Text messages between April and Elliot Masterson:
April:ย Would you like me to pack a picnic basket for us or do you want to go out to lunch?
April:ย Actually, I think Iโd rather go out.
April:ย What do you think about going to that new French place?
April:ย I keep passing it and it looks so good.
April:ย OK, on my way out the door!
April:ย See you soon!
Elliot: OK
Itโs a twenty-minute drive from our house to Elliotโs office in his Tesla, but when I take my SUV, itโs closer to half an hour. I donโt speed. Ever.
After I get back home, I change out of my unacceptable school drop off clothing into something a little prettier. I put on a summer dressโitโs yellow, which Elliot says is my best color. Of course, thatโs because I have blond hair. With dark roots, but nobody needs to know about that if I keep my hairdresser appointment for tomorrow.
I release my hair from my mom ponytail (which I alternate with my mom bun), I brush it out, and I even get out my curling iron. It takes forever, but when I look in the mirror after itโs all done, I decide it was worth it. I clean up good.
I did consider packing a picnic basket for him. I used to do that in the early days of our relationshipโIโd bring the basket to his office and we
would eat at his desk together. But then again, Iโm supposed to be angry at him for skipping out on our family time. He owes me a romantic lunch out.
I park in the lot outside Elliotโs office building and take one last look in my compact before I head upstairs. His office is on the third floor, and the elevator is painfully slow, but I donโt want to break a sweat before our lunch together. So I endure the elevator.
Elliotโs receptionist, Brianna, always stands guard outside his office. I keep in good shape, but Brianna is, without a shadow of a doubt, absolutely gorgeous. Her legs are long and shapely, and her blond hair is shinier and thicker than mine. And her skin is like porcelain. I may be a YouTube star but she could be a movie star. Itโs painfully clear which one of us is the wife and which is the hot secretary.
And this woman works with my husband all day every day. I try not to think about it.
When I approach Briannaโs desk, sheโs on the phone. From what I can hear, it sounds like a personal call. And when I clear my throat, she holds up a finger.
This goes on for a full two minutes. Is it just me or is her behavior completely unprofessional? If it were up to me, sheโd be gone.
โIโm just going to go inside,โ I say to Brianna.
She flashes me an irritated look. โIโve got to go, Niki,โ she says. She puts down the phone and finally gives me her full attention. โIโm afraid you canโt go in. Elliot said heโs very busy and not to be disturbed.โ
I roll my eyes. โWeโve got lunch plans. He told me to come here at noon.โ
โYes, well.โ She shrugs. โHis plans have changed. Heโs got a meeting in fifteen minutes, and he was very clear about not wanting to be disturbed.โ
โFor Godโs sake, Iโm his wife!โ I fold my arms across my chest. โHe didnโt meanย me.โ
โIโm sorry,โ she says in that irritatingly bland voice of hers. โThere is no lunch on the calendar. Iโm afraid I canโt let you in.โ
Thatโs not true. She obviouslyย couldย let me in if she wanted. She simply doesnโt want to.
Well, Iโll show her.
โIโm calling him,โ I inform her.
I yank my phone from my purse and select Elliotโs cell number from my favorites. The only other favorites listed are Julie, Shady Oaks Nursing Home, and Bobbyโs school. I wait while the phone rings in my ear.
And I wait. And I wait.
My whole face feels very hot by the time the call goes to voicemail. He definitely has his phone in there. He texted me less than an hour ago. He could answer it if he chose. But heโs choosing not to.
Brianna smiles with satisfaction. โI could book you for lunch later in the week if youโd like?โ She taps on her keyboard a few times. โHe has an opening on Friday. Should I put you down?โ
โNo, thanks,โ I manage.
She clucks her tongue. โIn the future, you really should make an appointment. That way you donโt have to drive all the way down here for nothing.โ
I hate this woman. I really do.
โLook,โ I say, โI just want to talk to him for a minute. Thatโs all.โ
โAs I saidโฆโ She smiles up at me. โElliot isย veryย busy right now. Iโm sure heโll contact you when he has a free moment.โ
Iโve had enough of this. I move to the side of the desk, planning to blow past her, right into Elliotโs office. But before I can reach the door, she jumps out of her seat, quick as a flash, and steps in front of me, blocking the door.
โIโm afraid you canโt go in there.โ Her eyes meet mine. โAs I said, heโs busy.โ
I hold her gaze. Brianna is about my height, although Iโve got at least ten pounds on her. I wonder if I could knock her out of the way. For a moment, Iโm tempted to try.
Brianna folds her arms across her chest. โShould I have somebody escort you out of the building?โ
Great, sheโs going to call security to boot me out of here. I take a step back and jab at my phone one more time to call my husband. Again, the phone goes to voicemail, only this time immediately. I take a shaky breath.
Then the message appears on my screen:
So sorry. Forgot about meeting during lunch. Will make it up to
you.
I look up at Brianna, who still has that smile plastered on her face. I truly donโt care for this woman.
Call me as soon as you can, I type into my phone.
โWould you like that Friday lunch appointment?โ Brianna bats her heavily mascaraed eyelashes at me. โYou should book it now, while itโs still free.โ
I donโt even answer her. I do an about-face and leave the office before I burst into tears.
I donโt even bother with the elevator this time. I go straight for the stairs. At this point, who cares if Iโm sweaty? It will be hours before I see Elliot. Iโll probably be in bed by then. All I want is to go home and take a nice hot shower, then binge-watch some series on Netflix. Or maybe Iโll bake something. That always helps me relax.
I wish I could talk to somebody about this. I canโt tell Julie. She wonโt get it. Sheโs married to a lawyer too, but she takes her husbandโs long hours as a given. She would never consider traipsing out to his office for lunch. Frankly, sometimes I think she likes the fact that heโs not around much. I might feel that way too if I were married to Keith.
At times like these, I wish I could talk to my mother. Itโs like a deep ache inside my chest. Unfortunately, my mother developed early Alzheimerโs several years ago. Right now sheโs a resident at Shady Oaks nursing home, and having a meaningful conversation would be out of the question.
She barely knows who I am anymore. But every night, the staff of her nursing home plays one of my videos for her. Thatโs why I always end my episodes by saying, โGood night, Mom.โ I want to make sure my mother still remembers who I am.
Sometimes I feel really alone.
But it doesnโt matter. Iโll get through this on my own. I just want to go home.
When I get downstairs, my phone buzzes in my purse. My heart leaps in my chestโmaybe Elliotโs meeting got canceled and he wants to have lunch after all. Take that, gorgeous young secretary.
But when I pull out my phone, I see another blocked number has left me a text message:
Too bad you donโt know the secret to making your husband happy.
Unlike Courtney Burns.
I stare at my phone, my mouth hanging open in disbelief. I look around the parking lot, trying to figure out if somebody is watching me. Did somebody see my husband reject me during my attempt to have lunch with him?
But the parking lot is empty except for me. Thereโs nobody around. And as opposed to the message yesterday, itโs obvious what the intent of this one was. I look up at the window to my husbandโs office, wondering if Brianna could have been the one to send the text. Is it possible sheโs the one torturing me?
But how would Brianna know about Courtney? Thatโs the distant past.
Itโsย over. Nobody knows. Just me and Elliot. Well, and one other person.
Words canโt hurt you,ย I try to tell myself. I wish I could believe it.