Rich Oaks
Under the canopy of twinkling city lights, Elsa and I weave our way through the evening crowds, our laughter creating ripples in the night. The afterglow of the comedy night still lingers, making my cheeks hurt from the relentless chuckles. The world feels a touch lighter, the clouds of distress momentarily parted.
âWho knew comedians did so much⦠homework?â Elsa muses, her laughter subsiding into a mischievous grin.
Sheâd come to town earlier today just to see me, and we hit up the comedy club to shake off some of the gloom. And let me tell you, it worked wonders!
âI havenât laughed this much in forever,â I confess, still feeling the remnants of my laughter.
âReally?â she asks, looking surprised.
âHeâs something else. How do they even think up stuff that funny?â I wonder, amazed at the comedianâs knack for cracking us up.
âTheyâre pros. They do their homework,â Elsa explains, admiring the art of bringing joy through humor.
My stomach, apparently not wanting to be left out of the conversation, audibly growls. My face reddens as I clutch my belly, trying to appease the mini beast within.
âYouâre hungry?â she asks, eyebrows lifted
âI blame all those late-night movies. Theyâve trained me to munch constantly,â I admit, my voice feigning irritation.
Elsa snickers, linking her arm with mine. âOh, come on! Itâs not the movies. Itâs sheer idleness! Hanging around doing nothing probably has you snacking more.â She mock scolds, her eyes dancing with mischief.
âThink the restaurantâs still open?â I ask, hopeful.
âLetâs find out,â she suggests, peering down the street for a taxi.
Spotting a cab, Elsa flags it down with practiced ease. As we slide into the back seat, she inquires about nearby eateries, âKnow any place still open where we can grab a bite?â She directs her question to the cab driver, who nods in affirmation.
Settling back, the streetlights paint fleeting patterns on Elsaâs face. In no time, weâre on our way to satisfy my sudden hunger.
The mellow lights of the restaurant cast gentle shadows around, softening the mood as Elsa and I await our meal. Her piercing gaze catches mine, the playful spark in her eyes revealing a teasing inquiry on the horizon.
âYou know,â she begins, leaning in, âI always envied the bond you have with Kari.â She toys with the silverware, adding, âShe has an uncanny ability to know just what you need.â
I nod, absorbing her words. âKari manages almost everything I do. We trust each other implicitly.â
âYouâre so fortunate to have her,â she remarks, a tinge of envy in her tone.
âI know. She just gets it, always knowing what to do without being asked.â
âYouâre really lucky. I wish I had someone like that in my life,â she says, and I can feel the sincerity in her words.
âSheâs also the one managing all my projects.â
âSeriously?â Elsaâs eyebrows shoot up.
âYes,â I say, feeling a surge of pride.
âNever let her go,â Elsa advises, and I nod, knowing sheâs right.
Elsa tilts her head slightly, curiosity glinting. âHow have you changed after that trip?â she asks.
Taking a sip of my drink, I let the question linger, the cool liquid offering a brief respite. âThe quiet⦠it made me see things differently. Iâve come to terms with so many things, embraced acceptance over denial. Even my faith isnât what it used to be.â
âDoes this trip feel different to you?â
I pause, considering. The solitude has been a balm, but itâs more complex than just that. âIt does. I guess because Iâm not afraid anymore. Iâm not even concerned about the outcome.â
Elsaâs look turns thoughtful. âWhen will you confront him about her and the affair?â
A sigh escapes me, a mix of sadness and acceptance. âI might never do it.â
âYou havenât looked her up?â
The mere thought unsettles me. âNo. I canât bring myself to. Itâs easier not knowing her face.â
Elsa hesitates, then delves deeper, her voice laced with caution. âYou know, Iâve seen her. She looks a lot like you.â She casts a sideways glance, expecting a reaction.
I keep my face neutral, though her words sting. âIâve heard that before,â I murmur.
With a mischievous grin, Elsa pushes on, âMaybe Duke just has a type?â
Despite the playful exterior, Elsaâs words scratch at my vulnerabilities. I draw a deep breath, steadying my emotions. âWhatever his reasons, itâs behind us now.â
âSheâs not that impressive. But I keep wondering, why did he choose someone who resembles you?â Elsa ponders.
I shake my head, lost in the sea of my own confusion. âI donât know.â
Elsaâs voice takes on a teasing edge. âMaybe he was trying to have a baby with someone who looks like you, so he could pass the baby off as yours?â
âPlease, letâs not go there,â I beg Elsa, turning my gaze away.
âWhy?â she probes.
âI just canât,â I whisper, unable to meet her eyes.
She backs off, âAlright.â Then, she shifts the conversation. âWould you ever⦠you know⦠get back at him?â Elsa asks, clearly intrigued by my resilience.
