I Hate Surprises Ch. 02

And I continued to feel much more sorrow than anger. I was just so sad! For the loss of the happy future with Jennie I had been so confident of just a few hours earlier. For the loss of my trust in her, which I'd so painfully regained after years of struggle. And even for Diana, who would have to know why her parents' marriage was suddenly coming to an end.

My preparations made, I turned off all the lights I'd put on and waited for Jennie's return with Atherton. I had no intention of letting that prick fuck my wife again, but I wanted to see whether it got that far before I intervened.

When I heard them in the driveway I moved quietly to a corner of the kitchen, from which I could see the front door and the foyer. As they came in, Atherton was holding Jennie's arm and smiling, finishing some anecdote he'd been telling.

She turned to him and said, "George, thank you for a lovely dinner ... and lunch!"

He laughed and said, "and for the lovely time in between! Listen, Jennie, how about if I make us each a drink and we relax for a little while. Angela thinks I'm at a meeting—she won't expect me home until 11 at least."

"No, George, thanks—I'm feeling a bit tired. Let's just say good night." She smiled at him, looking to me a little strained.

He wasn't ready to give up yet. "Jennie, you are the most ... marvelous, most attractive, gorgeous, most intoxicating woman I have ever known. This afternoon with you was ... the most unforgettable experience of my life! I would give anything to hold you in my arms again."

"Thank you, George. But I'm not sure of my feelings just now—I need a little time. I think we should just say good night." She was being firm, being the woman I knew so well who was perfectly capable of handling a pass. Why the hell hadn't she done that a few hours earlier?

He just sighed, and said, "very well, my dear. I will look forward passionately to the next time we can be together." He gave her a long kiss, which she didn't seem to enjoy very much, and then departed.

I watched Jennie as she closed the door behind him. Her face fell, and she looked tired and very sad. "Jesus," she said to herself, shaking her head. She hung up her coat and headed for the stairs.

I didn't want to scare her half to death, so I waited until she'd started upstairs, then turned on the light behind her. I heard her whirl around, and waited a moment before I said quietly, "Jennie, it's me."

She still couldn't see me, so I stepped out of the kitchen and came to the foot of the stairs, looking up at her. Her face was ashen. She tried to speak, but all that came out of her mouth was "Brad ..." She looked as though she was unable to move.

I walked up the stairs, took her hand, and gently led her back down to the living room, where I sat her on the couch and sat down on a chair facing her. For some strange reason I was feeling tender, not furious. I knew I was about to make her very sad, just as she had done to me—and I felt grief for both of us and what we were losing.

I waited, and finally she said slowly, in a desolate tone of voice, "I thought you were out of town."

"It was a surprise for you—for our twenty-fifth anniversary. I had planned a weekend trip for us. Here are all the details." I handed her an envelope containing the letter I'd written so carefully.

She didn't open it, just held it in her hand, looking at me numbly, despairingly. "How long have ... when did you get here?"

"I've been here for a while," I said gently. Then after a minute I said, "Jennie, we're going to have to talk. I'm going to go now. I'll call in a few days, OK?"

Without waiting for an answer I headed for the door. As I opened it I turned back to look at her. There were tears on her cheeks, and she looked as though she'd lost her best friend. I guess she had.

As I was about to go out the door she said, "Brad ... I'm so sorry!"

"I know, Jennie. I am too."