Angry Housewives Eating Bon Bons by Lorna Landvik

Author:Lorna Landvik
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9780345472090
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2008-12-23T23:00:00+00:00

THE FIRST TIME I knew Paul was having an affair—that night that started out so fun, with all the Angry Housewives getting stoned, and ended so scary, with Michael nearly strangling himself—I kept my suspicions from him . . . for about a day and a half. When I confronted him, it was a scene as overwrought as any in a high school production of The Crucible.

He of course accused me of being crazy, and when I didn’t back down, he, very lawyerly, demanded that I provide evidence for my charges.

“Well, if you’re asking me if I’ve found lipstick on your collar or motel matchbooks in your pants pockets, no, I haven’t. But I know, Paul, I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that you’re sleeping with someone other than me.”

Paul had had a serviceable if not distinguished career as a running back at the U and he could still get that arrogant jock look on his face, the exact same expression juvenile delinquents and loan officers have, the one that asked, So? So even if you’re right, what are you gonna do about it?

We stood there staring at each other, pawing at the ground like two elks deciding whether to smash antlers or walk away. I myself could have gone in for a little antler smashing, but of course we had to be interrupted by a child—Bryan charging into the room, screaming that Davey had told him he was adopted and we weren’t his real parents.

“Of course we’re your real parents,” I said, which gave him enough assurance to charge back out, screaming, “They are too my real parents, Davey!”

“But then again,” I said, noticing a chip in my thumbnail, “I was awfully close to the fellow who installed our air-conditioning—wasn’t that about nine months before Bryan was born?”

Paul shook his head. “Very funny, Audrey. Very funny.”

“Maybe I’m not joking,” I said, and even though I was, I was hoping he might, for a moment, feel a smidgin of the pain I was feeling.

Our marriage from that moment on was a roller coaster, with us most often plunging downward.

I’m embarrassed to say that our sex life continued at its usual brisk pace—no sense in me missing out just because he wasn’t. And I also—this is even more embarrassing—thought that was the one way I knew to hold him. Who was a more sexciting lover than me?

There was a time when the roller coaster seemed stalled at the top of a crest and I thought we were going to make it. It was right around when Nixon was resigning, so all of us were in a good mood. We hadn’t been fighting, and I could tell that he wasn’t doing anything on his lunch hour other than eating lunch. I was being reminded of everything I loved about him, his masculinity—his deep voice and oxlike shoulders, the way he could open a pickle jar and throw one of the boys up in the air (and catch him, too; thankfully he always remembered that part) as effortlessly as if he were throwing a beach ball.

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