Michael and Susan

Chapter 2 (Susan): Damage

Copyright © 2024 by GroveltoHEA

The grandfather clock Michael's parents gave us for our wedding present was the only noise in the quiet house as I waited for my husband to come home.

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

Seven chimes.

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

Eight chimes.

Lights turned into our driveway at eight fourteen. Minutes later, Michael walked in the side door.

"Suze?" he called out.

I didn't answer. Let him look for me.

He walked into the living room, and almost startled when he realized I was in the dim room without a light on.

"Suze? Honey?" He switched on the lamp. "Why are you sitting here in the dark? Are you OK?"

"Just thinking," I said absently.

He sat beside me on the couch, and when his legs would have touched me, I moved mine aside. I'd come to some conclusions when he hadn't come home for more than two hours after I'd called. 

"How was work?"

Now that I knew, I didn't miss the hesitation. How many hesitations had I missed over the last months? When had this started? Why had he started this?

"It was work," he said. "Got a lot done." 

I suppose painting a garage was work and if he finished it, then yes, he got a lot done. He was telling me the truth, but I now understood his truth for what it was: a lie.

His lies.

"Who was in the office with you today?"

"Just me," he said after that barely discernible hesitation.

"After a long day, you must be hungry. I made some stew that I could warm up for you."

"I grabbed something already." Again, not a lie.

"At Linda's." No question, just a statement.

I was watching him, and he straightened up. "What?"

"I called Linda today, and I heard you come into her house, telling her you'd finished painting her garage. Then you were wondering if dinner was ready. You apologized for not realizing she was on the phone. Your accent was unmistakable."

My husband's Adam's apple moved up and down in his neck. "Honey, I went over to paint her garage. That's all."

"And to have dinner with her."

He didn't say anything.

"Fortunately tomorrow is Sunday. During the Confession of Sin, you'll certainly have a long list in your head when you confess to those things which you ought not to have done. Lying to me about where you were. Lying to me about what you were doing today. Lying to me about who you were with. Lying to me about your dinner. You left me home all alone on a Saturday, telling me you were at work, and I worried when I called you at the office and you didn't answer. You were with Linda. All this time, you were with another woman. Why didn't you come home right away when she told you I called?"

"She didn't tell me that was you on the phone. She said it was a neighbor. I would have come straight home --

Too late he realized his mistake.

"If you'd realized your secret was out. But otherwise, it was OK to stay? With Linda. I suppose I should consider myself lucky you came home this early. Although if dinner smelled good when I called, what have you been doing since dinner? Having dessert?"