"Show me the texts."
For a second she thought he would refuse. Something crossed his face, some flicker of resistance, of wounded pride, and she watched him decide. Then he dug his phone out of the pocket of his lounge pants, unlocked it, tapped, and held it out across the space between them.
She did not take it right away. She looked at it in his hand, at the bright little rectangle, and she thought: Once I take this, I am a woman who reads her husband's text messages. I will be that woman from now on. I will never not have been her.
She took it.
The thread was labeled LAUREN V. It went back to October. She scrolled to the top and read it, all of it, the way she read a patient's chart when she came on shift, not skimming, not skipping. She read his replies to Lauren's condolences, perfectly pleasant. She read Lauren's message about the box in the garage, and his reply: Wow, I can't believe your dad kept all that. Sure, Ren's working Tuesday night, come by whenever. She read it twice. Ren's working Tuesday night. He'd offered it up himself, like the time of a dinner reservation.
She read the night of the crying, the messages from the Jewel parking lot: I can't go back there. I can't. Is it okay if I come sit with you for a bit. And his: Of course. Door's open.
She read the night after that, a message from Lauren at 2:14 a.m.: Thank you for tonight. I forgot what it felt like to have someone who knows me. And his reply, at 2:16: Anytime. I mean it.
Two minutes. He'd been awake at 2:14 in the morning to answer it in two minutes, while she was elbow-deep in a woman's emergency C-section in OR 3.
She read the birthday. The one drink. The bottle of wine. She read the message from the next morning, his: Lauren, last night can't happen again. I'm married. I love my wife. I'm so sorry. And Lauren's, an hour later: I know. I'm so sorry too. I'm not in my right mind. Please don't hate me. My shoe is under your couch I think. Keep it, throw it away, whatever. I'm sorry.
That was the last message. December seventh. Eleven days ago.
She handed the phone back.