Bridge to a Distant Star - Carolyn Williford [16]
Vanessa had spoken in such a rush that she had to pause to catch her breath. “Emilie’s hurting, and you know what? I think we should just … hurt with her.” Her eyes filled with tears as she stared into Emilie’s equally tear-filled eyes. “No explanations or answers. Just love. Loving her the best we can, in the way that she needs us most.”
Sherry took charge then, as she usually did whenever a decision for the entire group needed to be made. “I’m guessing that no one feels much like eating, am I right? But Emilie, you don’t want to leave yet, either.” Emilie firmly shook her head, and Sherry continued, “Then how about if we order just soup and some of their breads? Good idea?” Relieved nods all around. “Okay. That solves the dilemma of eating versus not eating.”
The server returned then, delivering drinks and taking their orders. Once she’d left again, Vanessa, Sherry, and Maureen turned their attention back to their friend.
“Do you want to tell us more details about what Ed said?” Sherry asked, gently probing.
Emilie stared down at the table rather than meet anyone’s eyes. “I think I need to tell you. Get some … perspective, I guess. I keep thinking this can’t be happening to me. It can’t be real and I’ll wake up.” She sniffed and wiped at her nose with the pathetic-looking tissue.
“I heard the garage door opening, heard him coming in, felt surprise and yet delight that he was there. Assumed he’d forgotten something.” She shook her head slightly, chagrined at her eagerness to see him. “Then when I saw his face, at first he scared me.” She looked up momentarily, the emotions of genuine concern and fear reflected still, mirroring the past. “I thought something was wrong, so I went to run into his arms and—” Emilie’s voice faltered. “He put out his hand to stop me.” Again she paused, struggling to regain her composure. “I was really bewildered at that point. Started asking him if he was okay, if he was sick, maybe had the flu or something and didn’t want me near him to catch it. And suddenly something about the look on his face—the fact that he wouldn’t or couldn’t look at me.” Emilie put her head in her hands. “As blind as I’ve been for … weeks now … in that moment I just knew.” She looked up, and a single tear ran down each cheek. “What a naive idiot I’ve been.”
Sherry spat out, “Emilie, you trusted him. It’s ingrained to trust our husbands.”
“How did you find out who she is?” From Vanessa. There was no need to explain the who.
“I knew instantly. Put it all together. Ed’s talked nonstop about a woman—she’s in marketing, working with their new ad campaign—who’s been visiting his office. ‘This Denise, she’s something else’ and ‘Denise really knows her stuff’ and ‘we invited Denise to join us for lunch today.’” Emilie’s unfocused gaze looked off into the past, remembering. “And then suddenly he stopped talking about her. I bet you anything that’s when the relationship changed.” She laughed, but once again it was a deformed imitation of her true laugh. Maureen cringed. “After that, I imagine she continued to be invited to lunch, all right. But with only one person in particular. I swear I don’t know whether to cry or scream. And the worst part?” She gave them a beseeching, apologetic look. “I still love him.”
“A part of you always will.” Sherry’s voice was filled with a longing that caught Maureen off guard, and then Sherry met and held Maureen’s gaze. The marks of naked pain were still there, residing in deep shadows around Sherry’s eyes, defined in lines and valleys that would never fully go away. Maureen noted the offering and accepted it,