Ladies' Night (44 page)

“The other woman?” Camryn asked.

“Yup. I’ll spare you the nitty-gritty. Let’s just say she was suggesting a time and place for their next assignation. ‘Come horny,’ the text said, so that let me know I wasn’t overreacting. Just to be sure, I scrolled down the other texts from her. They were all just as graphic, if not more so. And it had been going on for months.”

“Did you confront him?” Grace asked.

“No.” Suzanne’s hands shook as she uncapped the bottle of water she’d been clutching all evening. “I … I guess a part of me still didn’t want to believe it was true. But another part of me, the cold, analytical researcher, needed data. While I was going through his phone, reading the texts, I found texts from other people, women, but I had no idea who they were.”

“He had more than one girlfriend?” Camryn asked. “Just like my cheating husband.”

“It gets better, or worse,” Suzanne said sadly. “I went online and found something called keystroke software. It’s a program you can surreptitiously load onto somebody’s computer, and once it’s activated, everything that person does on their computer, every e-mail they write or receive, every Web site they visit, you have access to.”

“You became your own private detective,” Camryn said. “That’s so smart!”

“Not really,” Suzanne said. “Remember, Camryn, when you said you wished you could take Scopolamine, to forget about your daughter catching Dexter in bed with her roommate? Well, I learned so much about Eric’s secret life, I wish the data bank in my head could be wiped clean. But I’m afraid now it’s hardwired into my brain.”

She took a sip of water. “Those other women? He was meeting them on Craigslist! For hookups.”

“Dear God,” Grace muttered.

“Exactly,” Suzanne said. “He was meeting strange women in sleazy motel rooms for casual sex. And when he wasn’t meeting them in person, they were sexting back and forth. It had been going for years.”

“That’s just nasty,” Ashleigh said. “At least Boyce…”

Camryn reached over and grabbed Ashleigh’s arm. “Let Suzanne get through this without editorializing. Okay? Otherwise, I will have to pinch your head off of your scrawny little neck.” Ashleigh jerked her arm away.

“Camryn?” Paula’s voice had a warning note.

Camryn glared at Paula. “I am dead-dog serious. I will hurt her if you do not make her be quiet.”

“And I’ll help,” Grace offered, glaring, in turn, at Ashleigh.

“Everybody?” Suzanne looked amused. “I’m fine. Really. I’ve been living with this for months and months now. Now? I don’t want this slime taking up any more room in my brain. You know?”

They all nodded in unison. They all did know.

“You wouldn’t think this could get worse,” Suzanne said with a self-conscious laugh. “But it does! Not long after I found out about Eric, I had a regular check-up with my gynecologist, and I had an abnormal pap test.”

She looked at Wyatt and blushed. “I’m sorry you have to hear such personal stuff. About my lady parts. But there’s just no way to get around this.”

“I’ll survive,” he said, his voice gruff.

Suzanne took a gulp of water. And then the words came tumbling out in an unstoppable torrent. “I had HPV. I didn’t even know what it was. My doctor—the same doctor who delivered Darby, who’s known me since I was a teenager, had to explain it to me. It was an STD. A sexually transmitted disease.”

Grace had to clamp her hand over her mouth to keep from gasping aloud.

“Eric … having unprotected sex with those women. He’d given me an STD. I thought I would die of humiliation, the day my doctor told me. Of course, he was as embarrassed as I was. Long story short, I had cervical cancer.

“I had a total hysterectomy, because my husband gave me a sexually transmitted virus. Which, incidentally, could still come back, as something like anal cancer. My doctor had been quietly urging me to tell Eric what was going on, so he could at least notify the women he’d had sex with. You know, so they could see a doctor. I was so calm on the outside, it was frightening. I scared myself. One day, a week before I was scheduled for surgery, I went on Craigslist. I posted a picture of Eric and advised that any woman who’d ever had a hookup with him should get themselves checked. Because he had an STD. And they were at risk, too.”

Suzanne gulped more water. “Then I texted my colleague at the college. I told her I knew about her and Eric. But here was a piece of news she wasn’t privy to. And I told her. The day I was scheduled to have my surgery, I told Eric what I’d done. And I told him I wanted him out of our house by the time I got home from the hospital.”

“Does Darby know?” Camryn asked. “Why you split up?”

“No,” Suzanne said. “I couldn’t do that to her. It’s bad enough I have this stuff in my head. She’s only eighteen. I don’t want her hating men for the rest of her life. I don’t even want her hating her father.”

