By Micki L. Bailey

She waited until exactly 7:30 that morning to make the phone call. That would be 4:30 a.m. in California. In Roger’s hotel room. Where she knew he’d be sound asleep.

He had been in Los Angeles for the past ten days on one of those “business” trips of his that she hated so passionately. It wasn’t the trips themselves she despised, or even the secretiveness that shrouded the whole business. What she could hardly tolerate was being separated from Roger for any length of time at all.

He had been calling her late at night from L.A. – very late at night for her – because only then was it convenient for him. So she’d slyly, deviously decided to call him very early this morning, his final day in the City of Angels, as a joking retaliation. You woke me up plenty of times, my love. Payback is hell, she thought.

After several rings, Roger answered with a groggy, low voice. She was awake and giddy, smiling to herself.

“Yeah.”

“This is your wake-up call, gorgeous. Get your sexy ass outta bed,” she said with a snicker.

“You’re not a damn bit funny,” he said. She heard him groan. He was not a morning person by any means.

“Turnabout is fair play, sweetheart. You woke me up enough. My turn now. Surprised?” She snickered again.

“Overwhelmed.” He was sleepy and sarcastic at the same time.

“Just thought you’d like to know that I love you, and I can’t wait ‘til you get home tonight.”

As she held the phone and listened for him to answer her, she heard something else. Someone else. In the background. Another groggy voice.

“Who the hell is it?” A woman’s voice.

A woman who’d been asleep next to Roger at 4:30 in the morning in Los Angeles. A woman who wasn’t her.

She heard nothing else after that because at that moment, the floor under her opened, and a pit formed at her feet. A vast, bottomless pit she already could feel sucking her down into its dark depths. And she was aware that once in this horrible pit, she’d never be able to climb out again.

Vaguely, she heard Roger in the phone she held calling out her name. Only vaguely, though, because the pit’s swirling winds of hollowness drowned out all the noise in her head.

She hung up the phone. Then she had to remind herself to breathe. The color of her sky was completely different now than it had been five minutes earlier. She found herself trembling and cold. When the phone rang shrilly, she jumped. But she didn’t/couldn’t answer it.

How could Roger do this to her? Hadn’t they discussed fidelity and taken each other exclusively to the altar? And he had undeniably done this. Her silly little joke had caught him red-handed, but it had also capsized her whole world.

They hadn’t been married even a year yet. Not quite. And she had honestly believed they would make it together for the rest of their days and nights, clinging only to each other. As the tears flowed down her face now, such an idea seemed ludicrous to her. The one she loved more than anything had just betrayed her. And she couldn’t accept it. Maybe this was merciless reality giving her a wake-up call of her own.

The phone kept ringing, off and on, but she refused to answer it. She did manage to get in a call to her office to say she wouldn’t be in that day. She couldn’t face the world. Not from deep inside this pit. After that call, she turned off the telephone. She knew Roger would continue trying to reach her. And she had heard enough from his end of the line to last her forever.

Is 8:00 a.m. too early to start drinking? Yes, so I’ll wait ‘til 9:00, she thought. Instead, she lay back down on the bed and tried to think of nothing. But that voice repeated its devastating question over and over in her head. Unmistakably a woman’s voice. A sleepy woman’s voice. A voice that almost sounded familiar in her memory.

She passed the next two hours in misery. “Grief not for torment, but for loss undying,” she kept reciting in her mind. When she thought Vinnie and Diane might be out bed on their mutual day off, she called over there. Vinnie answered.

“You guys up yet? she asked him.

“We’ve been up, smartass. You at home sick today? Ya sound stuffy.”

“I’ve been crying for hours, Vinnie. I don’t feel too good.” She knew better than to even try sounding cheery.

“What’s going on honey?”

“Can I come over and talk to you and Diane?”

“Of course. But I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong,” he said.

“Tell ya when I get there. Give me an hour to fix myself.”

Vinnie met her at his front door and hugged her. Then he lead her through the house into the kitchen where Diane, his live-in girlfriend, was making brunch.

“Sit down there, miss, and spit it out.” Diane, an Italian New Yorker, wasted zero time getting to the point. She and Roger had been good friends for twelve years, since they stopped being lovers. She and Roger’s wife were very close, although things hadn’t started off that way. She and Vinnie had met at the wedding.

“Tell us a story, babe. And when’s Roga coming home anyway?” It never crossed Vinnie’s mind that Roger might be the problem. Roger and his wife were virtually problem-free.

“I don’t want him to come home now,” she said, sadly. “I don’t wanna see him anymore at all.”

Vinnie and Diane exchanged a worried glance that she didn’t notice. This was very unlike her to be hostile to Roger. Even when he deserved it.

“So what’d he fuck up now?” Diane never took Roger’s side of things. Even when he deserved it. She always played his objective opponent.

“I woke him up early this morning in California………..and I heard a woman talking beside him.” She looked down. It was excruciating to actually lay this on the table in front of other people.

