It’s Always the Husband

7

Present Day

In June, Kate moved back to Belle River after twenty-two years away.

It was unseasonably hot for early summer, and the afternoon was as oppressive as her mood, with airless streets, black skies, and wilted flowers under dusty maple trees. The clouds opened just as Kate pulled up in front of the ugly brown house on Faculty Row. She sat in the BMW with music blasting and rain battering the windshield, her head on the steering wheel. It was all around her again. Carlisle, the past, her so-called friends. All the things she’d been running from for years now. Throw a rock from the front porch of this dump and you’d hit Briggs Gate. After a minute, Kate took her sandals off and tossed them onto the floor in the back, and lowered her seat into a reclining position. She’d take a nap. Who gave a crap what the neighbors thought? She didn’t know them, and didn’t care to. She refused to get out of her air-conditioned car and venture into this deluge in order to enter a place she was distraught to live in. She’d rather stay in her car all afternoon, or at least until the rain stopped, enjoying the plush leather seats. She had no job to go to, no prospects, and she couldn’t stand her husband. If she had more gumption – or more money – she would drive away and never come back.

Jenny pulled up beside the BMW in her minivan, leaned over, and lowered the passenger window. Kate saw Jenny’s lips moving. Sighing with exasperation, she turned down the music and lowered her window.

“What?”

“I said, what are you doing in there?” Jenny shouted over the pounding rain.

“What does it look like? Thinking about blowing my brains out.”

“Come on, enough of that. I brought you some cupcakes from that new place in Riverside.”

Riverside was a formerly industrial neighborhood in Belle River, full of warehouses and factories that were being redeveloped into lofts and restaurants. Belle River trying pathetically to be chic was what it was.

“I don’t eat sugar,” Kate said.

“I brought wine, too. You can’t tell me you don’t drink.”

Jenny held up a bottle, which got Kate’s attention. Damn, she could stand an ice-cold vodka right about now, but chardonnay would do in a pinch.

“Is Aubrey coming?” she asked. Jenny without Aubrey was too much to take.

“Of course. She’ll be here any minute.”

“All right, but do me a favor. Don’t act like this is some kind of party and you’re happy to see me, okay?” Kate said.

“I’m trying to make the best of this, Kate. You could at least help a little.”

Ugh, nothing ever changes, Kate thought. Jenny was still the priggish know-it-all of their youth; she was just more powerful and successful now, which made it worse. Jenny was the mayor of this one-horse town, with her finger in every plot. Jenny’s husband’s construction company had the winning bid on every Carlisle building project. How did that happen, you might ask? Kate could tell a few hair-raising secrets if she had a mind to, most of them involving her own father and his influence, and yet Jenny acted like Kate was the corrupt one. Jenny and Aubrey must know how Kate felt about them, about this place. Hadn’t they noticed that she never visited? That the three of them saw each other only rarely, and only when Jenny or Aubrey came to New York and tracked her down? Kate hadn’t even been in New York much over the last decade or so. Well, unfortunately the days when she went where she pleased were over, probably for good, and now here she was stuck with these two again, back in this shitty town.

Kate turned the engine off and collected her sandals from the back. Jenny pulled into the parking space in front of Kate. She had those annoying stickers on her rear windshield – the cartoon family complete with the mommy and daddy, the two boys with their sports equipment, and the dog for good measure. Gag me. As Kate watched Jenny get out and struggle with her packages, though, pulling boxes and bottles and finally a bouquet of Mylar balloons from the backseat in the middle of a downpour, she couldn’t help but crack a smile. Jenny always had a plan, you had to give her that. She forced the world to conform to her expectations, where Kate wallowed in her disappointments, and Aubrey, let’s face it, never dared to expect anything at all.

