Justine smiled. “Cameras. In the most unusual places. I don’t trust him the smallest bit. He will lose the house.”
Adele was quiet for a moment. “Let’s order some lunch. Look at your menu.”
Justine opened it and gave it a glance. “I’m not all that hungry...”
“But you have to eat something. You’re just too thin right now. For the first time in my life, I’m worried about you.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said. Justine found it impossible to say that food just didn’t agree with her, that she was having trouble keeping it down. Admitting that made her feel weak. “Maybe a little soup or something,” she said.
“Are you just not eating?” Addie asked. “I understand, you’ve been through a terrible shock, but you can’t let yourself get sick. You have to eat. I have to see you eat.”
“I’ll eat,” Justine said.
“Scott should have trouble eating,” Adele said. “The bastard.”
Justine studied the menu. “Scott is gone,” Justine said. “I don’t know the man who has taken his place. This one is emotionally vacant, except when he talks about just wanting to be happy. I thought he was happy. I supported his desire to indulge his outdoorsy pastimes, and he encouraged and praised my work. Then something happened, but it happened so slowly I didn’t see it. I thought we’d merged into a new kind of love, one not pressured by constant need and desperate passion. And that was okay with me, as long as I had my best friend and confidant and partner. And some affection—I needed that. Some touching and holding. That Scott needed it a lot less than he used to never concerned me.” She sighed deeply. “I’ve been going through our banking records. The cheating has been going on a while.” The waitress came to the table. “I’ll have a cup of chicken tortilla soup,” Justine said.
“Would you like bread with that?” the waitress asked.
“No,” Justine said. “Thank you.”
“Bring her bread,” Addie said. “For me, can you please bring me a lettuce, tomato and avocado salad with a scoop of tuna salad or grilled chicken strips? No bread. A little ranch dressing on the side. And a diet soda. Justine, do you want something to drink?”
“The same. Diet cola.”
“Talk to me,” Adele said once the waitress left. “Tell me where your head is.”
“We’ve talked every few days for weeks,” Justine said.
“Yeah, but I didn’t see you. Clearly we’ve been skimming the surface in our talks. Is it completely over with Scott? Is there no hope?”
“Addie, I’m afraid to try again, and Scott doesn’t want to. I’ve asked him countless times. He thinks this might be for the best. He wants to divide the assets and part ways. We haven’t actually separated because he claims to have nowhere to go and I don’t know what I’m going to do next—I’m thinking about what I want. We’re going to share the house and parenting duties for a few more weeks, at least. It will take some scheduling finesse. And a spine of steel...” Justine dabbed at her mouth, though she hadn’t been eating. “At first I thought maybe I could save the marriage if he at least wanted to, but then I looked at the bank statements. He’s been taking hundreds and hundreds of dollars out of a debit machine every month. For what? Cash at the hotel? Dinner in a nice restaurant? Her car payments or something else she needed? I’d ask him, but there’s no chance I’ll get a straight honest answer. Hundreds, Addie. Thousands! Small withdrawls every two or three days for a couple of years. He’s been lying and cheating and creating a narrative in which it’s my fault for putting in long hours. That’s probably the most painful thing. I’m hearing from friends, you know. Friends who have talked to Scott. He’s telling a story of a cold, overly busy, neglectful wife who put her career first, didn’t participate in family activities, ignored him. I’m so angry with him I want to kill him. He’s used me and played the field. I don’t know what he sees in her.” Their drinks came. Justine lifted