Virtual Affairs

“Why is dinner not ready, Cristal?” Yep, that’s my lawyer husband of four years, Stephen Hunt. I’m the wife, the cook, the maid, and the stay-at-home/work-part-time mom to the sweetest three-year-old girl, Chloe. “Could you wait five more minutes? I’ve been tied up with laundry and sweeping the floors and Chloe had an accident and I had to clean up.” “Why did she have an accident? I thought she was potty trained already.” I considered stabbing him in the thigh with the knife I was cutting the bread with. “She was nervous. She didn’t want to pee at Beverly’s because something in there scares her.” “She doesn’t pee there at all?” “Sure, but she won’t go if there’s a chance of going somewhere else.” “That’s twisted.” I glanced through the doorway at Chloe. She was sitting at her little table in the corner of the dining room, coloring in her Minnie Mouse coloring book, pretending not to listen. “Don’t say that. It’s normal for kids to have likes and dislikes adults would find, well, childish.” “Whatever.” Stephen grabbed a handful of grapes from a bowl on the kitchen counter and shoved them into his mouth. “I can’t wait for dinner. I’m going to Gregory’s.” Gregory’s was the local hangout for lawyers, courthouse staff, and cops. I’d gone there a lot with Stephen before Chloe had been born. I’d been a cop. “You won’t have to wait long before everything’s ready.” The potatoes were almost done, the vegetables needed only two more minutes, and the smoked salmon was already on the serving dish. “I’m going. Don’t let Chloe talk more than half an hour with your mom.” “Why not?” I asked, bread knife poised in midair. “She shouldn’t be filling Chloe’s head with nonsense about gnomes and fairies. It’s not right.” My mother had been discussing gnomes and fairies with her only grandchild during their videophone calls, but I thought it was necessary. Our hometown of Newburg, Pennsylvania, was special. Gnomes and fairies and strange happenings and special abilities were a part of my life. I never saw the beings, even though I could feel them and get information from them. I didn’t talk about my experiences with Stephen because he hated it. He’d been more tolerant in our early years, but he had changed when Chloe had been born. I took one of those deep breaths I usually took whenever I wanted to kill somebody and I placed the knife on the cutting board. “Have a wonderful evening, Stephen.” He stared at me with his blue-gray eyes and turned around. He hadn’t changed his clothes since coming home and he was still wearing his fancy suit, his black shoes, and the lapel pin of the American flag. It made me wonder if he’d planned to go to Gregory’s all along and if he’d picked a fight with me over nothing so he could have an excuse to go. Chloe looked up when she heard the front door close. “Is Daddy mad at me?” “No. What makes you say that?” “He didn’t like it when you told about the accident.” “Daddy’s tired and cranky. You’re perfect, Chloe. Always remember that. Can you promise me you’ll always remember that?” “I promise,” she said, and smiled at me. I couldn’t help but smile back. Something dark appeared at the edge of my vision, on the left. A tunnel had formed in the middle of the kitchen, three feet in diameter, which showed me a man dressed in a suit standing in Talleyrand Park. He was waiting for someone. He turned around. It was Barnaby Street, the international green architect who kept his headquarters in Newburg. He was tall, his hair was peppered with gray, he was dressed in a dark suit and, dang it, he looked delectable even though he had to be at least twenty years older than me. “Can I talk to Grandma tonight?” “Of course, honey.” “Good,” she said, and went back to her coloring. I returned to the tear in time and space that made the link I was seeing possible. “Sorry for being ten seconds late,” said the woman who’d walked up to Barnaby with two muscle men on either side of her. “Lady Adelaide,” Barnaby said and inclined his head. “What can I do for you?” the Lady asked. She was about my mother’s age, well preserved, and elegant as always. I wondered what a respectable man like Barnaby Street was doing meeting with the head of a national chain of companionship service outfits. I didn’t want to think he was one of her clients. “I need you to release John from his contract.” She let out three throaty gasps of laughter. “You want me to release John Hancock from his contract? That loser? ‘The Homestead Show’ is the last chance at a decent life that vermin’s got.” “John’s no vermin.” “Oh yes, he is. I looked at him first only because of that ridiculous name, and then I realized his backstory would rope in a lot of people if I gave him a chance to shine on the small screen.” “When did John sign?” “Yesterday.” “So he can still withdraw. We’re within the window. Does he even know he can get out?” Lady Adelaide pursed her lips. “He has been informed of his rights.” “What if he’s too much of a junkie to read the fine print? What if he signed under the influence of drugs?” “You’ll never prove that in court. He’s mine for the next year, mine and the whole world’s. It’s a privilege to be included in the Homestead. Only five people make the cut, you know.” “I