Stacey sat at the dining room table with a pinot noir, mindlessly turning the pages of a family photo album. She couldn't quite bring herself to look at the pictures and the memories that were reflected there, but it gave her something to pretend to be doing as she waited. Despite her surface stillness, a storm was heaving inside her, growing more deadly and wrathful with each passing moment. So many accusations were piling one on top of the other in her mind, she was reeling just to try keep them reined in and organized for her arsenal. It had been nearly an hour since she'd sent Birdy to play at the neighbor's house, and though she was grateful to have solitude in which to hide her grief, the waiting was nearly driving her to madness. A glass of wine to try to calm herself had turned into a near-empty bottle. The alcohol had only stirred and boiled her emotions instead of quelling them for a time as she had hoped. Hearing the front door open, she steeled herself and did not rise to meet her husband as she customarily would have, but remained seated, staring out across the table and into the yard through the large picture-frame window.
"How was your day?" she asked, impressing herself with her controlled tone.
"Good. Yours?" Nathan called from the foyer.
"Fine," Stacey said calmly before drawing her first weapon. "How's Chase?"
She could hear her husband pause in the kitchen and pull a glass from the cupboard, filling it with water. "I think he's gonna be okay."
"Mmmm...," Stacey purred, but it barely concealed the roar growing inside her throat. "And how about you? Are you going to be okay?"
Nathan set the glass on the granite countertop. "I don't know what you mean."
"Really?" she said musically, beginning to enjoy his mounting discomfort, like a cat playing with her food.
"What's this about? You told me to spend some time with Chase. What are you upset about?"
"Oh, I'm not upset," she lied, swirling the last of the pinot in her crystal, disgusted by how it reminded her of her mother. She could feel Nathan's eyes boring into her back, feel the accusation he was about to fling at her forming in his mind.
"Stacey, you're drunk."
"No, just high on the adrenaline of a good game of golf."
"What were you doing at the golf course?" Nathan asked, a hint of concern in his voice.
"Birdy and I went to play. I didn't realize it was out of bounds for us." She calmly closed the photo album and turned to look at him over the back of her chair. "I saw you."
It was all she could do to remain in the chair and not run over and slap him as his lying face twisted into a caricature of confusion. "Excuse me?"
"At the golf course, with Chase," she explained for his benefit. "I saw you kiss him."
And in that instant her female instincts surmised that the well was much deeper than what she had witnessed. This man whom she had shared her life with for the past twenty years could not hide the guilt that colored his face. "What else have you done?" she continued.
"Nothing....," he choked out.
"Don't lie to me, Nathan."
"This is—"
"What? Crazy? Are you about to call me crazy?" She stood and walked steadily despite the wine into the kitchen to face him. "I am a perfectly sane woman dealing with completely irrational behavior. If you've forgotten, this is our life you're toying with. Now tell me what happened."
Nathan looked at the floor, shaking his head. "What you saw was an accident. It didn't mean anything."
She sneered, but the laugh in her throat started to push the tears out without her permission. "An accident is when soy sauce spills on a white shirt. An accident is forgetting to confirm dinner reservations. Cheating on your wife with a... a... I can't even say it. That is not an accident. When did it start?"
"Are we really going to have this conversation?"
"I need to know! Have you always liked... men?"
"No—yes—I don't know, Stacey."
"Considering the circumstances, I hope you can be a little more concise with your answers. Are you gay, Nathan?" she challenged.
"I don't know...."
"Yes, you do! Are you?" There was no longer any use trying to keep the storm at bay. It was a wild thing now, spilling out of her.
"Yes," he admitted, gritting his teeth against the word. "But I loved you."
"Loved," she repeated, barely able to comprehend its meaning and when it had slipped into being a thing of the past.
"You know what I mean."
She glared at him and tossed her hair back defiantly. "Actually, I don't. That's why we're having this little heart-to-heart, to raise the veil of my confusion."
He was silent for a moment. "What are you going to do?"
"You're in no position to question me. I will ask the questions. Why did you marry me?"
"We had Tyler.... I couldn't just...."
"And you knew then that you'd be living a lie?"
"This hasn't been a lie. What happened with Chase... it was the first time. I've never been with a man before."
"And so, you chose a boy. Your son's best friend to experiment with?" she spat.
"Stacey, stop, please."
