I don’t say any of those things. I don’t want to cloud my celebration with a fight or even a disagreement.
13
The night after my first speech, Hudson promises to make more time for me. Unfortunately, he doesn’t keep it. He continues to come back home later and later over the next few weeks. Sometimes even after midnight.
Eventually, I stop waiting up for him. I rarely see him in the mornings, too. He’s usually gone before I get up.
“Honestly, I don’t know how he survives on so little sleep,” I finally vent to Juliet one night. “I don’t know what’s going on. He can’t be working all this time, right?”
It’s Monday night and we’re watching The Daily Show and Hudson’s still not back.
“I have a few friends who dated stockbrokers,” she says, “and they do work crazy hours.”
“What about that guy you had a date with? Did he?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I just saw him once.”
I shake my head. Something doesn’t feel right.
“So, you think it’s fine?” I ask.
“Well, they work crazy hours, but not this crazy.”
“He says that he has to go out every night because that’s what everyone does,” I say. Somehow, those words make a lot more sense when they come from him. It sounds completely unconvincing when I say it.
“Hey! I have an idea,” Juliet says. I spot a dangerous twinkle in her eyes.
“What?” I ask cautiously.
“Why don’t we follow him?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m not one of those jealous girlfriends.”
“I know you don’t want to see yourself like that, but difficult times call for dangerous measures,” Juliet says. “Or however that saying goes.”
I’m not convinced. I can’t go along with this. Don’t get me wrong, I want to know the truth, but I also don’t. I know my heart will break if he’s lying…and then what?
I shake my head no, decisively. I can’t do this.
“You’re entitled to know the truth, Alice. I mean, what if he’s screwing around on you? Don’t you want to know that?”
No, not really, I want to say. I’d rather not know it, but that sounds old-fashioned and hopeless and pathetic. Most of all, not true. I do want to know. I just don’t want to want to know.
“If it’s nothing, then you won’t be worrying about this so much. It’s a win-win.”
“It sounds like a lose-lose, actually,” I say. “But okay.”
The following evening, we take a cab to The Martini. It’s a bar that Hudson mentioned to me a couple of times, the place that they all go to after work for happy hour, the place where they don’t card people in suits.
It’s raining and I’m reluctant to put on a costume, but Juliet insists. So, I arrive at The Martini in professional-height heels, a white blouse, a black mini-skirt, and my jacket. It’s the closest thing I have to an office wardrobe, and even this one I had to compile from Juliet’s closet.
Juliet still straightens and then curls her hair and puts on fake lashes but I take a more relaxed approach. Eye shadow, eyeliner, mascara, lipstick. That’s enough. If this night goes badly, I don’t need to look like a clown when it all starts streaming down my face.
We walk into the bar around 6:30 p.m. It’s still relatively empty and we find a dark, quiet table all the way in the back. This is a stakeout, so he’s not supposed to see us immediately, if at all. Juliet quickly orders us two dirty martinis on the rocks with extra olives. On the way over, I promised myself that I would stay sober during this, but one drink doesn’t mean I’ll be drunk. When it arrives, I cave. I need something to calm my nerves and it fits the bill.
We wait and sit for a while before we see them. I’m not sure how long exactly, except that I finish my martini and Juliet finishes two. Then I see him.
Hudson, dressed in a suit, holds the door open for a woman. She’s wearing a bright red peacoat and high-heel boots. She tosses her hair from side to side as if she’s in a Pantene commercial.
“Who’s that?” Julie asks.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Maybe this girl Kathryn.”
“Who’s Kathryn?”
“Just someone he works with.”
“Well, I’m not sure that girl has ever been a ‘just someone’ ever,” Juliet says.
I know exactly what she means. That girl is drop-dead gorgeous. She has light brown hair and expensive-looking highlights. She sits across from Hudson, facing us, and we get a clear view of her. She’s beautiful. A small delicate mouth, high cheekbones, a perfectly contoured face.
“She reminds me of someone,” Juliet says.
I shrug. I’m more interested in the way that she’s leaning toward Hudson and laughing at everything he says.
“Kind of like a cross between Emily Blunt and Kate Middleton,” Juliet says. “Oh my God! Do you see where she just put her hand? It’s on his knee.”
I nod, speechless. I really wish that I didn’t bring Juliet along for this.
The woman doesn’t keep her hand on his knee for long. It was just a pat, a tap, but it’s enough to send me into a tailspin.
I’m lost. I don’t know what I’m doing here. I can’t move. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. I want to get up and leave, but I don’t.
In a moment, the place gets so crowded, I can barely see over all the people who are congregating around the bar.
“Where are you going?” Juliet asks as I grab my purse and phone.
“Home.”
“No, you can’t go home! We didn’t see anything yet.”
“Juliet, I can’t do this anymore. He’s going to do what he’s going to do. I don’t have to torture myself and watch.”
Her eyes search my face for answers, but I don’t have a better answer than that. It’s not that I don’t want to know. I just can’t be in this place any longer. The walls feel like they’re closing in on me. I fear