know.” Lady Adelaide c****d her head to one side and took a step forward. “What’s your interest in John, anyway? He’s not related to you, the two of you have never met, he’s trying to clean up his act and you are, what, one of the most successful green architects in the world? What’s the connection?” He took a step back. “No connection. I wanted to prevent him from ruining his life, that’s all.” “Aren’t you altruistic. Well,” she continued, “if you’re not sharing, our business is concluded unless…” “I have nothing further, except to tell you to keep your wannabes out of my face.” “My wannabes, huh? I’ve never sent them after you,” she said, the glint in her eye telling a different story. “Besides, I’ve seen the way you ogle that lawyer’s wife. Stephen Hunt will sue you for every penny you’ve got if you as much as brush her arm with the tip of your pinkie.” “I’m not the marriage-wrecking kind.” “Right.” She turned on her heel and strode off, her goons following two steps behind her. I stared at the tunnel where I could still see Barnaby Street standing at the bank of Spring Creek. I’d heard about the Lady sending her new hires after him; however, I’d never heard of his interest in me. I also wondered who John Hancock was. The name had to be an alias. Apparently he was one of the contestants on the Lady’s reality TV show, but I tried to stay away from watching it. I had enough drama in my life. The tunnel was shrinking. He turned toward me right when it blinked out of existence. Had he seen me? “I’m hungry.” Chloe’s voice brought me back to my kitchen. “Okay, honey, give me a couple minutes.” I mashed the potatoes, set the table, and sat down to eat. Chloe may have eaten a bit less than she usually ate, but then again, she was a child and sometimes children ate more or less depending on the day. That’s what I told myself. I didn’t want to think about how her father’s nastiness affected her. The only reason I hadn’t left him was simple: He was a model citizen outside of our home and I’d never get full custody. He’d be allowed at least two weekends a month without me there to take care of her and I didn’t want that to happen. Most likely we’d have to share her: She’d spend one week with me, the next with Stephen. No way. The rest of the day went by great. I played with my little girl, put her to bed, and busied myself with laundry, dishes, and sweeping the floors before Stephen came home. We didn’t talk to each other or make eye contact, as usual, and I almost forgot he was there, on the sofa, fingering his phone and laughing at the jokes his friends texted him. He went to bed without saying good night to me, which was fine. I went on the Internet for half an hour before I went to lie beside him. The king-size bed was great—I had plenty of room without having to fear bumping into him. Separate covers helped, too. I went over the next day’s agenda. I’d be running solo for the first time with the tourist groups. I also prayed Chloe would start liking my drop-in daycare provider, Beverly, more than she liked her now. It tore at my heart to leave her there, but Stephen “had put his foot down,” as his mother liked to say, and forced me into the workforce. Otherwise, he’d said, he would reduce my grocery/necessity money by half. Beverly’s fees took eighty percent of my pay, but Stephen had said I couldn’t stay out of the workforce for so long. He was right, of course. I just didn’t like the way he’d made me do it. We didn’t need the extra income, either: He raked in enough dough, although I had no idea how much. He had said he hated to see me doing nothing at home when he was out there busting his balls. Case in point: He’d spent the night at Gregory’s, no children, no chores. On nights like this I also prayed for long dreams because they helped me feel more alive, like I had more going on in my life than I really did. I didn’t get a long dream, but I got something. It was a scene so vivid I had to remind myself where I was when I woke up. In the scene I was at a party where everyone was dressed to the nines, me included. I was wearing the eggplant-colored evening gown I’d planned on wearing to a wedding I’d never attended because I’d had severe all-day sickness in the first trimester while pregnant with Chloe. I was talking to Barnaby Street, who was wearing a tux. Stephen was standing beside me, his left hand cupping my bare left shoulder, which was strange, because we’d hardly had any physical contact since our daughter’s birth. Barnaby asked me a question and I answered with a “Yes!” That’s when I woke up to greet the glorious, sunshiny Friday on April 19, 2047, wondering where I was and if I could still get into that eggplant-colored gown. Chloe hadn’t woken up yet, so I tiptoed to my closet to pull out the dress. It fit. I couldn’t believe it. My thirty-year-old body looked smashing in it and I couldn’t help myself—I hunted down pantyhose and a pair of low-heeled pumps to complete the outfit. Doing all that made me feel as if I had a life, even if it was an imaginary one, you know, a life where I had a loving husband who took me out once in a while, a life with more time to myself…you get the picture. Then Chloe woke up and I forgot all about the dream and the dress.