“Okay, Mom,” Natasha shouted from the backseat. Sorry, I scratched your car last night. You shouldn’t park on the street though! -Neighbor from 283.
This is my number in case you need anything!Confusion and nausea washed over me. We don’t live near a house with that number, and my husband, Thomas, always parked in our garage.
“What was it?” my daughter asked when I slid into the driver’s seat. “Nothing, honey,” I said. “Just a piece of paper that got stuck on Dad’s car.”
Tom had just returned from a business trip this morning, so his car should have been parked at the airport the entire weekend. My mind raced, and a sinking feeling settled in my stomach.
I knew that something was about to change. “Enjoy your day, babies!” I said as the kids got out of the car at drop-off. “Don’t forget, we have to make cookies for school tomorrow,” Natasha reminded me.
“We need like sixty cookies, Mom.” I left the kids and drove to the grocery store to get everything for the cookies that we needed to bake. “Can I help you, ma’am?”
a young woman asked me as I walked up and down the baking aisle. She tied the grocery store’s apron tightly onto her.
“No, thank you,” I said absentmindedly. “I’m just browsing.”But my mind just couldn’t stay focused at all. What was Thomas playing at?
I filled up the cart as I went up and down the aisle, getting enough ingredients for everything we needed, and then paid. Then, I decided to call Thomas to check-in.
“Hi, honey,” I said the moment he picked up. “Hey, Sierra,” he said. “Are you okay? I’m just getting into a meeting now. I’ll speak to you later.” And he cut the call. “What on earth is going on?”
I said aloud as I picked up gummy worms for Jake, my son. Later, I picked up the kids and made toasted sandwiches while Natasha and I baked for her class. “Is everything okay, Mom?”
Natasha asked, mixing in the chocolate chips. “You’re not helping Jake with homework.” “Everything is fine,
” I said, turning my focus back to my children.But still, my mind raced and I couldn’t shut it off. I was distracted and unable to stop the conspiracies that plagued my mind. That evening, after tucking the kids into bed, I dialed the number on the note. The phone rang twice before a cheerful voice answered. “Hello, is this house 283?” I asked, nervously. “Yes!” the woman said. “Who am I speaking to?” “Sierra,” I said. “I’m sorry, but I found your note on my husband’s car this morning. Can you tell me more about the incident?” There was a brief pause. “Oh, yes, I’m Jane. I’m really sorry about that. I accidentally scratched his car when I was parking last night. I live at 283 Elm Street. Are you new to the neighborhood?” My heart pounded. “No, no,” I said. “
I’m sure Thomas was just visiting a friend. Don’t worry about the scratch, I saw the car. It’s all good!”“Oh, are you sure?” she asked. “I’m sure that the insurance will cover it.” “I’m sure,” I said, turning to look out the window. “But can you tell me where exactly he was parked?” There was silence for a moment. When Jane spoke, her voice was softer. “He was parked right outside my house. There’s a small park across the street, and next to it, is a woman’s house. I’m sorry,” she said. “Thank you, Jane,” I said. I hung up, my mind reeling. Thomas had lied to me. He wasn’t on a business trip. He hadn’t even left the car at the airport. Instead, he was at some woman’s house. I didn’t want to confront my husband yet. I needed proof first. So, I got into bed beside him and forced myself to fall asleep.The next morning, I gave the kids cereal for breakfast while trying to decide my next move.After dropping them off at school, I drove to Elm Street. According to the GPS, it was about twenty minutes away from me. I looked for the park and the house next door. Before doing anything else, I knocked on the door.
A few moments later, a woman in her thirties opened the door. “Hi, can I help you?” she asked. “My name is Sierra,” I said. “I believe my husband, Thomas, was with you this weekend?” Her eyes widened, and she covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, my God. I had no idea he was married. Please, come in. I’m Mary.” My heart ached, and my wedding ring seemed to get tighter around my finger. “He didn’t mention us? His family?” I asked. Mary shook her head. “No, he told me he was single. We met at a local market, and we’ve been seeing each other for a few months now. But he did say that work has been hectic recently. So we haven’t seen each other very often.”“Mary, I need your help. I need evidence of his infidelity for my divorce lawyer. I can’t stay married to a man like this, especially with my kids. Can you help me?” Mary looked at me with determination. “Of course,” she said. “We need to catch him in the act.” Later that evening, Mary was going to text Thomas and invite him over. She told him that she really wanted them to have dinner together at home. “I’ll tell him that I cooked,” she told me as I left her home. “That usually gets him here.” I left the kids with my mother and drove to Mary’s house, ready to catch Thomas in the act. When he arrived, Mary kissed him at the door. My stomach turned, but I snapped the picture anyway. Then, I stepped out of my hiding place. “Thomas,” I demanded. “What the hell is this?” His face turned pale. “Sierra, what are you doing here?”Mary crossed her arms, glaring at him. “You lied to both of us, Thomas,” she said. “How could you? And you have children?” He stammered, trying to find the right words, but there were none. “It’s not what it looks like,” he finally managed to say. “Save it,” I said, holding my camera. “I have all the proof I need. I’m ready to file for divorce.” “Sierra, please,” he said, trying to follow me to the car. I brushed him off and got in, ready to head home to my children. In the following weeks, Mary and I became unlikely friends, bonded by our shared betrayal. The most surprising thing was how quickly my children got attached to her.On the day that the papers were finally signed, I felt the biggest sense of relief and empowerment.Sure, my heart was broken, and so was my home. But as I was trying to fix myself, my children stepped in, ready to fill my life with the joy that only children can. As for Thomas? He moved back in with his parents. He didn’t even put up a fight to make things better. What would you have done?
