Missing Like You

FIFTY-NINE

SCOTT DONOVAN
SEPTEMBER 2021

I spent the entire evening preparing myself for the worst.

After Isabelle and Lexie left the house and headed to Pilates, I cleaned up the kitchen and washed the dishes. I shattered a plate and didn't even realize until I felt blood trickling down my hand. I was in a trance, my mind elsewhere. I kept thinking about everything that had just happened, relaying my interaction with Lexie on repeat. How she looked so delicate but determined. How she was so small but possessed so much power. She could break me in a matter of seconds and she knew this. It fed into her ego and made her stronger. She held this colossal secret over me knowing that I would succumb to anything she wanted without hesitation. As long as the secret was kept, I was a slave to her. But the moment she told Isabelle, it would all be over for me.

Maybe that's why she hadn't told her yet. The two of them had been acquainted now for quite some time apparently, and Lexie hadn't said a word. She enjoyed the power she held over me. It was as though she got off on it, knowing that she could use this to her advantage to control me. She had told me that she wanted revenge, to see me suffer. Well if that was the case, why hadn't she done it yet? What was she waiting for?

I remembered the last thing she said to me. "He hits me. All the time." I knew Lexie well enough by then to know when she was lying, and when she said those words, she was telling the truth. Why hadn't she told me sooner? Perhaps I could have done something, helped her in some way. But instead, she kept it to herself, suffering in silence.

I paced the room for a bit. Then I opened a beer, drank one, opened another. I knew there was nothing I could do to prevent whatever was about to happen. It was out of my hands, beyond my control. Lexie could have been telling her the truth right then and there, as I drank my beer. And I wouldn't know until my wife came home and either screamed at me or kicked me out. I didn't know how Isabelle would react to the news. She'd always been tough, but this would change everything. She'd break down and ask me through her tears, "Why?"

That was a question I didn't quite have an answer to. I knew deep down why I had done it, started the affair with Lexie, but it wasn't that black and white. I couldn't come right out and tell my wife, "Curiosity. I wanted to know what it was like to be with someone else."

Finally, around eight-thirty, the front door opened and Isabelle came inside. She hung up her purse and strutted into the kitchen, opening the fridge and filling a glass of water. I sauntered in behind her, casually leaning against the counter. I didn't know whether or not she knew, but I prepared myself for the worst.

