Maurice grew increasingly concerned about Juanita’s behavior. She kept her cell phone closer to her and regularly used it for texting purposes. She seldom was available during the day when he called her at work. And she had stopped taking the occasional ride into the office with her husband.
He had a golf trip scheduled for a weekend at Pinehurst in North Carolina, but was reluctant to go. He was suspicious of his wife’s fidelity, and it left him feeling sick to his stomach.
He was not sure how to deal with his turmoil. If he addressed it with Juanita and was wrong, she would be aghast. If he were right, he’d be crestfallen. Either option made him more convinced to say nothing and to observe more closely than ever.
It ate him up that he had no one to share his uncertainty. His family adored Juanita and would think he was paranoid. . . or worse. Her family praised her existence in every way. He could not tell his friends—it would be humiliating to tell them he thought his wife was cheating on him.
Finally, though, after three vodka and tonics and two beers, he woke up Juanita one Saturday night. He surmised that the element of surprise would catch her off guard and reveal something. He could not go on any longer feeling so uneasy.
“You sleep?” he said as he shook her out of her slumber.
“Huh? What’s wrong?”
She could smell the alcohol on his breath.
“Are you cheating on me?”
Juanita was prepared for that question. She had rehearsed her answer to the inevitable question more than a dozen times.
“Yes,” she said. “I have two boyfriends. I see one as you’re eating dinner that I cooked after I leave work and come straight home. The other one I see in the church basement, during Sunday School.”
Maurice did not expect that answer. He expected her to be outraged at the accusation.
“Now can I go back to sleep? I’m meeting my boyfriend at the playground with the kids tomorrow. I need my rest.”
She plopped her head back down on her pillow and turned her back to Maurice, who felt so silly that he got up and left the bedroom.
Juanita lay there with her heart pumping. She expected him to question her at some point, but the reality of it frightened her. She also knew that the questioning was not over. Maurice, when sober, would explain his question.
She decided then to take the lead, to bring up the subject in the morning, to put Maurice on the defensive. She thought of many ways to protect her secret. She did not consider leaving Brandon alone.
So after breakfast, she got the kids settled in their room in front of their Xbox, and addressed her husband.
“Can you explain why you insulted me last night?” Juanita asked. She felt like an actress. “I mean, really Maurice.”
“Well, first off, I’m sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t trying to insult you. I was trying to get some answers.”
“You question my faithfulness?”
“I don’t. I had questions because you don’t seem to be yourself. I call you at work and you’re never available. Even after our last session with Dr. Fields, I tried to surprise you by taking you to lunch, but when I went to your office, you weren’t there. And no one knew where you were.”
Juanita’s heart rate climbed and her mind raced. “I went and got a massage that day, in Bethesda,” she said. “I called in after the session and my meeting was cancelled, so I tried to get some tension relieved with a massage. Does that make you think I’m cheating on you?”
“I didn’t know where you were. And then there’s this talk with the doctor about sex. It makes me feel like you’re not satisfied.”
“And I’m the type who would go and get satisfied somewhere else? Maurice, I’m so insulted. We have a family. I’ve lived my life doing the right thing. And that’s what you think of me?”
“Baby, I’m sorry. I want you and us to be happy. When things aren’t right, my mind goes crazy places. Please forgive me. I won’t do any of this again.”
“Any of what?”
Maurice looked away briefly and took a deep breath. “I won’t accuse you anymore and I won’t go through your things.”
“What things? What are you talking about?”
“I’m only admitting this because I want you to know how concerned I was. . . I looked through your cell phone.”
“You what?”
“I was trying to figure some things out. And. . . I’m sorry.”
Juanita walked to the kids’ room, checked on them and closed the door. Then she stormed back to Maurice, who was in the family room.
“That’s unacceptable, Maurice. You have no right to go through my phone, through my anything. What’s wrong with you? That’s a violation I cannot accept. Keep your fucking hands off my phone.”
It was rare that Juanita used profanity. In fact, Maurice had not heard her curse since before they got married, when she was upset over a grade she’d received in business school.
“I’m sorry. I was panicked and I. . . I just did it.”
