breaking. She loved Lloyd—she’d always love Lloyd—but she could imagine her life without him. And wasn’t that an indication . . . that maybe it wasn’t a marriage worth saving?
If it wasn’t for the situation with Matthew next door—the potentially dangerous situation—then she’d tell Lloyd to go live somewhere else for a while, that they needed a break so she could figure things out. Maybe she should just make him do it anyway. He was the guilty party, after all, and she should be able to make him leave. Where would he go? she wondered. He’d probably wind up moving into Joanna Grimlund’s place in—where was it?—Northampton. She tried to think about how that made her feel, and she wasn’t sure. She just didn’t care very much, although she did wonder if it really was over between Lloyd and Joanna, the way he’d claimed. She also wondered what their affair had been like. Was it intense, the two of them talking about their future lives together? Or was it one of those relationships that always felt stamped with an expiration date from the moment it started? What did Joanna think about what had happened?
Maybe I’ll call her, Hen thought, and as soon as she had the thought she decided to actually do it. She wanted to hear Joanna’s voice. She wanted to hear what she had to say for herself. Joanna had always been someone whom Hen had liked. As partners of two best friends, they’d been forced into a lot of time spent together, but happily, not reluctantly. Joanna had an irreverent and dirty sense of humor. While Rob and Lloyd got drunk and high and reminisced about shit they’d gotten up to in college, Joanna and Hen would drink wine and have intense conversations. Hen had told her almost everything about her psychotic episode in college, and Joanna told her about her alcoholic father who was now in prison for securities fraud. When Rob and Joanna split up, Hen had thought about getting in touch with Joanna directly, maybe even meeting up, but she’d never done it. Lloyd, clearly, had had the same thought.
Hen didn’t have Joanna’s cell phone number, of course, and she almost considered calling Lloyd and demanding he give it to her, but even if he did give her the number he’d probably manage to call Joanna up first, or at least text her, and warn her about the impending phone call. Hen wanted the element of surprise.
She called Rob, who picked up almost instantly.
“You couldn’t open them?” he said into the phone.
“What?” she said, figuring he thought she was someone else.
“The pictures I sent you. I realized after I sent them that maybe I should have reformatted them.”
“Oh, the bonfire pictures,” Hen said. “I haven’t even gotten them yet, but I’m calling for another reason.”
“You haven’t gotten them yet? I sent them right after we talked.”
“Maybe it went to spam, Rob. Listen, I’m calling because I need Joanna’s phone number, and I thought you’d probably have it.”
“Sure,” he said. “It’s her phone number from a year ago, but I doubt it’s changed. What do you need it for?”
“I just need to talk with her. It’s important.” Hen hoped that the truth, however vague, would be enough.
“Let me get it for you,” Rob said, his voice already faint, Hen realizing that he was probably scrolling through his phone right now. “Okay, ready?”
He read her the number while she wrote it down in her sketchbook with a pencil.
“Thanks, Rob, you’re awesome,” Hen said.
“Not a problem, but I’m confused. Why do you want to talk with her?”
“She’s been having an affair with Lloyd for a year and I wanted to hear her side of the story.”
Rob laughed, more of a snorting sound, then said, “Really?”
“Really.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Thanks for the number.”
Hen didn’t think that Rob would call up Joanna to warn her, but just in case, she instantly dialed the number she’d written down in her sketchbook. After two rings, Joanna’s voice, deeper than she remembered, said a tentative “Hello?”
“Joanna, it’s Hen Mazur . . . Lloyd’s wife.”
There was about a two-second pause, long enough for Hen to think that Joanna had quietly ended the call, but then came Joanna’s voice, saying, “Hi, Hen.”
“Joanna, I don’t know if Lloyd’s talked to you, but I’m guessing he has. I know everything. He told me everything.” Even as she said the words, she knew they were untrue. No one knows everything.
“Hen, I just want to say that I am so, so