Two days, twelve hours until Halloween
Jude
My thumb taps my desk, and I stare out my office window, into the street.
Halloween is just in a couple of days, and it’s a good thing. The jack-o’-lanterns are starting to shrivel. I notice that someone’s scarecrow has lost its head in the wind. It rests in the dead grass twenty feet from the rest of the straw body. For some reason, it seems eerie.
I stare at it, watching it tumble and roll, and I push away my growing concern about my wife. It’s while I’m staring at it that I notice a beat-up truck idling down the street, with my brother’s familiar face inside.
I greet him at my office door. “Hey! What are you doing here?”
Michel brings the cold October air in with him as he breezes past me.
“Be my guest,” I offer wryly, closing the door after he enters.
I trail behind him and wait for him to get to his point.
“Are you okay?” I ask as he takes a seat across from my desk.
He shakes his head. “No.”
I’m startled, then concerned. “What’s wrong?”
I sit down and Michel shakes his head.
“I was at your house earlier,” he mentions. “And you weren’t.”
He stares, and I pause. “So?”
“So, your wife was under the assumption that you were with me. But you weren’t.”
Fuck.
“Um, I...”
“I told her that our signals must’ve gotten crossed. But I know something is up, Jude. I feel it, and she does, too. Tell me what it is.”
My shoulders drop, because I’m sure he does feel it. He knows me too well for me to lie.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I try to tell him. But as I knew he would, he doesn’t let that fly.
“Jude,” he says sternly. “Tell me. I mean it. I have a really bad feeling. What’s going on?”
One look at his face, and I know that stalling isn’t going to work. Or lying. Or excuses.
“I don’t know,” I tell him honestly. “I have no clue what I’m doing, or what I’ve gotten myself into. I only know that I wish I hadn’t.”
“This has to do with the girl at the diner? Zoe?” Michel’s question is plain and knowing.
“Yeah.” I don’t even ask how he knows.
“Son of a bitch,” he swears, staring out the window, away from me. “You have to end it.”
“That’s not necessary. I mean, yeah. I have to get away from her, but I haven’t actually done anything with her. Not really.”
Michel sighs and situates himself in his chair. His white collar is stark in the room, a glaring reminder that he’s everything that’s good in the world, and right now, I’m everything shitty.
“Do you know how many times I hear that in the confessional?” he asks. “Countless times. But, Father, I haven’t acted on it. But, Father, it was just emails. Or texts. I haven’t really sinned. I hear it all the time. I never thought I’d hear it from you, though. Jude, any time or attention that you place on someone other than your wife is infidelity. You’re being unfaithful to your wife right now. Do you realize that?”
“I’m not,” I protest, but his words slam into my heart.
“You are,” he argues. “Don’t try to tell me you haven’t done things. Phone calls or texts or lunches or whatever. I already know. I don’t know everything, but I know you, and I can see it on your face. You’ve got to put a stop to it. If you don’t, there will be severe consequences. Do you love your wife?”
“Of course I do.” My answer is immediate.
“Then end whatever this is with Zoe. She’s nothing to you, Jude. She might be lovely, but you’ve got a beautiful wife and a life you’ve worked hard for. Whatever you’re seeing in Zoe...it’s just because she’s new. That is all. End it immediately before it gets out of hand. I’m saying this as your brother, and I’m advising you as a priest.”
I stare at the floor. “I don’t even know how it got this far,” I finally admit. “She’s really into me and pays me attention, and, Jesus, it sounds so pathetic.”
Michel doesn’t argue. He’s simply silent.
“She started texting me, and I... It hasn’t gone very far,” I tell him. “I would never.”
“You think you would never,” Michel points out. “But these things get out of hand. I’ve seen it happen a hundred times. End it. You’re a better man than this. Corinne deserves better, and so do you. If there’s a problem in your marriage, put in the time to fix it. Don’t occupy yourself with distractions.”
I nod, because he’s right. Because I’ve been pathetic, and my brother knows it. My cheeks flush because I’m humiliated.
“Please, don’t say anything to Corinne,” I say, staring him down. “I’m asking this as your brother. I’ll end it.”
“I’m always your brother,” he assures me. “This is yours to handle. But I love you, and, bro, this is a dangerous path. I just had to tell you that. I love Corinne, too. I don’t want either of you to get hurt.”
“We won’t,” I assure him. “Let’s just chalk it up to something else dumb that Jude did and move on.”
“Corinne called me this morning,” he says. “She has a feeling something is off. You need to handle things, Jude.”
“I will,” I promise. Somehow.
“We don’t have to speak of it again,” Michel confirms. “I just had to say something.”
“I appreciate that. Now, I’ve got to get to work,” I tell him, and I feel like I have to be careful now. He’s going to watch everything I do to make sure I’m coloring inside the lines.
He rolls his eyes. “Stop. I trust you.”
He gets up, and then he’s gone. I watch his truck rumble out of the neighborhood, and I slump against the wall, and my knees literally feel weak.
Fuck.
Me.