Lies, With Cream and Sugar

He knows.

My eyes shift to glance at him, as I slowly stir my cup of coffee. Creamy white swirls overtake the black darkness in my floral mug. Steam rises, and the scent fills me with warmth. And guilt.

I look back over at him, and casually try to bring up something he likes to talk about. A distraction.

“I think it’s going to be a good game. The Super Bowl, I mean,” I say, as I walk to the pantry. He loves football. This will get him talking. Grabbing some sugar, I carry it back to the island where my cup sits. Just a half teaspoon. I’ve been trying to cut back, but guilty pleasures are my weakness.

“Yeah, should be good,” he adds unenthusiastically. I wait for him to say more, but he doesn’t.

Stirring my sugar into my mug, I watch him sit silently, just looking into his dark cup. He looks deep in thought, and I try again.

“Want to go to my sister’s to watch it? They’re having people over,” I say, hopeful he’ll like the idea of a party.

“Oh, what? Yeah. Sure,” he mumbles, barely listening to me. I don’t know how much more I can take of this. Does he know? Am I imagining things?

It started about three weeks ago. Though, if I’m being honest, I’ve considered it for years. I’ve questioned the pros and cons, tried to rationalize it. Finally, I just gave in. But living this lie is becoming unbearable, and I question if it’s worth it.

“So, that new account going well at work?” I’m desperate now. I don’t even know if there is a new account at work. I’m grasping at straws.

“Yeah, all good. I’m gonna go get some reports done,” he absently says and walks out of the kitchen into his office. That went well.

When we got married five years ago, we agreed to be open about everything. I think the promises we make before marriage aren’t as easily kept when in the thick of it. People change, and needs change. And maybe some things are best kept hidden. What good would it do if I told him? If I just told him everything right now? Marched into his office, closed his laptop, and told him?

But I can’t.

I put my mug in the sink and lean against the counter. It’s then that I notice the little pile of mints, folded Post-It notes with grocery lists scribbled on them, and a few receipts. When did I empty my coat pockets? It had to have been a few days ago, before I threw it in the wash. My heart drops, and I can’t believe how careless I could have been. I grab the receipts, and there it is. Plain as day laying out in the open for him to see. But, if he saw it, he would have said something. He would have asked about it, for sure. Or is that why he’s been so quiet, moody, and withdrawn? The silent treatment is worse than yelling. At least then I would know.

This isn’t entirely my fault. I confided in my best friend of forever, and she was supportive. But then, she’d probably support any questionable decision of mine. She told me if it makes me happy, then that’s what matters most. And I really think she’s right. At the same time, I don’t think I can do this any more. It is eating at me, and I just want a clear conscience.

I go to his office. Walk right in without knocking. He looks up at me, then back to his computer.

“Hey. I think we need to talk,” I try to say nonchalantly. He looks at me, then, really looking at me. He hasn’t done that in so long. My heart tenses, and I don’t know how to say it.

“Ok. What is it?” he asks, motioning for me to sit down. I take a seat in the cushioned chair next to his desk. I balance at the end, and try to gather my thoughts.

“I don’t know how to say it, really, but I need to tell you something. I just feel awful having kept this from you, but I thought it best. I thought it would all just work out, you know?” I tried explaining, but it fell flat. He just looked at me, seemingly confused.

“I don’t know what you mean. You’re going to have to be more specific here, Natalie,” he says and crosses his arms, as if shielding himself from what’s coming next.

“I know we said we would always be honest, and for the most part, I am always honest with you. But, a few weeks ago, I just needed a change.” I pause, taking in his reaction.

“Go on. What kind of change?” he prompts.

“It was when I went to Starbucks, and I told you I just wanted to go alone and hang out for a while. Remember? Well, it’s because I didn’t want you to know what I was really doing there.” I said, looking down. It was all coming out now.

“I…thought I’d know for sure if it was what I really wanted. And, I decided it was. And I’ve been hiding it from you since,” I admitted. It was all unraveling now.

“But here’s the thing. I don’t want to stop.”

He looks at me, so many questions in his eyes. Maybe he will support me. Maybe this will all be ok after all.

“You know that I’ve known, right?” he finally asks.

“You’ve…known? For how long? Why didn’t you say anything?” I ask, shocked, yet relieved.

“I was waiting to see how long it would take you to finally admit to it, and tell me.”

“I’m so sorry, I should have told you sooner, I just…didn’t know how to bring it up.”

“If you wanted to switch to decaf, you could have just told me, Natalie. You didn’t have to go to Starbucks and secretly order decaf blends, then lie, cover it up, and try to keep me in the dark pretending that I was drinking regular every morning.”

“But you’ve always told me how much you hate decaf! And how much you need your morning caffeine! I never thought you’d agree to it! That’s why I had to go alone to Starbucks and try it, and I couldn't tell the difference! So, I thought you wouldn’t even notice, too.”

“I didn’t for a while. It wasn’t until you left the grocery receipt on the counter that I saw you bought decaf. But it all makes sense now. I’ve been so tired, dragging every morning, and I didn’t know why. I’ve been in a decaf daze.”

“And I’ve finally been less jittery, and able to sleep better at night since cutting the caffeine. So, what do we do?”

“I think I get a Keurig for my office. I’ll drink regular from that, you make all the decaf you want in the morning for yourself. Deal?” he says with a smile.

This is why I married him. I should have just told him sooner. No more guilt, lies, and hiding things.

Well, at least as far as the coffee goes…