Rachel's Folly Page 6

  Rachel walked into the kitchen and placed the mail on the countertop. A picture frame sitting on the counter caught her eye. It was a picture of Elena and Jack. She picked it up and examined it. She recognized the furniture and blue marlin hanging in the background, and knew that the picture had been taken at Dr. Wilkinson’s beach house. Both Elena and Jack were looking directly at the camera, wearing wide, happy smiles. From the angle of the shot, Rachel could tell Jack had taken the picture himself. He was so handsome. She sighed and put the picture back on the countertop. The familiar uneasy feeling of guilt started to stir inside her. The red letter on her face, which she had tried so hard to shake, was emerging again. She suddenly wondered if she would take the secret with her to her grave. Her heart grew heavy. She tried to brush the unpleasant thoughts away and decided to get busy. She would water the plants and get out of there as quickly as possible.

  She went to the utility room to fetch the watering can and then back to the kitchen to fill it up. She walked out onto the front balcony to tend to the plumerias, which were in full bloom and smelled like a cross between jasmine and a peach. There were three of them. Rachel remembered when Elena bought them, on a trip they took to Hawaii nearly ten years ago. They were merely leafless stem tips back then, not more than six or seven inches long, about three dollars each. Now, they stood over three feet high. Next to the plumerias, a large, healthy, bushy green fern hung from a hook above. There was no denying that Elena had a very green thumb. When Rachel finished on the balcony, she went back into the condo and watered the one indoor plant by the window in the dining area. She was careful not to let water leak onto the carpet and looked around to make sure there wasn’t another plant she had missed.

  It was then that it dawned on her that very little had changed since her last visit to the condo a few months ago. If she hadn’t known that Jack had moved in, she would have guessed Elena was still living there by herself. There was no sign of Jack’s presence at all, none of his pictures, furniture, clothing or anything of his lying around. This, coupled with the fact he had no family and hardly any friends at the wedding, was unsettling to her. She tried to recall if Elena had told her where Jack was from and exactly what he did for a living. Elena had mentioned he worked from home a lot, but Rachel couldn’t remember much more than that. Did he say he worked with computers? She knew he wasn’t from Austin, but she had no idea where he grew up or went to school. She remembered what Ben said, that there was something about Jack being an odd fit. Maybe he was right.

  She went back to the kitchen to empty the watering can and was just about ready to go when she suddenly remembered the small balcony on the east side of the condo. It was situated in the back, next to the utility room. It was so small and inconspicuous that it could easily be missed. She wasn’t quite sure why it had been built in the first place, since it opened to the back of the building and really had no view. It looked out towards the parking garage and past that, in the distance, I-35. She figured it was possible there was a partial view of the lake at one time, but nothing of that remained now that thick trees had grown in front of it. Down below, there was only concrete and two industrial-sized dumpsters. She slid open the glass door and didn’t see any plants, but in the corner, there was a small, wooden chair next to a large, black, ceramic plant holder. There were several crushed cigarette butts in the hard, dry dirt inside it. Jack smokes, she thought, and he probably spends a lot of time out here. She turned around and walked back inside, closing the balcony door behind her. She looked at her watch and realized it was getting late, so she quickly went to get her purse and left for work.

  * * *

  Several weeks passed. Rachel was getting on with her life as best she could by filling her days with as much activity as possible: running, working, yoga, volunteering at Jacob’s school. She even painted Jacob’s room and cleaned out the garage, anything to keep her mind busy. There were long stretches when she barely thought about Jack, the incident becoming ever more distant, like a piece of driftwood caught in the waves, being taken out deeper into the sea. Each day would take it further and further away. She would start to feel like herself again, and then, out of nowhere a dream, or a blouse Elena gave her would bring him instantly back into her mind. She still couldn’t understand how she could have been so thoughtless, so reckless. She’d spend whole afternoons imagining Jacob as a teenager trying to explain to his friends why his parents got divorced. “My mother slept with her best friend’s fiancé in our living room.” She shuddered and tried to shake away the thought.