“That motherfucker!” Diane’s blood was easily riled. She put down the knife she was holding.

Vinnie looked stunned. “Ya sure? C’mon now. But—”

“Oh, don’t try to defend his ass. He’s a man. Men screw around.”

Diane’s words cut into her. They implied inevitability. She had believed or wanted to believe that this would never happen. Not to her and Roger.

“I’m sure, Vinnie. It was him. And I did hear a female voice…….I still can’t freaking believe it. I’m a wreck.”

“But Roga wouldn’t do that! He loves you.” Vinnie looked earnest. He had sat down next to her at the kitchen bar.

“Aw, please, Vinnie! When has that kinda deal had a damn thing to do with love? Huh?” Diane had walked over and stood on the other side of the bar from them. She looked at the tortured soul. “How long’s it been since he was home? Two weeks? Yeah. He needed it. So whatever was available—”

“Stop it, Diane. Can’t ya see she’s hurting ova here?” Vinnie put a had on her back for support.

“Sorry, sweetie. But I been around the block more than you. Didn’t mean to upset ya more,” Diane said to her softly.

She looked up at Diane and was caught off-guard, as usual, by how beautiful Diane was. Dark, flashing Sicilian features. Model-like perfection. “Is there no other explanation for this, do ya think?” she asked Diane.

Diane let a sultry smile dawn across her face. “Look. He was in bed with a woman in the early morning hours. Now what else could possibly be going on? Face it.”

“Bullshit. I’m telling yuse both he didn’t do it. Something ain’t right here,” Vinnie said emphatically.

“Crock o’ shit. His ass is guilty as charged. Divorce him, honey. With all his money, you’ll be set for life.”

She winced and looked back down. She didn’t want Roger’s money. She hadn’t even considered a huge divorce settlement. What she wanted was to wake up from this horrid nightmare.

After she pretended to eat some brunch with Vinnie and Diane, she felt a little more stable. Must be the wine, she thought. The wine is giving me courage – courage to go on breathing. ‘Cause all she really wanted to do was to lie down and die.

Roger’s flight wasn’t due back in town until that night. But she suspected he might be on an earlier one instead. And she couldn’t face him. Not yet. Maybe not ever. She needed a small buffer, separating her temporarily from the agony of her current reality.

She went back to the loft. It was mid-afternoon. Got to get the hell out of here before he comes home, her mind screamed at her. She packed a small overnight bag, fed the cat, and left. Without checking the answering service for messages. Without leaving a note for him. Just left.

When the elevator opened at the ground floor, Tony was waiting to get on. When he saw her, he stopped to chat. He was her favorite neighbor, the first person to whom Roger had rented another of the five lofts in their building after he bought it. Tony was young, outrageously gorgeous, and of ambiguous sexual orientation. He performed in a show band at a nightclub in town.

“Hello, beautiful. Where ya running off to?” He glanced down at her bag and then smiled his smile that melted hearts.

“Hey, Tony. How’s it going?”

“I’m good. But you don’t look so hot. Wanna talk about it?”

She hesitated. “I gotta get away from here……..I think Roger’s…………..” She almost couldn’t bring herself to say it. “Screwing around on me.” The wine must have given her courage to be so honest with him so easily.

Tony gasped in his melodramatic but endearing way. “On you? Is he fucking crazy? What a bastard!”

“I know. It’s killing me, Tony. I didn’t think he was like that. I really thought I was his only one. Guess I was wrong.” More tears stung her eyes.

“Hey……..Let’s go up to my place and talk. I got some beer.” Tony stared at her sympathetically. He had always been so warm and open to her.

“I was gonna get a hotel room and some wine for the night. Or until I can face him,” she said, feeling weak.

“No, no. C’mon up with me. We’ll get your mind off it. And if his ass comes home, he’ll find your car, but he won’t find you! How cool will that be?”

She was easily convinced. Whatever diversion came along, she’d grab at it to avoid rubbing up against this blinding pain she felt inside. This sense that her life was shattering around her. This realization of aloneness and betrayal.

She was glad she’d given in to Tony. His company and sincere attempts at empathy were far more comforting than a lonely, cold hotel room would have been. They drank wine and “dished” about every topic they could imagine. She told him all about the phone call and her conversation with Vinnie and Diane. He was successful at taking her mind off her problem, and he so enjoyed entertaining her.

He even persuaded her to stay the night on his futon since she didn’t want to go home. She was very pleased that she’d run into him. She was also very “spirited” by the time Roger pounded on Tony’s front door. Tony, who had delightfully anticipated exactly this taking place, rushed over and opened the door. She stayed in the bathroom, within earshot.

“Well, hi, Roger. Whassup?”

“Tony, is my wife here?” No greetings. Typical of Roger.

Tony feigned surprise. “Your wife? No. Why would she be here?” Such acting.

“Her car’s still here. But she’s not home. I thought she might be down here with you.” Roger was visibly flustered. His eyes flashed.

Tony sighed. “Sorry, man. I wish I could help.”

