Unfaithful (10 page)

The main level of Olivia and Miles’ home was filled with about seventy-five people—mostly employees from the firm. Olivia had done this going on four years now, an annual event right after third quarter profits and losses are posted, where she pulls together her salespeople to celebrate their hard work. It had morphed into an annual, all-hands event that everyone looked forward to, a time when folks could hobnob with anyone from Rod, the president of their company, on down to the mailroom clerk, in an atmosphere that commanded mutual respect. Not to mention great food and flowing libations.

Olivia is managing the event like a football coach. All that’s missing is her wireless headset. She’s issuing orders to her immediate staff for more white wine, bacon-wrapped grilled shrimp, and less spinach quiche; after this song goes off, switch to the hip-hop CD; this smooth jazz that’s playing is too much like elevator music right now. Carly walks between rooms assisting, making sure wineglasses are topped off, plates filled, people taken care of. Miles is here, too, making sure he meanders among the crowd, saying his hellos, ensuring folks are comfortable.

Friday night, close to 9
P
.
M
., they’ve just finished giving out their employee awards, along with the cash prizes that are so coveted. Rod did the honors while employees and spouses looked on in hushed apprehension. Now the music has been cranked up, Miles’ specialty, and presently, he’s got a reggae dance hall tape in, and folks are loosening up, courtesy of the wine and beer. Some of his co-workers are here, too, folks from his nonprofit, mingling with the techies and marketing folks. Carly is making the rounds, staying busy, but she’s been spotted glancing at her watch from time to time. Making excuses when people find out she’s Ryan’s spouse.

“Oh, my goodness, so good to meet you! Where is he, by the way?” someone asks.

“Haven’t seen him this evening.” This about twenty minutes later. “Everything alright with him? Noticed he was absent from work one day this week—a first for Ryan, I’ll tell you that!”

Even Rod corners her by the stairway, smiling as he takes her by the elbow, whisking her away to a back guest room.

“A moment of your time, if you would?” he asks sheepishly.

Carly nods, knowing this moment would surely come. She had asked Olivia to ensure that Ryan would show. She refused to call him herself. It had been five days, and not a word from her husband.

So two can play this game…

But this…not showing at his company party, especially since he was one of the senior people, management…was suicide. Everyone knew that!

“Good as always to see you, Carly,” Rod says, kissing her cheek gingerly.

“You, too, Rod. I was speaking with Lily earlier in the evening.” She refers to his wife of 18 years.

“Good. Excellent! Listen, I must cut to the chase, so forgive me. Is everything okay with your husband? He has not been himself lately, and frankly, I’m worried about him.” Rod eyes her curiously.

Carly takes a moment to respond. Inhales a breath and lets it out slowly.

“We’ve had a hard time of late…trying to work it out.” She wants to say more, but lacks the energy to do so.

“I know,” he says, consoling her with his tone and downcast stare. “Lord knows I know. Lily and I have had our share of problems. It’s difficult running a company and making time for one’s family. Ryan works very hard—sometimes maybe too hard.”

Carly is surprised by his candor.

“I just want you to know if there is anything I can do…”

“Thank you, Rod.”

“Anything. Do not hesitate to get in touch with me. Alright?”

“Yes.”

“One question, if I may. Do you expect him to show tonight?” Rod asks, his gaze riveted with hers.

“I did,” she responds, checking her watch for the hundredth time this evening, “but now I’m not so sure.”

Rod nods.

“I understand. I will leave you, then. Please try to enjoy your evening. Things will work out. I have a good feeling about you two.”

Rod takes his leave while Carly remains in the guest bedroom, glancing around at the furniture, the stuffed animals Olivia is fond of collecting, wondering if Rod’s words will ring true.

Only time will tell…

Miles is sequestered in the corner by the entrance to the gazebo-covered deck. He holds a lime-topped Corona in hand, and is in the midst of an in-depth conversation with a dark-skinned man. They are standing shoulder-width apart; the gentleman holds an oversize wine stem half-filled with Shiraz. They are laughing, Miles’ locs bouncing as he nods his head, tips his beer to his lips; the dark-skinned man is clean shaven, bald, a large diamond earring in his right ear. He wears a dark suit, blue silk button-down underneath, no tie, relaxed collar. He is handsome, in a dark, mysterious way.

Carly is watching them from just off the kitchen. She holds her glass of Diet Coke. No more wine now that she’s pregnant. She resists the urge to look at her watch. She knows it’s after ten. Many of Olivia’s folks have left, but the core partygoers are still here, dancing to the reggae vibe, lights turned down low, as libations and conversation continue to flow.

Who is the gentleman talking to Miles,
she wonders. He reminds her of a writer or some creative type. Can’t put her finger on it, but she’d bet money on it. She has been watching them for the past fifteen minutes. They seem to be absorbed in their conversation, others leaving them alone. Olivia whisks by her, grabbing another bag of ice from the garage—touching Carly’s elbow, asking her if she’s alright.

Carly nods, says nothing.

Instead, she decides to satiate her curiosity by going over.

“Hey, Miles,” she says.

Miles nods. “Hey, Carly.” He glances over at the gentleman and says, “Carly, let me introduce you to Aden. Aden, Carly.”

