Seventy-Two Hours Read Free

crazy.”
    “Am I?” he replied and closed the distance
between us. “I don’t think so. You were away with your fellow social studies
teachers in April. Your curriculum trip to Gettysburg and Colonial
Philadelphia. That was the first time you slept with him.”
    I found the closest seat and sank into it. The
worst thing I could do was deny it. However, admitting to it didn’t seem to be
the right thing either.
    “The second time was the week school let
out,” he said from nearby.
    I recovered enough to say, “Was this the
purpose of your little weekend getaway? So you could make your accusations to a
captive audience?”
    He finished his beer and wiped his mouth with
the back of his hand in a frustrated manner. “I want us to talk, Jen. We need
time to sit and talk. Just the two of us and with no interruptions. We have
the cottage until Monday.”
    I decided to be blunt. I sat forward, laced
my fingers together, and said, “You do realize 72 hours isn’t going to change
matters? You can’t wave a magic wand and fix what’s broken in our marriage.
It’s too late.”
    “Don’t say that.”
    Hearing the anguish in his voice made my
breath catch. I didn’t hate him. God, it wasn’t that. And I didn’t want to
make the inevitable some drawn-out event for either of us. Talking about my
recent infidelity wasn’t going to accomplish anything other than to dredge up
painful images for him. He didn’t need to suffer through the reasons why it
happened or how it came about. It just did.
    “I’m not happy anymore, Chris. I want a
divorce.”
    Those last four words were out and it didn’t
kill me. As a matter of fact, I felt some of the weight I’d been carrying lift
off of me.
    Chris wasn’t holding up as well. As he
tossed his empty bottle into the garbage with a resounding crash of breaking
glass he said, “No. It’s not an option.”
    “This isn’t something I’m asking your
permission for damn it.”
    My cell phone rang before he could respond.
It was Carson. I could tell by the ringtone.
    But Chris could as well. He stormed over and
took the phone from me as I went to answer it. He held it up to his ear and
used his free arm to block and hold me at bay. It was better not to carry on
screaming my outrage while my son was on the phone. I didn’t want to scare
him.
    “Sorry about that. You’re mother called you
by accident…” he lied without blinking an eye. “ Do I sound strange...No.
Everything is fine. Did you get my voice mail earlier about our plans for the
weekend...Good…I hope you enjoy it…We’ll take that under advisement and see you
sometime Monday.”
    He hit the end button and pocketed my phone
in his jeans before I could grab it. “Our son told us to have a fun weekend
while reminding us not to have too much fun. He doesn’t want to be made a big
brother again,” Chris replied with a smile.
    “He doesn’t have anything to worry about
there,” I muttered with an eye roll.
    “Anyway, he said he doesn’t have a signal at
Jamie’s house and only saw your missed call when they drove to get pizza. He
didn’t want us to worry if we couldn’t reach him later on.”
    Knowing I was stuck at the cottage with him,
I said, “I’m going out to the lake.”
    “I’ll join you.”
    “That wasn’t an invitation,” I told him as I went
off on my own.

Chapter Two
    July 4, 1986 - East Smithfield, PA
    The parade would be short. It was always
short. It took longer getting our high school’s marching band into formation
than the actual running time of the parade from start to finish. But it was
tradition. Small town living. Truth be told, it was all about the socializing
that went on between our community locals while waiting for it to start. There
were a handful of topics that could be overheard in any given cluster year
after year. They ranged from farmers discussing their first cutting of hay for
the summer, the dreaded dust being kicked up along the dirt roads, or the
current