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Hudson, one week later
Things will be different this time. I’ll listen to Mom and lead Mary’s ass on. Fuck, I’ll go to the therapist with her if I have to. It’ll be cheaper this way and Kate isn’t exactly cooperating. I don’t bother to call. Instead, I pull into my driveway and am relieved to see Mary is home. I made my bed and need to lay in it. My family is furious that I’ve disrupted my vows. Brown is livid too. With my job on the line and Kate in the child support filing line, I have nothing to lose. In a way, I know things will work out. Mary never wanted a baby. There’s no way she’s really pregnant. Kate probably gave the positive test to her. There’s no way Mary wants a kid running around.
...But maybe I can have both. A man has rights too. I can visit Daisy on weekends. I can take her out and do the things my stepfather did for me. I won’t be like my biological father. That isn’t up for negotiation. Sure, I’ve fucked things up, but it doesn’t have to stay that way either.
I knock twice only out of politeness, before barging in through the foyer. Spotting Mary’s favorite shoes, I smile. I can’t say I haven’t missed her. There’s a part of me that never really gave up on her. I’ve just been lost. She’ll see that. Marriage is hard. Our history will save us like it has so many times before. Even Ingrid West will agree with that – I’ll have to tell her.
Looking around the empty kitchen, I’m surprised to see a pile of dishes. It’s not like my wife to let things get messy. Mary was so uptight, she’d peak at Christmas presents the minute they hit the tree and rewrap them to make sure they were just right. She could never keep her hands of anything. For her, perfection was always key. Set on the idea that she’s likely upstairs researching Jack the Ripper and writing about stupid Ingrid West, I vow to ask her about it. She’ll like that. She might even be glad to see me. If there’s one thing that will put a smile on Mary’s face, it’s talking about her favorite protagonist. I’ll even humor her when she talks about the USA Today bestseller’s list.
Moving through the front foyer toward the fat, big-mouth staircase, it’s not lost on me that Mary’s changed just about everything. Gone is the coat rack where I used to hand my suit coats. She’s replaced it with her grandmother’s old grandfather’s clock. The thing doesn’t even work. At its feet sit only women’s shoes. I wonder what she did with my cross trainers. I could probably use the exercise. I tilt my head when I spot a pair with tiny purple daisies on the toes. I don’t remember Mary owning those. They seem too, well, young. Shaking my head and using my palm to grip the bannister, I take the steps lightly but two at a time. I’m halfway up the steps when Milo comes bounding out of the guest room where he’s always slept wagging his tail. Great. Any second, he’ll start barking and it’ll piss off Mary.
Shut up, you stupid mutt. Don’t do it. I put my finger to my lips and move quicker to get to him. If I can pat his head, I can shut him up before he gets wound up. Then again, I’m not sure why I’m sneaking around. Mary left the door open. She’s surely changed the locks by now and it really still is my house. If she flips out or calls the cops, I’ll just walk out. It’s not like she’s dating yet. She’s obviously not over me if she’s still calling Mom and strategizing against me with my mistress.
I grab the dog at the top of the stairs. While I’ve never really liked the mutt, he’s been a brave tester all these years of my bitter wife’s wretched meals. I owe him for the time she put a laxative in my soup. “Hey bud,” I say, scratching his head. “Daddy’s home.” He licks my face and turns in the direction of the bedroom; his ears perking up. That’s when I hear it: moans. At first, they are soft, but as they grow louder, so does the thumping of my heart. My wife is not alone.
Unsure of whether I should leave and scratch the whole thing or kick the living shit out of the guy banging Mary in my old room on the California king that I paid for, I freeze. I remind myself of Kate, Daisy, my mother, Brown, and, hell, an entire reception worth of people who do or will see right through me. I’m not exactly innocent. Karma has found me and brought me to this place. It’s not like I don’t deserve it, even out of Mary. But deserving something and being able to live with it are very different things. I put the dog down and ignore him as he claws at my leg. Quickly, I make my way down the hall as the moans grow louder; somehow familiar and foreign at the same time. Mary never moaned like that with me.
I grip the handle the best I can with a bad thumb, and pull the door open; my free hand balled into a fist and ready for just about anything. My jaw drops. Sheets fly and the moans change to – laughing? Kate? Mary? What the fuck is happening?
“Hudson, you looking for me?” a woman’s voice says. I can’t be sure whose...