My husband told me he had to work the entire weekend. Then his boss called, asking why he hadn’t shown up. So I took his credit card.
The phone rang on Saturday afternoon while I was picking up Legos from the disaster my children proudly called the “living room.”
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Parker? This is Brian Collins, Daniel’s boss.”
“Oh, hi, Brian. Is everything okay?”
“Sorry to bother you, but I need to reach Daniel. He didn’t come in yesterday or today, and he isn’t answering his phone. Is he sick?”
I froze with a Lego piece still pinched between my fingers.
Wait. What do you mean he didn’t come in? He left Friday morning saying he had to work the WHOLE weekend.
There was a horrible pause.
“Ma’am… there isn’t any urgent project. Actually, everyone left early on Friday.”
Something inside me shut off.
I inhaled slowly.
Then I laughed.
Not a normal laugh. A villain laugh. A prime-time revenge-drama laugh.
“Kids!” I shouted. “Owen! Lily! Come here now!”
My children thundered down the stairs.
“What happened, Mom?” asked seven-year-old Owen.
“It turns out your father is a liar, and we are going shopping. Aggressive shopping.”
“Seriously?” Nine-year-old Lily could already smell freedom. “Can we go to the toy store?”
“Today, sweetheart, we are going EVERYWHERE.”
I went upstairs, opened my drawer, and took out the credit card. The black one. The one Daniel kept “for emergencies.”
Well, this was an emergency.
An emergency involving my dignity.
I texted him:
“Brian called. Very convenient, this ‘urgent project’ of yours.”
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Me: “No need to answer. The kids and I went out. Also because of an ‘emergency.’”
“Mom, are you crying?” Owen asked from the back seat.
“No, honey. I’m CALCULATING. Do you know how long it has been since I bought clothes for myself? THREE YEARS. Do you know how much money I saved being ‘responsible’? A LOT.”
First stop: the toy store.
“Pick whatever you want,” I said, arms crossed.
“Anything?” Lily whispered, almost afraid to believe it.
“Anything.”
Owen grabbed the biggest Lego set in the store. Lily chose a giant dollhouse, the kind I had always answered with, “Maybe for Christmas, baby.”
“Excellent choice,” I said. “And I’ll take that basket of wine.”
The cashier looked at me strangely.
“Is it a gift?”
“Yes. For myself. From the universe.”
Second stop: the department store.
“Mom, why are you trying on so many dresses?” Owen asked, bored outside the fitting room.
“Because for eight years I bought myself cheap clothes, darling. See this dress? It costs about what your father spends on one ‘business lunch.’ I’ll take it in three colors.”
My phone would not stop vibrating.
Eleven missed calls.
Seventeen messages.
Me, while trying on a pair of expensive heels:
“You also work Saturday nights? Such dedication.”
Daniel: “LOVE, PLEASE LET ME EXPLAIN.”
Me: “Of course. Later. Right now I’m busy SPENDING.”
Third stop: the salon.
“I want everything,” I told the stylist. “Cut, color, manicure, pedicure, deep conditioning, facial. Whatever you can do, do it.”
“Celebrating something?” she asked with a smile.
“Yes. My new financial independence.”
Lily stared at me while I sat with foil in my hair.
“Mom, you’re acting weird.”
“I’m feeling EXPENSIVE, my love. Very expensive. And I love it.”
Fourth stop: Victoria’s Secret.
“Wait here with the bags,” I told the kids, pointing to a bench outside.
“What are you buying in there?” Owen asked.
“Lingerie your father will NEVER see. That’s what I’m buying.”
When I walked out, Daniel called again.
This time, I answered.
“Where are you?” he shouted. “I came home and nobody is here!”
“Oh, your ‘project’ is finished already? Strange. I thought you had to work until Sunday.”
“Please, I need to explain.”
“You know what I need, Daniel? New shoes. Wait, the kids want to talk to you.”
I handed the phone to Owen.
“Hi, Dad. Mom bought me the Death Star Lego set. She said you’re paying for it.”
I snatched the phone back before Daniel could use his guilty-father voice to soften the tiny piece of my heart that was still operational.
“Now listen carefully,” I said, walking into a shoe store like I was entering a courtroom. “You have one chance to tell me the truth. Where have you been since Friday morning?”
On the other end, I heard only his breathing.
Heavy.
Nervous.
The exact breathing he used when he was lying and trying to buy himself time.
“Rebecca…” he began, in the low voice of a man caught with the match still in his hand. “It isn’t what you think.”
I closed my eyes and laughed without humor.
Of course.
That phrase.
A classic.
Almost a national anthem of suspicious husbands everywhere.
“I wasn’t with another woman.”
I stopped in the middle of the store.
The saleswoman, holding two boxes of heels, slowed down when she saw my face.
“Well, that improves things a little,” I said coldly. “Because five seconds ago, I was absolutely sure you were in some cheap motel with a fitness instructor named Madison or Ashley.”
“There are no women here, I swear.”
“Then talk.”
Silence again.
