Agoraphobia

Day 1861 (Shocking Secret)

My time with Dr. Harman was heavenly. (We were like Romeo and Juliet, but without all the dying.) But I disliked our relationship's clandestine nature. Every night, I had to take a long, circuitous path under the bridge and along the muddy riverbank to reach the houseboat. It was extremely inconvenient. Every minute I wasted sneaking around could've been spent in Dr. Harman's arms.

But I felt sneaking around was necessary. It was bad enough Uncle Peter found out. I certainly didn't want my PARENTS to discover I was in a relationship with an engaged man nearly four times my age.

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"You look different this morning," observed Dad on the twentieth day I'd been sneaking around. "I can't quite put my finger on it," he added, looking me over. "I think it's your smile. You've been smiling like that all morning."

Damn that Dr. Harman. I noticed the endorphin-induced smile when I brushed my teeth at sunrise. It wouldn't go away.

"I guess I'm just in a good mood," I shrugged.

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Later in the day, Uncle Peter and I were hauling trash to the dump.

"Uncle Peter, do you love Tabitha?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Do you love your wife?"

"I did. But not anymore." He let a couple beats pass by. "Do you love Dr. Harman?"

"I'm not sure," I admitted. "I THINK I do."

"If you THINK you do, then you do. Because that's what love is - a thought."

For the next few minutes, that beautiful concept ricocheted through my mind.

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When we reached the dump, Uncle Peter noticed an old photo stuck in the grass that had evidently blown out of the heap. He picked it up. "Wow!" he leered.

"What?" I asked, emptying a can.

"It's a nude photo of a VERY attractive woman."

"Oh," I remarked indifferently, making no effort to look at the photo Uncle Peter was ogling over.

"An eyepatch isn't an accessory most women can pull off, but she sure can."

I looked. It was a nude selfie of Abigail! It had been five years since I saw her, but that was definitely the same axe-wielding heroine who befriended me when I was eleven.

I stared at the photo and put two and two together...

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An hour later, I was talking with my father, alone, in the cellar. The smell of garlic and dried tomatoes hung heavy in the musty air.

"Were you and Abigail having an affair?" I asked.

He hesitated to answer. The silence stretched taut between us.

I cleared my throat. "If the answer is 'no', it's too late to sound convincing."

Dad grimaced. "How did you find out?"

I showed him the photo.

"That was a gift from Abigail," he admitted. "I threw it away four years ago."

"Does Mom know?"

He nodded. "I told her about it THREE years ago."

"Did Abigail move to the City Museum so she could be closer to you?"

"Yeah. We were pretty serious."

"But I thought you loved Mom."

"I did! I still do! The simple truth is it's possible to love more than one person at the same time. It's also possible to love one person while just having sex with another."

Unexpectedly, the cellar door opened. "What're you two talking about down there?" asked Mom.

"Come on down, Honey," suggested Dad. "But close the door behind you."

Mom did. "What's up?"

"Samber discovered Abigail and I had an affair."

Mom blew air through her lips and rolled her eyes. "Who cares? That was a million years ago on a different planet. Besides, we've all done things we're not proud of."

"What?!" I exclaimed. I wasn't offended, just surprised. "You two are always telling me family comes first."

"That's true," replied Dad.

"But an affair put your marriage at risk. How can you explain this contradiction?"

"Because I'm not perfect," admitted Dad. He paused to let his words sink in. "If I led you to believe otherwise, I apologize."

Several beats passed while I gave my parents appraising looks. All at once, I realized they would never be in a more magnanimous mood. I blurted out: "I bribed Sarah to fake a toothache, so Uncle Peter would ask Jackie to leave the houseboat. After Jackie left, I seduced Dr. Harman, and we've been having sex every night for the last twenty days."

My parents were taken aback. My mother opened her mouth to speak, but I barreled ahead: "...Also, when I was thirteen, Uncle Peter let me drink whisky. And, when I was nine, I shoplifted a pair of earrings from Walgreens."

They stood for a while letting the revelations settle before my father responded, "Anything else you want to tell us?"

"No."

They glanced at each other. "Okay, then."

After that, I no longer had to sneak around to visit my boyfriend.

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