Just Trust Me

Her hair had long since lost the bounce and shine it once had since she first met him. The luster in her eyes had dulled except on the rare occasion they were coated with tears. Only a cool shadow remained where once there was a warm smile to greet her husband. There was a glow about her whenever she entered the room. But it was gone now. And she knew it.

The thought of her glory days danced teasingly on the edges of her mind as her hands marinated in dishwater and her ears remained pert only for her baby’s cries. She was a little girl once with little girl dreams and in her naiveté believed that she would one day fall madly in love with a man and they would live happily ever after. This housewife realized that she may no longer have enough fairy tale charm to keep Prince Charming around much longer.

She began to suspect her husband’s waning interest just six weeks prior to that very moment she scrubbed pots and pans in the kitchen. There was no smoking gun of the man’s infidelity, but most women never needed more than the tingle of their intuition to tell them that something was wrong. It was the little things that triggered her suspicion.

Just a few days ago, he started to come home late. It wasn’t that big a deal at first; five to ten minutes. But he was suspiciously apologetic. What was he hiding? When he came in, he hugged her and pressed his lips to her cheek. She noticed that his face was ice cold as if he had been standing in the cold longer than he had to. And he smelled different. There was no smell of a woman’s perfume, but the strength of his aftershave had been stronger than usual. Who was he trying to impress?

It’s the weekend, and she wanted to use this opportunity to look through his car and dirty clothes for more concrete evidence. Then there was the hair. It was a singular hair that so carelessly rested on the shoulder of her husband’s overcoat. The hair was light brown, like hers. But it was somehow lighter and a tad shorter than any follicle on her head. Oddly, there was no hair on his shirts, or in the car. Apparently, he’s only having an affair with the overcoat on. But then the most compelling evidence presented itself in three simple words. He took his overcoat and headed to the front door.

“Honey? I’m going out for a little bit,” he smiled a smile that she thought was too sincere. Why was he being so nice?

“On a Saturday night?” she asked, not knowing if she wanted to cry or punch him in the face. “And without me?”

“I’ll be right back,” he said, “I promise.” And he leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. She wanted to strangle him but instead wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight, as if she would no longer be able to.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Just trust me.” There were the three words. “It’s for work.”

And that brings her to the dishwater. Her thoughts meandered about yesterday, hoping to find where things had gone so sour. The cooing of the baby drew her away from the scrubbing of the pots and pans. As she held the infant in her hands, her thoughts of nostalgia grew into realizations of rage. She realized that all this had come into fruition so close to their anniversary. It was to be their tenth year of bliss together. Upon realizing this, she ran to the wastebasket and scattered its contents on the floor. There was a small, crumpled bit of paper that had been forced to the bottom of the bin. She unraveled it in her palm. There was a price for something written on it. The letterhead did not reveal a name, but it did have an unfamiliar address. She picked up her baby and ran to the car.

The car rushed with urgency down the streets, taking careful precaution as to bend the traffic laws without breaking them completely. She weaved the vehicle over the asphalt maneuvering it like a maniacal boat skimming over not so calm seas. The automobile’s rear wheels left two rubber streaks behind it as it screeched to the side of the curb in front of a brick building. The baby, however, didn’t seem to be fazed by the rush. In fact, it seemed to lull him into sleep.

It was unclear whether this building was commercial or residential, but she didn’t care. She took the baby out of the car and ran inside the front door. Her eyes darted to and fro around the lobby until finally honing in on that now infamous overcoat. He ducked into a small office at the end of the hallway and she followed quietly behind.

“How could you?” she asked him.

“Honey, what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” the baby rubbed his eyes and yawned and went back to his nap, “You said you were going to work.”

“I didn’t want you to find out like this.” Just then a woman came from around the corner who tried to hide her shock with a smile. She was holding a small box in her hands, which he took from her.

“How did you want me to find out?” Her husband opened the box and revealed two diamond earrings.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” he answered as he took the baby and handed her the box, “Tenth anniversary is diamonds.” His beet-faced wife wiped a tear from her cheek and hugged him tight. She kissed him on the lips and the baby’s drool crept onto the shoulder of his overcoat. And they lived happily ever after.