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What's Done In the Dark(82)

By:ReShonda Tate Billingsley






59


Felise


THESE HAD BEEN THE ABSOLUTE longest three months of my life. I felt empty without Paula in my life, but I was grateful that she’d found it in her heart to forgive me. Or at least taken steps toward forgiveness. And I was really grateful that Paula remained loving and cordial to Liz. For them, nothing had changed.

I truly was sorry for how I’d hurt Paula. I was especially sorry for my deception afterward, but my pity party was shut down. I was no longer going to wallow in the mess I’d made.

I knew that our friendship would never be the same, but forgiveness was a powerful drug. Having Paula’s forgiveness set me free. Forgiving myself allowed me to pick up the pieces and move forward.

“Hey, Felise, thanks so much for giving me the name of your friend. She had some great ideas for my parents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary.”

I smiled at my coworker April. I’d heard through the grapevine that Paula’s event-planning business was doing really well, so when April mentioned that she was looking for someone, I’d immediately given her Paula’s name.

“I’m so glad to hear that,” I said. “I’m sure the party will be wonderful.”

April smiled as she darted off to answer a call button from one of the patient rooms.

Her parents had made it to fifty years. That’s a goal I would never attain. As he had promised, Greg officially filed for divorce right after my birthday, and our divorce was finalized last week.

I tried not to think about the past—and only focus on the future—as I made my way out to my car. I hummed along to Mary Mary on the radio as I made my way home. It was getting late, so I decided to pick up something to eat. I called and placed an order at Kim Son, which was one of my favorite Chinese restaurants. It had been one of the places where Greg and I loved to eat, so I almost didn’t go, but I was starving and not in the mood to cook.

I had just given the hostess my name when I glanced toward the front door and saw Greg walk in—with a date!

“Oh, wow. Hi, Felise,” he said.

“Hi,” I replied. Outside of issues with Liz, we never talked any more.

His date squeezed him tighter as if signaling that she wanted to be introduced.

“Um, Gina, this is my ex-wife, Felise. Felise, this is my girlfriend, Gina.”

I felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer and slammed it into my abdomen. But I managed a “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to finally meet you, too,” she said. “I see where Liz gets her beauty from.” She smiled. I didn’t.

“Oh, you’ve met Liz?” I asked.

“Met her?” she giggled. “I adore her. She kept me in stitches last week at the lake house.”

The ink was barely dry on our divorce papers and he’d already moved on—and had this woman spending weekends with my daughter? And I didn’t know how to feel about the fact that my daughter hadn’t shared this bit of information with me.

Greg could see that I was stewing about his news, so I was grateful when he said, “I’m still picking Liz up from Tahiry’s tomorrow, right?”

I nodded, keeping a lid on what I wanted to say.

Mercifully, the clerk appeared and handed me a plastic bag. “Ms. Mavins, your to-go order is ready.” He read the receipt. “Shrimp fried rice and spring roll for one, right?”

I heard Gina chuckle, but I refused to look her way. I just said, “Right.” I fumbled for my credit card as the hostess walked up and said, “All right, Mr. Mavins, table for you and your lovely wife, right this way.”

Greg looked uncomfortable, but Gina simply said, “Oh, I’m not his wife—yet,” as she took his hand and led him away without looking back at me.

While seeing Greg with this woman had caught me off guard, I felt a sense of resolution sweep over me. I loved Greg, but I’d never truly been in love with Greg. Not like a wife should be in love with her husband. Maybe that’s why we never managed to make things work. Plus, as I thought back over the past fifteen years, I decided that Gina could have him. Maybe she liked a clean house.

“That which does not break us makes us stronger,” I mumbled as I signed the credit card receipt.

“Excuse me?” the clerk said.

“Nothing. I was just talking to myself.”

He smiled at me like I was another crazy American. I took my food and headed home to my empty house.

I had to accept that what was done was done. I had to accept that I’d had an affair and I had caused a lot of suffering. I personally had to change what I thought of myself. Once I had done this, I knew I would choose a different course next time—if there ever was a next time.