Missing Like You

FIFTY-EIGHT

SCOTT DONOVAN
SEPTEMBER 2021

It was Thursday September ninth. I had just finished off a busy day at the office, and then Jake and I went to the gym after work. It was Thursday, which meant that Isabelle had her weekly Pilates class that night from seven until eight. Usually we'd try to have dinner together, but on certain nights when we were both busy, she'd whip up something quick at home and I'd get takeout.

While I was at the gym, Isabelle sent me a text that one of her friends from Pilates was coming by for dinner before they went to class. She said that she was making chicken and salad if I wanted to join. I weighed out my options: takeout, or homemade dinner from my wife? I chose the latter.

Jake and I finished up at the gym and headed back to our cars. "Are you going to the luncheon tomorrow?" he asked me.
"That's tomorrow?"
He stared at me.
"What time?"
"Noon."
"I guess. Don't really have a choice, do I?"
"Don't complain, Donovan. It's free food."

I got in my car and drove home, making a mental to-do list of the tasks I needed to complete at work tomorrow before this luncheon.

I pulled in the driveway, locked the car, then headed up the path to the front door. I could already see Zeppelin's silhouette behind the curtain.

I opened the front door and received my usual welcome from Zeppelin. Isabelle materialized from the kitchen, walking down the hall to greet me.

"How was your day?" she smiled as she approached.
"Mediocre. How was yours?"
"Good good. Dinner's almost ready. You hungry?"
"Starved."
She smiled, then led me to the kitchen. "I hope you don't mind," she said as we walked down the corridor. "My friend is joining us tonight. We're eating then heading to class right after."
"Not a problem at all. The more the merrier."
We arrived in the kitchen. Isabelle looked at me and said, "Scott, this is Allie. Allie, this is my husband, Scott."
I stopped dead in my tracks. I'm not sure if it's possible for the human heart to stop beating as a result of shock, but I think in that moment, mine did. Because sitting there at my kitchen table, staring at me with a smile plastered on her face, was Lexie.
"Hi," she said casually, a slight flick of the wrist.
Lexie. My Lexie. In my kitchen. In my house. I didn't think I'd ever see her again, and then there she was.
I almost didn't recognize her. She had her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. She went easy on the eye makeup and her face looked fresh and clean. Her posture was near-perfect as she sat in the chair, back straight, legs crossed. She stared at me, eyes completely doe-like and innocent.
In disbelief, I turned to Isabelle.
She gave me an odd look. "Don't be rude, Scott. Say hello."
Lexie piped up again, saying, "I've heard so much about you. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
I remained standing there, gaping at her, speechless. I knew I looked like an idiot, but I couldn't help it. I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that my wife had inadvertently brought my mistress into our home and didn't have a fucking clue.
Finally, after a pause too long, I cleared my throat. "Hi. Nice to meet you."
Isabelle clapped her hands together, saying, "time to eat," as she headed towards the cupboard to get plates. I stared at Lexie. She stared at me.
"Scott, get the glasses," my wife delegated from across the kitchen. I turned away from Allie/Lexie and shot into action, doing anything and everything I could to get away from her.
My heart was stammering through my chest as I helped Isabelle set the table. It was as though there was a bomb sitting in our kitchen, and at any moment, it was going to go off and destroy everything. I braced myself for the worst. I waited for Lexie to open her mouth and reveal everything to my wife, ending our marriage with a snap of her fingers.
But she didn't. She didn't say anything. She simply sat down at the table and observed as Isabelle served the chicken and salad, and then we all began eating. Well, they ate. I had suddenly lost my appetite.
"I thought you were starving," Isabelle raised an eyebrow at me. "Eat."
I grabbed my knife and began cutting into the chicken. I felt nauseous every time I swallowed something. I could hear Isabelle and Lexie making conversation, but I tuned it out. I was so lost in my own head that I didn't comprehend a word that either of them said.
"Right, Scott?" My wife's voice broke me from my daze.
I turned to face her. "What?"
"We're bottling wine next week, yes?"
I stared at her, blinked once. "Yes."
Isabelle turned back to Allie/Lexie. "Last time we did this lush zinfandel. So now we're trying a raspberry merlot."
"Sounds divine," Lexie responded. "I'd love to try some."
"By all means! We could have a wine night."
"And do a cheese platter."
"Oh! You should join our book-club," from my wife. "Do you read?"
"I do."
"Perfect. We're reading The Crucible. I can get you a copy if you'd like."
"I love The Crucible," Lexie said through enchanting eyes. "Who is your favorite character?"
"Tough," Isabelle remarked. "I'd say Tituba and Mary Warren."
"Interesting," Lexie said, looking between me and my wife. "I've always loved Abigail Williams. There's something daring and pragmatic about her."
"Well, yes," Isabelle said. "But she's also a vindictive liar."
"The bad characters need to be valued just as much as the good," Lexie said. "It makes good writing."
"Very true."
"What about you, Scott?" Lexie said, turning to me. "Ever read The Crucible."
I swallowed my food. It was dry in my throat. "Yes."
"Who's your favorite? Wait, don't tell me. John Proctor!"
I stared at her. "I don't really have a favorite."
"Hmm," she said. "Maybe it'll grow on you."
Isabelle finished eating and brought her plate to the sink. She looked at the clock. "We better get going soon," she said to Allie/ Lexie.
"Alright," Lexie stood and brought her plate to the sink.
"Don't worry about that," Isabelle said, taking the plate from her hands and placing it on the counter. "I'll wash them later. Or Scott can do it. I'm just going to run up and change quickly. Be back in a minute."
"Okay." Lexie leaned against the sink and smiled at my wife, watching as Isabelle existed the room.
I listened for her footsteps on the stairs, then immediately got up and walked over to Lexie, abandoning my untouched plate. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
She smiled at me, tilting her head slightly, as though this were all a game to her. "What do you mean? Isabelle and I are going to Pilates."
"How did you even manage to do this? Worm your way into my wife's social circle?"
"It wasn't difficult."
"So what are you going to do now? Tell her everything? Expose me and ruin my marriage?"
"Why would you think I'd ever do something like that?"
She was patronizing me. "I know how you work, Lexie. I know that when you have your mind set on something, you will do anything and everything possible to get your way."
"And what do I have my mind set on, Scott?"
I didn't hesitate. "Me."
She smiled at this. The right answer! "I did want you, once upon a time," she said. "But you blew that chance. Now the only thing I want is revenge."
"So you're going to tell her."
She shrugged.
"What the hell do you want? Money? I will pay you. I'll write you a cheque right now."
She laughed. "I don't want your money. I don't want anything from you. All I want is to even the playing field. I want you to suffer the same pain that I had to suffer."
"What pain did you have to suffer?"
"You broke my heart."
I stared at her. "You don't think that was hard for me too? But the pain I unintentionally caused you is incomparable to the pain you'd bring if Isabelle were to find out. You'd ruin my marriage, whereas you, on the other hand, are probably still with your husband. I highly doubt you've left him. Which means that this would not be the same pain."
"You have no idea what goes on in my marriage," she said. "He hits me. All the time. He's completely destroyed me. And there's nothing I can do about it. So I stay. But only because I don't have a choice. You have a choice. You've always had a choice. I didn't."
I was about to open my mouth to respond when I heard the footsteps descending down the stairs. I took a quick step away from Lexie and retrieved my plate from the table.
Isabelle walked into the kitchen, her bag over her shoulder. She looked at Lexie. "Ready?"