The phone beeped and I looked at it. I wasn’t too sure whether I wanted to read the message, but right there and then I knew I was in trouble. This had been going on for too long and now, as the saying goes, “when it rains, it pours”. I knew who it was that had messaged me, we were chatting only minutes before and it was quite cordial. But I didn’t expect that he would actually respond to my last message. Kind of the same way you would say, Cheers man, I’m off. Then the 5 minute wait and no response could only mean that you really need to be off.
I looked at the phone and debated in my head whether I should read the message. Then, my stomach sunk, I had waited too long. This game had been going on for too long. My heart raced, and my sweaty palms didn’t know what to do with the confusing signals my brain was sending. The car behind me honked its horn, the lights were green, I don’t know how long they had been green. I tossed the phone into the door pocket, a place I never toss my phone “FUCK! Now I am digging my grave” I thought as I sped off. I had to remember the way home. I had only been in this new city for three months. Wide, wide roads meant that you should know your lane way in advance.
The drive home was uneventful. My 3 year old daughter in the back seat was sweating bullets and aircon was not working. Windows open seemed to let more of the harsh sun striker her face more than the breeze from driving was helping her stay cool. After picking her from kindergarten, I dashed to go pick my husband who was oblivious to my state of mind. Things sort of seemed to clean themselves up as we drive home. My phone didn’t beep again and I was no longer in a panic. We decided to go for some late afternoon shopping and maybe an early dinner at a nearby restaurant; this meant I needed to get out of my work clothes.
We got home and he decided to stay in the car and watch the girl while I dash in to the house to change. I kicked off my red stiletto pumps and the red blouse. Got out of the uber short black skirt I had on. A quick peek in the mirror and I was happy. I know I was posing for the mirror, but I was happy I had my body back. The still birth earlier in the year had me damaged emotionally and physically. My figure was a mess back then. I jumped into my jeans and a tee. Nothing big was going on tonight. Geez, I didn’t put on my bra strap after taking that bathroom selfie for Frank. All fixed up, I went back to the car.
My stomach sunk when I looked into the car as I stepped out. “Bloody hell!!” my brain told me. I wore a smile but World War III was going on in my head as I argued with myself. Why the hell did I leave my phone in the car? And now Jim was going through my phone. “so where are we going shopping?” I asked my husband.
“Who is Frank?” he asked with a very condescending tone.
I knew that was the next question, and I knew where the conversation was going most of all, I knew we weren’t going to go shopping or have dinner. I sucked it all in and knew this was where the rubber met the road, it was either another lie, or the truth. One of us was not sleeping at home tonight.