Love's Illusions: A Novel Read Online Free Page B

we walked past Saks, Neiman Marcus and Tiffany’s and a myriad of other, way-too-expensive-to-ever-buy-anything stores, but I was still unable to speak. The knot in my throat had taken up permanent residence there, and showed no signs of moving.
    After walking several blocks Bernie asked, “Did you know Stephen was back in Chicago?” I just shook my head.
    “I ran into him last Tuesday night at Vito’s, you know, that little spaghetti restaurant in Evanston,” he continued. “He wasn’t exactly happy to see me, but tried to pretend he was. He was with a couple guys I hadn’t seen before, but he didn’t introduce them. He said he’d only been back in town a few days, and wasn’t sure how long he was going to stay, but that we should get together some time and catch up. What a line of bullshit! I could tell he wanted to end the conversation, and well… to be honest, I did too, so I excused myself and sat down with my friends.”
    We had been ambling along with me staring at the cracks in the sidewalk. Bernie slowed the pace even more as he said, “I’m sorry… I just thought you should know he was back and that… Well, if there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.”
    As my eyes filled with water, the massive lump in my throat seemed to burst, and my voice came back. I pulled a Kleenex out of my jacket pocket, and tried to dab away the pools of water from the corners of my eyes being very careful not to smudge my makeup, and hoping no random, passing person would catch sight of what I was actually doing. They didn’t, no one noticed me at all. I wasn’t fooling Bernie, but for some unknown reason, it was very important to me that I fool all of the nameless strangers who walked by. I covertly kept glancing up to see if anyone was watching me, and murmured some bullshit to Bernie about the cold breeze blowing up from the lake trying to cover-up what was happening while I blew my nose several times.
    Pulling some strength together to look him in the face, the only word I could muster was, “Thanks.”
    We continued to wander up one side of Michigan Avenue and down the other while Bernie answered my questions, and explained how he had found out that Stephen had gone gay. As soon as I went to stay with Mary Beth –hoping to shock Stephen into realizing that I was serious, we needed to work on our marriage if it was ever going to be okay again – he had decided to take advantage of my absence, and thus began a procession of men streaming in and out of the apartment at all hours. Bernie, who was no prude, but who did, at that point, need some semblance of quiet across the hall so he could study for finals, had gone over to talk to Stephen. When he knocked on the door some older guy with graying hair, obviously drunk, answered, wearing only his boxer shorts. Bernie could see Stephen lying face down on the couch in the living room, semi-conscious, semi-naked. By the end of the month, Stephen had left the city. That was the last time Bernie had seen Stephen before this past Tuesday.
    Saying it was difficult listening to Bernie recount the incident is an absurd understatement – more like someone had reached inside my gut, turned my stomach inside out with one swift yank, and left me alive to watch all of my internal organs spill out of my body and onto the sidewalk. Although I wasn’t shocked at the revelation, hearing it from someone I liked and trusted made it all too real. How could this happen? How could I not know? Did it matter whether he was with a man or a woman? Why was hearing about a man so very much worse in my mind? Had I done this to him? It had to be my fault – Stephen wasn’t gay before we married. Did anyone walking by see that I was dying here? Please don’t notice – please don’t notice! My mind was fragmented bouncing back and forth like a Goddamn ping pong ball. Oh my God, am I really hearing all this?
    I’d spent the months right after Stephen disappeared stoned – trying