THE PRICE OF VENGEANCE

chapter 2

THE OTHER WOMAN'S CHILDREN

Isabella's point of view

Rain had been falling the previous night, but the following morning, it was gone. The rain remained wet and cold. But, I saw David's note lying on the counter where I always did. The handwriting seemed so free on his business card, like our anniversary would be forgiven. I had to look at it three times before my hands were steady enough to put it down.

David was already gone. His coffee cup in the sink, heating up. Keys missing from the door hook. I wondered if he'd noticed our wedding photo as he was leaving. The smiling couple in the silver frame now looked like strangers grinning at a never-to-be.

I cleaned the house in the morning and didn't attempt to think. I washed up from my lonely anniversary dinner. I ironed David's shirts and stacked them neatly. I watered the plants in the living room that no one ever occupied. It was all senseless, but it kept my hands busy while my heart broke.

I went to the store at noon. Maybe this evening I would fix something fine for supper. Maybe David would show up at work this morning and we could talk about last night. Maybe he would apologize and kiss me and say he loved me. I was a fool, but hope was all that I had to hold on to.

The parking lot of the supermarket was filled with families. Mothers drove carts and kids ran alongside them. Fathers carried babies and made goofy faces to make them laugh. They were all so happy and normal. I felt like an alien watching humans be human.

Within the store, I stumbled along the aisles automatically. Milk, bread, eggs. All the basics a good wife should buy. I walked by the baby food aisle and my heart became tight. David and I had talked about having children on our anniversary last year. He smiled and told me "someday soon." That was two years ago.

I was storing apples in a bag when I heard the voice. Sweet, high-pitched, carrying over the top of the fruit stand. "Uncle Dave! Uncle Dave, look what I found!" I stopped short. My fists clenched. The apple in my hand fell to the ground and rolled away.

There he was. My husband, strolling down the aisle of the store with a young boy sitting in the shopping cart. The boy had black hair and blue eyes and grinned from ear to ear. Behind them trailed the second boy, a twin but in another-colored shirt. Twins. Sophia's twins.

David was laughing wider than I had laughed at him in months. He was smiling at whatever one of the boys had teased him about. His face was relaxed and soft, not tough like when he glared at me. He picked the boy up off the cart and placed the boy on his shoulders and spun around with the child laughing.

I should have. I should have ditched the shopping and run to my car and driven home. But I was motionless. I stood there observing my husband play with children who would never belong to me. I watched him be the father he would never let himself be with me.

"Slow down, boys," a voice shouted behind them. Sophia said, in front of her own health food cart and boxes of juice. She was the opposite of me in every way. Tall instead of short. Blonde instead of dark. Confident when I was little and scared. She had on jeans and a plain white top, but she was a movie star type.

"David, thank you ever so much for helping today," Sophia said, touching his arm. "I realize you must be busy in the office, but the boys love having you at their games." The boys. Their games. As though David were family. As if I didn't matter.

I ducked behind an orange pyramid and followed them up and down the aisles. I was being a complete lunatic, I said to myself, but I just couldn't help it. They were such a pretty couple. David helped the boys with selecting cereal. Sophia asked him for a recommendation on the sauce to buy for the pasta. They shopped like they had been doing it all their lives.

As I passed along in line, a boy hugged David's leg. "Will you go to our soccer game tomorrow?" he said. David bent down to the boy's level and ruffled his hair. "Of course I will, buddy. I wouldn't miss it." The words hit me like a body blow. He wouldn't miss their soccer game, but had missed our anniversary.

I swept my food under the scanner, paid for them in the self-checklane, head hung low. I shook so hard I could barely get the last one to register. When at last I dared look, they were gone. The store was empty, silence without David's laughter, without the boys' cheerful voices. I was alone once again.

I drove home in a daze. The house remained empty, and remained silent. I put the unwanted groceries away and prepared lunch that I could not eat. The afternoon stretched out before me like a never-ending black tunnel. I yelled at the wall from the couch, trying to make sense of what I had just seen.

David wasn't just helping Sophia. He was living another whole life with her and her kids. A life in which he smiled and laughed and played video games. A life in which he was happy. A life that did not include me.

My phone buzzed with a text. For one ridiculous moment, I imagined it would be David. Perhaps he had seen me at the store. Perhaps he wanted to apologize. Perhaps he was driving home to set things right.

The text was not from David, however. It was from Sophia.

"Hi Isabella! Sorry, but I've got David with me today for some shopping. The boys just adore him so much! You are just lucky to have such a wonderful husband. Do try and catch you at the soccer match tomorrow if you are able to attend!"

I gazed at the text until the letters ran together. Tomorrow. The soccer game. She was relying on me to get out and sit and watch my husband play daddy to her children.She expected me to smile and wear a happy face and pretend that everything was all right as my marriage disintegrated before an audience of rubberneckers.

I slammed down the receiver and rushed to the bathroom. I faced the mirror, and I did not recognize the woman who looked back at me. Gaunt face, weary eyes, lips that had forgotten how to smile. When did this happen? When did I get so small and so weak?

The phone inside rang out, sharp and loud in the stillness. I grabbed the phone and answered it, hoping against hope that it was David. That he was sorry. That he was coming home. That he loved me.

But as I pick up the phone, I find myself hearing a stranger's voice. A woman's voice, official and somber.

"Mrs. Hayes? Dr. Martinez here at the medical center. We need to talk about your last week's test result.”