𝑱𝒆𝒇𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒚 𝑺𝒕𝒚𝒍𝒆𝒔

     The board meeting just ended, and I walk straight into my office. From the looks on my father’s face during the meeting, I can tell it went wonderfully well. We’re helping one of the biggest cosmetic shops in Texas open another branch in Manhattan. Our clients are foreign investors and getting a good deal with them opens a new door for our company. I feel good, and I can’t stop myself from smiling as I balance myself in the swivel chair. As an economist, I can sense more to come in the future. I can’t wait to be part of that future, and I pray my father will be too. He’s worked so hard to make Styles Construction Company what this is now, and he deserves to enjoy the fruit of his labor.

     I can’t get the smile off my face as I reach for the styrofoam cup sitting across from me and grab a pen. Sifting through piles of files, I sign each one of them. I’m halfway through when the door slides open. Nathan stands in the doorway with a sly smile, holding two coffee cups. He was part of the meeting and a witness to my outstanding performance.

     He steps into my comfortable office, which is on the top floor and has a balcony where you can stand to view the enormous city and its surroundings. I chose this office because it’s so serene, and I like to hear the hustle and bustle of the city.  Somehow I concentrate in a noisy environment. When everyone is busily engaged in an activity, that’s where I find my peace and work my best.

     He studies my office as he nears me, as though this is his first time being here. He’s told me bluntly he wanted this office, and he envies that I got it instead of him. Nathan and I graduated from Harvard with first-class honors in Economics. My father sent me overseas to do my Masters. I don’t know what became of him when I was away, but we found ourselves working in my father’s company years later. He’s more than a friend, and I can’t imagine my life without him in it.

     Nathan finally stops behind a swivel chair and places the cup beside the portrait of Adrienne staring at me. My mind races back to her, and I wonder what she’s doing at the moment. Suddenly, the happy thoughts of seeing the company flourishing vanish and are replaced by the self-deprecating thoughts I’ve been harboring for being a bad husband.

     I quickly push them back and run a hand through my hair, letting out a sigh. Nathan must have noticed my abrupt uneasiness because he asked after sitting across from me, “Everything all right?”

     As the question sinks in, it occurs to me that my relationship with Adrienne will never be the same again. Ever. Even if she forgives me, she’s still going to be tormented by my betrayal. She’s going to see me differently, and as for our trust, it’s going to diminish so much that she’ll begin to doubt everything I tell her. It’s very difficult to trust someone who betrayed you before. I know this from experience.

     I’m wondering whether to tell Adrienne about Ella and me when she recovers. It would have been easier if a baby wasn’t involved. I’d have simply broken up with Ella and pretended nothing happened between us. But I’m not going to see my unborn child as the reason why my marriage with Adrienne is teetering on the brink of ruin. I won’t be that heartless to blame an innocent child.

     “Is everything all right?” Nathan asks again, snapping me out of my thoughts that would soon drown me.

     I sense the concern in his voice, and I know he’s only looking out for me. I don’t think when I say, “I’m having problems with Adrienne.”

     His face creases as he takes a sip of the coffee, then places it down and moves his thin lips to speak. When he stutters saying, “How?” I can tell he’s shocked.

     “You guys have the perfect marriage.”

     I stifle a scoff as I reach for the coffee he fetched for me. I only take a sip to relax my nerves. “The perfect marriage you say,” I murmur and take another sip. “Well, Adrienne is perfect, but I’m not perfect. The perfect marriage is just another perfect lie.”

     I notice he’s baffled by my paradox. He needs elaboration, and I don’t want to talk about my affair with Ella.

     “I don’t understand.”

     I don’t blame him. Truth is, I don’t understand either, so I get where he’s coming from. I say bluntly, “I cheated.”

     To my dismay, he burst out laughing after staring blankly at me. That’s when I realize he thinks it’s a practical joke. I’ve forgotten Nathan has a bad sense of humor. I’m not offended he’s taken my problem as fun. He’s laughing because it’s so true to believe; that I of all people will cheat on my beautiful wife.

     He stops laughing when he finds it difficult to breathe, and I’m certain if he hadn’t stopped, he’d have laughed to his death. And I’d be frantically dialling 9-1-1.

     He leans forward. “This is the best joke I’ve ever gotten from you. What’s up with you?”

     I don’t reply and give him that look. The look that speaks volumes of words. When he gets the message I’m trying to convey, his face fills with solemnity and he jabbers, “You’re not joking. Of course, you’re not joking.”

     I don’t think he realizes what he’s saying because after a second ticked, he adds, “You’re not joking, and this is serious. Does Adrienne know?”

     Ignoring his question, I talk about the bittersweet part. “I’m going to be a father.” It’s sweet because I’m going to be a father, and it’s bitter because Adrienne isn’t the mother of my child.

     He pushed his dark hair backward. “That’s good news.”

     “Partly.”

     His face puckers. “Why?”

     “Because Adrienne isn’t the mother.” I drop the bombshell and wait for a reaction. I’m anticipating Adrienne’s reaction when she learns that I’ve cheated on her while waiting for Nathan’s own.

     “No way!” he exclaims. “This is terrible,  Jeff. Who’s the mother?”

     And that’s where the story gets complicated. I say, almost in a whisper, “Ella.”

     “Ella?” he repeats, as though he’s going to faint. “Adrienne’s friend?”

     I bob my head like a child to my father after being scolded for wrongdoing, and my Dad wants to know if I’m not going to repeat it.

     He sighs, letting everything sink in. He doesn’t get angry that I have betrayed Adrienne. He and Adrienne are very close friends. Adrienne got to know him through me. I’m glad he’s not going to chide me because I already loathe myself. Another criticism might just be the last straw before I decide to tell Adrienne the whole truth and end up killing her inadvertently.

     “And I’m guessing Adrienne doesn’t know.”

     I nod.

     “How’s Adrienne?”

     “Do you want the truth?”

     “Yes.”

     “She’s not fine. My wife. . . the Adrienne you knew died in the car accident.” It’s hard for me to say it, especially to Nathan, but it’s the truth. The woman I live with doesn’t feel like the Adrienne I know. I won’t argue she looks like Adrienne, but she seems different. Perhaps another version of her was triggered after the accident. And it hurt me so much that I’m the cause of who she is now. My eyes get watery. I blink back the tears.

     “I’m sorry, Jeff. I didn’t know this was what you were in. I’m so sorry.”

     I smile coyly. Apart from Ella, Nathan is the second person to learn about my dark secret, and I know he’s not going to disclose it to anyone. “I know.”

     We don’t talk again. Two minutes elapse, then he asks, “What are you going to do?”

     The million-dollar question that has been weighing me down for a while now. I shrug. “I don’t know, Nate. I wish I knew.”

     Someone knocks on the door and I say, “Come in.”

     The door opens, and my secretary Irene walks briskly toward my table. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but your father wants to have a word. He says it’s urgent.”

     I smile warmly at her. “Thank you. Tell him I’m on my way.”

     “All right, Mr. Styles.”

     “Jeff’s fine,” I tell her once again. She always calls me Mr. Styles, and she’s been working with me for years now. She’s earned her place as my trusted secretary, so I want her not to address me so formally. But unfortunately, she isn’t used to informal addresses either. I’m guessing she wants to go all-professional.

     “Okay, Mr.—” She giggles shyly, then she adds, “Jeff.”

     “That’s better.”