Page 23 of Two Couples

“Different from what?” She took another sip of wine.

“I feel like you’re cutting me out of your life. It feels like something’s going on that you’re hiding from me. You tell a lot of white lies.”

“No, I don’t.”

I smirked, wondering if she recognized the irony. “Today isn’t the first time I couldn’t reach you. Three weeks ago, you disappeared for an entire day. Even when you say you’re at work, I sometimes can’t reach you.”

“I’m busy at work! A full load of patients doesn’t allow me to spend time texting. You know that.”

“I know you were lying about the massage. Your phone isn’t shut off for three hours for a massage.”

“I forgot to turn it back on,” she said.

“That seems unlikely.”

She shrugged. “If you don’t want to believe me, I don’t know what I can say.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to believe you. I want the truth and I’m only getting scraps. Half-truths.”

“It hurts my feelings that you think I’m a liar.”

“Then tell me what’s going on. I know you, Em. You’re different. You used to tell me about your day in very precise detail. And now I get the synopsis, if that. All the trips to the mall with no purchases, workouts that last hours, this ridiculously long massage, forgetting to turn your phone on. None of that is you.”

“It is me. I don’t think I need to tell you every detail of my day. It’s not that interesting.”

“You’re wrong. I enjoy the details. Before, when you were at the gym or shopping, I could reach you. That, and the lies when I ask about it.”

She stood and swallowed the rest of her wine. “If we’re not watching the show⁠—”

“We will. I just need to know what’s going on.”

“It feels like you’re trying to control me.”

“I’m not. I just don’t understand the change. Cutting off communication.”

She moved toward the doorway, peering into her wineglass. “Are we done with the show? Or do you want more wine, and maybe a snack so we can get back into it?”

“You’re not going to tell me what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing is going on with me. I’m sorry you think I’m lying to you. People change. Maybe I just⁠—”

“Something is absolutely going on and lying to me that it’s not is disturbing.”

“Do you want to use the find my wife tracker? Do you need to know every dollar I spend? That’s controlling.”

“I’m not trying to control you. I just want to understand why you’ve changed.”

“I don’t think I have.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. It was another lie, but how do you prove to a person they’ve changed? It’s not possible. Because everyone has their own self-perception that might be light years removed from how you see them or experience their behavior.

But she was definitely lying to me and I could prove it. I had a history of our text messages demonstrating the change. I certainly wasn’t going to present those to her. When I did things like that, she got upset, telling me I wasn’t in a courtroom, arguing a case. I was her husband. But she was lying, and it upset me deeply that she couldn’t, wouldn’t, tell me the truth.

“Are we watching this show and our movie, or are we done?” she asked.

“Let’s watch it.” I held up my glass for a refill.

When we were settled on the couch again, close, but not holding on to each other, I felt the weight of the remote in my hands. A flick of my thumb and the show would resume. But I wasn’t ready.