  * * *

  It was now late July and dreadfully hot and humid. There had recently been a stretch of four consecutive days with temperatures over one hundred degrees, and a heat index of over one hundred ten. The elderly were asked to stay indoors; people were reminded not to stay outside for extended periods of time and to make sure their pets had plenty of shade and water.

  Rachel would wake up earlier on these summer days. She was now running an average of forty-five miles per week. She had gained considerable muscle mass in her legs, which felt stronger than ever, but she had also lost weight in her upper body and face. Her cheeks were hollowing out, chiseling her face to look older and hardened. She was working more hours, seeing more clients. She was still making progress with Sara. Although Sara was still dating James, she had agreed to go to a meeting with her parents at her high school and they were looking into what needed to be done so she could start classes again in the fall. She was living with her grandmother, which was actually working out better for all parties.

  One morning Rachel was at her office with a new client, Lisa Garza. Lisa came to see her because she was having an affair with her coworker. They had been seeing each other for about six weeks and would sneak off to his car during the workday. They would drive around on their lunch hour until they found a secluded area to park and proceed to fog up the windows like “sex-crazed teenagers.” Lisa told Rachel she was embarrassed to reveal these things to her but she desperately needed to confide in someone and get some sound advice.

  Rachel was careful when handing out advice. Whenever possible, she preferred to help people work through their own feelings and guide them to make their own decisions, recognizing that most people knew exactly what they should do about their problems. The answer was usually painfully obvious, but never easy to accept.

  Rachel studied Lisa while she talked and came to the conclusion that she was probably in her mid-thirties. She glanced at Lisa’s tight-fitting blouse and slightly exposed cleavage. She found her to be an attractive, voluptuous woman, the type of woman that was probably used to getting men’s attention. Rachel sat up straight and crossed her legs, suddenly feeling self-conscious of her own body, which she had always thought of as rather boyish.

  “So, how do you feel about your husband?” Rachel asked in a relaxed voice, trying to keep her mind on their conversation.

  “He’s a good man. The boys adore him. He’s a great father, and it kills me, because I know they’ll want to live with him if we end up getting divorced.” She sounded remorseful, but then she got defensive. “But there’s just no passion in our marriage anymore. We’ve been more like buddies than lovers for years now. Other than our sons, we have absolutely nothing in common.”

  “What about marriage counseling?”

  “Oh, we’re way past that.” Lisa shifted her full-figured body uncomfortably in her chair. “Look, I know what you’re getting at and this all must sound so ridiculous, but I’m not here to talk about my husband.” She fidgeted in her seat again and tossed back her dark red hair over one shoulder. “Do you think Keith is ever going to leave his wife? I mean, I get that she’s recovering from breast cancer, but he never wants to talk about the future. Every time I bring it up, he says we should just live in the moment.”

  “And how does that make you feel?” Rachel looked at Lisa expectantly, knowing this question would probably provoke her to open up about her expectations for the affair.
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br />   As Lisa went on venting her frustrations, Rachel thought about how differently she would have felt about Lisa’s dilemma a few months ago. Although she had always tried to remain neutral during her sessions, sometimes during her clients’ confessions about infidelity, she couldn’t help but feel a little irritated. She saw quite a few women, usually in their late thirties or early forties, having incredibly risky affairs, most of which did not end well. The reasons for their infidelity ranged, but most were just feeling stuck in their marriages, looking for excitement in their lives. But now sitting there listening to Lisa, Rachel felt uncomfortable. She used to tell her clients that their thoughts drove their behavior. They were, literally, whatever they thought about. She suggested they only needed to stop thinking about the person and eventually their feelings would go away. But now, she knew just how daunting that task really was. She couldn’t get Jack out of her head, and she knew better. She considered herself happily married, so her previous beliefs about why women cheated were now muddled. She thought maybe the true reason why some people cheat might be so buried inside, it would take years to uncover. Or maybe, just maybe, there was no reason at all.

