Unfaithful - Natalie Barelli Page 0,28
was, it’s not there. Then I go to my own desk, and unlock the bottom drawer. That’s where we kept his special notebooks, the ones I was supposed to bring along the day he died, but forgot. I stare at them. Nine large black spiral notebooks. They were his favorite type, he said. He liked the paper. He wouldn’t use anything else.
I rest them on my lap, run my fingers along their edges. I open one at random. The proof. The only copy. I hesitate, glance at the door to make sure no one is watching, then slip them back in the drawer and lock them up again. I don’t know why I do that. Maybe because his parents won’t know or appreciate what they contain, and I need to think carefully about what to do with them.
I give June the pile.
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you. You look tired. Can you go home early?”
“Actually, I have to go home early. Big day today—it’s Luis’s opening night at Perry Cube.”
“Oh, good luck with it. I hope it goes well.”
“Thank you, June. I sure hope so, he has been working so hard.”
I am reapplying my lipstick in front of the mirror in the living room. Propped on the mantelpiece is the invitation for tonight’s opening. One side displays a detail of The Nest, the largest work in the exhibition. On the other is the time and date and the usual blurb.
You are invited to the opening of Without Us—An Exhibition by Luis Sanchez at Perry Cube Gallery.
Luis has been at the gallery all day but he’s returned to get changed. He comes downstairs now, dressed in black jeans and a black shirt and a gray tie. “You look very handsome,” I say, straightening his tie.
“Thanks, babe. I’m nervous as hell. Look how sweaty my palms are.” He shows them to me before rubbing them on his thighs.
“They’re going to love you,” I say.
“You think?”
“Yes, I do.”
I’ve finally started to believe I really was paranoid, that there was a simple explanation for why he wasn’t at the studio that night. But since I never mentioned I was there, I just haven’t been able to bring it up. And now it’s well and truly too late, too weird, and it would display my lack of trust. “You’re so jealous sometimes, Anna. Why can’t you trust me?” he’d say, like he has said every other time.
He puts his arms around me and hugs me close, but not the way I would have liked. I want his hug to be, like, let-me-rip-those-clothes-off-your-sexy-body; instead, I get a soft pat-pat-on-the-back before he pulls away. I stand there, one hand on my hip.
“Notice anything?”
He takes a moment. I sweep one arm over my body to show my outfit. He laughs. “Yes! You look beautiful.”
I’m wearing wide pants and high heels and a yellow puff-sleeve shirt. I bought the outfit at Beachwood Place yesterday. I spent hours in there, choosing the right look. Now I catch sight of our reflection in the mirror and there’s no doubt we still make a beautiful couple after all these years.
Carla stomps down the stairs and stops in her tracks at the sight of us. “Wow, you guys spruce up nice. Where you off to?”
For a moment I think she’s forgotten this is her father’s big night, and I’m about to tell her off but then I catch the grin on her face.
“Ha ha,” I say. “Very funny.”
She holds out a small package wrapped in pretty crêpe paper. “There you go, Dad. I just wanted to say congratulations. I love you.” Luis takes the present and she puts her arms around his neck and briefly rests her head on his shoulder and I think to myself, There’s no way he’s having an affair. He wouldn’t jeopardize his family. He loves us too much. Carla pulls away while he unwraps his present. “I’d say break a leg, Dad, but you don’t have to because I know you’re going to knock ’em dead.”
He’s holding a beautiful book bound in leather, adorned with colorful birds. He opens it and caresses its thick, cream-colored blank pages. A luxurious sketching book.
“It’s beautiful. Thank you, sweetheart.” He kisses the top of her head. “Maybe not dead, if that’s okay. I need them to live long enough to write glowing reviews. Maybe even buy a piece or two.”
She nods. “Not dead then, just their socks off.”
I reach out to her and wrap my arms around her. “Has Matti finished his homework?”
“He’s doing it