It was one year ago today. One year ago today, the story that I thought I was living was interrupted with the most unwelcome plot twist. Things had seemed strained between us. She’d seemed preoccupied. She’d been spending a lot of time on her phone. I’m not sure what exactly prompted me to check our cell phone records; but when I did – after a Wednesday night Bible Study – it was clear that there was something going on. During the current statement cycle, she’d managed to log over twice as many minutes and over four times the amount of text messages as I had. The records didn’t show the content of the messages, but they did show the telephone numbers of the maker and recipient of each phone call. I recognized most of the numbers – mine, her parents’, even my brother’s – but there was one number that I didn’t recognize. And, it was on the list a lot. Late at night, after we’d (I guess that should read, “I’d”) gone to bed. Early in the morning. During her drive to and from work. On her lunch breaks. The same number, over and over.
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