“Why?”
“Because you’re angry.”
“No.
I was angry in the toy store.
This is different.”
“Eight years has to mean something.”
That hurt more than the excuses.
“It did mean something,” I said.
“That’s why you had something valuable to betray.”
He sat down.
For the first time all day, he had nothing to say.
I went upstairs and checked on the kids.
Lily was arranging tiny furniture inside her dollhouse box before we’d even assembled it.
Owen had already opened his LEGO set.
“Mom,” he asked, “is Dad in trouble?”
I sat beside him.
“Your dad and I have some grown-up problems to work through.
None of those problems are yours.”
“Are we okay?”
I looked at both of them.
“You are.
And I’m going to make sure you stay that way.”
That promise organized the rest of my night.
Not revenge.
Not screaming.
Not another store.
Information.
I photographed the account statements and saved copies of the charges I didn’t recognize.
I changed the password on the credit account that was in my name.
I wrote down what Brian had told me while the conversation was still fresh.
Then I called Brian back.
I didn’t tell him about the affair.
I simply said Daniel was physically safe and that he’d contact him himself regarding his absence.
Brian sounded relieved, then noticeably less relieved when I refused to make excuses for my husband.
“He’ll need to explain Friday,” Brian said.
“He should.”
Daniel stood in the hallway listening.
When I hung up, he said, “You didn’t have to involve my job.”
I stared at him.
“Your boss involved your job when he called looking for an employee who claimed he was already there.”
He had no answer.
The following morning, I looked at the mountain of purchases in my car.
The revenge high was gone.
I kept the kids’ gifts.
I kept one dress.
The salon couldn’t exactly be returned, and for the first time in years I didn’t feel guilty about spending money on myself.
But I returned several unopened things.
Not for Daniel.
For me.
I wasn’t going to let his dishonesty turn into my debt.
The black emergency card went back into my wallet with a balance far higher than it had been two days earlier, but manageable once I returned what I didn’t actually want.
Daniel mistook that decision for forgiveness.
“I’m glad you’re calming down,” he said when I came home.
I placed the receipts on the table.
“I’m not calming down.
I’m separating your choices from mine.”