Kate got out and went to help with the packages. Together they ran up onto the covered porch. They were soaked by the time they got there, although Jenny looked none the worse for it. She had a sleek power haircut now that framed her face and made her look in control at all times. Which, of course, she was. The Great Manipulator, as Kate thought of her. On the days Kate didn’t want to take responsibility for her own life – which was most days, lately – her favorite people to blame were Jenny and her father. Well, and her suffocating whiner of a husband; she couldn’t stand him either. She was half tempted to do something crazy, just to show them, to get them off her back once and for all.

“Great location,” Jenny said cheerily as Kate fumbled for her keys.

“What are you, a real estate agent? The only reason we’re living here is, Keniston owns the place. He’s my slumlord now. I’m warning you, it smells like cat piss in here.”

She opened the door and they stepped into the front hall. It was dark inside, but Kate saw Jenny wrinkle her nose.

“And you thought I was exaggerating,” Kate said.

She flipped a switch and the lights came on. Boxes clogged the front hall. Dark walls loomed over them. The house was a sad muddle of Victorian and Arts and Crafts styling, squat and dim and charmless.

“This way,” Kate said.

In the kitchen, the table was piled high with more boxes. Kate started moving them to the floor, rummaging through them at random hunting for a corkscrew.

“You can put that stuff on the counter. I’ll find us glasses for the wine,” Kate said.

Aubrey called out from the front hall.

“Back here,” Kate yelled.

Aubrey glided in, carrying a casserole dish, with multiple green bags from the food co-op looped over her wrists. Of the three of them, Aubrey had improved the most with age. (Of course, she had the farthest to come.) The lithe figure, the sharp cheekbones, the clear blue eyes with no makeup, belonged on the cover of a yoga magazine. Kate privately thought Aubrey’s newfound serenity was just as likely to come from a prescription bottle as from chanting ommm, but hey, whatever worked.

“C’mere, you,” Aubrey said, depositing her bounty on the counter and holding out her arms to Kate. “I’m so glad to see you. Welcome home.”

Aubrey and Kate hugged. Tears stung Kate’s eyes. As if Belle River could ever be home. As if her friends were true, and actually happy to see her. As if any of this was how it looked from the outside. She longed for those days when they were young, and loved each other like best friends should. Nothing had been right since they lost that. Correction, nothing had been right since the night they lost that – and lost so much else, too.

Kate extricated herself from Aubrey’s grasp and set about opening the wine.

“Drinking in the afternoon,” Aubrey said, shooting Jenny a glance. So Aubrey was judgmental now, too? Used to be, it was only Jenny who looked askance.

“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” Kate mumbled, coloring. Was she really letting these losers make her feel bad?

“Just a splash for me, I have to pick up the kids,” Jenny said.

“Me, too,” Aubrey said.

Kate poured an inch of wine for each of them and made a show of filling her own glass to the brim. If she needed the entire bottle to get through this conversation, she’d chug the damn thing, and they couldn’t stop her.

“So,” Jenny began. “We wanted to talk about how we can best help you settle in here.”

“Thank you, but I don’t want help.”

“You need it, trust me,” Jenny said. “This town has a long memory. People remember what happened, and they still care.”

“I knew you’d throw that in my face. I didn’t think you’d have the gall to do it the second I walked in the door.”

“I’m trying to help. That’s all,” Jenny said.

“Did you not hear me the first time? I don’t want your help.”

Jenny sighed and looked at Aubrey. Of course the two of them were in cahoots on this. Kate was the one whose life had been ruined, and the two of them got to act like the victims.

“Kate,” Aubrey said, “it may not make sense that people would still care, but Jenny’s right. We want to help you—”

“You don’t give a shit about me,” Kate said. “You’re covering your own asses, both of you. I get it. So let me set your mind at ease. Nobody’s more upset than me that I’m back here. I hate this town. I hate this house. I hate the college. I hate my loser of a husband. And after everything that’s happened, frankly, I hate the two of you. So no worries. I don’t plan to stick around long.”