  She didn’t feel qualified to dissect other women’s motives anymore. She decided to keep her questions and comments at a superficial level. Luckily, Lisa didn’t seem to notice and left promising to reflect further on her actions and expectations for the affair.

  Once Lisa had gone, Rachel moved over to her desk to check her voicemail before her next appointment arrived. There was just one message: from Elena. Her voice sounded joyful.

  Hey Rach, it’s me. I miss you. It’s been too long since we’ve seen each other. We have extra tickets for La Traviata this Friday. Let’s do an early dinner and then go to the opera. I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, missy! Call me.

  Rachel’s stomach churned. She quickly erased the message and started to think of an excuse so she wouldn’t have to go, but then realized it had been a while since she and Elena had seen each other. The last time was just a brief visit a few days after Elena returned from her honeymoon. Plus, she had already turned Elena down for dinner on two occasions since then. Surely, Elena would start wondering if Rachel was purposely avoiding her, which of course she was. Rachel realized if she kept dodging, Elena would start suspecting that something was wrong. She sighed and decided to call Mrs. Richards to see if she could watch Jacob on Friday night.

  She stared out the old French window waiting for Agnes to pick up. She watched a gray cat lounging in the shaded grass outside. The cat rolled around, stretched, yawned and occasionally stopped to lick its coat. She envied the cat’s carefree disposition.

  Rachel spoke with Mrs. Richards and thanked her for agreeing to take care of Jacob, then hung up the phone. She leaned back in her seat and looked at the ceiling. She was going to have to suck it up, tuck it all away like Ben said. She looked back at her desk and quickly grabbed the phone again to make another call. After a few rings, she heard her brother answer the line.

  “Hey, Ben. Whatcha doin’?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

  “Hey,” he said, sounding pleasantly surprised. “Just having lunch and trying to write. Not very successfully, but trying nonetheless. What’s up? How’s Jacob?”

  “He’s fine.” She took a moment to think about how she should proceed.

  “What’s going on?” he asked nonchalantly. She could hear him chewing his food.

  “Nothing really … well, I don’t know. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about what happened with Jack.” She paused. “About what I did. I really think I just need to come clean with Elena. And before you interrupt me, let me just say, I’ve given this a lot of thought. I know it’ll make things really weird between Elena and me, but I think we can get past it.”

  It sounded like Ben was trying to finish swallowing something. After a moment, he replied calmly, “If she wasn’t married to him, I’d agree with you, but the reality is you risk losing your friendship and ruining her new marriage, and very likely yours as well. I said it before and I’ll say it again: you have to put it out of your mind. Move on.”

  “It’s impossible,” Rachel moaned. “It consumes me. I’m supposed to be the expert on relationships. I hear people tell me about their infidelities all day long, asking me for advice. I’m a first-class fraud.” She collapsed back in her chair and looked back out the window. She noticed the cat was now taking refuge from the sun under a parked car across the street.

  “Well, there you go. You said it yourself: it happens all the time. It gives you another perspective. You’ve now personally been through it. You should see this as an opportunity. Let it make you stronger, wiser.”

  “I wish it were that easy.”

  Ben responded more forcefully this time. “I never said it would be easy. But the stakes are way too high. Listen.” He stopped for a moment and cleared his throat. “I have a question for you. Do you know why you did it? I mean, from what you told me, it happened suddenly, but you didn’t hesitate, right?”

  “I think about that all the time. I really have no idea what I was thinking.” She shook her head gently as she gripped the receiver tighter.

  “Were you having problems with Edward?”

  “No. He’s a great husband,” she said swiftly and confidently. If there was one thing she was sure of, it was that Edward had nothing to do with it.

  “I know that. What I mean is, were you lacking something, maybe some attention? Were you feeling neglected?” He paused, then added, “He does work a lot. Maybe you needed more from him?”

