Free Infidelity by Stacey May Fowles

kitchen table at home while Aaron cooked complex dinners and talked about himself. As time passed they would fill each other’s inboxes with hundreds, thousands of messages, meaningless and meaningful digital notes throughout the day that sketched out a picture of their lives. It was in this way that they were rarely apart, every moment of every day captured and shared.
    What are you doing?
    Nothing much. How are you?
    I miss you.
    That’s sweet.
    You’re sweet.
    When can I see you again?
    As soon as possible I hope.
    Do you miss me?
    More than anything.

( CHAPTER SIXTEEN )
    â€œIt doesn’t exactly take a genius to see that you’ve got something on your mind, girl,” Lisa observed, shivering in the cold outside the salon’s back door.
    â€œI’m just tired,” Ronnie said, watching Lisa smoke and wondering why she’d agreed to come outside to do so. The two of them huddled together against the wall in the alley, thankful for the break but lamenting the weather.
    â€œDon’t lie to me, Rons. Tired is the excuse people use when everything is shit and they don’t want to talk about it.”
    â€œFine. I’ve got something on my mind.”
    â€œLet me guess: is it your cervix?”
    â€œLisa.”
    Befriending Lisa meant a constant experiment in tolerance of the inappropriate. Ronnie wrapped her sweater more tightly around her and looked away uncomfortably.
    â€œI told you, honey. It’s not something you should be worried about. This kind of shit happens to women all the time. Abnormal results are our cross to bear. I’m sure it’ll clear up.”
    â€œIt’s not that.”
    â€œExistential, then?”
    Not entirely sure what Lisa meant, Ronnie nodded regardless. “Can you hurry up and finish that? It’s freezing,” she said, eager to change the subject.
    Lisa ignored her and continued smoking. “You know, you’re not obliged to do anything you don’t want to. And you’re not obliged to not do anything you want to.”
    â€œI don’t know what you mean.”
    Ronnie knew exactly what she meant.
    Lisa didn’t push it. Simply flicked her cigarette in a slush puddle and pulled open the heavy metal door back to the busy salon.

( CHAPTER SEVENTEEN )
    â€œMy mother? She was obsessed. But sometimes I think she enjoyed it,” Ronnie said. “The attention she got from doctors. From the other mothers. Attention she didn’t get from my dad.”
    Ronnie was unpacking her life history during one of their coffee dates, dates that now happened at least three times a week, telling Charlie stories about what it was like for her growing up. He was enthralled with tales of her divorced parents and her subsequently emotionally damaged mother.
    â€œDidn’t that seem strange to you?” Charlie asked.
    â€œI was a kid. Nothing seems strange when you’re a kid. Only adults take the time to figure out that things are not right.”
    It was impossible for Charlie not to think of Noah, that perhaps the only thing wrong with him was how others perceived him.
    â€œAnd anyway, it was good for me,” Ronnie continued.
    â€œHow?”
    â€œWell, I was doted on. I could do no wrong. And my absent father made every payment and bought every gift on time. Sure, my mother’s anxiety made her enjoy her Chardonnay too much, but she was a really good mother.”
    â€œSo rare that someone refers to their drunk mother as a good mother.”
    â€œShe did her best,” she said. “And I was useful. I gave her something to fix.”
    â€œSounds familiar,” Charlie offered.
    â€œYour parents?”
    â€œNo. I meant Tamara. I’m her broken thing.”
    â€œYou keep saying that.”
    â€œWell, to be fair, when Tamara met me I wasn’t exactly functional.”
    â€œNo?”
    â€œI was a little boy masquerading as a badass,” Charlie said, looking away,