When Donald came home from school at five o’clock, slightly subdued but still, somewhat, his usual self, I tried to pretend that nothing was wrong; that I hadn’t, earlier that day, espied my fiancé, yet again, up to no good, seeing his ex-fiancée on the sly. We ate some mediocre take-out (Indian) and watched a video (The Third Man) that I’d rented during one of my middle-of-the-week drive-by justification excuses; went to bed early. Neither of us, as luck would have it, seemed to feel like talking.

The following afternoon, Saturday, after Donald went to the gym (I knew he actually went to the gym because, of course, I followed him there), alone (I knew Adrienne wasn’t meeting him there because after following Donald to the gym I drove by her house and saw her car there), I did a complete sweeping search of the premises: Donald’s email, home voicemail, date book, desk drawers, dresser drawers, pants pockets, coat pockets.

Nothing.

Confounded, I paced the house: there was something I was missing; something I had overlooked.

But before I could figure out what that was, the phone rang. I turned to answer it and realized midway into the second ring that it wasn’t the desk phone but rather Donald’s cell phone, which, in his haste to get to the gym (to burn off those alleged love handles), he’d left behind, somewhere in his study. Tracking the ringing, I followed the sound to its source: the pocket of his navy-blue blazer that was hanging on the back of his desk chair. I flipped it open, stared at the green glowing LCD Caller ID panel:

Adrienne Adler, 202/555-2939.

Her home number.

It rang and rang—seven or eight times in all, I think. And though I was dying to answer it—dying to catch her red-handed— I waited for the call to go through to his voicemail. Breathing breathing breathing, I waited another minute or two for her to leave her message. Then I pounced on the phone as if it were a live mouse.

I hit the automatic voicemail retrieval button, waited as it connected.

“Donald. It’s Adrienne, on Saturday, just after three o’clock. I thought I should call you the minute I heard. I got the test results back, and it’s positive. Obviously we need to talk about this, as soon as possible, to figure out what we’re going to do. If you can see your way clear to get away later on and come by, I’ll be here for the rest of the day.”

My heart beating wildly, I fell into Donald’s desk chair and slumped forward.

The test results were positive.

Obviously they needed to talk about this as soon as possible. To figure out what they were going to do.