Deceit

Marcela looked at me through the rearview mirror with a smile that was nothing like a calm mother’s. I didn’t know that afternoon would change everything between us.

For a year she dreamed of the day she could give back every lie. On Día de Muertos, an obsidian amulet offered exactly that.

She grabbed my arm in the middle of the street and whispered that if I let her go, she might disappear. I had no idea how far that night would go or what price I’d pay for following her.

The message arrived at dusk: show up at 1:45 p.m., black dress, no jewelry, no handbag. The rest, you will obey. It was the only currency I had left.

Pressed against the counter, they thought the house was empty. They didn’t count on her coming back early, or on what she had in store for anyone who dared to lie to her.

I went out determined to let him see me with other men, but I ended up between two cars on an empty street, letting a stranger use me.

I was eight months pregnant, my hormones were raging, and there was a sweaty man working in the baby’s room. That afternoon I stopped being the proper wife everyone thought I was.

He insisted so much on walking me to the entrance that I ended up inviting him up. At eight in the morning, his phone rang and everything I believed changed in an instant.

I’m not saying this to ease my conscience, but to confess how far I was willing to go that afternoon, with him asleep on the table and her just meters away.

That early morning I lost my money, my underwear, and the idea I had of myself. What happened afterward in that empty park I had never told anyone.

I picked up the fork she had dropped and, bending under the table, discovered something none of the adults suspected. That night everything changed.

That afternoon the massage left me burning. I never imagined I’d end up on my knees in front of a stranger in my own living room, or who would catch me there.

I agreed to my boyfriend’s fantasy believing we’d both come out ahead. That night, while I was screaming in one room, he heard everything from the other side of the door.

She slipped into bed naked except for her thong and whispered in my ear: don’t turn around, don’t say anything, just listen. Then she started telling me about that night.

I got home at six in the morning with her perfume clinging to my body and my ass still red. My wife was waiting up, smiling, suspecting nothing.

She lied to me about everything: her name, her job, the reason she came close to me. The only truth was how she trembled when I touched her again.

Everyone at the university knew what I was like, and the guard at the gate only needed a smile to understand that that afternoon, after cleaning up, I wouldn’t be leaving so fast.

I turned fifty, I’ve been married for thirty years, and I’ve never been faithful. These are the secret getaways that kept my marriage alive.

I learned very early that my body was worth more than any degree. What none of them knew is that I never felt a thing while they paid me.

I got out of the car thinking I was going to defend him and ended up seeing him with a stranger on his lap. What I did next wasn’t planned: I just stopped being afraid.