Diane didn’t even have the decency to look uncomfortable as she delivered her bombshell.
She was standing near the kitchen window in her cream shirt, squinting against the intense Arizona sun. With one of her manicured hands placed on the marble countertop, she looked down the road and announced the affair with as much nonchalance as someone checking the weather report.
“The girlfriend Marcus has been seeing is going to be here soon,” she continued without even sparing me a glance. “She comes from a very affluent background. Very wealthy. So could you, please, Caroline, keep your mouth shut?”
All I did was stand there with a ceramic baking dish in hand. It had a sweet potato casserole inside that I had prepared myself from scratch. I had automatically done this every year for eleven years since our marriage, eleven years of family meals, and eleven years of standing here in the same kitchen as Diane took my food and pushed it to the furthest end of the buffet table, just far enough away to remind me where I fit in her world.
My name is Caroline Voss. I was thirty-nine years old, married to Marcus, and still wore the plain gold wedding band which he no longer noticed about the time he stopped meeting my eyes.
I did not scream nor asked him if he loved her or for how many years his mother had been helping him keep this secret. I simply put down the dish and smiled awkwardly, but probably as expectedly as possible after hearing the news that my husband had another woman.
“Of course,” I said quietly. “I understand.”
Diane looked relieved, even proud of me. This is what the Hartwells liked, quite quiet women who made their life easy. And he had counted on it all these years, counting on me never making a scene after he started having his “late meetings” in Tempe every third night. Counting on me not asking about the second phone he always kept in his gym bag, nor bringing up the hotel charges in our shared accounts. Counting on me keeping my dignity in place for each of these dinners.
He believed I stayed silent because I was desperate for him to choose me. His mother assumed my silence meant I finally learnt my place in that family.
Apparently, they were unaware of the two reasons why a woman stays silent. For one, she is just swallowing her pride. Second, she’s waiting for that signature to dry.
By 6:30, the entire place looked flawless. The wine glasses were lined up neatly, the silver was polished, and the white sofa nobody was supposed to sit on looked as though it was just bought.
Marcus seemed nervous because I saw him pacing near the front door, looking at his watch non-stop. He wore that navy-blue shirt I had ironed more times than I cared to admit. At times, his eyes were darting back to mine.
He then approached and said, “Caroline, there’s no reason we make a big deal out of this evening. Let it just pass without any drama.”
I just looked at him and realized how pathetic he was for trying to make peace in the midst of the chaos he created himself.
“All right,” I said.
I said it so calmly that he got even more nervous, as though he knew something was awfully wrong. But I didn’t care about how he felt, because I had something else in mind. While he kept staring at his watch, a courier had already dropped off a sealed envelope at a lawyer’s office. A case had been opened, and the names listed on that piece of paper were going to destroy that dinner in ways no one there could ever repair.
Then the front door opened.
Priscilla Adair strolled into the room, carrying herself in that perfect manner of someone who had never had anyone tell them no in their entire live. High-end purse, diamond bracelet, and that air of genuine wealth.
Diane was there waiting for her, with Marcus just behind her, looking very uncomfortable indeed.
I didn’t move a muscle and stood there in my spot next to my casserole at the end of the counter.
Priscilla flashed a smile in Diane’s direction and then shot an affectionate glance towards Marcus, but as her gaze roamed around the room, it came to rest on me.
Everything about her face changed.
This wasn’t shame or mere shock. This was total recognition.
Her eyes went down from my wedding ring to my face and back down to the home cooked food that was on the counter, as if something small and insignificant had revealed a truth that she shouldn’t have known until later.
Diane was prattling on about meaningless pleasantries. Marcus had stopped breathing altogether. Neither of them registered in Priscilla’s awareness anymore as she took a slow, purposeful step towards me.
“Are you Caroline Voss from the file?” she asked.
The whole room grew silent. All you could hear was the faint noise from the air conditioning.
“What file?” Marcus asked. “Priscilla, honey, this is Caroline. She’s… well, she’s about to leave anyway.”
Priscilla didn’t even give him a glance but stared at me instead. “The forensic audit,” she said loudly. “The one explaining the disappearance of the three million dollars from our family’s development fund and how it’s linked to Marcus’s shell companies.”
Diane’s smile vanished. “There must be some kind of misunderstanding. Marcus is a partner at…”
“Marcus is a scammer, Diane,” I cut in. My voice was calm, although after ten years I couldn’t speak louder than that. I opened my purse and took out the folded bundle of papers, putting it down right next to the sweet potato casserole.
“What’s that?” Marcus asked. And I could see him turning pale.
“I have just filed divorce papers,” I stated, fixing my gaze on him. “Also, I am sending copies of the financial routing sheets I gave to the district attorney and the lawyer representing the Adair family at 2 PM today.”
I turned to Priscilla and offered her a sincere nod. “I am sorry he used you to help get himself out of that situation. He planned to marry you and become a member of your family firm, thus covering his financial gap. However, I have been watching his financial statements for the past year; all I needed was for him to be able to trust himself enough to put your family name on the papers.”
Priscilla looked at the papers and at Marcus, and then left, slamming the door behind her.
Diane slumped onto her white sofa, shaking, as she looked at her son. Marcus simply stood there, his mouth moving as he looked at me, and it was clear that the reality of the situation had finally dawned on him.
I reached for my purse, slung it over my shoulder, and scanned the room one more time.
“Have fun at your dinner,” I said. “I put the recipe on the counter, you’re going to have to figure out how to live on a budget.”
Then I stepped outside and after ten long years, I finally felt alive.
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