were normal and natural. That my marriage had undergone tremendous strain and changes because of Adam’s disability. That wanting and missing sex was natural and normal, and the desire to be held, to make love…yes, even to fuck, that was normal, too.
I was normal.
But I also would have counseled myself to stop seeing Joe. That the emotional infidelity was as real as if I’d gone to bed with him, and perhaps worse because merely sating a physical need was one thing but the inevitability of what was happening was something else, entirely.
Just because Joe and I never touched didn’t mean we weren’t having an affair.
I knew it. I didn’t want to stop it. Frankly, I couldn’t stop it. The first Friday of every month, our lunches, his stories and the relief they gave me were a bright and shining thing in the otherwise gray palette of my existence.
It was wrong, and I didn’t want to let it go.
The ringing of my cell phone distracted me from my navel-gazing. I took the call at once, fearful as always it would be from one of Adam’s caregivers, telling me there was a problem.
“Sades, it’s me.”
My sister Katie. She sounded tired. She usually did, now.
“How are you?”
“Fine. Did you get my messages?”
For one shameful moment, I actually thought of blaming Mrs. Lapp on my lack of response, but in the end good morals won out over self-preservation. “Yeah, I did. I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy.”
“Tell me about it. I know what you mean.”
I couldn’t. She didn’t. It was just something she said, not a literal invitation. I made a noncommittal noise.
“What’s up, Katie?”
“Oh, the usual. Haven’t heard from you in a while, that’s all. Thought I’d check in.”
That meant she needed to talk. “What’s going on?”
Her muffled sigh made me frown. “Oh, the usual. Lily’s been driving me crazy and Evan’s no better. He’s been out of town traveling and just doesn’t seem to get that staying home all day with a cranky toddler is not the best way to get me in a good mood. And I’m still feeling sick almost all the time. First trimester sucks.”
I made my voice as soothing as I could. “I can imagine.”
“I really need a night out.” Katie sounded close to tears. “Can you come to the movies with me?”
“I wish I could, but—”
Going to the movies meant juggling Adam’s care schedule. It meant staying out late when I had to be up at four in the morning the next day so I had time to get ready myself before helping to get him started on his daily routine. It meant having to put on the happy face for my sister, who had problems of her own and didn’t need mine.
“Oh, Sadie, c’mon.”
“Katie, I can’t. Okay? I just can’t.”
Her sigh punched my eardrum. “How’s Adam?”
“He’s fine.”
“You have big plans for V-Day?”
I cleared my throat. “Same old thing.”
“Are you guys coming over for Dad’s birthday?”
“I’ll be there.” I’d already arranged for Dennis to be available on Saturday for a few hours.
“Just you? Not Adam, too?”
Sisters always know just how to push. “If he wants to, Katie, but I don’t know how he’ll feel.”
She didn’t call me on the lie. I already knew Adam wouldn’t want to go to my parents’ house. He didn’t ever want to go anywhere anymore, even though he could.
“I could come over there and watch a movie, if you can’t go out. I just need to get out of the house, Sadie, you can’t even imagine.”
When I didn’t reply, she stopped, maybe embarrassed. “Hey, if you can’t, that’s okay.”
A good big sister would have been there for Katie. I wanted to be the good big sister I’d always tried to be, but in the end the thought of it was simply too daunting.
“Maybe next week, okay?”
“Sure. Fine. Whatever. I’ll talk to you later.”
I wanted to be there for Katie, the way I always had. I wanted to listen to her troubles and offer advice. Make a difference. Do the right thing. I wanted to help her the way I helped my patients, but when it came right down to it, I couldn’t. I was afraid.
Not that I couldn’t help her, because I was pretty sure she just needed a compassionate ear. I was afraid listening to my sister’s woes would prompt me to reveal my own, and I couldn’t risk it. Putting a voice to my feelings, saying aloud the thoughts that gnawed daily at my conscience, would make them real in a way I was certain I didn’t want them to be.
I’d spent the past four years wearing a brave face, convincing myself by convincing everyone around me that I was fine. That we were fine, Adam and I, as fine was we could be. If I didn’t have that façade, I wasn’t sure what I would have.
Joe was right. It’s easier to keep being what you are, even if the only person who expects you to be it is yourself.
Adam and I didn’t share a heart-shaped meatloaf. Mrs. Lapp cooked a pot roast and potatoes in butter and parsley, which I ate in his room with him at a table lit by candlelight. I cut his food into tiny pieces and fed it to him, bite by bite.
“Happy Valentine’s Day.” His smile was as bright and charming as he could make it. The smile I’d fallen in love with.
I toasted him with champagne in a glass that had been a wedding gift. We talked about our day. About Dennis, who’d left earlier for a big Valentine’s Day party at the Rainbow.
“I told him not to bother coming home early.” Adam wiggled his eyebrows. “Told him I had big plans.”
“Oh, really.” I settled back in my chair. Champagne had made me giddy. Lighter. “You think so, huh?”
“Oh, I know so.” He looked toward the wardrobe in the corner.
I’d found it at a flea market, covered in dust and cobwebs, the handles broken and the door off its hinges. I’d fixed the door, polished the wood and replaced the broken handles with authentic ones I’d bought from an online auction. It was my favorite piece from our bedroom suite and had once contained my frilly lingerie and pajamas. Now medical supplies filled the drawers.
“Look in there.” He jerked his chin, the extent of his ability to gesture.
I got up and crossed to it, giving him a backward glance. “Adam?