8

Two Months Later

At 9 A.M. on Labor Day, Aubrey was doing yoga in the studio off her kitchen, desperately trying to quiet her mind. She had three hours till Jenny’s big barbecue, and Ethan still hadn’t come home from wherever he’d spent the night before. Goddamn him, he’d promised. Aubrey could hear the kids moving around upstairs. It was past time to get their breakfast, but she couldn’t face them yet. Not again, not like this. Viv was still too young to understand, but Lilly was starting to see through the lies. And Logan had known for a while now. Sorry pal, the story’s not working, she told Ethan in her mind. He could have the latest girlfriend buzz his pager and claim there was an emergency at the hospital, as had happened last night. But nobody believed him anymore, not even Aubrey, the stupidest fool in town.

Aubrey went into a deep backbend. Hot tears rolled down her temples and plopped softly on the mat. Why was she the one crying? She wanted to make Ethan cry, Ethan and whatever tramp he was with this time. She had this studio built ten years ago, after the first time she caught him. She’d done it to punish him, really. It replaced his home office, and cost a mint, with big windows and bamboo floors. He deserved to pay, after what he put her through. Ethan Saxman, MD, had seemed like the answer to Aubrey’s prayers once, back when she was a starving grad student and he was resident at Carlisle General with a bright future ahead of him. She hadn’t asked a lot of questions; she’d grabbed him and held on tight. The old adage was true in her case: marry in haste, repent at leisure. In retrospect, it was clear that Ethan had always been a cheater, but Aubrey hadn’t wanted to see it. She’d been happy at the beginning, for years really, when they were newlyweds, and after the kids were born. Aubrey stayed home and enjoyed her children, and didn’t complain when Ethan was gone a lot. She closed her eyes. Well, she’d paid the price for that.

Aubrey had admitted to herself that Ethan was cheating only when she had caught him in the act. That was about ten years ago now. Ethan had claimed he was going to a conference in Philadelphia. The weather had turned hot, and she decided to take the kids to the lake, even though they hadn’t officially opened the cabin yet. When Aubrey pulled into the driveway, Ethan’s car was there – his, and another. She told Logan to stay put and watch his sisters, then walked up to the front door, breathing as hard as if she’d just run through the woods. She was terrified. She’d suspected for a long time, but to find out for sure would change things forever, and she knew it. Of what happened next, Aubrey recalled only fragments. A wineglass tipped over, clothing strewn across the floor in the harsh morning light. In the bedroom, Ethan with a shocked look on his face, and the redheaded nurse with her pale white breasts. Then the noise, the screaming – which turned out to be Aubrey herself, and then Logan, after he rushed in to help her. Poor, poor child, to bear witness to something like that. She tried to protect them. And that was the problem. Aubrey longed to walk away from her marriage, but she had her children to think of, and no way to support them. She knew how it felt to grow up with no father and no money. She refused to do that to them, so she stayed, and chose to believe Ethan’s promises that he wouldn’t betray her again.

But he did. The second time Ethan got caught (though she realized now that there must have been other times in between) was about five years later, and it wasn’t by Aubrey. The young resident resigned when Ethan dumped her and sued the hospital for sexual harassment. Ethan had to pay money to hush it up. He needed wifey by his side to ride out the scandal, so she had leverage this time. She also had the good sense to go to Jenny for advice. Mayor Jenny and her husband Tim were knee-deep in real estate deals in Riverside, the old industrial part of Belle River, which was gentrifying rapidly. Oh, there were whispers about the legality, but Aubrey didn’t judge. With Jenny’s help, she took their nest egg and bought a majority stake in a renovated loft building – in her name, not Ethan’s. She’d been practicing yoga seriously for over twenty years at that point, and teaching it for almost as long. (She’d discovered yoga at Carlisle in her Eastern Religions class, and fallen in love with it because of its ancient roots. Besides, it was the one physical activity she was ever naturally good at.) She’d always taught part-time, just to get out of the house, and make a little money of her own. Now that she owned a building, Aubrey decided to open her own yoga studio. With the following she’d established over her years of teaching, Riverside Breathe was an instant success, and she had plenty of space left over to rent out to paying tenants. She was a businesswoman now, with a decent income. She had the means to walk away if she was willing to make some financial sacrifices, and here Ethan was, up to his old tricks. She’d promised herself she would leave him if she caught him a third time. But did she have the guts?

