Дуглас Кеннеди - Five Days

Richard glanced at his watch.

‘Just coming up to ten a.m.,’ he said. ‘I’m going to call the realtor and make the offer on our apartment.’

‘You are amazing, Mr Copeland.’

‘Not as amazing as you.’

He went into the bedroom to collect his cellphone. I used this opportunity to do something I was dreading: turning on my own phone and discovering what messages were awaiting me. I found my bag, dug out the phone, hit the power-on button, and listened while, in the next room, Richard was already speaking with the realtor. The price he would pay was two-forty-five. No negotiation. This offer was on the table for forty-eight hours, no more. His tone was perfectly pleasant throughout — but he was also making it very clear that he wanted to close this thing fast and with as little encumbrance as possible. What struck me so forcibly was the confidence in his voice, the sense of being reasonable, yet authoritative. Which also struck me as immensely attractive and reassuring.

There was another thought behind all this: The man I love is buying an apartment for us. Yesterday he talked about moving to Boston in ‘the next life’. Today the next life has actually begun.

An apartment for us.

Us. What a lovely pronoun.

Bing. The telltale tone informing me I had text messages.

Actually just two messages. Both from Dan. The first time-marked 6:08 last night:

Sally’s headed off with her friends to Portland. Thinking about tackling the railings on the front porch tomorrow. You’re right, they really could use a paint job. Hope you’re having an OK evening. D xxx

Did I feel a stab of guilt when I read this? Yes and no. Yes because, yes, I had stepped outside my marriage and had slept with another man. No because Dan’s text was just another attempt to put a band-aid on what had been a slow, but steady, bleeding dry of any emotional connection between us. And it made me think: A man I just met two days ago can’t stop telling me that he loves me, and my husband of over twenty years can’t ever bring himself to make that declaration. Because he truly doesn’t feel that.

The next text from Dan was marked 10:09 last night.

Hoped to hear from you before getting to bed early. Still trying to get my body clock adjusted for the four a.m. wake-up call on Monday. Why didn’t you call/text tonight? Everything OK? D xxx

Is everything OK? Actually, falling in love has made everything beyond OK. It has changed the landscape of my existence. But if I indicated now that ‘we need to have a serious talk’ — a hint that things between us had, as far as I was concerned, reached the endgame phase — I knew that he might start bombarding me with calls or texts today. And I wanted this day with my love to be free of such interference. There would be seriously trying days ahead with Dan; a rite of painful passage I’d have to negotiate, and help him through as well (though I already sensed that his initial shock would be usurped by rage when he knew that I was in love with another man). But for now.

Hi there. Girls’ night out yesterday evening with three radiologists. A little too much wine ingested. Am suffering bad head this morning. Remember my friend Sandy Nelson? Working at Mass General in Radiology. She’s asked me over for dinner to her home in Somerville tonight.

In the recent past I would have read through even the most benign text to Dan several times over before dispatching it — because I had become so super-conscious of my husband’s ability to find grievance in even the most seemingly straightforward of words. But this morning I just hit the ‘send’ button on my phone, while hearing Richard next door tell the realtor:

‘So if you can get a yes from the seller today I can come in and see you at your Mass Ave office tomorrow at nine a.m. to sign the paperwork, and arrange my bank to transfer the deposit — a deposit that will be refundable if my surveyor finds something very wrong with the place. But that’s not going to happen, right? OK, I’ll keep my phone on this morning and afternoon. But tell the guy, the offer is non-negotiable. And as you know, I’m a cash buyer.’

Bing. A new text on my phone. As expected, from Dan:

Envy you the night out. And dinner with Sandy sounds like fun. Hope hospital will cover extra night at hotel.

Leave it to Dan to think about the extra cost. But I decided to put his mind to rest:

Sandy asked me to stay the night — so no cost involved. Hope you’ll get a good sleep tonight — and that new job turns out better than you imagine. It’s a good re-start, and will hopefully lead to better things. L xxx

As I dispatched this, a thought crossed my mind: might Dan somehow try to contact Sandy during the course of the evening? Then again, he hadn’t seen Sandy in years — we’d first met when we were both doing the radiographic technicians course at Southern Maine Community College — and she dropped in to see us with her then new husband (whom she subsequently divorced) once thereafter in 2002. We’d kept in touch since then by email — and I knew she was now living with a new man in Somerville. But if Dan couldn’t get through to me on my cellphone — that is, if he even tried to get through — would he call Information for Somerville and try to find Sandy’s number? Maybe I should give her a call and ask her to cover for me just in case. But I’d then have to explain everything to a woman I consider more an acquaintance than a friend. Maybe I am being wildly over-cautious here. Maybe this is the reason why I am so glad that Richard and I have cut straight to the chase, and are starting a life immediately together. No months of sneaking around. No cavalcade of lies, or the need to invent scenarios to cover our tracks. Just the blunt truth: I’ve fallen in love. Our marriage is over. I’m moving out.

But in the meantime, there were certain essential immediate things to take care of. Such as.

A fast text to my colleague Gertie: could she cover my morning shift tomorrow?

Bing. Gertie texted me right back:

Let me cover your whole day tomorrow — if you are willing to do my all-day Saturday shift this weekend. Would love to get out of it.

Great news. This meant I wouldn’t have to rush back early tomorrow morning. More time with Richard. I texted straight back:

You’ve got a deal. Can you please inform hospital admin today that we’re trading shifts. You’re a star. L xxx

And then there was a very important text I needed to send to Lucy:

Can’t talk right now. But something rather momentous has arrived in my life — and I was wondering if I might be able to drop by tomorrow sometime? Is that apartment of yours over the garage still available?

Well, that was being all but direct. But Lucy was my best friend. And I needed a best friend to talk to before I dropped the bombshell on Dan.

Bing. My luck was holding when it came to instant responses.

Well now you have me more than curious! Am just working morning tomorrow at library, so drop by whenever after 1 p.m. Yes, the apartment is still empty. If you need it, it’s there. And if you can talk, I’m around all day today. So want to know the story behind all this intrigue. Love — Lucy

Intrigue. How I wanted to text back: It’s not intrigue. It’s the love story of the century! Prudence stopped me from such rashness. Anyway, Lucy would know the entire saga tomorrow. So I just wrote:

All will be revealed when we meet. You’re a great friend.

Bing.

Oh God, Dan again.

Seems like you’re doing your best to stay away from home as long as you can. and who can blame you, right? I mean, who would want to come home to me? But thanks for wishing me well in the new job. Really appreciated.

Now I did feel aggrieved. This was Dan’s ongoing repertoire, his schtick. Having made reconciliatory gestures here he was again, being bad-tempered and small — and knowing so well that such behavior always disquieted me.