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I tell myself the next day I’m not going to worry about John. I’ll focus on securing a freelancing job and on myself. Yesterday felt so good to just not have to think, to worry. Nevertheless, today I find myself twiddling my thumbs in boredom. And when I’m bored, my mind races.
I load Margot in the car yet again because it just seems like the best course of action. It’s where John spends his time. It’s where Liv is. We head towards Anderson Corporation. I want to see if John’s actually at work today like he says. Maybe I’ll get lucky. Maybe I’ll catch him lying. And then what? I don’t know. I really should hire an investigator for this—except I don’t have the resources.
Margot and I park in a lot across from Anderson’s lot, in the back of the building. John parks back there for some reason. He is protective of his beloved car and insists it is safer back there. I have a clear view of his vehicle from where I am. Will he see me? I doubt he’ll be looking or thinking about it. His car is there. It’s almost lunchtime. I settle into my impromptu stakeout and think about how Mrs. Heards would be in her glory here. She missed her calling.
Can I bring you lunch? I text to throw him off.
Sorry, heading out with a client. The response is immediate.
Good. I hope he is going out. That will give me a chance to follow him, to see where he’s going.
I’m fully cognizant of the fact it’s crazy. Stalking my husband in the hope he might do something shady on his lunch hour isn’t the wisest plan. But I’ve got nothing but time. Being in that house is suffocating to say the least. And John has nothing but secrets waiting to be unearthed.
Ten minutes later, he emerges from the building’s back door and jaunts to his car. He’s got a bounce in his step that makes me even more questioning. What’s he so happy about? I haven’t seen him like that in, well, years. But as he’s getting in his car, another familiar person emerges from the door. A redhead. One who used to be my best friend.
Olivia.
My chest constricts at the sight of her.
She does not have a bounce in her step. In fact, she is rage walking, her heels stomping down. I can’t hear them from where I am, but I can imagine the clack, clack, clack as the red bottoms flash wildly in a blur.
She pounds her fist on his window. I see it go down. She leans into the window, anger palpable from where I am. I put my window down, hoping to eavesdrop on something helpful. Margot is whimpering.
“Shh, baby, just a few minutes,” I say, sticking my ear up to the cracked window in hopes of hearing.
Cars drive by on the road nearby, drowning out the conversation. I’m too far away to hear it all. Shit. But as she gets angrier, her hands flailing, she gets louder. I just catch bits that she yells.
Fuck you.
Go ahead...
Evette...
My heart pounds. A moment later, John speeds out of the parking spot, Olivia jumping back. She shakes her head as John zooms off. I think about following him, but he’s driving so fast and I don’t want to be seen by Olivia. I stay put. She stands in her hot pink dress, staring at the empty spot with her arms crossed. She stares up at the sky for a moment, as if the answer to her problems is up there.
For a moment, the woman I used to be emerges. I want to go and ask Olivia what’s wrong. Counsel her. Go for coffee or drinks and talk about what’s troubling her. She’s usually a levelheaded woman who knows how to have fun but is serious about work. The Olivia I knew would never lose her temper on the company’s property. She would never wear her volatile emotions on her sleeves like that. Something has to be really wrong. Worry creeps into my heart.
But then I come to my senses. She’s screwing with my husband. Or screwing him. Somehow, she’s wrapped up in it all. And then there’s the way she disappeared from my life to consider. It’s not like I can even trust her anymore. That stabs into my gut. I watch her for a long moment. I stay until she stomps back inside, tears welling. I exhale loudly, processing the scene. But there’s nothing to sort out. Just more of the same fucked-up mess that my life has become.
“Come on, Margot. Let’s go home.” We zoom off in the opposite direction, more confused than we were earlier.