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Adultery on a Budget

David Meuel

    At 3:30 on a sunny September afternoon Janet and Russ met at the Santa Clara Marriott, where, earlier that day, she had reserved their room for $32 on Priceline.com.
    Janet was amazed by how affordable adultery had become. Once only the rich could manage the afternoon interludes in the nice hotel rooms with the good champagne and the other trimmings that went with it. Now ordinary people like them could do it—and fairly often, too. Yes, she would joke with Russ, this was their version of the American Dream.
    Once in the room, Janet and Russ rushed for each other. She loved how he desired her. But it wasn’t only the sex that was good. Russ was funny and thoughtful. He knew things about wine and Picasso and Miles Davis. He worked out. He dressed well. Even at his best, her husband Bill was a slug by comparison. Under the bright green and blue and gold bedspreads in the different hotel rooms—so secret, so exciting—she hadn’t felt this alive in years. Except for the moments when she thought of her daughter, Madeline, it really was like a dream.
    “I love you,” Janet said, looking for a sign as they dressed to leave two hours later.
    “And I love you, too.”
    She lived to hear Russ say these words, but she wished he didn’t sound so automatic when he did. She wanted to ask him about his feelings, if he really loved her or was just being polite.
    “Would next Wednesday work for you?” she said at last.
    Russ checked his calendar and smiled. “I think I can slip you in.”
    “No,” Janet said coyly, “I’m the one who slips you in.”
    They blushed and laughed and kissed each other deeply.
    “I wish I didn’t have to go with Marci to back-to-school night,” Russ said. “I’d love to go another round or two.”
    “That makes two of us.”
    After Janet left the Marriott, she went to the supermarket and then home. As usual, Bill was drinking beer, eating Doritos, and blogging about his detestable right-wing politics. He had been unemployed for eleven months now and had stopped even pretending to look for work.
    “Did you fix the shower?” Janet said.
    “Maybe tomorrow,” Bill said without looking up from his computer.
    “How about the screen on the back door?”
    “No, I didn’t get to that either.”
    “Okay then, how was your day?”
    “Nothing special. Yours?”
    “About the same.”
    Janet often thought about telling Bill what she really did on the days when she met Russ. That would get him to look up from his computer. But she quietly unloaded the grocery bags and fixed dinner. All the while, she could still smell Russ’s sweet semen on her hands. Yes, after all the years of putting up with Bill, she was entitled to this.



    Late one afternoon four months later, Janet got a call at work from Russ.
    “Do you have a moment?” he said in a low voice.
    She went into an empty conference room and closed the door. “What’s up?”
    “Marci knows. She got into my emails. She suspected something but wasn’t sure. Now she’s fuming.”
    “What’s she going to do?”
    “She wants to tell Bill and your daughter—meet them face to face, show them the emails, tell them what terrible people we are.”
    Janet sat numbly, saying nothing.
    “Janet?” he said after a long pause.
    “I—I’m still here.”
    “Okay.
    “Would—would you be willing to leave her?”
    “I don’t know. There are the kids to consider—and the money.” Now he paused. “But, after this, I might not have much choice in the matter.” Another pause. “I might be able to talk her out of telling Bill,” he said hopefully. “I don’t know about that, though. I’ve never seen her this angry. I just don’t know how this will play out.”
    “I—I don’t think we should see each other, at least for a while,” she said abruptly.
    “What?” Russ said, startled. “You can’t mean that?” Silence. “Sure. I guess that’s best,” he said slowly, sadly. “But I’ll keep you posted about Marci.”
    “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
    “I really am sorry about this.”
    “I am too.” She paused. “Take care of yourself.”
    “You too.”
    They had stopped saying “I love you” a month before.
    After the call, Janet looked out the window at the large, vacant office building that dominated the view. The winter sun was setting behind it, making the empty spaces inside steadily darker.
    She had calls to make, emails to write, and then groceries to buy and a dinner to cook, but she could only sit at the big polished wooden table and look out. At first, nothing came to mind. Then, one by one, she could see Bill hearing about the hotel rooms, then poor Madeline, then her parents, then other relatives and friends. The cost of her meetings with Russ now seemed much higher than it did when she had eagerly paid the Priceline fees. And, as she continued to look, the shadows from the building rose, like a swelling tide, over her chest, neck, nose, and eyes. Finally, all of her was submerged in silhouette.



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