Chapter 3
The copy shop was quiet in the morning. The owner, a young guy with thick glasses, looked up when I walked in.
He took the USB drive from my hand and plugged it into his computer. The moment the photo appeared on screen, his hand shook.
He pushed up his thick glasses and asked me carefully, "Ma'am, are you really sure you want to print this?"
"Yes." I nodded.
"What size do you want?"
"A3. Full color. Laminated and waterproof."
"How many copies?"
"A hundred."
His jaw dropped, and he stared at me like I'd completely lost my mind.
I pulled out a stack of cash from my purse and set it on the counter.
"Money's not a problem. I just need it done fast," I said.
He swallowed hard, said nothing more, and got to work.
The printer hummed and roared, spitting out enlarged, clear photos taken in bed. The heavy smell of ink filled the room.
In the photos, Mia's smile was radiant, lighting up her whole face.
Charles looked calm and at peace in profile.
They seemed like such a perfect match, so in sync with each other.
It was like I was the third wheel who didn't fit in their world.
I stood quietly to the side, just watching.
Soon, a hundred photos lay stacked on the table. They looked like wanted posters.
The owner packed them into a big brown paper bag and handed it to me. His eyes held sympathy, mixed with something like respect.
He lowered his voice. "Hey, be strong."
I gave him a smile. "I'm not upset. I'm really fine."
I had never felt this clear-headed before.
Ten years of marriage was like a favorite shirt I'd worn forever.
It was old and didn't fit me anymore. But still, I kept it out of habit.
Last night, Mia's photo was like a pair of sharp scissors, cutting it to pieces.
Once a shirt was ripped to shreds, it couldn't be worn again.
People had to move forward.
I walked out of the copy shop, carrying that big bag full of "wanted posters."
The sunlight was so bright it stung my eyes.
I thought of our wedding day.
The sun had been shining too, just like today.
Charles held my hand and stood in front of all our friends and family, reading vows he had written himself.
He said, "Susan, from this day forward, you are my only wife. I'll be faithful to you, whether we're rich or poor, sick or healthy. I'll love you and cherish you always, until death parts us."
His voice shook. His eyes were red, full of tears.
I was standing there, crying my eyes out.
I thought that was forever.
Now I knew better. It was all a lie.
A man's promises were worth less than printer paper.
At least these laminated photos wouldn't fall apart in the rain.
I tossed the bag of photos into the trunk and started the engine.
The GPS was set for Stonecreek Town in Oakridge County.
It was 200 miles ahead, which meant I'd spent four hours on the road.
I turned the stereo up and put on a rock song Charles hated.
The beat slammed through the car as I stepped on the gas.
The car tore down the highway.
The scenery blurred past on both sides, just like the ten years of our life together disappearing behind me.
I didn't cry, not a single tear.
A heart surgeon's hands had to be steady. Her heart had to be harder than steel.
Over the years, I'd seen so much life and death in the operating room.
Hearts would stop in my hands and then start beating again.
I was used to how fragile and unpredictable life could be.
Compared to all that, what was a dead marriage?
I couldn't help but find it a little ironic.
As one of the country's top heart surgeons, backed by a government research grant, I was driving across the state with a hundred nude photos of my husband's mistress. I was heading for a small town I had never been to before.
What was I even doing?
I was about to post flyers exposing my husband's affair.
This might be the most reckless thing I'd ever done.
Halfway through the drive, I pulled into a rest stop.
I called my best friend and coworker, Joanna Lewis.
"Joanna, can you help me put in for three days off?" I asked.
Joanna sounded shocked on the other end. "What's going on? You never take time off. Are you sick?"
"No," I said. "I'm going to a funeral."
"A funeral? Who died?" she asked.
"My love," I replied.
I hung up before she could say anything else.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My face was calm, almost empty.
Yeah, a funeral.
There had to be some kind of ceremony to announce my love's death.
And I was going to make sure everyone knew how it once burned bright, and how it met its ugly end.