything changes at precisely 1:34 P.M.
That is when you are spotted striding down the sidewalk, a shopping bag in hand.
You also disappear into Thomas’s office building.
Oh, Jessica. You have made a grave mistake.
Do victims have the right to take retribution into their own hands?
In your second computer session, you sat in the NYU classroom and answered this query in the affirmative, Jessica. You barely hesitated. You didn’t fiddle with your rings or look up at the ceiling while you thought; you quickly brought your fingertips to the keyboard and formulated your response.
How do you feel about this question now?
Finally, there is concrete evidence of your staggering betrayal.
What are you doing in there with my husband, Jessica?
Whether you are enmeshed in a physical affair is almost immaterial at this point. You two are colluding behind my back. The treachery you have consistently exhibited should have been a warning sign.
By now you have created so many degrees of deception, such layered deceit, that you are enmeshed in a salacious subterfuge from which there can be no return.
“Lady, are you okay?”
A passerby holds out a paper napkin. It is regarded with confusion.
“Looks like you cut your lip,” he says.
After a moment, the napkin is pulled away. The metallic taste of blood lingers in my mouth. Later, ice will be applied to reduce the swelling. But for now, lip balm is located in my makeup bag.
It is an exact replica of the lip balm you left in my town house last week, the one that infuses your lips with a rosy, beguiling shade.
The tube bears the logo BeautyBuzz. It is manufactured by your employer, Jessica.
The phone number of the company is quite easy to obtain.
While you are conspiring with my husband, a phone call is placed.
When one speaks with authority, people listen. The receptionist who answers transfers my call to a manager, who in turn promises to reach the company owner to convey the information immediately.
Apparently, BeautyBuzz takes its noncompete clause quite seriously.
You keep mentioning the desire to escape town for the holidays.
You are not going anywhere, Jessica.
But it seems that you will be able to enjoy some unexpected time off from work after all.
Should a punishment always fit the crime?
The loss of your job is not a severe enough punishment.
But a more fitting one presents itself shortly, while you are still ensconced in my husband’s office.
A young man in a puffy blue coat accented with red zippers approaches and pauses on the corner next to Thomas’s building. He looks around, as if he is waiting for someone.
He is instantly familiar; he is the one you embraced so warmly the other night. The one you kept hidden from me.
While you conduct your assignation with my husband, a spontaneous, parallel tête-à-tête occurs on the sidewalk just outside Thomas’s office.