so this is love
A WEEK LATER
I slammed the trunk of the car shut, carrying two heavy bags for tonight's dinner. I entered the house and placed them on the counter, but my task was suddenly interrupted by a loud sound. It was the phone.
"Hello?"
"Bree, Dylan isn't coming tonight after all. You can come over if you'd like..." It was Katherine's sweet voice.
"Katherine!" I locked myself in the pantry and whispered. "I explicitly asked you not to call my landline; anyone could hear us. Listen... I'll come by around ten, all right?"
"I can't wait," I could sense a hint of a smile in her voice.
"Goodbye, dear, see you tonight." I hung up, thrilled.
It had been a week since our first kiss, and, well, this week had been a lifetime.
We decided that, given our inability to control our emotions, the best course of action was to continue meeting. Dealing with religious guilt and the weight of my affair was incredibly challenging, but what I had with Katherine... it was worth it. Worth all the turmoil and dark thoughts.
It had been months, years, since I had felt so alive. When I was with her, colors were brighter, sounds more melodious; I could see the universe, understand everything around me. Everything was easy when we were together—the conversation flowed like tea into our cups, our love grew with every glance, and our hands itched with longing whenever we were close.
Orson had certainly noticed the change in my attitude. He saw how my melancholy had turned into joy, how my distant stares were now full of hope and excitement. He also noticed, however, that we hadn't made love in a week, how I avoided his touch, and how I slipped out of the house whenever I could.
I justified all these behaviors by signing up to organize the neighborhood pie fair. Somewhat unconvinced, I told him I was excited about the event but also stressed and needed space to manage it. I suppose he thought I had thrown myself into the project as a way of coping with Danielle’s situation. And that was partly true, of course, but this fair was my only excuse to spend entire afternoons at my dear Katherine’s house. He didn’t press the issue too much and decided to give me space.
But now I couldn’t get lost in my thoughts, because tonight my poker friends were coming over for dinner, and my task was to prepare a lavish feast for all of them. With a blender in hand, I prepared my famous lemon pie, which I accompanied with duck à l’orange and cherry bonbons with cockles. I finished just as Gabrielle knocked on the door.
"Bree! I can smell the food from the street; I’m starving. Tell me you have champagne."
"In the upper cabinet, dear," I said with a smile as Gabi made herself comfortable.
I was plating the appetizers when her voice reached me from the other room.
"You know? I’m surprised you didn’t invite Katherine. Lately, you two seem inseparable." She laughed, waiting for a response.
"Oh, Katherine! Yes, we’re organizing the pie fair together, and we’re swamped with work... I thought it’d be best not to see each other for at least one night."
"Good idea. I know she’s your friend and all, but honestly, I don’t know how you can stand her for so many hours at a time." She let out a dismissive laugh.
"Because I can. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t speak ill of her in my presence," I replied sharply. Gabrielle’s face turned to one of surprise at my response.
A knock at the door prevented the situation from escalating. It was Lynette and Susan, carrying two trays of homemade muffins (which I assume Lynette baked). I let them in, and we sat together at the table. It had been ages since we last saw each other, so the conversation flowed easily—we gossiped, laughed, and exchanged numerous compliments. I was happy, glad to share this time with my friends.
"And Bree, tell me, how’s the pie fair organization going?" Gabrielle tensed at Lynette’s question, but I responded diligently.
"Oh, wonderful. I was just telling Gabi how much, how very much, I enjoy organizing it."
Now it was Susan’s turn to speak, and as always, she made it all about herself.
"Oh, Bree, that’s fantastic! By the way, girls, Mike..." And, as always, she began talking about her dealings with that plumber. I tuned out the moment she opened her mouth and impatiently checked the clock.
"Susan, dear, I hate to interrupt your charming story, but I have to be up early tomorrow and should start wrapping up..." I cast my subtle hint into the air, praying they’d catch on. "Of course, we’ve stolen enough of your time. Do you need help with anything?" said Lynette.
"Oh, no, thank you so much. I’ll handle it. It’s been such a pleasure spending this time with you all."
We said our goodbyes, and everyone returned to their homes. I cleaned and scrubbed vigorously, and as soon as I was done, I dashed to the door to head to Katherine’s house. But just as I turned the knob, Orson’s voice startled me from the top of the stairs.
"Going somewhere, dear?" I couldn’t see his face; his features were hidden in the shadows upstairs.
"Yes, I’m going to Katherine’s house. We’re finalizing the last details for the event. I might be a couple of hours; don’t wait up for me." I turned, hoping that would be enough to let me go.
"At this hour? It’s half-past ten at night..." He began descending the stairs, one step at a time.
"I know, but we’re swamped with work. We were supposed to finalize the tablecloth service today, but last-minute problems came up, and we’re hoping to resolve them now." I was getting impatient, eager to escape the tense atmosphere.
"This late? Leave it for tomorrow."
"No, Orson, I’m going now," I replied firmly. I turned again, in hopes to leave.
"I’ve had enough, Bree! Every day I see you less, you spend hours and hours at Katherine’s house, and I barely get any time with you. I don’t know if this is about Danielle or what, but you can talk to me too. I’m your husband, for God’s sake!" He was inches from my face, spraying me with spit. I’d never seen him like this before.
"Orson, I know! But Katherine..." I didn’t know what to say; I was at a loss. All I could think to do was fake sobs and tears to soften his demeanor.
And it worked.
He let me go. I knew I was hurting him; I knew my distance was causing him pain. But my love clouded my judgment. I was consumed by my affair, indifferent to whom or what it might hurt. I was tired of putting everyone else’s needs ahead of my own. My whole life had been spent caring for and protecting those closest to me—covering Rex’s affair, deceiving the world about my daughter’s pregnancy to spare her public disgrace, tolerating Susan Mayer...
But it had to stop. For once, I put myself first.
I knocked on her door, and an avalanche of kisses and caresses greeted me. We curled up on her couch; I kissed her eyelids, and she kissed my hands. I caressed her breasts, and she unbuttoned my shirt. I laid her on the rug; she made me moan. Her face between my thighs, my hands on her back; I screamed her name, surrendering to the pleasure radiating from deep within me. When we were done, we lay together, one on top of the other, and between murmurs and sighs, we talked for hours.
This was love.