“C’mon, Tony. Don’t bullshit me now. Have you seen her today? I need to know.”

Flustered wasn’t the right word, Tony thought. Agitated, maybe. On edge, definitely.

“Haven’t seen her, Roger. Sorry. If I do, though, I’ll remind her she lives up there with you on five. Right?” Tony smiled a devious smile at him. He knew Roger only barely tolerated him.

“Look, Tony. It’s important that I find her. If you see her—”

“If I see her, I’ll send her right to ya. I promise. Hope you catch up with her soon. Try to have a good night.” This time, Tony winked playfully.

“Yeah…….See ya.”

She covered her mouth and laughed uncontrollably after Tony shut his loft door. He laughed too. They had fooled the mastermind, Roger Lococco. And he had seemed completely out of sorts.

“Stop flirting with my husband,” she said as Tony prepared the futon for her to sleep on. And it was perfectly comfortable. But she woke up around 2 a.m. and couldn’t force herself to drift back into blissful unconsciousness. The alcohol-induced numbness had mostly worn off, and she was defenseless against the rough waves of sad reality washing over her, pulling her down into gloom.

After a while of harsh wakefulness, she got up and tried to tell Tony she was leaving. He wouldn’t remember it the next morning, but he told her to do whatever she thought best and to take care. So she dressed and headed upstairs to confront the inevitable.

* * *

Roger had arrived back in town earlier than planned. He’d been awake since 4:30 that morning and had caught the first flight he could grab back home. She had hung up before he could talk to her. And now things were a mess. Not in order. Undone. In massive disarray. Chaotic. He had to get home to “fix” it. As only he knew how.

And Tony had been absolutely no help. Roger knew she liked Tony and had lots of conversations with him. But he, personally, couldn’t deal with much of Tony. In his desperation, though, he had to check with Tony. She might be there. He knew she hadn’t driven her car anywhere. Or any of his vehicles either. They were all still there in the underground garage.

Where was she? He couldn’t determine from Tony’s “hysterics” if she was in there or not. And he’d already made his frantic visit to Vinnie’s house.

“Oh, it’s you. Kinda figured you’d be crawling over here sooner or later, you cheating asshole.” Diane had answered the door, and she wasn’t exactly warm to him. He had expected as much.

“Is she here, Diane?” He was aware of the near-panic in his voice.

“Nope. Not anymore. You’re outta luck, Roger. But c’mon in anyway.” She opened up the door, and he followed her into the den where Vinnie was sitting.

“Roga, what’s with all this bullshit, man?” Vinnie asked him when he looked up and saw him.

Roger still stood in the middle of the room, still wearing his worn, brown leather jacket. He stared at them in disbelief when he realized what he’d walked into.

“You two don’t really believe I………..” Then he laughed. “Oh, come on! Are you kidding me? You honestly think I fucked around?” He sounded as stressed as he looked.

“She heard that bitch on the phone, Roger. How are you gonna explain that away?” Diane was not yelling at him, but there was heavy accusation in her tone.

“Yeah. What was going on?” Vinnie asked.

Roger shook his head. “I didn’t do it. No matter what the hell you think. And I’d love to stand here and shoot the shit with ya, but I gotta find my better half. Now tell me where she is!”

Vinnie and Diane both heard the desperation in his voice. Vinnie was the one who answered him. “We don’t know, Roga. We haven’t heard from her since she left here around 1:30.”

“Was she upset? Roger asked quietly.

Diane let a sarcastic laugh escape from herself. “God, how I’d love to tell ya that she wasn’t. That she could care less about your sorry ass. But I’d be lying. Truth is……..she’s crushed. Thanks to you.” Diane was trying hard to defend her female friend. She’d been in those shoes with guys before.

“Give it a rest, Diane. Cut him some slack. He says he didn’t do nuthin’ wrong. Hey, Roga, wanna beer?”

“No, Vince. I wanna find her. She didn’t say where she was going or anything?” Roger’s voice cracked.

“No, man. Not a clue.”

“Well, I’m wasting time here. Will ya let me know if ya here from her?”

“Absolutely, Roga.”

Roger left in a huff. Aggravated not at his friends, but at his inability to control the situation. Totally frustrated that he couldn’t find his wife, his companion, and right the wrong that had separated them.

He drove to her mother’s house, but it was dark and uninhabited. He drove to Cindy’s apartment, the only friend she spent much time with at all. Cindy wasn’t home either.

So Roger was out of choices and out of patience. He had nowhere else to look. He had no other choice but to go back to the loft and wait for her. Which is what he did.

He sat in the den with no distractions turned on around him. Only one floor lamp was burning. He’d taken off his jacket and boots. He sat there now with his whiskey and waited.

She’d be back, he kept telling himself. She’d come back, and he’d explain everything. And she wouldn’t hate him anymore. He couldn’t handle it if she hated him. She was the only one who really loved him. And he’d gotten used to that.

Thoughts like that were drifting across his brain when he heard the loft door open.

* * *

On to Part II