The Wife of Reilly by Jennifer Coburn Page B

glass-top desk where she was sitting. Would she take notes? Issue a citation?
    Evie was in the soft chair, but did not look one bit casual. It was an intervention.
    “Get in the car,” Cindy commanded.
    I laughed. “What are you talking about?”
    “Get. In. The. Car,” she said. “We’re both taking you to the airport.”
    Why am I frightened that we’re not going to the airport at all?
    “Okay, but do you mind if I ask what this is all about?”
    Gee, I wonder, half-wit.
    “Look, I’m not one to piss around, so why don’t we get right to it,” Cindy said, while Evie held my arm and led me to the car. I was being taken down to the station. Shit, why couldn’t I enjoy the first two hours of my engagement? “You slept with Matt last night, didn’t you?”
    “Why are you asking me this?” I stalled, knowing this would not be the time to suggest a celebratory round of drinks. “That’s kind of a, wow, I don’t know. Why do you want to know?”
    Driving down Washtenaw, we left Ann Arbor under a tunnel of autumn leaves and hit the stark freeway. “I ask because I want to know. Did you sleep with Matt Reynolds?” I said nothing. “Okay, that’s clearly a yes. Why then did you sleep with Matt Reynolds?”
    “Come on, Cindy,” I begged. “It’s not like he’s a strange guy I hooked up with at a bar. It’s Matt.”
    Evie was softer in her direct examination, but still she too was pissed at me. Why were they angry at me? They each seemed personally betrayed by my fling-turned-engagement. And they only knew half the story. “What about Reilly?” Evie nodded in the rear-view mirror. “Did you ever consider that this would kill him?”
    “You guys, you don’t understand. This is Matt. Matt Reynolds. I love him. I. Love. Him. Not only do I love him, I love the sound of saying ‘I love him.’ That’s how much I love him.” I rested my head on the front passenger seat. “I really love this guy.” I thought my friends would come around on that. Who couldn’t understand losing one’s head for love?
    “Okay, but you’re married,” Cindy said to the road. “If it’s such true love then go home, divorce Reilly, then sleep with Matt.”
    “Come on, Cindy, that’s unrealistic. You’re in the heat of the moment and you stop and say, ‘Let’s put this on hold for a few months’ ?”
    “Yes!”
    I was incredulous. “Come on, Evie, surely you’re with me on this one.”
    “There is such a thing as self-control, Prudence,” she replied.
    Maybe this is why your life is numbingly dull, I didn’t say aloud.
    “I mean, how would you feel if Reilly cheated on you?” Evie continued. The truth dropped on me like a ten-pound bag of sand. I wouldn’t care .
    * * *
    Where Evie and Cindy left off, Guilt took over . Hey Slut, she announced from the seat next to me on the plane. You didn’t think I could stay away for long, did you? Okay, where shall I start? Cindy had obviously given her the yellow pad of paper from the hotel. Not only did you cheat on your husband, you promised to marry another guy who, incidentally, you lied to and told you were a widow. What kind of a shallow twit are you? Is this the way to treat people? Reilly is a good man and you killed him. This takes the cake for the most selfish thing you’ve ever done in your life, except of course for the “Closed for Business” sign you hung on your uterus.
    But I love Matt, Passion defended. This is my one true love. How can I go on living with Reilly when I know I’m in love with someone else? And what’s more, Matt loves me too. We can finally have a chance at happiness. I have one shot at happiness, why shouldn’t I take it? It’s not like Reilly and I have children.
    No, it’s not, is it? Guilt asked smugly. And whose idea was that? Who cut off all possibilities that Reilly will ever have children, cruel double entendre completely intended?
    Reilly is a good man. He deserves a wife who loves him. That is not me. I am really