The Marriage Intervention (14 page)

“Want to discuss this over drinks?” he asked.
 

Josie felt her back go up, just a little. “Discussing it here is fine,” she said, her voice rising an octave.

Was the lunch recess debacle really just a ploy to get me to have drinks again? What is up with this guy?
 

“I could really use a drink. The Pennant? Do you mind?”
 

She checked her watch, even though she knew it was five minutes after three.
 

“Okay. I guess that’s fine. I need to be home by five, though.”

“Twenty minutes,” he said. “I promise.”
 

It’ll take twenty minutes from now just to get our drinks.
 

“Okay. Meet you there.”
 

“I can drive us, if you want,” Scott said.
 

“Nah. It’s fine. I’ll meet you.”
 

Sure enough, the bartender slid their drinks across the bar at precisely three twenty-five—and they hadn’t even started discussing whatever was in the mysterious orange folder. Speaking of which …
 

“Did you bring the folder?” Josie said.
 

“Oh, shit. I forgot the folder.” He put his forehead down on the shiny bar.
 

Now this is getting really suspicious.
 

“After all that? You really forgot it? Is it in your car?”

He sat up. “No, I can picture it sitting right on my desk chair. I left it there so I wouldn’t forget it.”
 

Josie took a big gulp of her drink, hoping the vodka would calm her. She felt tricked.
 

“Well, why don’t you tell me what you wanted to talk about,” she said, determined to stick to the topic.
 

“Oh, great idea,” he said.
 

Scott described the scheduling for the extracurricular activities, including the dog grooming club Blair Upton started. He explained how the custodian was responsible for making sure the classrooms, cafeteria and meeting rooms were unlocked before each club meeting, and locked up after each meeting, every day. By the time he finished speaking, he had already signaled for another round.
 

When Josie shook her head, Scott put a hand over hers and said, “No, I insist. My treat.”
 

But the minutes were ticking by. Paul was supposed to be home at five. If she had two drinks, she couldn’t leave The Pennant until five-thirty.
 

I
s it worse to be home late when my husband is expecting me, or run late and risk being that cop’s wife who gets a DUI? Probably the latter.
 

She decided to sip the second drink slowly, so as not to feed the little buzz she’d developed as she matched Scott’s quickening drinking pace.
 

“I really can’t stay,” she said. “Paul’s coming home early tonight and we’re supposed to have dinner.”
 

Scott looked crestfallen, and she remembered with mixed emotions that he said she broke his heart when she married Paul.
 

“I’m having a nice time, though,” she added.
 

He smirked, and yet again she remembered why she found him so attractive before. And yet again, she mentally kicked herself and pushed the thoughts out of her mind.
 

Josie checked her watch almost obsessively as five o’clock neared. Why had he slowed down now? He guzzled his first drink and now nursed the second.
 

“What time did you say Paul was expecting you?” he said.

“Five.”
 

“It’s five now. You’d better get going.”
 

Don’t I know it.
 

Josie gathered her purse and stood up. She put a hand on Scott’s shoulder.
 

“What, no hug?” he said.
 

She obliged, only to hasten her exit. His breath smelled sour from the Scotch.
 

Finally, she made her way through the crowded bar and out into the spring night, where she inhaled deeply and checked her watch again. Five ten.
 

As she walked down the sidewalk toward her car, she passed Scott’s, which was parallel parked a few yards down from The Pennant. What she saw on the passenger seat made her freeze in her tracks.
 

The folder Scott claimed to have left at the office—orange with a piece of masking tape peeling off its front—sat on the passenger seat. In plain view.

Scott not knowing he had it seemed impossible.
 

Had he left it in the car on purpose? Was he really that manipulative?
 

Even as she got into her own car a few moments later, she could hear a tiny voice answering,
Yes. He really is that manipulative. Always has been.
For some strange, twisted reason she couldn’t define, though, she kind of liked the fact that he wanted to manipulate her into spending time with him.

It just meant he really liked her, right?
 

Right?
she thought again when her wise inner voice didn’t answer.

One step forward, two steps back.
 

Josie turned the phrase into a little song and her mind put it on repeat. Why did she let Scott talk her into drinks? Why did she not insist on being home by five, when she knew Paul expected her? She drove home from The Pennant very carefully, going exactly the speed limit and using her blinker for every turn and lane change. The ten-minute trip felt like an eternity. By the time she walked through her front door, the living room clock read five twenty-seven. Reminding Paul it ran five minutes fast proved futile and maybe even counterproductive, especially when he smelled the vodka cranberry on her breath.
 

“I thought we were supposed to be working on our marriage,” he said.
 

Josie hated seeing him angry like this, his face an ugly sneer, the sarcasm making the air thick and difficult to breathe. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but she did have to remind herself to take a deep breath before speaking.
 

“We are,” she said. “It’s just that Scott wanted to talk to me about extracurriculars for next year.”
 

“I cannot believe you just said that to me.
Extracurriculars
? Seriously, Josie? He wanted to talk to you about extracurricular activities? Like drinking vodka cranberry after school when your husband made a real effort to be home early?”

For once, she didn’t have an excuse, or an angry comeback to put the fault on him. So she didn’t say anything. She lifted one hand in an I-don’t-know gesture.

“Wow. She’s speechless, folks. For once, she sees reason.”
 

“Why do you always do that?”
 

“Do what? Point out that you’re speechless because I’m right?”
 

