Frenemy

“Will you be home for dinner?” There was an edge to her voice, no matter how nonchalant Erica tried to sound. “If you have to work late again, I won’t bother cooking.”

She had her back to him, so missed Jerry’s eye roll but clearly heard his put-upon sigh.

“I’m not sure,” he said, picking up his briefcase. “I have a late meeting this afternoon, and work I have to finish before my trip next week. Don’t count on me.”

The last line wasn’t lost on her. She stopped depending on him months ago.

“Do what you need to do,” Erica said, finally facing him. “Pam wants to see that new Helen Mirren movie and I know you don’t like chick flicks. Maybe I’ll catch the show with her.”

Offering his cheek for Erica to kiss, Jerry didn’t return the gesture.

“That sounds good, why don’t you do that.” Then he walked out of the house.

Erica stood in the doorway and watched him drive away.

For the next few hours she worked cleaning their house, getting it in order. After stopping for a quick lunch, she began to pack. Once she loaded her bags in the car, it was time to call Jerry.

“Hey, just checking in with you,” she said. “I’m headed to the store. Do you need anything? Pit stuff? Shaving cream?”

“No, I’m good on all that.” He sounded distracted. “What time are you and Pam going to the movies?”

“I’m not sure yet,” she lied. “We haven’t decided whether we want to have dinner before or after the movie. I still should be home before you.”

“That’s fine, have fun.” With that he hung up.

Holding her phone out at arm’s length, she once again lamented the old rotary handsets and how satisfying it was to slam one down on the counter.

Her next call was to her friend, Pam.

“I’m headed out,” Erica said. “Yeah, I stopped at the ATM yesterday and got the max amount. I’ll check with you when I get to Birmingham.”

She listened quietly, then took a deep, shuttering breath. Tears pooled in her eyelashes.

“I know Pam,” she said, “but he won’t talk to me. I’ve asked, and he doesn’t even deny an affair. I can’t live like this. The uncertainty is worse. I can handle the truth, it’s the not knowing that’s killing me.”

Pam sat on the edge of her bed. Jerry laid next to her, with only a sheet covering him. After Pam ended the call, he pulled her in close.

“I hate lying to her, she is my best friend,” Pam said.

“She’ll get over it,” Jerry said, kissing Pam’s bare shoulder. “She always does.”

A few minutes later, Erica pulled her car to the curb where she could watch the front of Pam’s house, and waited.

When the process server rang Pam’s doorbell, Erica started her car and drove slowly down the street, her driver’s side window open. She wanted to see her friend’s face when she read “alienation of affection” on the court summons.