Free The Idea of Him by Holly Peterson

image. Two months earlier, I had gathered my courage and submitted an old script I’d left for dead to a Tuesday night screenwriting class at New York University. I’d assumed I’d get rejected, but to my surprise, I got in, and this week’s assignment was in danger of being late if I couldn’t concentrate and begin it.
    I’d write a few sentences of dialogue, but when I couldn’t find the word I was searching for, my marriage angst would cloud my head instead, and then the beaming faces of our two children would break my heart more. A week had passed, and I hadn’t made a move yet to meet Jackie. I wanted to lie low, find clues, consider my actions before I jumped too fast. Asking Wade how he knew her would yield another obfuscation until I could prove something solid.
    I was very tempted to text Jackie again and meet her. She might say something to use as a comeback when Wade denied doing something with her. I also had to figure out what her bizarre warnings meant, if anything.
    Yet, if I contacted her, how would I be able to tell if Jackie were lying? Was she possibly just blowing my husband in there? Maybe this wild-goose chase to find documents was nothing more than a game of distract-the-wife.
    One thing was certain: I had to face the fact that I’d been feeling on edge with Wade—I believe now because I felt him pulling away. Before we were in sync; now he and I weren’t. He made the motions, he’d kissed my ear at a party in a sexual way like he wanted me so badly, but then when we were alone, he was too tired and spent. Part of me was used to winding him up and letting him go. Yet this clarity slowly signalled something new: he was either having an affair or just didn’t feel the same about us. I felt hurt and confused and angry and more than a little aggressive toward this Jackie woman.
    â€œAllie.” Caitlin popped her blond head into my office. “Selena asked me to tell you that Murray wants you in there in ten minutes.” I glanced at the clock in the corner of my screen. How had it become 9:25 so quickly? Now I’d never get any pages polished before class. “Are you okay? Why are your eyes red?”
    â€œNothing. I’m getting a cold.”
    â€œYou sure? You need to talk?” she asked, softly.
    â€œThere’s no news. I left early this morning.”
    â€œWas he out again?” she asked, fuming.
    â€œYes, gambling I guess, or entertaining.”
    Caitlin snorted. “Like there’s a difference?” She put her hands on her hips. “And you still haven’t filled me in on the laundry room episode last week. Why was he hidden away in the middle of his own friggin’ party when he’s usually the guy holding court?”
    â€œIt’s too long a story, Caitlin.”
    She walked to my desk and splayed her arms out on the other side of it, with her chin resting on my computer screen. “One thing you have to tell me. What exactly is going on or not going on with you two? You and Wade look like robots together every time I see you. Believe me, I study you guys. I keep telling you that.”
    I put my head in my hands. “I love what I loved about him from day one: his irreverence, his magic touch with kids, but I just feel out of sorts with him right now. It’s weird, like I’m questioning some things . . . it’s nothing. We’ll be fine.”
    â€œQuestioning what? Your love for him?”
    â€œNo, but you know Wade isn’t easy to be married to; he’s so all over the place all the time. The flip side of that is I love how exciting he is, but suddenly I’m thinking about things I’d shut out before.”
    â€œLike what?”
    I straightened up my back. Caitlin always pushed so hard on everything, there was no use resisting. “Like way back when, even on our wedding day, maybe, perhaps, I may have seen some things I didn’t really