Aubrey did a round of sun salutations that failed to smooth her skittish heartbeat, then took child’s pose, seeking peace and consolation. The cat walked in and started meowing at her, but she ignored him. That damn cat. He liked Ethan best, and always seemed to know when his master was coming home. At that moment, with her forehead pressed to the mat, Aubrey heard the garage door go up. Ethan was home, and she would have to deal with him now. Aubrey rolled her mat into a tight coil and shoved it in the cubby under the window seat. She’d go meet him in the garage, where the kids wouldn’t hear them fight.

“Mom, Dad’s home!” Viv shouted, bouncing into the studio in her pajamas and bare feet. “Can I have a Pop-Tart?”

“No.”

Viv was seven, gap-toothed, adorable, and used to getting her own way. “I’ll ask Dad. He’ll say yes.”

“Vivian, I said no.”

Aubrey’s voice came out so tentatively that Viv ignored her and skipped off toward the garage. Aubrey stood there wringing her hands. She couldn’t confront Ethan with Viv watching. The reckoning would have to wait. She went downstairs and took up position at the kitchen island, facing the door that led to the garage, steeling herself. What would she say to him when he walked through that door? She wanted to scream, to throw something, wave the butcher knife. Every solution crossed her mind. To stay, to leave, to rush at him, screaming. But she wouldn’t do any of those things right now. She would control herself in front of her daughter.

Ethan stumbled into the kitchen, laughing, with Viv clinging to his leg. His dark hair was mussed, his dress shirt rumpled, his finely modeled chin shadowed with stubble. He looked like a man who’d just rolled out of the sack after a wild night. How dare he touch her daughter in that state? Aubrey couldn’t stand the sight of him. Her fingers twitched with the desire to slap him. She clenched her hands behind her back.

“Hey, babe. I got bagels,” he said, tossing the paper bag onto the island. Just like nothing was wrong, like he wasn’t the world’s biggest asshole.

“Ooh, yummy,” Viv said.

Ethan walked over to the desk by the window where they kept a basket for keys and such, and started emptying his pockets. She watched him throw his keys in there, then his sunglasses and wallet. He took out his phone, like he’d done a million times before. And she saw him hesitate. Normally, he would throw it in the basket, too, but he seemed not to want to, not today. He looked up and caught her watching. She smiled, but he must’ve seen something in her eyes, because she saw his Adam’s apple bob. Ha, ha, he was scared. She knew exactly what he was thinking: taking the phone with him would look suspicious, leaving it behind would risk Aubrey snooping.

He put it in the basket. Ethan hesitated by the desk for a minute, like he might say something. Then he glanced at Viv and seemed to think better of it. Aubrey’s eyes were on him the whole time, the atmosphere between them thick with suspicion.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” he said, “and maybe catch a nap before the barbecue.”

Aubrey’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Of course, babe. You must be tired after your long night.”

The uneasy look on his face as he exited the kitchen gave her a measure of satisfaction. As Viv bit into a cinnamon raisin bagel, Aubrey walked deliberately over to the basket and picked up Ethan’s phone. Ethan had the latest iPhone, in space gray. Though the phone was only a few weeks old, she doubted he’d changed his passcode from the old model. He was sloppy that way. But she hesitated. Right now she had a strong suspicion that he was cheating again, but no solid proof. Once she knew for sure, she would have to take action, or hate herself.

