You trust your instincts. You blindly follow your heart. Because to believe anything else will shatter it.
But at some point reality sets in and you need answers. You want to know what’s at the end of that road.
I’d like to be able to say with a hundred percent certainty that I had no misgivings.
That I wasn’t waiting impatiently for him to get home that night just so I could demand that he put those nagging doubts to rest.
I’d like to.
But I can’t.
So when Rob walked in the house sometime after nine, I was waiting - not to
interrogate him but simply to gauge his reaction to one very simple question. I barely gave him time to get in the door. He had just closed it behind him and was resetting the alarm when I cornered him.
“Where did you go Saturday night?”
I was prepared for surprise, possibly even annoyance, but not for the strangely
deadpan look he gave me. I’d sprung this on him out of the blue, and yet he seemed somehow to have expected it.
“Where’s this coming from?” Unwrapping his scarf, he hung it with his coat on the hook by the door, then leaned down to untie his boots before kicking them off.
“I just want to know. You never told me where you were that night.”
“I see. And now all of a sudden it’s imperative that you know.”
“That’s right. All of a sudden it is.” The cold air he’d brought in with him chilled me through my cotton nightgown and I wrapped myself in my arms, shivering.
Without speaking, Rob strolled over to the fireplace and opened the damper. I
watched him suspiciously as he started stacking split logs on the grate.
“What are you doing?”
“Building a fire. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be good at? Starting fires?”