But it turns out she was absolutely right.
The binoculars are a huge mistake.
Chapter 30
The sun is down and Nick still hasn’t gotten back yet.
My back is aching from being in the chair all day. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t been so stubborn about not doing physical therapy. I want to get back into bed on my own, but every time I try it, I feel like I’m about to fall. So I always let Nick help me.
I was watching television most of the afternoon, but then I got sick of it and moved to the window. Now I’m watching the moon. It’s a full moon tonight—a perfect circle, marred only by the dark smudges that almost look like a man’s face. There’s something soothing about looking up at that bright white spot in the sky.
And then some movement in one of the windows at the motel catches my eye.
It’s that woman’s room. Christina.
Even though I shouldn’t do it, I take out the pair of binoculars from the dresser drawer where I stashed them. I peer through the lenses and I finally get a good look at this girl, Christina.
She’s beautiful. When I was at my best, I could’ve given her a run for her money. But not now. Not even close. She has long blond hair that shines in the moonlight and breasts that strain at the fabric of her T-shirt. I feel a jolt of jealousy, but I try to push it away. I trust Nick. He loves me.
I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from the window. I watch as Christina picks up a brush and runs it through her luxurious blond hair. My hand instinctively goes to my own hair, which has become brittle in the last few years. She smiles at her own reflection—she likes what she sees.
Watching that woman doll herself up makes me miss being pretty. Maybe Nick is right. Maybe I would feel better if I got out of bed more often. Ran a comb through my hair. Put on a dress… Or at least something besides sweatpants or a nightgown.
Something gets Christina’s attention. She looks up and walks over to the door. She cracks it open and…
It’s Nick.
What is my husband doing in this woman’s room?
I watch them through the binoculars, my heart pounding. They’re just talking. There’s nothing wrong with talking, is there? I mean, yes, they’re standing very close to each other. And now she’s got her hand on his shoulder. But that’s okay. They’re just talking, for God’s sake. Nick isn’t a cheater. He’s a good guy.
I watch his expression through the lenses. He’s smiling at her. He looks happy in a way I haven’t seen him look in a long time.
And then he leans forward and kisses her.
My heart sinks into my stomach as I watch my husband kiss another woman. And he’s not just kissing her. They’re making out. This isn’t the first time, either. You can just tell.
I drop the binoculars on my lap like they’re burning.
I take a deep breath, my hands trembling. That bastard. That absolute bastard. He’s going to be sorry for this.
I fumble for the binoculars again. I look through Christina’s window, but they’re gone. At least, they’re out of my line of sight. Which means they’re probably on the bed.
I’m going to kill him.
It’s an hour later when I hear his keys in the lock for the front door. An hour. Whistling again as his footsteps grow louder up the stairs. A vein pulses in my temple.
“Hey, Rosie,” he says as he comes into our bedroom. “What’s up?”
I want to punch him in the face. What’s up? He knows very well what’s up. He knows all I’ve done is sit here all day, so why would he ask me that? He’s the one who was across the way, having sex with another woman.
“Get out,” I say.
He freezes. “What?”
“You heard me.” I look him dead in the eyes. “We’re done. I want you out.”
“Rosie…” His eyes dart around the room. “What’s wrong? Why are you so upset?
“Are you serious?” I spit at him. “Are you really going to pretend like you’re not fucking a guest at the motel?”
His mouth falls open and all the color drains out of his face. “You…”
“I saw you through the window, you asshole.” I fold my arms across my chest. “Get out. I never want to see you again. Go spend the night with your girlfriend.”
To his credit, he doesn’t deny it. “I didn’t have sex with her. I just kissed her. That’s it.”
“Oh, that’s it?”
“Look,” he says, “you and I haven’t… I mean, not in a year…”