"I won't stop!" she yelled, beginning to pace the kitchen. "I tried to be the perfect wife, but it didn't matter. Don't you understand? I don't care that you're gay, Nathan. I chose this life, with you, and everything that comes with it. Why didn't you just talk to me?"
"Stacey, I just couldn't—" He paused, surprise registering on his face. "If you knew all along, why didn't you just leave me?"
"Because I love you, Nathan. Because we have two children together and a home and a life, and because I thought eventually you'd tell me and I could tell you it was all right, that I didn't care, that we could keep everything we have and we could just go on—"
"Pretending," he finished for her, although the word did not give her solace or satisfaction.
She just shook her head in disgust. "But you slipped...."
"I'm sorry, it just happened. What are we going to do?"
"I don't know what we'll do, Nathan, but I know that I'm going to start by telling Chase he's leaving," she threatened, already turning on her heel.
"Stacey, don't, please. Let me handle it."
The front door opened, and silence separated them like a referee between boxers. Tyler walked into the kitchen and crossed to the fridge, stooping down to pull out a soda. "Handle what?"
Perhaps seeing that neither of his parents was inclined to answer, he continued, "What are we having for dinner?"
Stacey turned so her son wouldn't see her tear-stained cheeks. "Everyone's on their own tonight."
"Okay, I'll probably head over to Bre's, then," Tyler said, already on his way out the door.
When Tyler had left, she turned back to Nathan, who stood slumped against the kitchen counter. "Stacey, are you going to leave me?"
If her son hadn't just reminded her of her most cherished position—mother—the answer would have been easy. But as angry as she was with Nathan, her love and maternal instinct to protect her children were stronger. She needed time to absorb the implications of a choice either way. At any rate, she was not feeling generous enough to comfort Nathan with an answer to that particular question. "I think you have someone you need to have a discussion with."
She watched as Nathan nodded gravely and slinked out the door. Stacey returned to her seat at the table and stared out the picture window at the weeping willow tree framed there. She'd watched the tree grow into the towering Venus it had become. It danced a melancholy ballet now in the breeze and seemed to stretch out its hanging limbs to comfort her. It had witnessed her life as well and the growth of her family.
"Hey, Mom, have you seen Chase?"
She turned to see her son standing in the archway between the kitchen and dining room. She hoped her mask had not slipped to the point of revealing her agony. She just felt so tired, like she was at the end of a long journey, and the effort to maintain appearances at this point was beginning to feel like a trivial concern. But this was her love, this was her life, this was her child, and at all costs he had to be protected. "No, haven't seen him. I thought you were going over to see Bre."
Tyler took a seat at the table beside his mother and surveyed the empty wine bottle and family album sitting on it. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing," she lied and pulled tightly on the marionette strings that kept her mask of contented fulfillment in place. "Why would you think something's wrong?"
"Mom. I can tell." He reached out and took her hand.
She smiled, but her eyes weren't cooperating and welled slightly. "It's nothing. I just thought we could spend some time together. You've been home for a few weeks now, and I feel like we haven't even really talked."
"Yeah, I know. Guess that's part of growing up, huh?" Tyler smiled as if this piece of information might actually give her comfort. "Now you and Birdy get to spend a lot of time together."
Stacey turned her head at the mention of Birdy's name. She had no idea of how, if she had to, she would be able to explain all of this to her ten-year-old daughter. "Remember when I'd let you skip school so you could stay home and bake cookies with me?"
"Those were my favorite days."
"Or the time you were suspended in high school for a week?" she asked, smiling at the memory. "I was angry at first, but then I realized it meant we could hang out and watch movies in the afternoons. We had so much fun."
Stacey's smile was reflected on Tyler's face as they recalled a younger, more innocent time. But Tyler's eyes searched his mother's face and found what she'd hoped he would not, a chink in the armor. "Your game face doesn't work with me anymore, Mom. What's going on?"
"Nothing."
"I'm not going to leave this chair until you're straight with me."
She shook her head slightly, looking back out the window at the willow tree. "It doesn't matter, Tyler."
"Of course it does. Just talk to me," he urged, and his request reminded Stacey of her own to Nathan in the kitchen earlier. "Is it Birdy? Is it Dad? Is somebody sick?"
"No, nobody's sick," she reassured him.
"Well, then, what is it, Mom? I'm old enough. You don't need to protect me."
Stacey looked at her little boy and made the decision. She would ease his discomfort but give him no more information than was absolutely necessary. "Your dad and I are having problems. There's someone else."