“No! Talk like you’re in front of an audience. Why do you do that? Why can’t you just communicate with me?”
 

“There she goes, folks. Changing the subject. Using criticism to put the spotlight on Yours Truly.”
 

“Oh my God. You are so annoying.”
 

Although she could see a tiny spark of humor in his eyes, she knew he didn’t find the situation funny. Not even a tiny bit. He was probably getting a kick out of his weird broadcast, but that was it. And he was probably doing the broadcast routine only because he was disappointed and angry.
 

Josie wished she could turn back time, go straight back to lunch recess. She could find the orange folder on Scott’s desk, have the discussion with him right there and drive straight home to Paul after school.
 

But she couldn’t, and anyway, how many times had
he
run late? So when he asked her, “What are you thinking right now?” she went to default: indignation.
 

“What am I thinking right now? I’m thinking it’s pretty messed up that you, of all people, feel you have the right to get angry that I’m late. This one time I show up late, when you’ve been late hundreds of times.”
 

“Oh, hundreds? Really? Believe it or not, you’re not Miss Punctuality yourself. You were late to our first counseling appointment. Marriage! Counseling! Not only did you disrespect me and our relationship by being late, but you disrespected Dr. Strasser. And our bank account. We’re paying for that time. You show up late to your weekly Happy Hour with Delaney and Summer every single week. And you’ve never bothered asking them to move it back ten minutes so you can be on time. You just don’t give a shit. You don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself.”
 

A thousand tiny thoughts, in fragments, exploded front and center, tiny firecrackers in her mind:

Is he right?

Do people really think that?

Do Summer and Delaney think that?
 

Why was I late tonight of all nights?

Why was I late to counseling?

What does this say about my motivations?

What are my motivations?
 

I’m a loser.
 

I hate Scott Smith.
 

Manipulative ass.

I hate Dr. Strasser.
 

Condescending ass.
 

I hate myself.
 

Idiot.
 

But before she could speak, before she could formulate an acceptable apology, Paul threw up his hands. “I’m going back to work. I can’t believe I blew the guys off for this. I skipped out on a big search warrant and endured the guys’ comments about me being pussy whipped, for you to show up late because you were having drinks with your weasel of a boss. Discussing extracurriculars. This is bullshit.”
 

He was gone before she could stop him.
 

What is going on with me? Josie thought. Usually I’m much more … argumentative.
 

It’s just that you know he’s right
, her inner voice, all practicality, said.
 

“I need wine,” she said to Paul’s fake audience. “I’ve got to shut that bitch up.”
 

The aftershocks of her discussion with Paul continued to hit her throughout the evening. She felt stupid. Inadequate as a wife.
 

Most importantly, she felt beyond positive Scott manipulated her in an attempt to cause damage to her marriage. Not that she could tell Paul that. And even if she could, it would just make the situation worse because she’d fallen for it. She couldn’t escape the clutches of her ex-lover to make it home to her husband.
 

***

Three glasses into a nice, special-occasion bottle of pinot noir, Josie heard her phone ding, signaling a text message. She went to retrieve it off the couch, hoping the message was from Paul. Nope. She slid back onto her stool.
 

Delaney:
What’s up?

Josie sighed again, and responded:
What’s up with you?

Delaney:
Where are you?

Josie:
Home. Why?
 

Delaney:
Wondering.

Josie:
Why?
 

Delaney:
Didn’t you and Paul have a special date tonight?
 

Josie:
Yes. Why?

Delaney: T
wo reasons. First, I saw you at The Pennant. Second, I saw Paul riding around with his team in that irritated pimple of an undercover car. What happened?
 

Josie:
Ugh. Are you stalking me, or what?

Josie rammed her forehead against her fist several times. Softly, but still.
 

Delaney:
Spill it, sister. Or I’m coming over. You know you can’t resist me in person.

Josie:
Aren’t you heating the sheets with Jake Rhoades the Steamy?
 

Delaney:
Over and done with. We get started early.

Josie:
OMG.
 

Delaney:
So?
 

Josie:
So. Scott talked me into drinks. He wanted to talk to me about extracurriculars. I ran a little late. Paul freaked and went back to work.
 

Delaney:
Extracurriculars?
 

Josie wanted to throw her phone across the room. Did Delaney have to have the same reaction as Paul?
 

Josie:
Haha. Funny.
 

Delaney:
Why did you let yourself be late?
 

“You have to be kidding me,” Josie said to Paul’s audience. “She’s asking why I let myself. As if I had control. And I am talking to a fake audience. God help me.”

Josie:
I didn’t let myself. It just happened.

Delaney:
So you couldn’t leave The Pennant at 4:45?
 

Josie:
Scott ordered another round. I drank it.
 

Delaney:
Couldn’t let the vodka cran go to waste?
 

Josie:
Exactly.

Delaney:
So he was mad, huh?

Josie:
Yep.
 

Why did Delaney have to force her to experience the evening all over again?
 

Delaney:
And he just left? No romance?

Josie:
No romance.

Delaney:
So when I texted you just now, did you think it was Paul?

Josie:
Yep.
 

Delaney:
Disappointed?
 

Josie:
Well…
 

Delaney:
Yep.
 

Josie:
Yep.
 

Josie poured herself a fourth glass, and downed half of it in one gulp.

Delaney:
Sorry. But you’ve got to own this one.
 

Josie:
I know. I felt so bad about it, and of course I lashed out. Reminded him about all his shortcomings. Shit.