He extends his hand, takes hers in his.

“A pleasure,” he says, voice two octaves below normal.

Carly smiles. “Likewise.” She is glancing between the two men. “Where do you two know each other from?”

“The nonprofit,” Miles answers cheerfully. “Aden is a recent addition to our organization as lead psychotherapist.”

“Oh? Nice. Where are you coming from?” she asks.

Aden looks at her. “Detroit. I was with the city’s youth runaway unit, but after five years, the hours finally got to me. Being on call 24/7 and working emergencies every day just kind of wore me out.” Aden has sincere eyes. Carly likes that.

“I can imagine,” she says. “Actually, I can’t. I tip my hat to folks like you and Miles who are out there on the front line, every day, dealing with the real urban drama—not the stuff you read about in some novel or see on TV.”

“Well, thank you,” Aden says, flattered.

“Miles, I was wondering if I could steal you away for a moment. Would that be okay, Aden?”

“Of course.”

Miles’ eyes shine with moisture and Carly accepts the fact that he is a bit wasted. His voice is up a notch in volume, too. He leads Carly out onto the deck where, surprisingly, no one is about. There is a free-standing clay fireplace in the corner, with an oval opening that emits a romantic glow. Carly places her hands in front of the fire and immediately feels warmth.

“God, this is nice,” she says.

Miles nods.

“So?” he asks, glancing quickly back at the closed door leading to the house.

“Miles,” she begins, without preamble, “this thing between Ryan and me really has me all messed up. I mean, I can’t for the life of me figure out what’s going on.”

“I know. It must be driving you crazy,” he responds with reassuring eyes. “I’ve tried calling him, you know,” he adds as an afterthought.

“Yeah, Olivia told me. And that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Well, partly what I wanted to ask you.”

Miles is silent.

“I’m at a loss here to explain what is happening. You were one of the last people to talk to him, face-to-face, so perhaps you can shed some light on all of this.”

Miles holds his hands wide, grins in the semi-darkness, firelight bathing his face in orange hues.

“Carly, we’ve been over this before. As I told you, we met for a drink; we were shooting the shit the way we always do, and then we went our separate ways. I assumed he was going home. I know I did.”

“Yes, you’ve explained that before. But what doesn’t add up is this: he isn’t just shutting me out—he’s shutting you out, as well. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’ve overheard you tell Olivia that you’re getting pissed that he hasn’t returned your calls.”

“Yeah, well…Ryan’s going through something. I assume when he’s ready to share it with me—”

“Miles,” she says, interrupting him, “this is
me
you’re talking to. You two are best friends. Up until now, he’s told you
everything
. So what changed?”

Miles is silent, considering her words. She is correct, he is angry—actually, beyond angry. The fact that Ryan hasn’t responded to his repeated calls has Miles considering a number of things. He refuses to let this one go…

“I can’t answer that. Only your husband can.”

“Well, is he cheating on me? Is there another woman?” she blurts out, unable to contain her rising frustration, anger, and emotion.

Miles is silent for a moment.

“Naw, Carly, no
woman
I know of.” He grins sheepishly, and Carly frowns.

“Okay…” Hesitancy. Then, “I mean, did something go down between you two on Friday?” Her eyes are like lasers, boring into his skull.

“Naw…” Miles emits a short grunt. Carly looks at him strangely. There is something not quite right here. Can’t quite place her finger on the pulse of it…

“Miles?”

He snaps his head around, frightening her with the suddenness of his actions.

“I told you, Carly, nothing happened…damn!”

Miles steps back, escaping the daunting firelight. Before he descends back down into darkness, Carly spies an evil grin adorning his face.

“What is with
you
?” she whispers. “It’s as if you are getting pleasure out of my pain…” Her voice diminishes to nothing.

“Perhaps you don’t know your husband very well,” he says suddenly, loud, face bursting back into orange light. He appears sinister, and Carly feels her heart race.

“Meaning?” she asks cautiously, fingers shaking.

“I don’t know…nothing…Corona talking,” he slurs, holding up the now-empty bottle, as if on display. “If it pleases the court, your honor…”

He turns away, saunters back into the confines of his home. Carly watches him go. Aden is waiting patiently for him. Their heads tilt toward one another; Carly witnesses hushed conversations, more laughter, locs bouncing…something not quite
right
.

Carly turns back toward the fire, extending her hands toward the red-hot divide.

Not even this orange glow can warm her insides now.

“Can I have a word with you?”

Olivia’s stare burns into her husband’s. He glares back, eyes darting between hers and the small group of folks from the nonprofit. They are in the basement family room, sitting on the dark brown sectional, drinks in hand, watching a boxing match on HBO HD.

It’s close to midnight.

Olivia is beyond tired.

Beyond irritated at what she’s just learned from Carly.

Miles excuses himself, walks with her up the stairs, past the living room where people still congregate. The music permeates the air like a thick fog.

He heads for the deck, but Olivia steers him into the kitchen and out into the garage where it is quiet.

Just the two of them.

After the door closes behind him, she turns and folds her arms over her chest.

“Just what the hell have you been telling Carly?”

