I dropped the phone and paced while trying to talk myself out of a jealous rage. I sat on the edge of the bed. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs and holding in the air as long as I could, then exhaled in a long, slow whoosh. Was I always going to have to put up with these calls, always wondering what goes through her mind when they arrive?

“Screw it,” I said. I picked the phone up and called him right back. He answered on the first ring.

“Hey you,” he said in a soft, tender voice.

“Merry Christmas, Jimmy. Why are you calling my girlfriend?”

He was silent a moment. “Where’s Carolyn?”

“Sitting right next to me.”

“Give her the phone.”

“Nothing doin’, Jimmy. That ship has sailed,” I said, and prayed that I was right. Was I? Carolyn did, after all, have a seventeen-minute phone conversation with him three days prior.

“You think?”

“You’re goddamn right I do.”

“Yeah? You sure? I was nailing her while she was dating somebody else and I’m still banging her now that she’s with you, Stratton.”

He knew my name. She had obviously told him. Did it matter? It made me angrier than hell, and I gritted my teeth and bitterly said, “With me? Please, she’s not with me.”

“That’s funny since you called her your girlfriend not twenty seconds ago.”

I snapped the phone shut, dropped it on the bed, and then punched a pillow over and over and over yelling “motherfucker” each time I hit it. I had just been outwitted, no other way of putting it. Was Carolyn prone to cheat, as he had said? And more importantly, had she seen him? I knew I wouldn’t be able to swallow the curiosity. I had to know, even if it meant giving away the fact that I had checked her phone.

I plugged it back into the charger, sat at the desk, waited for the trains. I watched them and took refuge in the bedlam that erupted as each car passed. I took deep breaths to calm myself. I could feel my face twisted into a scowl. I sat that way for twenty minutes before the door opened behind me. I turned and Carolyn smiled, the front of her apron covered with powder.

“What are you doing down here, silly?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I said in a voice without emotion, which she picked up on.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

She walked to me and sat on my lap.

“Are you sure? You seem tense.”

“I’m sure.”

“Dinner is almost done. Twenty more minutes. I’ve had two glasses of wine already,” she said and looked me in the eye with her forehead pressed to mine. “And Gene made me take a shot of brandy with him.”

“I missed shots?” I said, trying to sound sweet.

“You did.”

“Was it good?”

“Mmm-hmm. It was really sweet.”