Free November Surprise by Laurel Osterkamp Page A

appealing.
    Yet Sharon is making herself comfortable. She stretches out
her legs, flips off her platform shoes, and smoothes out her black denim pants.
“Lucy doesn’t understand how political the workplace can be, because she’s only
ever dealt in the non-profit world.” She addresses her comment to Jack, talking
to him like they’re the only two people in a very small room.
    “Actually,” says Jack, “it sounds like Lucy’s work place is
very political. Isn’t it, Lucy?”
    Sharon looks at me. “Oh yeah? What’s going on?”
    Jack swirls his glass, as if he’s taking part in a
pretentious wine tasting, rather than drinking a cheap Merlot. Sharon swigs the
rest of the wine in her glass and pours herself some more. They’re both waiting
for me to talk.
    “Actually, I’m pretty tired,” I say. “I think I’m ready to
call it a night.”
    “Go ahead,” says Sharon. “I’ll keep Jack company.”
    I lean my back against the tip of the couch and rest my
eyes. Sharon starts drilling Jack about restaurants, focusing all her attention
on him, making him feel like the most important thing in her world. Whatever.
If it makes them happy, what’s the harm?
    Eventually I go to bed, leaving the two of them to enjoy
their conversation. Several hours later I get up to use the bathroom. They are
still talking, and it’s Jack who is driving the conversation.
    “Sometimes I wonder if I did the right thing, marrying
Petra,” I hear him say. My mouth goes dry and I tiptoe to the edge of the
living room, where the lights have been dimmed and the empty bottle of wine is
lying horizontally on the table.
    “Don’t you love her?’ Sharon asks. I peek around the corner
and see that she and Jack are sitting so close, their eyelashes are at risk of
becoming entangled.
    “I do,” he says. “But I think maybe she’s cheating on me.”
    I’m Jack’s best friend, and he’s never said anything like
this to me. I’m instantly flooded with jealousy, even though I realize that’s
not the right emotion to be feeling. If your best friend is admitting heartache
to another best friend do you:
    a.) wonder what you can do to help
    b.) forfeit your eavesdropping post and respect their
privacy, or
    c.) dissolve into a puddle of tears because his confession
makes you feel left out.
    I don’t dissolve into anything, but I don’t choose options “a”
or “b” either.
    “Hey guys! I’m surprised you’re still up!”
    They jump up in shock, startled by the sound of my voice.
    “What are you talking about?”
    “Nothing important,” says Jack.
    I look at him and my jealousy turns to anger.
    “Well, I don’t know what you were doing, but I know what it
looks like. Being so cozy on the couch, if Petra walked in right now, she would
totally get the wrong idea.”
    “But she won’t walk in,” says Sharon, her voice tight and
defensive.
    I glare at her. “Not the point.”
    “What is the point?” Jack demands.
    “The point is, getting caught almost doing something, makes you just as guilty as if you were
actually doing it.”
    My words come out like little bullets of aggression, and
even though Jack and Sharon, in theory, have done nothing wrong, somehow the
two of them are wounded into submission. Their faces are bathed in guilt and
shame, and their mouths hang open, both of them unable to find their voice.
    “Jack, think! Petra. You have a wife. You can’t do this.”
    Jack’s cheeks turn pink, but he squares his shoulders and
stands his ground. “We weren’t really going to do—”
    I cut him off. “And Sharon! Think. This is a bad, bad idea.”
    Sharon tucks her mussed-up hair behind her ears. She looks
more defeated than Jack at this point, which is out of character for her. “No…
I mean, yeah. Of course. We weren’t thinking.” She gets up and straightens her
clothes. “I should go.”
    Sharon searches for her shoes, her purse, and her dignity. I
stand there in pajamas, my hands balled into