Cut from "I am having so much fun here without you"

            Outside, I folded the towel to use as padding under my knees, got down, and started scrubbing. I didn’t know whether to acknowledge the surge of happiness coursing through my body or to re-establish the levels of anxiety and desperation that had defined my central nervous system over the last few days.

            What would I need if I had read those letters? What would I be feeling? Would I want some kind of balls-out confession, or would I want, as Anne seemed to, to be left alone?

            Years of co-habitation with a lawyer had taught me that you could often find clarity to a problem by putting yourself in someone else’s shoes. But try as I might, I couldn’t imagine Anne cheating on me. It was unfair and probably naïve and not a little bit condescending, but my mind wouldn’t let me go there. Every time I made a small advance in the scenario in my head, there was something there to stop me. Where would she find the time, for one? And it would have to be someone outside of our social circle. But Anne didn’t go gallivanting around photography exhibits all day. She worked.

            I scrubbed extra hard in circles around the donkey’s tail. Anne was a defense attorney, used to dealing with men who lied. The fact that I couldn’t imagine her cheating on me meant that I didn’t want to, because I couldn’t handle it if she did. I scrubbed and scrubbed, each push of my hand accompanied by a self-defacing mantra. Can’t take his own medicine. Tit for tat.