My husband’s truck broke down.
I borrowed his coworker’s car to pick him up. His coworker’s wife rode with me. We talked about vacations.
She said, “I hope you enjoy Hawaii next month. $4,200 for a week is a steal.”
I stopped at a red light.
“Hawaii?”
She smiled. “Yes. Your husband told my husband he booked the tickets yesterday.”
We haven’t taken a vacation in 12 years.
I didn’t say anything.
I drove home.
I logged into our joint account.
Nothing.
Then I checked the mail.
A credit card statement.
His name.
A card I didn’t know he had.
$4,200 charge to Hawaiian Airlines.
Two tickets.
I called the airline and posed as his assistant. The representative confirmed the booking.
Two seats.
First class.
One for him.
The other for…
I asked for the passenger’s name.
The representative hesitated.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t disclose passenger information.”
I thanked her and hung up.
My hands were shaking.
But I didn’t need the name anymore.
I knew there was someone.
The question was who.
For twelve years, my husband and I had lived like roommates with a mortgage.
We had two children, a house, two aging cars, and a calendar filled with school events, doctor’s appointments, grocery runs, and bills.
Every time I’d suggested a vacation, he’d said the same thing.
“Maybe next year.”
There was always a reason.
The roof needed repairs.
The kids needed braces.
His business was slow.
We needed to save.
And I believed him.
I had spent twelve years believing that our sacrifices were temporary.
Apparently, they were only temporary for me.
That evening, he came through the door carrying the broken-down truck’s paperwork.
“Thanks for coming to get me,” he said.
I looked at him.
“Of course.”
He kissed my forehead.
I almost flinched.
Then he smiled.
“Long day.”
“I’m sure.”
He walked into the kitchen.
I watched him put his keys on the counter.
“Did you get everything fixed?”
“Not yet. Mechanic says it’ll take a few days.”
I nodded.
Then I asked casually, “How’s Mark?”
“Fine.”
“His wife seems nice.”
He froze.
Only for half a second.
But I saw it.
“She rode with me today,” I added.
“Oh.”
“She mentioned Hawaii.”
His face changed.
“What about Hawaii?”
I shrugged.
“She said we should have gone years ago.”
He laughed too quickly.
“Yeah. Maybe someday.”
I smiled.
“Maybe.”
That night, while he slept, I searched through our financial records.
I found the credit card.
