A Charming Smile [writing exerpt]

It was only recently that she remembered the first time June saw her husband with her.

They were in a quaint little restaurant, huddled over a round table, smiling and whispering. There was no way she wouldn’t know it was him. She’d memorized the very shape of his back. Knew every suit that he owned. Had committed the way he gelled his hair back to her memory. Now, that same man that she’d imprinted into her brain—right next to her Technique—was tilting his head, whispering words she couldn’t hear to another woman. A woman with a charming smile. She had a crooked incisor. June could hear a thumping. Distant and muted. Something dropping.

There was no time for that, though. Just as quickly as her stomach had plunged to her feet, she’d willed it back up where it belonged. There was no time for that. Spinning round, she strode back to their home and called him from the landline.

It’s an emergency. Get back here immediately.

It was a lie, of course. Unless she counted the fact that that muffled thumping had not slowed down once since the moment she’d seen them. But that was not of any concern to her. As she waited to hear their front door open and his slow footsteps echo through the hallway, she fixed her hair. Smoothed any stray strands back, ensured the plaited bun was properly secured. Made sure there was nothing on her blouse or skirt. She did not wear lipstick. He said he didn’t like it, so all she put on her lips was a softly scented lip balm. A flavored one if ever she felt cheeky. Today was not the day for a flavored lip balm. A scentless one it was.

By the time he had sauntered into their home, calling her name to ask about this emergency, June sat by their gigantic marriage portrait that lived in the foyer. The one he’d insisted on. Their house was perfect and clean as it always was. There was no emergency. Save for the disastrous discovery that had rent her world asunder. But that was not an emergency. She would live.

Instead of her usual greeting. June had firmly told him that it was wrong to embarrass her in such a manner. A public place, in the striking navy suit he favored most. Giggling and whispering with a woman who was not his wife. He was not only humiliating her, but her clan as well. If he was to have an affair, then the least he could do was honor her and her clan’s dignity. This was not what she wanted to say. Not at all. They were things that she was meant to say as a dignified wife. She was not meant to cry and scream and let the new fissure in her heart materialize in this world. Wail and ask him why he would do this. After what she thought was a good marriage. No. She was meant to give permission, as long as he knew to keep his trysts hidden.

He was flustered for a moment. Foolishly, he’d asked if there was no emergency. No, there was no emergency if you didn’t count the fact that June could no longer feel her body. Couldn’t feel what temperature the room was, or the way the air filled and exited her lungs. She responded that there was no emergency, but he would not disgrace her like that again. He apologized quietly. She turned and left, climbing the stairs with her hands gently clasped in front of her. Her right hand was on the left. It was meant to be the other way around.

June didn’t remember what happened immediately after that. Whether she crumbled to the floor of her room and wept, or whether she saw to it that dinner was well on its way even though she knew her husband would not be hungry. She couldn’t tell you what happened a day, two days or a week after. Three months later was a different story, though.

Three months later, he made the lady with the charming smile his second wife.