Unfaithful - Natalie Barelli Page 0,58
the kids have disappeared right now. Because they would absolutely exclaim, What’s wrong with you, Mom? Why are you lying?
Then, mercifully, I am alerted to Luis’s arrival by the excited barks of Roxy.
“God, it’s cold outside.” He pats Roxy then rubs his hands together and suddenly I feel like I’m in a play, and my kitchen is just a set and we are all very bad actors delivering our wooden lines.
“Well, it’s warm in here, come on in,” I chirp.
We all laugh and they say a friendly hello which I can’t help but keep a check on, but so far so very peck on the cheek. He comes over to me and kisses me on the lips, so that’s nice. Then Carla and Mateo erupt into the room to greet their dad, as they do, and suddenly the atmosphere feels warm and festive. Luis opens another bottle of wine and the kids settle at the kitchen table, fascinated by this new guest who is a friend of their parents.
Isabelle asks them lots of questions, none of which are How do you like school? or What do you want to do when you grow up? which in their eyes is a definite tick. Then Luis says, why don’t we sit down at the dining table? and I’m thinking, Maybe because I’m here cooking? but everyone else seems to think it’s a good idea and they disappear, leaving me in the kitchen with a stained apron, sweating over a three-course gourmet meal for my husband and his floozy. Only then does it occur to me that maybe I didn’t think this through.
I knock back the rest of the wine.
“This is nice,” I say, pointing over baked oysters and cheese puffs at a silver ring on her index finger, even though it’s not, not really, but I’m hoping it’s from Patrick. I just want to hear her say it.
“Isn’t it?” She slips it off to show me.
“It’s interesting,” I say, handing it back to her. “Kind of like a wonky bagel.”
“I don’t know about that!” she says, although I note she purses her lips as she slips it back on, so that’s nice.
“He’s a very interesting metal artist,” Luis interjects. “French.”
“Well, ooh la la!” I quip, then laugh, but they don’t and I wonder, How does he know, anyway? Did he give it to her too?
“Are you and Patrick married, Isabelle?” Though she doesn’t wear a wedding ring.
“No, we’re not, but we’re talking about it,” she says coyly.
“Really?” Luis asks.
“That is such wonderful news,” I say, only just restraining myself from clapping. “What a shame Patrick couldn’t make it this evening.”
“He travels all the time, that’s the downside of his work, to me I mean, not to him. He’s an athletics recruiter.” The whole time I’m staring at Luis, searching for clues and finding none.
“How interesting!” I say. “And how did you two meet?”
She says something about being introduced through friends of friends, then Mateo pipes up.
“Mom and Dad met at school.”
“At college, sweetie,” I say.
“And Mom fell in love with my dad”—he punctuates this with a mini eye roll, something about the word love—“but he was going with another girl, then she died from eating a peanut, so Mom could be with Dad!”
He smiles, like it’s a fairy tale with a happy ending. No one says anything except for Isabelle, who gives a little gasp. Luis stares at me accusingly. I should never have told that story to Matti.
I laugh. “What an imagination you have, Matti! It wasn’t quite like that, sweetie.” I turn to Isabelle. “It was awful. What was her name, Luis?”
“Monica.”
“That’s right.” I turn back to Isabelle. “Monica had a peanut allergy, and she was usually very careful about what she ate, wasn’t she, Luis?”
“Yes, very.”
“So why did she die?” Carla asks. I desperately want to get off the subject, but I know my children. It’s better to tackle things head on and move on.
“She used to bring back cake and sweet things to her room after dinner—we all did—but that one time she got it wrong.” I sigh.
“Didn’t she have an Epipen?” Carla asks. “At school there are two girls with a peanut allergy. They have to carry an Epipen with them all the time around their neck. There’s even a spare one in the school infirmary.”
“I should hope so!” I say.
“She did have an Epipen but it got misplaced that day,” Luis, who has barely spoken throughout this exchange, replies. And it’s my turn to shoot him