“But…” Ashleigh sputtered. “You let Eric off the hook. He doesn’t even have to take responsibility for what he did!”

“He’s not off the hook,” Suzanne said. “His girlfriend filed a grievance against him with the college, and he was fired. One of the women he met on Craigslist claims he gave her HPV, too, although I don’t know how someone who’s in the habit of having unprotected sex with strangers can ever figure out how she got an STD. She’s hired a lawyer. And so it goes. I think it’s safe to say his life is ruined.”

“And yours isn’t?” Wyatt’s face was pink with indignation. “I’m sorry, Suzanne. As a man, I’m sorry. As a husband, I’m sorry.” He looked at the others. “We’re not all like that. I swear.”

“I know you’re nothing like that, Wyatt,” Suzanne said. “And I don’t think every man is like Eric. But you’re wrong about one thing. My life isn’t ruined. I’m not about to give him that power.”

“Right on, sister,” Camryn said fiercely.

“Thank you, Suzanne,” Paula said quietly. “I can see now why you needed time to find the words to tell your story. We’re all full of admiration for your honesty. Right, friends?” She started clapping her hands, slowly, until the others in the semicircle joined in. Paula motioned for Suzanne to stand, and she hugged her. One by one, the others stood and joined the group hug, awkwardly at first, and then, as the moment grew, they stood together, their first real campfire moment.

The members of the group drifted back to their chairs. Paula went on.

“We’re in week five of our sessions, and we’ve got lots of work yet to do before we conclude next week. Tonight, I’m going to ask all of you to think about writing an action plan.

“It’s a sort of manifesto for yourselves,” Paula explained. “You’re all starting a new chapter of your lives. I’d like you to put some thought into how you’ll move forward, personally and professionally, physically and emotionally, in a really mindful way.”

She glanced at her watch. “This has been pretty intense tonight. Let’s take a ten-minute break, and when we come back, we’ll talk. Okay?”

Camryn blew her nose. “What’s Suzanne’s action plan gonna be, Paula? What’s she gonna do, grow a new cervix?”

47

Wyatt was the first one to arrive at their table at the Sandbox. He pulled Grace’s chair out for her, letting his hand rest, just for a second, on her arm. “Thanks,” she said, shooting him a quick, private smile.

Rochelle was at the table in a shot, bringing a pitcher of beer and menus. “Where are the others?”

“They’re on their way,” Wyatt told her. “I’ve got a feeling we’re going to need a lot of alcohol tonight, Rochelle. In fact, why don’t you go ahead and bring Suzanne whatever it is she usually orders?”

“God, yes,” Grace said emphatically. “I think she drinks wine spritzers. And I’m gonna need a big old glass of wine myself.”

“Why?” Rochelle asked eagerly. “Did something happen tonight? To Suzanne?”

Wyatt’s voice was solemn. “Suzanne finally shared tonight. Her husband was having unprotected sex with total strangers he met through Craigslist. He gave her an STD.”

“You mean, like venereal disease?”

“Something like that,” Grace said. “Only this disease can’t be cleared up with penicillin. Suzanne had to have a hysterectomy because of it, and it could still come back.”

“Sweet Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Rochelle exclaimed. “This really happened to our darling Suzanne?”

“Yes. And she just pulled into the parking lot, so please don’t mention it. I mean it, Mom. Not one word.”

“I would never,” Rochelle said indignantly. She sketched a quick cross on her chest. “So help me.”

*   *   *

Suzanne looked from the wine spritzer sitting on the table to Grace. “Thanks.” She took a sip. “I needed this.”

“You were amazing in group tonight,” Ashleigh said, leaning across the table.

“You’re our she-roe,” Camryn chimed in. “You’re like a divorce superhero.”

Suzanne sipped her drink. “Not at all. The rest of you spilled your guts that first awful night of group session, when we were all total strangers. It’s taken me five weeks to get up the nerve. I’m the biggest wimp in the world.”

“No, you’re not,” Wyatt said. “You’re … an inspiration.”

“Okay, enough,” Suzanne said. “You’re going to make me start blubbering again. Can we please talk about something else? Anything else?”

Camryn and Grace locked eyes, then looked away. But their expression didn’t escape Ashleigh.

“What?” she cried. “You guys know something. Come on, spill. Is it about Paula?”

Grace shrugged. “Camryn found out some stuff about Paula’s past.”

