Page 59 of Brain Damage

After I got out of the shower, I heard Clark’s phone buzz with a text message. I swear, I wasn’t trying to spy on him or anything. I just wanted to see if it was something important that I needed to wake him up for. I picked up his iPhone, still attached to the charger, and saw the message on the screen:

Is she gone yet?

There was no name attached to the number. And no further messages aside from that one.

I didn’t pry any further. Well, I couldn’t. Clark locks his phone and I don’t know the code to unlock it. Otherwise, I’m pretty sure I would have scoured every message on his phone.

I never said a word about it to Clark, but I was distracted all day, thinking about that message. It was all I could think about. Maybe there was some benign reason somebody could be asking Clark if I had left the apartment yet, but in my head, I couldn’t think of anything that made sense aside from a girlfriend on the side.

Brigid agreed to let me come over after I was done with work, and I was practically tearing my hair out by then. Brigid looked comparatively calm in her new uniform of ripped sweatpants and a T-shirt stained in baby food.

“Is she gone yet?” Brigid repeats, mulling over the phrase, while she opens a can of something she called “baby ravioli” for little Chelsea.

“He’s cheating on me, right?” I say.

“Not necessarily,” Brigid says. “Maybe he’s getting the apartment cleaned?”

“No,” I say. “I’m the one who deals with the cleaning woman.”

“Maybe he’s planning a surprise party for you?” Brigid suggests.

I just look at her.

“Okay, fine,” she sighs. She dumps the can of ravioli on Chelsea’s tray. Chelsea picks up the slimy little pieces of pasta with her chubby fingers and shoves them in her mouth happily. “You really think Clark would cheat?”

I think back to Clark’s revelation about having been fired over a year ago. “Yeah. I think he’s definitely capable of it.”

Brigid is silent for a minute, thinking. Finally, she says, “Hey, how do you know that ‘she’ even refers to you?”

I frown. “Who else would it be?”

Brigid shrugs. “It could be anyone. I mean, what if it has something to do with work? Like, maybe ‘she’ is a client? Or a judge?”

“Maybe,” I say. “Or maybe ‘she’ is me, and his girlfriend is texting him to see when she can come over.”

“Maybe,” Brigid agrees.

I feel like crying. How did my marriage fall apart so quickly? I should have known I wasn’t capable of having a decent relationship with a guy. I should have just stuck with my instincts and stayed single forever.

“I’m such a loser!” I blurt out. “I can’t even get my husband to be faithful for more than a few months!”

“Oh, Charly,” Brigid sighs. She throws her arms around me, and pulls me into a hug. I’ve never been a huggy sort of girl, but I let her do it this one time. I really need a hug right now.

“Should I confront him?” I ask her, wiping away the beginning of tears with the back of my hand. I refuse to cry over this.

“Definitely not,” Brigid snorts, pulling away from our hug. “Why would you give him a chance to deny it and hide the evidence?”

I shrug helplessly. “So what am I supposed to do?”

Brigid gets this devious look on her face. Of all the people I know, Brigid is the last one I’d ever want to cross. Of all the men she dated before her husband, the ones who broke up with her always regretted it, and not because they were sorry they let such a great girl get away.

“Okay, Charly,” she says, “I’m going to tell you exactly what to do…”

41

AFTER

I’m dreaming. It’s that dream I always have but so much more vivid this time. Like it’s almost real. Like I can almost touch it.