“I don’t have a lock on my phone because I don’t have anything to hide. At the same time, it’s my phone. I don’t go through your things, Maurice. Never have. You’re entitled to your own space and what’s yours is yours. I’m so angry right now. Shit.”
“I sincerely apologize, ’Nita. I do. It won’t happen again. I promise.”
Juanita was mad, but she put extra on it to make her point. She realized that if she had not deleted her exchanges to and from Brandon, there would have been chaos and her family would be in jeopardy.
“I hope you found something that made you feel better.”
“I found nothing, and that made me feel better. Well, there was this one phone number I didn’t recognize. You called it a couple of times.”
“And you want me to answer questions about numbers I dialed from my phone? Are you serious?”
“No, I don’t. I already called the number.” Juanita held her breath. “It was the massage place you said you went to.”
“Maurice, do not go through my things again. I can’t believe you.”
She was relieved. And to avoid showing it, she turned her back to her husband and left him standing there, feeling foolish. And while he felt somewhat embarrassed in exposing himself, Maurice also was relieved. He had successfully investigated if Juanita had any questions about his infidelity. By raising his questions, he knew she would raise hers as a counter if she had any. She did not do that, so the cheating Maurice was engaged in was not under scrutiny.
Months before Juanita called Brandon, Maurice had met Gloria Wright, a Capitol Hill attorney who was walking to the parking lot toward her car as Maurice headed the same way. He’d offered to help her with a box she carried; she was moving from one job to another.
He’d asked her if she had celebrated the new job, and she told him that her closest friend who would normally celebrate with her was out of town. Gloria also had shared that she was going through a divorce and was not in a celebratory mood anyway. But Maurice had offered to treat her to a cocktail, and she had accepted.
After two drinks, they’d moved from the bar to a small booth and had wound up kissing and groping each other. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he’d said to her.
“Why? Because you’re married?”
“No. Well, yes, that too. But because you’re beautiful. I didn’t expect this.”
“I didn’t, either. We kind of hit it off, I guess. But I’m sorry. I don’t mean to disrespect your marriage.”
“By all means, disrespect it,” he’d said, laughing. “I’m not going to lie to you: I love my wife. But you’re like . . . not even a breath of fresh air. You’re a tsunami of fresh air.”
Gloria had laughed and blushed at the same time. “Well, I’d like to see you again, if you’d like that,” she’d said.
“I sure would.”
So, every other Saturday, when he dressed for golf, Maurice would take a trip to Annapolis with Gloria. Or he’d go to her Capitol Hill home and they’d make each other cocktails, cook together and make love. The sex did not happen until his third visit, but once they got started, it was a consistent part of their relationship.
Often, since she lived so close to where they worked, they would rendezvous at her house for lunch. They’d eat whatever leftovers she had made for dinner the previous night and then delight on each other. And then go back to work, thoroughly satisfied.
Maurice was almost overwhelmed with the situation. “Please don’t think I’m crazy to ask this—and if it’s the wrong question that might mess up what we have, please ignore it—but why would you be interested in me? I’m not that handsome. I’m married with two kids. I’m comfortable but not rich. What’s the deal?”
“You’re a gentleman. You were a gentleman to me when I needed a gentleman in my life. That allowed me to look at you and eventually to open up to you. Let’s face it: My life isn’t the greatest right now. I left my job because one of the partners wanted sex with me—and didn’t even have the decency to offer me a promotion. I wouldn’t have had sex with him under any circumstances, but he thought I should want to sleep with him or would sleep with him because of his position. So I finally took a job making less, but I’m not in fear of getting raped at any moment.
“I’m going through a divorce that’s pretty unseemly. He’s mad that I don’t love him anymore, so he’s being an ass. He’s a lawyer, too. And that’s another reason I like you: You’re not a lawyer. I’ve been with three lawyers and that’s three too many for me.”
“I get it,” Maurice had said. “You’re using me. And guess what? I have no problem with that.”
They’d laughed and their relationship was in full swing. He believed he covered his tracks so cleanly that Juanita had no idea. The reality was that she was so caught up in her own cheating that she was not paying attention.