I asked Meryl, my neighbor.
“I’ve met her,” Meryl answered, nodding.
We were standing by the side of the road while Charlie was talking to Frank about buying horse feed. He was telling Frank that Cliff had recommended a store in Ruckersville.
“A lot cheaper there,” Charlie was saying.
“I hear she wants sole custody of their kid,” Meryl continued.
“Why?”
“I don’t know exactly, but I hear he has quite a temper.” Meryl gave a little laugh before she said, “Frank said that, last year, out on the hunting field, he saw Cliff nearly whip a horse to death because he wouldn’t take a jump.”
“Oh” was all I said.
“But Frank is prejudiced,” Meryl went on. “He hasn’t gotten over the fact that Cliff still owes him money for the diaper service for his kid. It’s been nearly four years and he still hasn’t paid Frank.” Meryl shook her head and made a face.
I said nothing.
“Anyway, who knows what’s true.”
“What’s Cliff’s wife’s name?”
“Daphne. She works in the Barracks Road Shopping Center, at the store that sells wool and sewing stuff,” Meryl added.
“What does she look like?” I persisted.
“A redhead with lots of freckles. She’s cute,” Meryl also added.
In bed—only we were not in a bed, we were lying on a plaid blanket, amid our tossed clothing, in a deserted polo field—I asked:
“Where did you grow up?”
“All over,” Cliff answered as he lit a cigarette, then, after taking a puff, handed it to me.
“No, seriously,” I said, exhaling smoke and handing him back the cigarette.
“Seriously. My dad was in the navy.”
Charlie and I started dating my freshman year in college; we got married after he graduated. I got pregnant right away with the twins and did not graduate. I had never been with anyone before Charlie. I had never slept with another man until Cliff.
I began to smoke more. From one or two cigarettes a day, I was up to almost a pack.
In the truck, the twins waved their hands around in the air and complained.
“Can’t breathe,” Sam said.
“Open the window then,” I told him.
“I thought you were going to quit,” Charlie said.
I shrugged.
“You smell like an ashtray,” Charlie continued.
“Then don’t come near me,” I answered.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Charlie asked.
For some unnamed yet felt reason, Charlie and I had not had sex in weeks.
Knit & Stitch was the name of the store that sold wool and sewing supplies in the Barracks Road Shopping Center. A large straw basket filled with different-colored spools of wool was in the window.
I can hardly thread a needle or sew on a button. What would I tell Cliff’s wife I was looking for?
A bell jingled when I opened the door.
Sitting behind the counter, the saleslady put down her knitting and stood up. She had long gray hair, had no visible freckles, and was overweight.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
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