UNFAITHFUL
“Hello. May I speak with Mrs. Paxton?”
“This is she.”
“We have an urgent matter to discuss.”
“Who is calling?”
“I must speak to you in person.”
“Is something wrong? At least tell me what this is about?” She is alarmed.
“I really can’t explain it over the phone.”
“I’m not meeting with a perfect stranger unless I know what the heck is going on. I’m hanging up right
now... Unless you tell me what this is about…”
“I’m doing a job for your husband.”
“For my husband? I don’t understand. Why don’t you contact him? Do I need to have him call you?”
“No! It’s not like that. Mrs. Paxton, he, well, he hired me to spy on you.”
“What?”
“Mrs. Paxton, I can’t explain this over the phone. Please trust me and let’s meet, I’ll tell you everything
then.”
“You’d better be for real. I mean it. Where do we meet?”
“Bookstore close to your house; the one you always go to.”
“So you do know something about me.”
“Meet me there in 45 minutes.”
Mrs. Paxton sits restlessly at the corner table, her usual seat. She pauses from scribbling in her overstuffed
notebook and sips her latte, as her pen presses into the paper again the man shows up and sits in the chair
across from her.
She examines the stranger and shakes her head in frustration; “I am a little disappointed in you already!”
She sighs and proceeds, “Now, let’s flesh out the details. Did my husband hire you to check up on me? And if
that’s true, aren’t you compromising the security of your mission by calling me at home—much less asking to
meet me here?”
“I know a lot about your husband, Mrs. Paxton. He is the one cheating on you.”
Mrs. Paxton’s pen slips from her hand. She scoops it from the floor and taps it against the table as she asks,
“Why would you spy on him instead of doing your job and follow me around? That doesn’t make sense God damn
it.”
The man pleads, “Are you taking his side?”
“I’m questioning your professionalism. You’ve already made several errors. Using your cell phone to contact
me—how smart is that?” She flings down her pen and gulps at her favorite drink. With her two longest fingers,
she plucks a Virginia Slim out of her purse as she realizes the Non-Smoking reality of the bookstore. The she
nervously squeezes the Virginia between her fingers.
“You were hired by my husband to spy on me? This is what he wants to know about me? Do you get that?
Who is the guy? Who is buffing Mrs. Paxton? Do you have any photos of us together? Any recorded phone
conversation? Any evidence to prove I am having an affair? At this point you should know how many times a
week we meet, where we go and what we do and if you were doing your job you would know by now how good
he is in bed.” Mrs. Paxton smiles. She picks up a few pages of her writings and fans her face. “Oh, I am getting
hot,”
“No, I haven’t followed you around yet.”
“So you haven’t done your job yet? What are you going to put in your damn report? You won’t make a
penny working like this for my husband, believe me.”
“Whose side are you on? I am confused Mrs. Paxton.”
“This is the question I should be asking you.”
“Are you not surprised that your husband is spying on you? He’s the one having affair Ma’am.”
The man is anxiously looking into her eyes waiting to see some appreciation.
Mrs. Paxton sighs, “What’s new?” She rolls the pen between her fingers.
“You already know he is unfaithful and never confronted him?”
“That’s none of you business. Besides, what’s the use? First he would shamelessly deny it and plays innocent
and when I show him the proof, he would say it didn’t mean anything. That’s how men are. Statistically
speaking, faithful men are the very hardworking ones, bums and executives are not.”
“So you are Ok with that?”
She nervously taps the Virginia on the table causing her to cough up bits of tobacco, “That’s where you
come into the game. Don’t ask too many questions, you are distracting me.”
“I was hoping you and I could do something together, you know. Your husband does not deserve a beautiful
woman like…”
“Is that it? That’s your pitch! Your husband does not deserve a beautiful woman like you. How cliché!” She is
angry.
“I can do better Mrs. Paxton.”
“This is not what I had in mind. I…, I imagined a charming and intelligent character with an ingenious plan. I
hoped to be mesmerized by your wickedness and wit, a man who could sweep me off my feet. I was even
thinking of having an affair and maybe even plotting to murder my husband to make the story more sizzling. Oh!
I had so much hope for this script and then you showed up!”
“You’re under estimating my intelligence Mrs. Paxton, yes you are.”
“Don’t you see you’re not capable of hatching such a complex scheme. You’re supposed to be the
personification of my rage, anger, despair, passion, revenge, love, cynicism and shrewdness. You just don’t
qualify.”
She clutches the pen between her fingers like a dagger and stabs her writing, “I can’t teach you everything.
You should jump off of the page by yourself! You are waiting for me to hold your hand and walk you through
this? Oh my God. I feel like an idiot.”
She shreds her writings and tosses them into the garbage can next to her table. As she gathers her purse to
leave, she notices the man sitting silently across from her staring mournfully at the bits of paper, floating like
dandruff in her cup.
She pauses for a second in disbelief. He turns his head, ready for further instructions. She slaps him hard and
marches toward the doorway. Before she is out the door, Mrs. Paxton turns to shoot a glance at the garbage
can. The pages of her manuscript are inside the can yet some little ripped pieces of her words are sticking out of
the trashcan a tad above the rim. And there he is, the perplexed detective still sitting motionless at the table.
She curses herself under her breath and considers a second slap, but she refrains, as she sees no use.