  She brought her hand to her forehead and leaned over her desk. “I don’t know. I feel horrible when I look at him now. I can’t even touch him. He doesn’t deserve any of this.”

  “So, why then? There has to be a reason, Rach.”

  “I guess it had been a long time since I had felt that … uh … alive. I’m not going to lie. I was flattered Jack was attracted to me. And he’s so different from Edward. He was so spontaneous, reckless and relaxed. I guess that’s part of the reason I was so easily seduced.” She sighed. “Not that it makes it any better.”

  “You’re almost forty. Maybe it was a moment of madness. Temporary insanity. A midlife crisis?” Ben suggested with a hopeful tone.

  “This must be what it feels like when people recover from cancer and they can’t trust their bodies anymore. I don’t trust myself anymore. I never thought I could do anything like that.” She looked at a picture of herself with Edward that was propped up on her desktop. It was taken on a trip to Napa Valley before Jacob was born. They looked happy.

  “That’s a bad analogy. People don’t choose to get cancer.”

  “Touché.”

  “You know,” he stopped to clear his throat again, and his voice softened. “I’ve always wondered how we could be raised by the same parents and live such different lives. My shortcomings are obvious. I drink too much, I’m a slob, and I couldn’t wait to move as far away from Mother as possible.” Rachel smirked. She knew too well that her compulsion was running, just like Ben’s was alcohol.

  “But you stayed, and married a great man, had a great kid and live a pretty wonderful life in spite of everything.”

  “Which makes what I did even more unacceptable,” she sighed.

  “Let me finish. You’ve always been the rational one, the one everyone comes to for advice. Out of our entire family of screw-ups, you were the only sane one. You were just born that way. But I never really understood how you could bury all that crap inside. Now, I think you were probably, subconsciously, waiting for an opportunity to sabotage your happiness. Maybe deep down, you don’t really believe you deserve it.”

  Rachel thought about his comment and realized there was a grain of truth there. “You sound like a therapist,” she joked glumly.

  “There just has to be some of Mom’s craziness inside of you, inside of me. You can’t just move past all of that and not let it come to the surface. I don’t care who you
are.”

  “I don’t know. It seems like such a copout. We can’t just blame our parents.” She picked up a pen and began to doodle on the notepad lying on her desk. “But I will say this, I immediately think of Mom and what she would say to me if she knew, and I shudder. No matter how old I am, I instantly become ten years old again whenever I’m around her.” She paused and stopped doodling. “And Dad? You know he ran around with a lot of women. Maybe I’m more like him than anyone suspected.”

  “Who knows?” Ben sighed loudly. “Could be, but look, you need to be stronger than that. None of us are saints, Rachel. One thing I’ve come to accept is that some good people do bad things. Everyone has their own demons. It’s just that some of us are better at dealing with them. People like Mom find it easier to judge others than to face themselves. You have to accept what happened, learn from it, move past it and carry on.”

  “And if I can’t?” she asked.

  “You have to. I know you can do it.”

  Rachel slumped back in her chair. “Okay. Thanks, Ben.” She cut the line and took in a long, deep breath. “Okay,” she repeated to herself.

  * * *

  Friday came quickly. Rachel had been dreading its arrival the way the captain of a sailboat dreads an approaching storm. She was sure she was getting an ulcer from the anxiety she had felt since she called Elena to tell her they would go. As long as she could concentrate on other things, she could cope with the guilt and get through the day reasonably well. But she knew that having to be in the same room with Jack would bring that sick, burning feeling right back up to the surface. Rachel The Fraud would have to show up and give her best performance.

  * * *

  Edward and Rachel arrived at the quaint Japanese restaurant at six o’clock sharp. It was crowded, but they spotted Elena and Jack sitting at a corner table as soon as they walked in. The restaurant was a sophisticated 1920s bungalow on the south side of town. It was one of the most popular restaurants in the city, known for being slightly pretentious and slightly more expensive, but absolutely delicious. The ambiance was relaxed with soft lighting and rich, red fabrics.