This Is How It Happened (not a love story) by Jo Barrett

Author:Jo Barrett
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780061842832
Publisher: HarperCollins

Chapter 30

In the midst of what Carlton and I call our “Crazy Season,” Carlton decides to have a Boys’ Night Out. It’s a Saturday night, and I don’t mind. But as each Saturday rolls around and Carlton does it over and over, I begin to get frustrated.

“We’re spending every waking moment together, Maddy,” he complains.

“It’s not quality time,” I reply.

I swivel around in my office chair. Carlton is standing at the door, hands on his waist like a drill sergeant. “C’mon, sweetie. You’re cooler than that,” he says. And I really want to be cool, so I drop it.

Carlton, sometimes, really knows how to pull my strings.

So, despite our hectic workweek and the fact that I stay late at the office on Saturday nights alone, Carlton decides he needs time with the boys. Saturday Night Out with the Guys becomes an institution to which Carlton remains strictly faithful. Even if something important comes up, he reschedules around Boys’ Night Out.

Our relationship is fine, for two people who work so much, but we’re definitely not the same moony-eyed Romeo and Juliet lovers we used to be. It’s all ebb and flow. So I decide not to stress. Better to just roll with it.

One night, when Carlton isn’t home by 3:00 a.m., I call his cell phone, but hang up when I get the answering recorder. I feel silly for doing it. As if I’ve become the jealous type. The type of woman I’ve never respected. These women always seemed weak, in my opinion. If a woman had to keep her man on a tight leash, she lacked self-esteem, I figured. I always thought the man should be concerned about me, not the other way around. But I was beginning to get concerned.

Even when I felt I knew Carlton down to his inner core—that there were no secrets this man held…he was still removed. A sly detachment that wasn’t betrayed in his smile or in the way he whispered, “I love you, Maddy,” before he rolled over and went to sleep each night.

No, the detachment was in a subtle, but dangerous flicker in his eye. I’d noticed it just a few times in our entire relationship. And most recently, when I told him I didn’t like the way he stayed out so late with the guys.

I wait up in bed, one Saturday night, reading through customer e-mails. The front door slams and I hear Carlton whistling softly in the hall. He must see the bedroom light on because he stops whistling.

“Knock, knock,” he says, walking zigzag into the bedroom. He flops down onto the edge of the bed and kicks his shoes off. He reeks of smoke and alcohol, and even pot.

“I thought you and David were coming home after the concert,” I say. I rub my eyes and check the alarm clock.

“It’s 4:00 a.m. Carlton!”

He shrugs his shoulders. “We ended up at the after-party.”

“Why didn’t you call? I waited up,” I say, and my voice sounds weak. Pleading.

Carlton spins around on the bed and stares at me.

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