“What are you talking about?” His eyes are animated, not able to remain in one place very long.

“Miles—you and Carly had words tonight. You upset her with this bullshit talk about Ryan and her!”

“What the hell did I say?!” he yells, then auto corrects his volume.

“I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to find out. But you said something that cut to the bone—’cause she is one upset puppy right now. And I don’t need to remind you of just how fragile she is. Do I?”

Miles grins. Takes a step forward. “And I don’t need to remind you that we are all here because of you, Olivia.” He steps forward again, one hand gesturing with an empty Corona bottle. Volume cut down a notch. “You decided to flirt with my best friend and things got out of hand.” One further step until mere inches separate them. “So
you
watch what you say to me about it being my fault. Or should I go tell Carly the truth?”

Olivia is aghast. She opens her mouth to speak, but no words emerge.

“Yes, that’s what I thought. Better keep your philandering tendencies to yourself. Don’t want your best friend to find out what you are up to.”

Olivia gulps.

“Think I’m stupid, Olivia? Think I don’t know what happened that night after the party? Shit.”

Olivia freezes. Stops breathing. Everything comes to a halt.

Several moments pass as Miles and Olivia stare each other down.

“Watch what you say to me. Hear me?”

Silence.

“I SAID, DO YOU HEAR ME???”

His voice echoes in the tight space.

Miles spins around, twisting on the balls of his loafers. He loses balance; his locs stream out from his head and dance briefly in the air; the beer bottle leaves his fingers. It arcs up ever so briefly before dropping to the concrete ground where it shatters into a dozen fragments.

Olivia’s body spasms at the sound, his words, his frenzied misstep, her rapidly deteriorating friendship and marriage….

Hour and a half later.

The party is over.

Everyone’s left.

Miles is upstairs asleep.

Olivia and Carly are cleaning up, collecting empty beer bottles, paper plates, 16-ounce plastic cups. They work silently, both tired, both alone with their respective thoughts.

As far as parties go, this one was an unqualified success.

People will be talking about it next week. Great food, good drinking and conversation.

Everyone pleased.

Except for Olivia and Carly.

Each alone in her own world.

Alone…

“Olivia,” Carly says, breaking the silence. Olivia is in the kitchen, just finished loading up the dishwasher. Carly is blowing out candles, shutting down the stereo, collecting a lone bottle that was missed in the corner of the large room.

“Yes?”

“Can we talk?”

Olivia feels a spike of pain travel down her back. She stands straighter. Nods once. “Of course. I’m finished here.”

Carly heads for the deck. Her hand touches the brass doorknob. “Let’s do this outside, okay?”

Carly doesn’t wait for an answer from her best friend. Instead, she is through the door before Olivia can consider a response. Olivia turns off the lights to the kitchen and dims the ones in the living room. When she joins Carly on the deck, Carly is sequestered in a chair, pulled up close to the fire. She motions Olivia to sit. Olivia does so, rubbing her palms in front of the growing warmth.

Carly has a handful of branches between her feet. She feeds them into the opening, witnessing the sparks and crackle as the flames come alive.

“Ummm, that’s nice,” Olivia says, attempting to break the ice.

Carly nods.

“Sorry Ryan didn’t show,” Olivia says. Pauses a moment before saying, “I’ll track him down tomorrow—Rod asked me to—find out what’s going on—starting to affect his performance and all.”

Carly nods silently, then turns to her best friend. Exhales slowly.

“There’s something I need for you to answer, okay? No more bull, no more dancing around the edge, ’cause this is my marriage we’re talking about.”

“Yeah, of course, Carly, but—”

Carly waves her hand, cutting short any further discussion.

“Here’s the thing, Olivia—I know something went down with Ryan. A person doesn’t just change overnight, like a switch being flipped. One second on, the next moment off, you know?”

She doesn’t wait for a response.

“I think Miles knows something and isn’t telling me. I think you do, too. Can’t put my finger on it, but I’m willing to bet money…”

“Carly, listen—”

Again, Olivia is shut down by a quick raise of Carly’s hand before she can begin.

“Olivia,” she says softly, eyes locked on hers, “it’s late. I’m beyond tired, missing my husband more than you know, not knowing what tomorrow will bring.”

Olivia glances down.

“I ask you as my best friend and as a woman—as one who knows me and understands the way I tick better than most—I am asking you now to please tell me the truth…”

The tears begin to well. For the moment, they are unnoticeable. But very soon, they will slide down her dark cheeks.

“Tell me what in God’s name is going on. Something’s happened. Tell me what you know.”

The tears have sprouted; they meander down her cheeks slowly. When Olivia glances up and into the face of her best friend, her eyes are wet. Her lips part, then come together.

Carly’s face is bathed in firelight. Her features are stone-faced—not a single emotion visible.

Olivia considers her best friend. Sighs heavily, knowing she’s about to cross a divide, do something she won’t be able to undo. Mind racing…like a snowball, a freight train out of control.

Carly takes her best friend’s hand in hers. Olivia allows her, numb to all feeling. She sucks in a short breath, frowns for a moment as she wipes away her tears, and begins….

“Remember our party?” she says softly.