Abby: I’d hate having my husband home all day.
Nancy: I never thought he did it. I’ve known Bobby since he was a little boy. He just doesn’t have it in him to cheat. Now, if it had been Nick…
Holly: The point is that he didn’t deserve to lose his job because of it. Or to be compared to actual offenders. It’s a disservice to real victims.
Nancy: I think it matters if he did it or not. And I, for one, believed him completely.
Abby: Did you still believe him after that email leaked?
Seventeen
Gina
Friday, September 20th
Gina is stepping out of the shower when she hears her phone buzzing like a beehive. The sound triggers a Pavlovian response: racing heart, thundering ears. The device that once brought her joy, that used to keep her organized and connected to her friends, now gives her anxiety. This is her new normal. The first notification to pop up on her screen is a message from Caroline on Facebook messenger. Australia is fourteen hours ahead—it’s almost 10 a.m. there.
Just saw the news on Vox. Are you OK?
She thumbs her way to the Vox website. She sees Bobby’s picture first, the caption second.
Alma Boots CEO Robert Dewar is at the center of a #MeToo scandal
Leaked email might prove that Dewar decided to promote employee based on an ongoing romantic relationship.
by Cristina DaPonte 09/20/2019, 7:23 p.m. EDT
Gina scrolls down until she sees the image.
From: [email protected]
July 10th, 2019
must promote eva stone again. best fucking blow job ever.
One thousand splinters, that is what it feels like. One thousand impossible-to-reach shards finding their way into her heart. Gina stares at the words in front of her, reading them over and over again until they begin to shuffle and form other equally incoherent, repulsive sentences.
“Jib?”
Bobby’s voice comes as a surprise to her. She hadn’t seen him walk into their bathroom.
Gina turns to face him. He’s standing at the door looking stunned, scared.
“I didn’t write that,” he says. He begins to take a step towards her, but she stops him with an open palm.
Cold. Gina is cold. She slips on her plush robe, tying the sash around her waist with a lot more force than is needed. She walks out of the bathroom and sits on their four-poster bed. She doesn’t have the energy to stand up anymore.
Gina opens her calendar app and flips back to July 10th. A Wednesday, smack in the middle of summer, which means they’d been at the Sag Harbor house. Well, she and Calan had been there. Summers at Sag Harbor are a Dewar family tradition. But Bobby only drove there on weekends. During the week, he’d be back in the office. Working, or so Gina had thought.
Bobby moves in closer to her, but Gina shakes her head. She doesn’t want him next to her. He flinches, seeming to understand her objection. He takes a seat in their distressed-leather armchair across from Gina. The floor lamp next to it is turned on, casting an eerie glow on Bobby’s face. It makes him seem weathered, older.
“How could you?” Her voice a raspy whisper. Tears gather behind her eyelids.
“I didn’t,” Bobby shakes his head. He sounds pained. Like a man being subjected to unfair criticism. “I never wrote that email.”
“What, it’s a fake?” she asks, and for a split second she believes that it might be. That this entire thing really is a conspiracy against Bobby. But, of course, that’s not what’s going on. The truth is in front of her, in black and white.
“It came from my server, but I never wrote it. I told Goddard they need to investigate a hack—”
Gina’s stomach drops. “When did you talk to Goddard about this?” She narrows her eyes at Bobby. He meets her gaze, but only for a second. “You’ve seen this before.” Gina lifts her phone in the air. The room is spinning. “You’ve seen this before, and you didn’t tell me about it. You let me find out through the internet.”
“It’s not what you think.” He drops his shoulders and looks down at their carpeted floor.
“Then explain.” She crosses her arms.
“You know we hired a firm to conduct an internal investigation. Part of the deal was that they’d go through all our emails. I thought, ‘Fine by me. I’ve got nothing to hide.’ Except it’s taking them forever, because what they do is they search for certain key phrases and her name is one of them, but it’s spelled the same as EVA.” Bobby pronounces it letter by letter, e-v-a.
Gina frowns. “EVA as in—”
“Ethylene vinyl acetate.” Bobby leans forward in his seat.
As in the rubber used to make the soles of Alma Boots’ shoes.
Bobby takes a deep breath. “I heard about it yesterday. It was wrong to keep it from you, but I panicked. When I saw that email, I knew for sure it was a conspiracy. That she—or someone—hacked into my account. Because I didn’t write that. You’ve got to believe me.”
“I don’t, actually.” Gina hugs her knees. This is surreal, preposterous. This is not her life. She looks at her phone again. “Tyrone Peck? Who is that?”
“I have no idea.” Bobby’s eyes are skittish, almost wild. “I don’t know anyone by that name. I don’t know what the hell is going on, but this wasn’t me. She’s setting me up. Think about it: if I was having an affair with an employee, why would I email some random person about promoting her because of a… because she could…”
Alice’s words ring in Gina’s ears. “Why would she lie, Bobby?”
“I don’t know,” he says, shaking his head.
Gina feels the tears streaming down her face. She allows herself to exhale—she’s been holding her breath. She begins to sob, violent tremors leaving her body like a tiny, internal earthquake. She clutches their orange bedspread with both her hands.
Should she leave him? It’s what women do in these situations, isn’t it? But she can’t imagine leaving Bobby any more than she can imagine teleportation. They are
