I was proud of her.
Proud enough that I almost forgot I was supposed to be keeping my distance.
Then, six weeks after that first rainy night, she called me at midnight.
“I found out who she is.”
I sat upright.
“Who?”
“Natalie. The woman Michael has been seeing.”
My stomach tightened.
“Did he tell you?”
“No. My attorney received documents during the divorce proceedings. There were expenses I couldn’t explain, and I hired a private investigator to establish when the affair began.”
I waited.
“Four years, Alex.”
Four years.
Michael had told Karen the relationship was six months old. Now she had evidence suggesting otherwise.
“He was seeing her when my mother died,” Karen continued.
Her voice trembled.
“He was seeing her when I sat beside my mother’s hospital bed for three nights because she was frightened to sleep alone. He told me he couldn’t come because he had an important business conference.”
I closed my eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“He was with Natalie during our twentieth anniversary weekend. He told me the hotel had canceled his reservation, so we stayed home.”
She laughed bitterly.
“I made him his favorite dinner. I bought him a watch. He kissed my forehead and told me I was the best wife in the world.”
I felt sick.
“Karen, what do you need?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s okay.”
“I hate that answer.”
“Then I’ll come over and let you hate it in person.”
She tried to laugh.
It came out as a sob.
Twenty minutes later, I was standing in the Mercer kitchen.
Karen sat on the floor beside a shattered wineglass. She wore gray sweatpants and an old college shirt that belonged to Daniel. Her mascara had run, and her hair was pulled into a careless knot.
She looked nothing like the composed woman who had always welcomed me into her home.
She looked like someone who had run out of strength.
I took the broom from the cupboard.
“Don’t,” she said.
“Don’t what?”
“Clean up after me.”
I glanced at the broken glass.
“I’m cleaning up the glass, not your life.”
She looked down at her bare feet.
“Oh.”
I swept the fragments into a dustpan, wiped the floor, and sat across from her.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then she whispered, “I feel stupid.”
