Intentional Fallacy (Book 5)

Chapter 6

When I woke the next morning Jeff wasn't in bed beside me. For a moment I thought I had dreamed the events of the night before. I'd drunk an awful lot of alcohol and it was possible that between that and reading Margaret's diaries I'd lost control over my senses. But then, I noticed my silk nightgown and robe on the floor in a pool of light pink. Jeff had been home and we'd made love. I didn't remember much of my time with him but I found myself anxious when I tried to remember what had transpired between in those hours—or minutes; I didn't know. I knew he'd found the diary.

I got up and put my robe back on. I went downstairs to the living room. I saw a half drunk gin and tonic. Margaret's framed picture was also on the coffee table along with an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts. There was a throw blanket on the couch where I'd fallen asleep. I walked over and tossed the blanket aside, looking for Margaret's leather bound diary. It was gone. I looked under the couch and went into the kitchen thinking I may have put it down in there. I hated not remembering anything, it gave me a very evil feeling; as if I could have been involved in something horrible but retained no recollection. I knew it wasn't true and so I held on to that awareness. These were all feelings stirred up by the same force. I stood over the sink and looked outside. The storm had passed and the sun was bright. I could see the snow on the ground glistening as it melted under the rising temperature. I saw two tracks from Jeff's car where he'd backed out over the fresh dusting that morning. I'd heard another storm was moving in that night and would last for a few days. All that melting snow would turn to ice and the roads would be worse than the danger caused by freshly accumulating new snow. There would be no traction, no way to control the vehicles should they very off the road. The roads would be impassable. I hoped Jeff would be stranded at his studio or wherever he went when he left the house. A rock sat inside of me and was pressing down on my feelings for him. It felt like hatred.

I knew he'd taken the journal.

I walked over to the phone, picked up the receiver and dialed his number at the studio. He picked up after two rings.

"This is Jeff."

"It's Eve."

He didn't respond.

"Did you take Margaret's diary with you?"

"I did. And I disposed of it."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because you're acting crazy. Because it's none of your business."

I didn't say anything for a moment. "Last night...Did you tell me you'd hurt me if I ever had an affair again?

"Again? Why is that on your list of things to do. Again?"

"Fuck you. I think I remember you saying that last night."
"Are you considering another affair, Eve?"
"Are you? Or has it moved beyond consideration? Are you sleeping with someone else?" I lit a cigarette. "Don't be such a Goddamned hypocrite Jeff. You shouldn't have taken the diary."

"Are there any more?"

"No. That was it. I found it underneath the shelf in the basement. It must have fallen out of one of her boxes that we've since gotten rid of."

"I doubt that."

I inhaled a drag. My heart started beating faster. "Why would you doubt that?"

"I would think if it had fallen on the basement floor, it would be moldy by now."

I shook my head and waved the smoke away. "What difference does it make? I wish you hadn't gotten rid of it."