I shake my head. âI believe in moving forward, not dwelling on revenge.â
âSo why are you trying it again?â
âI honestly donât know why. A part of me wants to prove a point.â
Elsa smiles, a gentle look in her eyes. âAre you excited to see him on Tuesday?â
My heart squeezes tight, and I take a deep breath. âNo. Why are you even asking me that?â
Her laughter fills the air, laced with disbelief. âYou used to count down to his visits.â
I feel a sharp ache, a mix of longing and sorrow. âTimes change, people change,â I say softly, the weight of my feelings heavy in my voice. âIt hurts that those days are behind us. I donât know if we can get past his betrayal. Now, every time I talk to him, all I see is him with her. Those images just wonât leave my mind.â
Elsa sighs deeply, nodding in understanding. âAnd they might never go away.â
âI know,â I whisper, the pain raw in my voice.
âYou should buy that house in Montecito,â she suggests earnestly.
Iâm quiet, thinking it over.
âSeriously, listen to me,â she continues. âYou donât need to wait for your anniversary, or move into the house heâs building in Carlisle. You deserve more, Aisling. You should go.â
Her words hit home, and I feel the truth in them. âI canât stay around there anymore. I just want to get away.â
âBut Montecitoâs an hour away. You donât have to cut off your mom and aunt. Theyâre your support,â she reminds me.
âIâve been independent before. I lived in Brookfield before I married him,â I point out.
Elsa looks at me intently. âSo, where will you go?â
I answer with newfound resolve. âWood Greens.â
Elsaâs brow furrows. âWhy there? Itâs miles away.â
âI need to be there,â I assert, my determination unwavering.
âBut what about me? You canât just ditch me,â she protests.
I canât help but chuckle, reaching out to hold her hand. âI need distance from everything that reminds me of his betrayal.â
Her expression softens. âHave you started house hunting?â
âIâm actually looking at penthouses. A house wonât do there,â I explain.
Her voice is cautious. âAre you still planning on staying married to him?â
I exhale, the weight of my indecision pressing down on me. âI donât know. Maybe, until Iâm ready to let go.â
âWhy do you even want to stay married?â she probes, her eyes searching mine.
âI donât plan to stay married to him forever. I just donât want to be the one to file for divorce. I want him to do it,â I confess, feeling exposed.
âWhat if he never does?â she asks, concern etched in her voice.
âThen Iâll wait and live my life away from him,â I say.
âYouâre serious? You know you canât date while still married,â she points out.
âI donât have any plans to date,â I admit, feeling a pang in my heart.
âAislingâ¦â she starts, hesitant.
âWhat is it?â
Elsa gives me a long, thoughtful look. âThis doesnât add up.â
âWhy?â I ask, perplexed.
âWhat youâre saying⦠It sounds like you still have feelings for him.â
âNo, itâs not the same anymore,â I argue, my emotions swirling.
âWhy are you so scared to ask for a divorce? How will you move on? You shouldnât just leave without resolving this.â
âBecause I know he wonât just let me walk away, and I canât bear an endless battle. Heâll tire out eventually, then heâll let me go,â I say, feeling hopeless.
Elsa encourages me, âDonât be scared. Ask for it. Thereâs a better life waiting for you, far from all these ridiculous demands.â
I feel tears welling up as I look at her. âThanks for helping me see this. Youâre a blessing, Elsa.â
Our conversation pauses as the waitress brings our meals, leaving us with a kind smile.
Elsa shoots me a soft look, âWhatâs going to happen Tuesday night when heâs here?â
âNothing out of the ordinary. Iâll just be his wife.â
âWhat does that mean?â she probes.
âTake care of him. Cook for him,â I explain.
Her question is direct, âYou gonna sleep with him?â
I shake my head firmly. âNo, I canât do that with him anymore. Not all the way.â
Elsa seems worried. âI feel like you two are heading for a clash.â
âNo, I wonât let it get to that. Iâm not giving him any chance to start a fight. His stay will be smooth, no problems.â
Then Elsaâs expression changes, a mischievous glint in her eyes. âI have a surprise, and you might hate me for it.â
Iâm cautious. âWhat did you do?â
âI wonât take no for an answer,â she says, a hint of excitement in her voice.
âElsa, what is it?â
Her grin widens. âI got us tickets to a strip club.â
Iâm taken aback. âWhat? No way.â
âYou should try it. Itâs just for fun, Aisling. You need some fun.â
âIâm fine without that kind of fun,â I insist.
âItâs just a different kind of fun. Only for a few minutes,â she presses.
âElsa, I donât do strip clubs.â
Sheâs persistent. âCome on, first times for everything. Five minutes, and if you hate it, we leave.â