Suzanne regarded Camryn carefully. “This has something to do with why Paula isn’t licensed to practice therapy in Florida, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Camryn said, surprised. “How’d you know?”

Suzanne hesitated. “Okay, one more thing I’ve been keeping from you guys. I swear, it’s the very last secret. Or, the last one that concerns you. Here it is. Stackpole didn’t send me to Paula. I came on my own.”

“You mean, you came voluntarily? Why would you do that?” Ashleigh asked.

“After I found out what Eric had done, I was so angry, in such a rage, I scared even myself,” Suzanne said. “I had all these awful ideas about how to get my revenge. Fantasies about physically harming him. That’s when I knew I had to get help. I went online and googled divorce and therapy and Sarasota, and Paula’s name popped up.

“After that first night, I knew there was something off about Paula. Her credentials are actually pretty impressive, but she’s very careful not to advertise herself as a therapist or a marriage counselor. She just calls herself a divorce coach. Which got me to wondering.”

“Why’d you even keep coming to group after that first night? Or even after the second night, when Paula passed out cold?” Grace asked.

Suzanne looked at the faces sitting around the table. “By then, I knew it wasn’t really about her helping me. You all had shared your stories. I knew you were hurting as badly as I was, and I thought maybe you’d help me find a way to deal with this horrible sadness and bitterness that was engulfing me. Turns out, I was right.”

“Awwww,” Ashleigh said, beaming. “That’s so sweet.”

“But Paula’s helped me, too,” Suzanne said. “In her own way. Of course, that doesn’t mean I’m not curious about what you discovered, Camryn.”

“Okay,” Camyrn said. “Here goes.”

*   *   *

Rochelle brought another round of drinks, but Suzanne pushed hers away, untouched. “I did wonder if it was something like that. Paula’s not a bad person, you know. Just … damaged. Like all of us.”

Ashleigh was not convinced. “You mean, I’m paying three hundred dollars an hour to get counseling from a convicted drug addict?”

“Recovering drug addict,” Grace said. “And remember, Paula doesn’t call herself a counselor or a therapist. Just a divorce coach. And who better to coach people through this kind of crap than somebody who’s been through it herself?”

“I still think it’s a rip-off,” Ashleigh insisted. But a moment later, she lowered her voice. “But I don’t even care about Paula anymore. I don’t even care about that stinker Judge Stackpole. I’ve got news, y’all. Boyce called! He wants to meet me for lunch next week. And here’s the best part. We’re meeting at the Ritz!”

“I’ve never eaten at the Ritz-Carlton,” Rochelle said, alighting on an empty chair next to Ashleigh. “Is the food as good as they say?”

“Oh, Rochelle, you’re so cute,” Ashleigh said, with her tinkling laugh. “Do you know, I’ve never actually eaten there? As far as I’m concerned, lunch at the Ritz is totally not about the food.”

“It’s not?” Rochelle looked puzzled.

“Now you’re going to make me tell all my naughty secrets,” Ashleigh said. She cupped her hands and whispered in Rochelle’s ear.

“Ohhh,” Rochelle said knowingly. “Now I get it. The Ritz-Carlton is like a high-priced no-tell motel.”

“Exactly.” Ashleigh giggled.

“Did he say why he wants to have lunch?” Grace asked.

“He didn’t have to,” Ashleigh said. “It’s perfectly clear. He wants me back! I wasn’t going to tell y’all this, but since it’s kind of a moot point, I will. I saw Suchita, that’s his girlfriend, leaving Boyce’s office the other day. She’s getting fat! And Boyce does not DO fat. He’s a plastic surgeon, and appearances have always been important to him.” She looked around the table, pausing when she saw Camryn’s face.

“And before you say one word, let me just say that I don’t intend to let him wriggle off the hook that easily. I mean, please! I do have my pride. I mean to make him pay for what he put me through. Boyce doesn’t know it yet, but he’s going to be buying a major piece of jewelry to make it up to me.”

“Ashleigh,” Grace said, “have you really thought this through? You know Boyce was keeping a mistress. You know he cheated on his first wife when he started dating you. What makes you think he won’t do it again?”

“Yeah, baby,” Camryn said. “I’m sorry, but I do not see this tiger changing his stripes.”

“It’s different with us,” Ashleigh said. “Boyce never loved his first wife. Ever. Their marriage was a joke. I didn’t have to break it up. It was already a done deal. So yes, Boyce cheated on me. I’ve accepted that. Hasn’t Paula been yammering for weeks now about acceptance and finding peace?”