Obsession

“Yeah.” I nodded. “Shocker, huh?”

“Oh, sweetie. Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.” Marnie paused. “Have you eaten anything?” Like that was the answer to my crisis.

“Nothing.”

“Let me fix you some food.”

“Where’s Peaches?”

“She ran outside when I opened the door. Look, the cat’s going to be fine. It’s you I’m worrying about.”

I nodded.

Tugging on my hand, Marnie pulled me up from the bed. “I know what you’re going through. Believe me. And I’m going to help you deal with it.”

“Thanks.”

I walked with her to the kitchen, but she insisted that I sit in the living room and put my feet up. I did, and for lack of anything better to do, I turned on the television.

The Maury Pauvich Show was on, dealing with unruly kids who were going to be sent off to boot camp. I’d seen several shows of this variety, with bold and foul-mouthed children balking at any authority, only to end up weeping and begging for their mothers after a few days of military-enforced submission.

“They should have boot camp like this for cheating husbands,” I commented.

“What?” Marnie asked.

I could see her working in the kitchen, getting the skillet hot to fry eggs. She already had coffee brewing.

“I’m watching Maury Pauvich, and they’ve got out-of-control teens that they’re sending to boot camp. I think he ought to do a show where they send cheating men to boot camp. I’d tune in for that one.”

“Wasn’t he an unfaithful husband?” Marnie asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe they all are,” I added softly. Marnie and Brian had fallen apart because they ultimately wanted different things, but her first husband, Keith, had cheated on her as though he’d been going for some kind of world record.

Marnie wandered into the living room with a mug of hot coffee. “Two creams, two sugars—just the way you like it.”

“Thank you.” With a smile, I accepted the mug from Marnie, then watched as she sauntered back to the kitchen. I was glad she was here. Because she’d shown up, I was no longer in a cold, dark, depressing place. Friends were what helped keep people sane when they went through heart-wrenching experiences. Without someone to turn to, a person could get lost in their grief and be unable to find their way back to sanity.

While Marnie fried eggs, I turned back to the television. A young female was taunting the audience with, “Yeah, so I slept with fifteen guys—what’s the big deal?” while they all booed her and her mother sobbed. A caption on the screen identified the girl as thirteen-year-old Cathy.

I actually chuckled as Maury placed his hand on the shoulder of the girl’s mother, asking how she felt about her daughter’s shocking admission. The mother was a blubbering mess but managed to say, “I can’t believe she would do this to me.”

I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t a parent, but I was a teacher, and I’d seen firsthand the kinds of problems that arose when parents took the submissive role and let their kids get away with everything. When they didn’t set boundaries. Or, when they didn’t punish kids for breaking the rules.

“You want to eat in front of the television?” Marnie asked. “Because I can bring out a couple of trays.”

“No, no.” I got to my feet and walked across the living room to the kitchen’s dinette area. “Though watching shows like Maury certainly helps a person forget about her own problems.”

Marnie set a plate of eggs and toast in front of me, then took the seat to my right. She had only the coffee for herself.

“Thanks so much,” I told her. “If you hadn’t shown up, I’d still be in bed, half-comatose.”

Marnie sipped her coffee. “Ok, now tell me what happened. You got home last night and what—you found evidence of some other woman here or something?”

“No.” I lifted my fork and cut into my egg. “He came right out and told me.”

“Nice welcome-home present. Sheesh.”

“I knew something was wrong, but I never would have guessed….” My voice trailed off, ending on a sigh. Then I continued, trying to recite the facts without emotion. “He was acting weird. I wanted to make love, but he wasn’t into it. Next thing I know, he’s all serious, saying he’s got to tell me something. I actually thought someone had died.” Shaking my head at the memory, I stuffed some egg into my mouth.

“I wish I could say I’m surprised,” Marnie began, “but I have to say, nothing men do surprises me anymore.”

“I was devastated last night,” I went on. I still was, but now I was determined to regain control of my emotions. “Mad at first, then devastated. But you know what—I didn’t do this. Andrew did. I’m not saying it doesn’t hurt, but fuck, if this is the hand that life has dealt me, I am going to deal with it and move on.”

Marnie gave me a slightly skeptical look, but God bless her, she didn’t voice any doubts. I’d seen her after her marriage had fallen apart, and though she’d seen it coming, it had taken a long time for her to recover.

“It’s not going to be easy,” I said. “I get that. But you know what, there are other fish in the sea.”

I felt emotion welling up inside me again at the thought of a life without Andrew, and I quickly ate more food before I started crying. Clearly, I was lying to myself.

“I’m here for you,” Marnie said. “We’ll go shopping, clubbing, whatever you need to take your mind off this.”

I nodded. “I know.” I’d done the same for her. “I mean, I know it’ll be hard. I loved Andrew. I still do. But I can’t let this ruin my life.”

Marnie nodded, sipped her coffee. “Did he tell you anything about her?”

“Not much. But it sounds like she wasn’t a one-night stand.” I took a bite of my whole-wheat toast.

“What an asshole,” Marnie muttered. “Sorry, but—”

“Don’t apologize. You’re absolutely right. And I can’t believe he told me this, expecting I’d just forgive him.”

“Word of advice here—and I know it’s early, and I’m not trying to tell you what to do—but you forgive a guy when he cheats, and there’s nothing to say he won’t do it again. In fact, it’s almost like they see your forgiveness as a sign to do it again. Trust me, I learned the hard way with Keith.”

Would Andrew be that way? I couldn’t imagine. Then again, I never imagined he’d ever cheat. He’d seemed too grounded, too controlled, too stable—opposite of spontaneous—to do something like that.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I admitted. “Part of me hates him, part of me loves him.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Marnie said. “But you don’t have to do it today. How about we hit the mall for some retail therapy. And we can take in a matinée. That new film with Will Smith. Two hours of shameless ogling.” Her face lit up. “What do you say?”

“Will Smith? How can I argue with that?”

The retail therapy was fun, netting me a new pair of shoes and a slinky black dress I promised to wear out to a club with Marnie on the weekend. But Will Smith was like two painkillers, easing my heartache for the two hours he appeared on screen. Marnie had cheered loudly when he took it all off in a shower scene, and while I hadn’t been as vocal, I’d certainly enjoyed his delicious body.

We pulled into my driveway shortly after five. I collected the bags with my purchases and got out of Marnie’s black Nissan Sentra.

“I’m serious,” Marnie said. “Call me if you need me, no matter the time.”

“You spent the whole day babysitting me,” I protested.