Missing Like You

FORTY-SIX

SCOTT DONOVAN
JULY 2021

It was mid-way through July and I hadn't heard from Lexie since she sent that text message. I was avoiding her like the plague, hoping that if I didn't see her, then nothing else could escalate. This was foolish of me. I should have known by then that there was no avoiding Lexie Chambers – she was the plague, and I'd long ago caught her disease.

I tried my best to live a normal everyday life with Isabelle. We worked our nine-to-fives, had dinner in the evenings, went to the movies on Tuesday nights, had barbeques with our friends on the weekends. Isabelle had enrolled in a Pilates class that kept her occupied twice a week, Tuesdays and Thursdays in the evenings. It was something she had been wanting to do for a while, and she figured summer was the best time to give it a try.

Zeppelin was healed of her ear infection and was back to her usual self. Usually we took her for walks in the evenings, venturing down to the river, passing the park, anywhere we desired.

I tried to keep my mind distracted, a clean slate. I could start over without ever really having to start over. To Isabelle, nothing would have changed. I was still the same Scott she'd always known and loved. But to me, I was reinventing myself from the inside out. I promised to be a better man and a better husband. I concluded that my six-month affair with Lexie was deluded on my part and wrote it off as a mistake. Not a regret, per se – I didn't believe in regrets. Only lessons learned. And had I learnt my lesson? Yes. I would never stray or be unfaithful again. I had went out and experimented and did whatever I needed at that time. A phase. But now I was out of it and ready to reinvent myself all over, be ten times the man I was before.

She called me one night, late on a Tuesday. Isabelle was fast asleep in bed next to me, and I woke up to my phone vibrating on the night stand. I had deleted her from my contacts, but instantly recognized the number when it appeared on my caller ID. I quickly grabbed the phone and declined the call, then switched my phone to silent. She called again a moment later, and I knew then that she wouldn't relent until I answered.

I got up as quietly as I could and crept into the hallway, closing the door behind me. I answered the call and slipped into the spare bedroom, closing the door behind me.

"Yes?"
"Scott."
"What do you want, Lexie?"
"What are you doing?"
"I was sleeping. Next to my wife. What are you doing?"
"I'm outside."
I froze. She's bluffing, I thought to myself. There's no possible way that this woman was actually outside of my house past midnight on a Tuesday.
"You're lying," I said.
"I'm not. Come see for yourself. Or would you rather me ring the bell and wake the dog?"
Panic and dread filled my body. I ended the call and rushed downstairs, making sure Zeppelin wasn't in earshot of the door.
I peeked out the front window and sure enough, there she was: Lexie Chambers, in the flesh.
I slipped on a pair of shoes and opened the door quietly. She stood on the sidewalk with her arms crossed over her chest, watching me as I got closer. Eventually, we were face to face. The first time in three weeks.
"Are you out of your mind?"
"No. I'm perfectly in my mind, thank you very much."
"This is stalking. This is harassment."
"You're so overdramatic," she uncrossed her arms and put them on her hips, just behind her back, as though she were stretching. "Besides, you said those exact words the last time you saw me, and then we ended up in bed together."
I cursed under my breath.
"Still in love with me?" she said nonchalantly, placing her hands in her pockets.
"Lexie, we can't be doing this. I don't know what more you want from me."
"Oh Scott," she said it so gentle and condescending. "I don't want anything from you. Not anymore. You blew any chance of us being together when you kicked me out of your car that night." She studied my face. "Oh, don't tell me you've mistook my messages and calls for desperation? On the contrary. I haven't spent all this time away from you doing nothing. I am plotting! This right here?" she said, looking me in the eyes. "It's not a house-call. It's a courtesy call. A warning."
"A warning for what?"
"Of things yet to come."
I stared at her. "Are you threatening me?"
"Yes!" she exclaimed. "You've finally caught on."
"Is it money you want? Are you blackmailing me? I'll give you anything, whatever you want. But please – this has to stop. You can't just show up here, not with Isabelle upstairs."
"Oh, is your wife here?" she peeked her head around me and peered towards the upstairs window. "Would she like to come down for a chat? Perhaps go for a drink or something?"
"You need to leave."
She laughed, and I knew she was patronizing me. "Don't have an aneurism, Scott. I don't intend on staying. Just wanted to pop by and say hello, that's all."
"Yeah, well, hellos are over. Pleasantries are over. This ends. Tonight."
She stared at me again, a look of pure joy and satisfaction consuming her face. "The only thing ending tonight," she said to me. "Is our alliance. Let the games begin."