He Started It(57)

The girl behind the counter is pointing to my food, which is all bagged up and ready to go. I grab it.

Ma’am, my ass. Another reason to leave this state. They’re too polite.

I stuff napkins and condiments into the bag, still looking out the window to see what else is going on. Felix returns from behind the store. Tall, lanky, and so very pale. Today he’s wearing a Denver Broncos shirt and that orange color does him no favors. He puts a stick of gum in his mouth before returning to the car, and it pisses me off. Tonight maybe I’ll take his cigarettes again. No, his lighter. It must be so much worse to have a cigarette but not be able to light it.

By the time I get across the street, Eddie has pulled the car away from the gas pump and into a parking space. He’s back inside the convenience store.

“Coffee,” Portia says. She’s doing some semi-suggestive stretching behind the car.

I hand Felix a roast beef sandwich.

“No mayo?” he says.

Mayo.

That goddamn mayo.

You want to know why I cheated on Felix? Because of this right here.



* * *



–––––

I was at a bridal shower for a friend of mine from college. It was an after-work event because most of us had jobs and many had children. Saturdays and Sundays were out. The host was a woman named Clarabel. No kidding. She was bouncy and perky, the type who loved to organize things. A lot like Krista, actually.

We had drinks and finger sandwiches and fancy deviled eggs served on lace doilies while my friend opened her presents. Nothing about the shower was unusual until the stripper showed up, and then the shower turned into a bachelorette party.

He was dressed as a cop, sent to “investigate a noise complaint” and we all believed this. I know I did—never even noticed his bright eyes and big dimples. I thought he was a cop right up until he tore off his shirt to reveal his tanned, greased-up muscles. This guy had more than a six-pack. Had to be at least eight.

More drinks. Less food. The party lasted longer than I thought.

When the stripper finally stopped grinding on the bride, I called Felix and said I was on my way home.

“I’m going to stop on the way home. I need a burger or something,” I said. “You want one?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I’ll be home soon.”

“Okay. Oh,” he said. “And no mayo.”

No mayo.

Felix has hated mayo since I met him. He says so every time we get sandwiches or burgers, veggie or real, doesn’t matter. Even fish sticks and chicken nuggets, he says it. No mayo. And he said it again that night.

Like I didn’t know.

That’s why I stopped the stripper as he walked to his car. That’s why I had sex with him in the back of mine. And I don’t even have a thing about men in uniforms.

It was because of the mayo. Because he said it over and over again, like he didn’t think I was smart enough to remember. Because Felix is just like that, always has been.

And here he is, still asking.

Every time Felix mentions mayo, I think of that stripper. This is why I can’t be the heroine. A cheating wife is one of the deal breakers.

“No,” I say, handing Felix the Arby’s roast beef. “No mayo.”

“Cool.” He unwraps the sandwich and takes a big bite while climbing into the passenger’s seat.

Eddie comes out of the convenience store with an oversized coffee cup in his hand. He takes a sip, makes a face, and takes another. I walk over and meet him halfway, so no one can hear what I say.

“Roast beef?”

“Absolutely.”

“Only with cheese left,” I say, handing him a sandwich. I lean in a little closer. “I forgot to tell you. I got a text from Krista.”

His eyes widen, his head rears back. “You did?”

“Yeah. She said she’s fine. Got home okay.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Lie.

I haven’t heard from Krista at all, but what I do know is that Eddie’s reaction was genuine. He’s not a good enough actor to fake that kind of surprise.





Have you found this journal helpful?

. . . um, no? It’s a way to pass the time and it helps put me to sleep. And honestly, now that I’m driving all day I fall asleep pretty fast, so it’s not even that helpful anymore.

Dr. Lang would say this is just a tool and it’s not the only one available, so I’ll just go along with that for now unless I think of something else, but I probably won’t.

I’m watching that Honda. One guy driving, no other passengers. I’m not about to tell anyone else about him, not even Beth, because the last thing I need is for everyone to freak out. I mean, it’s just a guy in a maroon Honda. Maybe he thinks I’m cute. Wouldn’t be the first time some old guy followed me because of that.

Bet he wouldn’t think I was so cute if he knew I was pregnant.





Montana is called Big Sky Country, and that’s a true statement. Big sky, open land, and long, long drives. It’s also called the Treasure State, but I don’t know anything about that. We’ve only driven through Montana, never stopped to look for treasure. Our destination is the strip of Idaho between Washington and Montana. Yes, that’s right. Our goal is Idaho.