Aubrey was still trying to decide whether to search the phone when it buzzed in her hand. Its blank face lit up with the first few words of an incoming text. “Hot damn, boy, you did a number” . . . The sender’s name came up as “Kate.” What the—? For an instant Aubrey thought of her Kate, but why would her Kate text Ethan? Why would her Kate’s name be in Ethan’s contacts, so it showed up simply as “Kate” when he got a text?

She typed in his passcode, and viewed the message in its entirety.

Hot damn, boy, you did a number on me. I can still feel your hands on my body. I want more more more. Again, please. Just say when.

Rage blurred her vision. She wanted to smash this goddamn phone. But then an even more sickening feeling took over. Could the text actually be from Kate Eastman? Was that possible? No. No, it couldn’t. Ethan’s latest tramp had the same name, that’s all. And yet . . . Aubrey had been fighting her suspicions for weeks now, blocking them out like she always did, looking the other way, except even more deliberately than usual because she didn’t want to believe the worst of her friend. (Ethan, at this point, she could believe the worst of.) But now the doubts came rushing in. Glances exchanged between the two of them, stories that didn’t add up, times they both went missing simultaneously. Things Aubrey had done her best to explain away. Even now, she was making excuses for them, telling herself this had to be a different Kate, hesitating to look at Ethan’s contacts list when the truth was discoverable in an instant. She had to stop being such a freaking baby.

Aubrey stared at the phone in her hand, then looked over at Viv, who was absorbed in her bagel. She had to force herself to look at the truth – here, now, even with her daughter in the room. No more excuses.

Aubrey sank into the chair by the desk, and went to Ethan’s contacts list. Kate’s cell number (which Aubrey knew by heart) was right there, under “Kate.” Couldn’t he at least use a fake name, the piece of shit? Now Aubrey couldn’t deny that the text was from her Kate, the Kate, Kate Eastman. Ever since freshman year at Carlisle, Aubrey had thought of Kate as her best friend. Even though Kate left school after freshman year. Even though Aubrey had done all the work of maintaining their friendship. When they visited or talked on the phone, when they messaged or texted or Skyped – which wasn’t even that often – it was always Aubrey who initiated. Yet in her mind, Kate had always been a loyal friend who would never dream of hurting her. What did it say about Aubrey if not only her husband but her best friend would betray her like this? Was she not worthy of love? Did she have terrible judgment in friends? Or was she just a goddamn idiot, and people took advantage because that’s how shitty people were?

It was like discovering Ethan’s cheating for the first time, all over again. She felt so stupid. How long had she been denying the obvious? With shaking fingers, Aubrey went back through Ethan’s texts. There were only three damning ones, part of an exchange with Kate from last night in which they set up their meeting at a local motel. (He’d obviously gotten smarter about hiding the evidence and deleted earlier texts; it was clear from their intimate tone that this wasn’t the first time.) They agreed on the time and the place, and then Kate texted that she was at the motel waiting with nothing but her thigh-high boots on. Aubrey went cold and still. The evidence was undeniable. Ethan was cheating again. And he was cheating with Kate.

Aubrey carefully replaced Ethan’s phone in the basket, wiped bagel crumbs from the island, and put the kettle on for tea. With each movement, visions floated before her eyes. Things she could do to them, to give them a taste of the pain they were causing her. She imagined Ethan coming home to find her in the bathroom with her wrists slit, or hanging from the wooden beam in the garage. Hah, he’d have to clean up the mess, explain to the kids. But that would leave Kate in the clear. Aubrey could go to Kate’s house instead and shoot herself on the front porch, leaving a bloody mess spattered across the door sill. But why kill herself? Why should she be the one to suffer? She imagined Kate and Ethan in bed together, naked, in a passionate embrace. She would barge into the room, take the gun from her purse, pull the trigger – once, twice, a thousand times. She saw the scene in her mind’s eye. Their corpses riddled with bullets, covered with blood, their blank eyes staring at the ceiling. They deserved it, oh, how they deserved it.

But Aubrey would never do it. There were the children to think of.