She closed the fridge and looked at me. "Everything okay?"
Relief flooded my body. She didn't know. Lexie didn't tell her. "Mhm," I nodded.
"You look funny," she glanced around, surveying the kitchen. "You cleaned."
I didn't respond. I just stared at her, contemplating everything, a million thoughts circulating my brain. It became clear to me in that moment what I needed to do. I couldn't keep living my life walking on egg shells, running the risk that at any moment, Lexie could destroy everything. I had to take back the control that she had stolen from me. I needed to be the one to tell my wife the truth, not only to give me a better peace of mind, but because deep down, I knew it was the right thing to do.
Moments flashed before my eyes in a millisecond. Isabelle on our wedding day, staring at me from across the altar. Isabelle sitting in home-room, glancing at me sideways, a smirk on her face. Isabelle when we moved into this house, how overwhelmed and happy she was. Then I envisioned how her face would be when I told her the truth.
This was going to break me.
"Iz," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
She turned her head to face me again, the glass of water gripped tight in her hand.
"We need to talk."
"What about?"
"Sit."
"Everything okay?"
I walked over to the table where we had sat with Lexie only hours before. Isabelle pulled out a chair and slid into it, setting the glass in front of her.
"Did something happen?" she asked. "You're scaring me."
I took in a deep breath, mentally preparing for something that I would never fully be ready for. "I need to tell you something."
She stared at me, her face an array of confusion and anticipation.
I took another breath. "I did something. And I don't expect you to ever forgive me. I have no excuse for what I've done. I never meant to hurt you or –"
"Scott," she cut me off. "Just spit it out. What did you do?"
My heart was beating so fast I thought it might go into cardiac arrest. I took another breath, but I couldn't seem to get enough air into my lungs. I wanted to say the words, but I couldn't get them out.
"Scott!"
"I had an affair."
There. I said it. The words were finally out there in the world. A real, tangible thing. No longer a prisoner of my imagination, but a concept for someone else to comprehend.
She stared at me for a moment but it felt like an eternity. Then she said, "What?"
I repeated myself, but I don't think that was the clarification she was looking for.
"When?" she asked. She was so calm and composed when she said it that I honestly believed she hadn't understood the severity of my words.
"It started a few months ago. But I ended it. Back in June."
"June," she said the words aloud, as though this would decipher some meaning.
"Yes."
"When did it start?"
I swallowed. "February."
She sat back in her chair, and it was then that I saw the tears starting in her eyes.
"Listen, Iz, I'm so fucking sorry. I never meant for it to happen –"
"Oh, so it was an accident then?"
"I know how it sounds. I know how I must look right now. God," I brought my knuckles to my mouth and bit hard. "I never intended for this. You have to believe me."
She continued to stare at me, not saying a word. Her silence was deadly.
"Say something!" I nearly yelled. "Yell at me! Scream! Do something! Do anything!"
"I don't even know what to say to you right now."
"What are you thinking?"
"I don't know. I'm still trying to process this. The fact that my husband – the person I've been with since I was sixteen – has betrayed me in the worst way possible."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't fucking talk."
I closed my mouth and didn't open it again after that.
We sat there in silence for a while as she digested everything. She kept glaring at me, this look on her face that was unreadable. Out of all the fights and arguments we'd ever had, I'd never seen her look like she did then.
Finally, she spoke. "Why?"
The question I was waiting for. "I have no excuse. I was fucking stupid and reckless and I regret it completely. But there was a part of me," I paused. "That wanted to see what it would be like..."
"To be with somebody other than me."
I didn't respond.
She nodded her head, taking this in. Then she said, "Who?"
I took in another breath. "Here's the thing," I paused again. "I don't know how to say this," I kept pausing, unsure of how to form the words. "She was in our kitchen this evening."
"What?"
"Your friend from Pilates. She's not who she says she is."
"Allie?"
"No, she's not Allie," I said quickly. "Her name is Lexie. Well, Alexandra. So I guess she could go by Allie all the same. But still," I paused. "She's been lying to you."
"It looks like you've been lying to me. What the fuck are you talking about, Scott?"
"Her name is Lexie. We met in February, through Lenora Valentine. And I meant what I said when I told you we broke things off in June. I ended it with her. I couldn't keep doing that to you. But she wasn't happy about it. She threatened me. She stalked me, Iz. And I was so fucking worried. All summer, I feared what she would do. But then the texts and calls stopped, and I figured she was done. Whatever game she was playing had ended, and she would leave me alone for good. But then tonight happened. She showed up here – at my house. With you. Pretending to be someone else. When did you even meet her?"
"About a month ago, maybe? But wait –"
"She lied to you," I finish her thought for her. "She knew who you were all along. From the second she walked into your Pilates class, she knew. That was her goal. To infiltrate my life and get back at me. This is all because of me."
"But how could she have known?"
"I don't know. She's conniving and evil, but she's smart and cunning. She wanted to get back at me, so she befriended you, doing anything possible to get close to you and subsequently, me. I don't know what her end-goal is, but I presume she was going to get close enough to gain your trust, and then tell you the truth."
"But why?"
"Because," I said. "She wants to end our marriage. She's so desperate to get back at me for ending things with her that she's willing to destroy me. She wants to see me suffer."
Isabelle fell into another bout of silence after this, presumably thinking everything through, coming to the realization that the past few months of her life have been a lie.
"Did she ever say anything to you?" I asked.
She shook her head. "No. Nothing. I had absolutely no idea. I was completely clueless to the fact that my so-called friend was fucking my husband."
I flinched at her words. "I'm sorry."
"Stop fucking saying that. Sorry doesn't mean anything. Not after what you've done."
"I know. I understand completely. I know you probably hate me and want nothing to do with me."
"I don't know what I want right now. I don't even know what to think."
I opened my mouth to apologize again, but stopped myself. "What do you want to do now?" I asked instead.
"I don't know." She sat there in silence for a while longer.
Suddenly she said, "I'm going to go to Kate's for the night. I can't stay here in this house with you, pretending that everything is fine and normal. Because it isn't, Scott. It isn't normal. It isn't okay. I need time to think about everything, to process this. Fuck," she sat back in the chair again, bringing her hands to her face.
"Okay, that's fine. Go to Kate's. Clear your head. I'll be here. If you need anything, just..."
She looked at me. "I don't want to talk to you."
I nodded. "Understandably."
She took in another breath, sat forward, and composed herself. "I'm going to go upstairs now. I'm going to pack a bag and leave. But what I want you to do, is to really think about everything you just told me. Think it through in your head and realize what a fucking mistake you've made." She stared at me, a look of warning in her eyes. "As for your mistress? You better fucking fix this whole thing, Scott. Because if you don't, I will."