Packed and Ready to Go (9 page)

I rehearsed my speech as the elevator marked each floor with excruciating slowness. How to explain my surprise appearance? It wasn’t often I went to Walter’s office. Usually I came for a specific purpose, and then he was always expecting me.

Before the elevator reached his floor, I reapplied my lipstick, and ran my hand over my pants to smooth out the large wrinkles. Maybe he would be so pleased to see me he would ravish me on the sofa in his office. After seeing Marco, I could use a tender touch to take the edge off.

The elevator doors opened onto the deserted floor. The offices were dark. Most of the overhead lighting was off. I expected some activity. I turned the corner and started down the hall. No light came from under his office door, but I continued. At his suite, I knocked and turned the knob.

The door was locked. His administrative assistant’s desk was clean. I knocked again like an idiot, and tried the knob again. I needed solid confirmation that Walter wasn’t behind the door. If he wasn’t home, or at the country club, and he wasn’t answering his phone he had to be here. He was always here.

My palms were sweating. Unsure what to do next, I stumbled back down the hall and pushed the elevator button for the lobby. After one last look down the corridor I stepped into the waiting elevator.

I walked out of the building faster than I’d walked in. Outside, I almost ran to the car, gagging for air with each step. I put the windows down, hung my head through the opening and gulped. My head and heart thumped in unison.

I don’t remember getting on the interstate or making any turns or stopping at any lights. I pulled into my driveway. My neighbor across the street played catch with his son. Next door, Ramsay placed lawn chairs into the trunk of his car. I hit the remote to open our garage door. I expected to see Walter’s car parked on his side of the garage. It wasn’t. I pulled into the garage and sat for several seconds. I fingered the hem of my top before turning off the car.

Once inside I headed straight for the refrigerator. Leftover chicken along with macaroni and cheese and spinach called me. Forget the diet.

I ate the meat cold.

I ate the macaroni and cheese cold.

I ate the spinach cold.

I ate without sitting down. Without tasting. Without feeling.

While I gorged, I tried not to succumb to the twinge growing in my belly like tumbleweed.

Leaving my dirty dishes sitting on the counter, I pulled the prescription bottle from my purse, and took another pill.

Relief needed to catch up to me. Fast.

I picked up the phone to call the police, but dropped it back in the cradle. I was being silly. Anxious. What would I say? It’s dark and my middle-aged husband isn’t home yet?

I made my way upstairs. I had a bottle of merlot tucked under my arm and balanced a huge slice of cake with my other hand. I sat in the bedroom window seat overlooking the curved driveway and the tree-lined street.

Sometime after midnight, the empty wine bottle fell to my feet.

Chapter Nine - Tracy

When the sun broke over the horizon, I unfurled my stiff legs. The hard window seat was as unforgiving as the thumping in my head.

I smacked my dry lips and tried to swallow the cotton feeling in my mouth. It was easier to remain seated than to get steamrolled by life.

The bedroom grew lighter with each passing minute, and I continued to sit. Pushing the negative thoughts away, but dread curled around my neck like death. Usually he phoned to check in with me. At the very least he returned my calls.

I stood on unsteady limbs. My lower back refused to let me straighten up. I raised my hands above my head and reached for the ceiling. My wrinkled pants clung to my damp legs. Everything on my body ached and my insides churned with nausea. I ran to the toilet just in time to empty my stomach.

After washing my face and teeth, I picked up the phone on the nightstand. The dial tone screamed in my ear. Our phones were working. I dialed his cell. The voice mail directed me to leave a message. Another message.

I dialed his office.

The same result as yesterday.

Directly to cover.

The red glow of the digital clock read 6:45, too early for his assistant to be in the office.

I found the anti-anxiety meds in the bottom of my purse, and swallowed two so fast they stuck in my throat like a hunk of meat before moving down. I pulled off my clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor, then climbed into the shower. The hot spray fell over my head, down my face and body. I leaned my head against the cold marble and it numbed my forehead. The salty taste of tears lingered on my tongue. This kick in the stomach should have pushed my plan into motion. Fear of failing, of disappointing my parents, of making a mistake, rooted me in place. My body locked up. I stood in the shower until the water ran cold.

I picked a simple black dress from my closet, it mirrored my mood. I snatched it from the hanger and grabbed a pair of black pumps from the shoe rack. Without looking in the mirror I ran my fingers through my short curly hair before grabbing my purse, and running out the door. Staying in the house another moment, waiting on the unknown, was worse than the rumble raging in my stomach. It was better to escape the sadness.

My head railed against me as I maneuvered through the traffic and congestion to arrive in front of my office building. I needed to calm the constant thumping on my temples, but suspicion bombarded me.

He wouldn’t betray me again.

He couldn’t.

He promised.

I made my way to my office without greeting anyone and avoiding eye contact, I plopped my purse on the desk and flopped into the chair.

The message light on my phone caught my attention. I snatched the headset off the receiver. My heart pounded against my rib cage. The supply chain manager had left a long message about a cost sensitivity analysis. The second message was from the unit supervisor asking a series of mundane questions that I didn’t listen to. I deleted both messages and hung up the phone.

Nothing from Walter.

I dialed his office, again.

Still no answer. I’d try his administrative assistant when she arrived at nine. Then I intended to call the police.

