Таррин Фишер - The Wives

Hi, Will,

Just got home after a day full of meetings. I’m blown. Will probably just order takeout and watch Netflix. It’s nice that you’re visiting family this weekend, have fun!

My marriage...hmm, that’s a tough one. We worked hard at it for a few years, probably even after we both knew it was over. In the end, we were just very different people who wanted different things. He’s married to someone else now...happy, I hear.

Sometimes it bothers me that he was able to move on so quickly while I needed time to heal, but I suppose we all deal with things differently. Why did your last relationship end? Were you together long?

Regina

I stare at the screen for a long time contemplating her words. Different people who wanted different things. Why is she lying? What does she have to gain by developing this relationship with a man over the internet? I know the answer even before I complete the thought: she’s lonely. Seth’s attention wanes thin and at times seems nonexistent, so the attention of a stranger would sate a deep need to be seen...and heard. Regardless of why, the fact is she actually is cheating. And Seth has no clue. I close the lid to my MacBook and stare out the window. I contemplate taking a walk; things can get claustrophobic in a high-rise. You can spend days going to the in-building gym, visiting the vending machine for drinks instead of walking the block to the market and staring out at the world beneath you instead of venturing out into it. I’ve found that more and more I am opting to stay home when I’m not at work, feeling less inclined to brave the drizzle when it isn’t for a good reason. Before, in my old life, you couldn’t keep me inside. If I’ve changed so much in the last few years, maybe Regina has, too. Perhaps she realizes she doesn’t want to be with Seth anymore, and this is her way of feeling out the dating scene. In which case her messages to Will are a good thing. For me at least. If I tell Seth what I know about her, I’ll have a lot of explaining to do. I decide not to say anything to Seth. I’ll wait to see what else she writes to Will before I decide. I’m flicking through channels on the TV ten minutes later when I stop on one of those shows about internet relationships. The show brings people together who’ve interacted solely through the internet, often to find that one or the other has been lied to in depth. I flinch, thinking of “Will,” the photos of my cousin I’ve uploaded to the site. What people present on the internet is seldom true to real life. If I want to know who Regina Coele really is, I need to see her in real life like I saw Hannah.

I call the law firm of Markel & Abel and tell the receptionist that I would like to schedule an appointment with Regina Coele. I’m put on hold, and as I wait, there’s a twist in the pit of my stomach. I ask myself what I’m doing. This isn’t like me; for years I’ve accepted everything quietly...submissively. But it’s too late now; I opened one too many doors, and the lust for knowledge overpowers rationality. She transfers me to Regina’s secretary, who tells me that her earliest available appointment is three weeks from today. I feel a surge of disappointment. Three weeks seems like an eternity.

“Are you sure there’s nothing sooner than that?” I ask.

“I’m afraid not. Ms. Coele is booked through. I can put you on a wait-list, but to be honest, we hardly ever have cancellations.” Her voice is nasally and matter-of-fact—a real Hermione Granger if I’ve ever heard one.

“All right, then,” I sigh. “I suppose I have no choice.”

“I’ll just get you set up in the system with some basic information, then,” she tells me. I hear the clacking of computer keys and then she begins to ask me questions.

I tell her that my name is Lauren Brian from Oregon. When she asks about the nature of my visit, I tell her that it’s concerning divorce, and suddenly she’s different, her voice much kinder. So much so that I wonder if she’s experienced a divorce herself. The thought of divorcing Seth makes me sick to my stomach. I don’t want to divorce him—I want him for myself. But first I need to know the nature of his relationship with Regina. She asks me a series of questions—are children involved, did we sign a prenup, how long have we been married? “Don’t worry,” she says before she hangs up. “Ms. Coele is one of the most competent attorneys in Oregon.”

Competent Regina. I wonder if someone would describe me as the most competent nurse in Seattle? Lo most certainly wouldn’t.

When I hang up the phone, I walk directly to the bar and make myself a vodka and soda. I’m lonely, I realize as the ice cubes crack beneath the vodka. Lonely and sad. I shouldn’t be; I am young and vibrant, and these are my best years. This is necessary , I tell myself, pushing aside the guilt of sneaking around. You have to figure this out.

I think about Hannah all morning. It’s becoming an obsession to wonder where she is and what she’s doing. I’m not sleeping well; even when I swallow the sleeping pills my doctor prescribed me, I wake in the middle of the night, my body covered in a sheen of sweat. I have forgotten what my own happiness means. What the definition is to me as a person. This influx of emotion was brought on by Regina’s last message to Will, when she asked him what makes him truly happy. I’d answered as Will: my family, my job. But when I switched gears and contemplated what made me happy, I was unable to come up with a good answer. I know what makes Seth happy, and I know that I feel happiness when he does, but doesn’t that point to the fact that I’ve completely lost my own identity to identify with him? I’ve become that woman—the one who is made happy by the happiness of others. It’s disappointing to me, that I’ve forgotten myself entirely. When Seth found me in that coffee shop, I was in the pursuit of it to some degree. I was metaphorically wet behind the ears, lacking experience. Sometimes I wonder if he’d known that and if that was why he chose me. How easy to convince a young girl in love that she can emotionally do the impossible. And plural marriage by all means is impossible on the heart and mind. But I am determined. Seth and I have gotten off track; the way he shoved me the other day proved that. We can make it back to each other—I just need Regina out of the picture.

I decide to take a walk to clear my head. It’s probably too cold, but I’ve been cooped up in this condo with my thoughts for too long. If I had a friend nearby, things would be different. Someone to confide in, glean wisdom from. But this secret in my marriage prevents me from developing meaningful relationships. There are too many questions, too many lies you inevitably have to tell. It is almost comical to think of someone giving advice on something as bizarre as plural marriage: Be supportive of the other women! Remember to suck his dick as often as you can so you can be the favorite...

Shrugging on my warmest coat, I slip my feet into my rain boots and head toward Westlake Center. The tree trunks in the square are painted cobalt blue for the Seahawks, and as I weave my way between them, I catch sight of a stand selling mulled wine and roasted chestnuts. I’ve already had too much to drink today, but one cup of mulled wine won’t hurt. As I wait in line, I tell myself that they probably cooked all of the wine out of it.

I order a large and carry my steaming paper cup toward the shops on the other side of the street. I’m about to cross when I hear my name being called. I turn around and search the faces around me, surprised. I don’t know many people in the city. Most everyone has their heads bent against the rain, and as I stall on the sidewalk, they push past me in a herd, crossing the small intersection.