My house-mate looked at me, as I finished confessing this to her, and frowned. I was afraid I had made her uneasy. I'm no Jezebel, when had I ever said anything to disturb anyone?
Sarah just looked at me, frowning, for several minutes.
I coughed, trying to break the awkward silence.
"I think there's something I should get out in the open," she told me, in her mousy voice.
"Oh?" I asked, as she had peaked my curiosity.
"I don't think he's as 'wonderful by most people's standards' as you'd like to think, Meg."
"Look, hear me out - I don't mean to insult your marriage or anything. If you think it's fine in spite of your feelings for Jack--"
"Jake," I corrected.
"Well, anyways, I dropped in for lunch last week. Reckoned I'd been eating out too much with the girls since I started work - wouldn't be good for my figure. So I came home to make a lunch, as I ain't got no commute like you, Meg."
"I heard sounds, Meg. He was home. You remember, the morning he was sick and called work to tell them he might not be in until the afternoon if he felt better?"
Again, I nodded.
"He was with a woman, Meg."
"What do you mean?"
"Your husband is the one living a lie. Not you."
I stared blankly at Sarah. A good friend. She always pays her rent, and that helps us with the mortgage. And she's always willing to lend an ear, just as I am for her, whenever either of us is confronted with feelings. Strong feelings. Confusing feelings.
She waved a hand in front of my eyes, I'd zone out. Then, she let out a sigh. And finally, she spoke, "A prostitute, Meg."
When I realized what she was talking about, a tear ran down my left cheek. And then, I was slowly crying from both. And as Sarah moved in to comfort me, I just kept crying softly. Where did we go wrong?
And then my mind wandered, breaking free of marital analysis. I thought of Jake. I thought of that night at the bar. A revelation dawned on me.