If life always gave surprises, that meant Walter could be lying in a ditch on the side of a road instead of between the thighs of some willing woman. Neither would be a major surprise.

I picked up the phone and dialed Carla. Of my two closest friends, she was the one who always took the pragmatic approach.

“
He didn’t come home last night.” My voice was a hoarse whisper, shielding my heart from the truth. “I can’t find him.”

“
Tracy? Tracy, I can barely hear you.”

I took a deep breath and swallowed to regain my composure. Hysteria clamped its tentacles around my throat. The minute I sat behind my desk I lost the last bit of my resolve to be tough. A chill ran along my spine. I couldn’t stop shivering.

“
Carla…” My voice broke as sobs filled my chest. For several seconds she allowed me to cry uninterrupted.

“
Tracy, try to calm down. Has he been in an accident?” Carla’s voice was measured with calm. She could have been talking to a child.

“
No, I don’t think he’s been in an accident!” I resented her ability to overlook the obvious—my world was falling apart. “If your man doesn’t come home at night what do you think it means? Besides, the police would have knocked on my door if there had been an accident.”

“
You said he’s been working a lot lately. Maybe he was at work.”

An unrecognizable sound escaped from my mouth. “Carla, I went to his office. And to the golf course. He wasn’t in either place.”

“
Did you call his cell phone?”

“
Duh!” I didn’t want to be mean, but I couldn’t stop myself.

“
Okay, okay...” she said, slowly.

“
I called his office, I called his cell phone. I called every device possible. He didn’t answer any of them.” Saying the words aloud gave birth to my greatest fear and the trembling started again. I pushed away from my desk and faced the window. Down on the street cars moved through the intersection as if the world weren’t tilting incorrectly on its axis threatening to shake us all off into outer space.

“
Where are you right now?”

“
In my office.” I bit my lip to suppress a wail.

“
Stay there, I’m coming over.”

“
No. Don’t.”

“
I’m on my way.” She hung up the phone before I could protest more. My knees shook. I backed the chair away from the window.

The strength it took to wipe my nose was almost too much to muster. An image of Walter with another woman flashed before me. My stomach lurched. I held my head over the trashcan until my stomach stopped retching. Afterwards, I rested my forehead on the edge of the desk and closed my eyes. The cool feel of the oak felt good against my burning flesh.

My legs continued to shake. If the building caught fire, I couldn’t run around waving my arms like fire victims on television. I would have sat and burned in the flames. The thought of death brought relief. No decisions required.

Ursula came into my office and closed the door. The alarm in her eyes let me know she already knew.

“
I just got off the phone with Carla. Why didn’t you call me, I’m right upstairs?” She walked around my desk and enclosed me in her arms with a small squeeze. “Ugh, you threw up.” She moved away from the trashcan and me.

“
Yeah.” I kicked the pail under the desk and lifted my head.

Other than the wide-eyed panic on Ursula’s face, she looked great. Always in control. The consummate professional. Her makeup was perfect, even her sculpted eyebrows looked like a work of art. Did life ever catch her by surprise?

I wasn’t ready to see my marriage through her cold analytical eyes. It was easy for her to look down her nose at me for putting up with Walter’s antics because she didn’t have to prove anything to her parents. She didn’t need to prove to the world that she’d married the love of her life and intended to live happily-ever-after.

“
Why didn’t you call me?” she asked again.

“
I don’t know,” I mumbled.

“
You look awful.” She sat forward on the edge of the chair.

“
You think so?” Anger edged my voice.

She ignored my tone. “Don’t assume the worst. Wait until you talk to him.”

“
Humph. Yes.”

“
Do you think he’s having an affair?” The words inched out of her mouth as if they were afraid.

“
He’s done it before. I’m trying to save our marriage and he could be out there right now screwing some bimbo.”

“
Ah, Tracy, that was years ago. You guys moved beyond that and put your marriage back on track.”

“
Ursula, Walter cheated on me when we were in college, too. Remember the pretty majorette with the big breasts?”

“
Lacy. He cheated on you with Lacy? Are you sure? Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“
He swore it was a mistake. He was horny. He told me he would never do it again. That he loved me. I believed him. I had to believe him. I was pregnant. Then he screwed his secretary and I still needed to believe he loved me.”

“
Have you asked if he’s having an affair?”

“
Yes.” I swiped my nose on the back of my hand.

Ursula pulled a tissue from the box on my desk and handed it to me.

“
We’ve had this discussion more than once. Whenever I bring it up, he makes me look stupid. He says I’m insecure because I’m an only child, or I’m acting like his mother, that’s why his father ran off.” I dabbed my eyes with the tissue. “He denies it. Every time.” I stopped rambling and asked, “What man admits to having an affair unless you catch him with his dick in another woman?” I was almost yelling.

“
Well, I guess you’re right about that.” She nodded “But, honey, this is your marriage. So don’t jump to conclusions. It could be a whole lot of things that kept him out last night.”

“
Ursula, you’ve been with enough men to know when something is different. Just like when you and Sam broke up. You saw it coming months before the end.” I paused for a moment. “I can tell. I can tell by the way he doesn’t touch me. I can tell by the way he kisses me—all lips and no tongue. I can tell by the way we don’t talk and the way we do talk. You know, sometimes I even wonder if I want to stay with him. Walter is a bastard and being married to him is
sooo
much work.”