murder, how to get away with it. You would think the fact that I had just examined a gory crime scene would counsel against my homicidal ruminations, but the opposite was true. It gave me a kind of permission. See, other people do it, you can, too. Like cheating on your in-home office deduction.
It took me thirty more miles to pass through the acutely felonious stage, but by mile fifty-five I had just enough high-octane bile left to make good company, so I roared home. I pulled into the driveway behind Paul’s Cherokee, spraying its gleaming finish with gravel. I cut the ignition, grabbed the sketchbook, and slammed the car door, regretting only this last act. I never slam the car door, I care for my car. It pissed me off so much that when I got in the front door to the house, I slammed it so hard that the windows on either side rattled in their glazier’s points and Paul came running downstairs into the entrance hall.
“Rita!” he said. His alarmed expression reflected how deranged I must have looked, with my crayoned eyes, shiny face, and hair styled by Cuisinart.
“What’s the matter, Paul? Don’t I look like the woman you want to marry?” I did a model’s pirouette and wobbled not at all.
“You look… fine.”
I eyed him up and down in his pressed pants, black rayon shirt, and silk print tie. “So do you. All for me?”
“I was at Mom and Dad’s. The police came and searched the house, the closets, even the garage. It took all afternoon to put everything back together. They took Dad’s car, too. Where have you been?”
I brandished the sketchbook. “Tell me, does this look familiar?”
“I don’t understand.”
“But then again, maybe you don’t recognize it. You were sleeping, as I remember. You must have been so exhausted.”
“Rita, are you okay?”
“Why? Don’t I look okay?”
“Well, you look a little-”
“Crazy?” I said crazily.
“No, but-”
“Boo!”
He took a step backward.
“Well, I’m not. Crazy, that is. I may drive a little too fast, I may bet a little too hard, and I may be committing malpractice on a murder case, but I am definitely not crazy.” I held the sketchbook higher, like the Statue of Liberty on Ritalin. “I thought you were cheating on me and I was not crazy. I thought you gave me a virus and I was not crazy.” I advanced on him with the book in the air. “Your Honor, may I approach the witness?”
“Honey-”
“Don’t honey me,” I said, which is something I always wanted to say. Then I took aim and hurled the sketchbook directly at his face. He shouted and his arms went up protectively-he was always so good at net-so the book bounced off his fingers and hit another of his treasured watercolors, knocking it askew. He looked over his shoulder at the painting, then back at me angrily.
“What is going on here?” he asked sternly.
“Pick up the fucking book and look at it! Chapter One is you asleep naked. Chapter Two is you asleep naked. Chapter Three is you asleep naked, too, so the book is not what you’d call plot-driven. Don’t you just
He didn’t reply, and plucked the book from our pretentious carpet.
“It would help if you’d gotten up and done something, Paul. Poured coffee, made a drink. Nuzzled her ear, cleaned her brushes. But I guess you did clean her brushes. You must have or I wouldn’t have this fucking virus.”
He opened the tan cover of the book, then slowly turned the pages one by one.
“Now, you piece of shit, you have one minute to tell me why you did this to me. Then you can pack your fucking bags and get out.”
He couldn’t meet my eye.
“Forty seconds.” Boy, I felt as good as you can feel when you catch your lover cheating on you. “
“I can explain,” he said quietly, still looking at the book.
“So can I. You’re a piece of shit. A tall shit, a very handsome shit, but a shit just the same.”
“That’s not helpful, Rita.”
“Fuck you! I’m not trying to be helpful!” I took off my jacket and threw it down on the rug. I cannot explain why I did this, except there was nothing left in my hands to throw. Paul watched my rage striptease with a sort of horrified confusion, then held up a hand.
“Stop,” he said. “Just stop.”
“In the name of love?”
“I had an affair.”
“No shit, Sherlock! I may not know
“That’s not what I mean.”
I found myself pacing. “Granted, sometimes you have to draw me a picture. Lots of them. Color would have helped, but I recognized you right off. I said to myself, I know that guy. He’s the one who keeps asking me to marry him. That’s what you wanted, right? A commitment? Give me a fucking break!”
“Do you want to listen to me or do you want to curse at me?”
“I want to curse at you, you asshole!” I was spitting at him as I yelled, and I did not care that this was unattractive. “And when I’m done cursing at you, I want you to pack your bags!”
“You said you’d listen.”
“You had ten seconds and you blew them.” I started to leave the room, but Paul grabbed my arm from behind.
“Rita, wait.”
“Get off of me!” I wrenched my arm free. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare touch me.” My whole body shook.
“Do you want to know why it happened?”
“You should be on your knees, begging me. You should be begging and saying you’re sorry and groveling at my feet.” I heard my voice grow thick. “Begging and saying you’re sorry.”
He sighed and stepped back.
I sighed, too, but only because I sounded so dumb. I didn’t want to sound dumb, or be helpless. A victim. I wiped my eyes. We were silent for a minute.
“Why don’t you sit down?” he said.
“Why don’t you shut up?”
“I’ll get you some water.” Paul went to the kitchen, where I heard the cabinet door open and close and the water go on. By the time he came back with a tumbler in his hand, my body had stopped shaking. “Here,” he said, but I only glared at him in response, so he set the heavy tumbler on the dining room table and sat down at one end. “May I explain now?”
I plopped into a chair at the other end. Between us was a runway of mahogany, a crystal vase of white roses, and the wreckage of our life together. “Don’t ask me for permission. You didn’t before.”
He nodded. “The affair is over.”
“Of course it is. She’s dead.”
“It ended a few months ago. It lasted about six months.”
My stomach twisted. “So your father was sleeping with her at the same time?
