episode 2 – hearty mealA newlywed with a husband carrying on questionable conduct provides a reason to stray.
A newlywed with a husband carrying on questionable conduct provides a reason to stray.
A Memorable Visit
When Reyna returns to her drab life, it seems Alan spends more time away than at home. During one of her diner-style meals, Alan is scrolling through his phone when he says, barely glancing up, “I was thinking. Perhaps we should give our marriage a break.”
Reyna stops mid-bite, her fork hovering in midair. “A break? Do you mean… separate?” Her voice comes out uneven, as though her lungs forgot how to hold air.
His eyes remain on the screen. “It’s not permanent,” Alan says with a tone so casual it makes her stomach churn. “I’ll still support you, but I need to figure out if Mattie is… Honestly, she isn’t convinced about the sincerity of your apology. That means she could put you back in a sanitarium.”
“The sanitarium?”
The word claws its way into her chest, cold and heavy, squeezing the air from her lungs. Reyna forces herself to swallow, her fingers wrapping around the edge of the table.
“We haven’t been married a year and I’ve endured a series of humiliating situations… even tolerating Matilyn. Now you’re siding with her?”
Alan sighs, finally setting down his phone. “I’m trying to figure out what’s best for us, Reyna.” His eyes don’t waver as he takes another sip of water, as though they’re discussing something as trivial as the weather. “It’s for the best, trust me.”
“Alan, I don’t want you to see me cry.” Her hands rest on her belly, a connection to the fertile life within. “Can you please go now and leave me alone?”
“Of course. I’ll be back tomorrow to pack a few things. If you need me, I’m not far away.”
A Clean Start
In the days leading up to Tuesday, Reyna accumulates many thoughts to share with Evan. He perceives her need for companionship.
“I’m sorry to hear about your separation. What are your plans for the evening?”
“No different than usual. I’ll have a meal alone and go to bed.” Her words, perhaps a veiled invitation.
Evan playfully leaps at the opportunity. “What’s for dinner?”
“Just meatloaf,” she innocently answers.
“You know. I used to love my mother’s meatloaf. Is there an extra serving?”
“Really?” Reyna now sees where the conversation is heading. Is she ready for this big step of dating another man? She answers modestly, “Perhaps… purely for evaluation.”
“Just tell me a time and I’ll bring flowers.”
Reyna hesitates. “No one has ever given me flowers.” Her words feel stuck in her throat, but when she looks at him, his easy smile melts her defenses.
“I guess… six o’clock?” she says, unsure.
“It’s a date,” he replies, his voice warm, and confident.
Reyna nods and watches him leave. The basement feels colder without him.
A New Visitor
That night, she scours her apartment, lighting candles and pulling out her best plates. She stands in front of the mirror, smoothing her hair and dabbing on lip gloss. The reflection stares back at her—someone who looks nothing like the lonely housewife she insists she is.
Evan arrives, impressed with the romantic restaurant vibe. She puts the flowers in a vase and pours him a glass of wine. After they dine and Reyna clears away the dishes, they bring their glasses to the sofa.
“Be honest. Was the meatloaf half as good as your mother’s home cooking?
“If I tell you how good yours is, it will hurt my mother’s feelings.”
When he laughs, his arm finds its way around her shoulders.
“Evan. This is nice, but I’m not single… in my mind. I apologize if I’m sending mixed signals. It’s just that I… I enjoy your company.”
“Not as much as I do yours. Well, Reyna. I’ve had a lovely evening. And I look forward to seeing you on Thursday.”
“Yes, Thursday. Thanks for understanding.”
She walks him to the door, wondering where this is leading. Now that he’s been to her apartment, she can’t stop thinking about Evan.
Forming a Pattern
On Thursday, Reyna’s basket includes fewer sweatshirts. She brings her entire drawer of unused lingerie. As she and Evan fold sheets, his hand brushes against hers. Though momentary, it was almost intentional—affectionate. When he picks up her brassiere to read the label, she snatches it back.
“You’re incorrigible. Don’t read the size!”
“Forgive me for being curious. What’s for dinner tonight?’
She’s only committing to entertaining her neighbor. “I can make a mean Salisbury steak… or for nice guys… perhaps fried chicken.”
“Fried chicken it is. Six o’clock?”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Evan’s smile lingers in her mind for the rest of the day. When she closes her eyes, she can still hear his voice, teasing but warm, wrapping around her like a secret only they share.
While setting the table, she pours grape juice for herself and wine for Evan. After enjoying dinner, they sit on the sofa with their glasses.
“I have something to tell you,” she hesitates, averting her eyes toward the window before looking back into Evan’s eyes. “I’ve withheld a secret… because I didn’t want it to prevent… moments like this. I may not be showing yet… but I’m pregnant with Alan’s child… even though he left me.”
Her confession leads to a warmer embrace than Alan has ever provided. Evan’s tender lips touch hers, and she loses herself kissing back. Each time he encourages her to go further, she sips more juice, saying she shouldn’t, but kisses more passionately.
“I can’t keep staring at your ethereal beauty…” Evan says while kissing her neck. “You know the things I want to do to you?”
Reyna’s eyes glance toward the window before saying, “I’m going to close my eyes… and pretend I didn’t hear that.”
She can’t blame it on intoxication, but the remainder of the evening becomes a blur. In the morning, she awakens alone, but beneath the sheets is an all-too-familiar unfamiliar sock.
…“Last night’s fantasy seemed so… real,” she says to herself with a smile. “I’m still faithful… if that’s all it is… a wonderful fantasy… no matter how far I seem to go in my mind. It’s my indulgence for having an unfaithful husband.”
A Sock Fairy
Evan becomes a reliable dinner companion. Each morning, Reyna awakens to find a missing sock, shirt, or undergarment entwined in her bedding. She saves them and slips them back into Evan’s laundry basket, clinging to the rationalization that static cling from the dryer causes the mix-up.
One day, in the laundry room, Alan comments on the age-old mystery of socks disappearing while holding up a distinctive striped sock. “One always seems to go missing, doesn’t it?”
Reyna, folding her sweatshirt, stiffens slightly before forcing a laugh. “The sock fairy makes them eventually show up… in unexpected places.”
Alan chuckles, oblivious to the double meaning in her words. “I’ll see you tonight at our usual time.”
“Of course. I’ll have dinner ready.”
In the morning afterward, she awakens again to the fantasy, more intense than anything prior. She clings to the dreams of spending the night with Evan and the search for a garment clinging to the sheets, absolving her of any impropriety.
This time, she grasps a handkerchief in her hands to return. Her desire for more frequent fantasies prompts a text message asking to meet Evan in the laundry room on Wednesday.
Continued…
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