The Key I Was Never Supposed to Have

The first thing my husband said when I found him in our son’s bedroom was not my name.

It was Chloe’s.

“This is not what Chloe is going to make it look like.”

Walter stood beside the bed with his shirt half-buttoned. A woman I had never seen before was sitting on the edge of the mattress, pulling on one of her shoes.

She looked younger than our son.

For several seconds, none of us moved.

I was still holding the brass key I had used to enter Samuel and Chloe’s apartment.

The problem was that I wasn’t supposed to have that key either.

“Margaret,” Walter finally said.

I looked at the woman.

“Who are you?”

She stood quickly.

“Tiffany.”

Walter stepped toward me.

“Can we talk about this somewhere else?”

I backed into the hallway.

“Why are you here?”

“I can explain.”

“Then explain.”

Tiffany picked up her purse.

Walter glanced at her.

That glance told me more than anything he said afterward.

It was familiar.

Not panicked. Not confused.

Familiar.

I had been married to Walter for thirty-two years. I knew the difference.

Tiffany walked past me without making eye contact.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

The apartment door closed behind her.

Walter rubbed both hands over his face.

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

I actually laughed once.

Not because anything was funny.

I looked down at the key in my hand.

“Neither should you.”

That shut him up.

Samuel and Chloe had been married for four years. They rented a two-bedroom apartment outside Columbus, about twenty minutes from our house.

I had been entering it without permission for nearly six months.

I wish there were a respectable explanation for that.

There isn’t.

Samuel gave me a key once when Chloe was recovering from surgery. I was supposed to use it for one week so I could bring groceries and check on her while Samuel worked.

Before returning it, I had a copy made.

I told myself it was practical.

What if they were away and there was a leak?

What if Samuel got sick?

What if something happened and they needed me?

Those were the explanations I used.

What I actually did was let myself in to put groceries away, rearrange things, check expiration dates, water plants Chloe had not asked me to water, and occasionally leave notes.

Once I threw away a container of Thai food because I thought it smelled strange.

Chloe asked Samuel about it.

I said nothing.

That was the kind of mother-in-law I had become while still thinking of myself as helpful.

But that afternoon, I had entered for a different reason.

Two days earlier, I had seen Chloe outside a coffee shop getting into a gray SUV with a man I did not recognize.

He opened the passenger door for her.

She smiled.

I followed them for three blocks before losing them at a light.

Instead of calling Chloe, I built a story.

By the next morning, I had convinced myself she was hiding something from Samuel.

When I noticed her car was gone that Friday afternoon, I drove to their apartment.

I used my secret key because I thought I was going to protect my son.

Instead, I found my own husband.

Walter walked into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water as though we were discussing a problem with the dishwasher.

“Tiffany works with a company I’ve been consulting for.”

I stared at him.

“Were you consulting in Samuel’s bed?”

He set the glass down.

“Keep your voice down.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re upset.”

“I am standing in our son’s apartment, Walter.”

He looked toward the front door.

“Samuel lets me use this place sometimes.”

That stopped me.

“What?”

“For work. When I need somewhere quiet.”

I knew Samuel occasionally let Walter use the spare bedroom because our house could be noisy when Walter had conference calls.

But Walter had always told me he worked at the library or a coffee shop.

Then I noticed something beside his wallet.

A key.

I picked it up.

It was the same kind as mine.

“Samuel gave you this?”

Walter hesitated.

Barely a second.

It was enough.

“He let me borrow his key once.”

I looked at him.

“And you copied it.”

“Margaret—”

“You copied his key.”

He took it from my hand.

“So did you.”

There it was.

His first real defense.

Not that he had not betrayed me.

That I had done something wrong too.

And he was right.

That was the worst part.

I walked toward the door.

Walter followed.

“Don’t involve Samuel yet.”

I stopped.

“Yet?”

“We need to think about what this will do to him.”

“You already thought about Samuel. You used his apartment.”

Walter lowered his voice.

“And why were you here, Margaret?”

I said nothing.

“You were spying on Chloe, weren’t you?”

I turned around.

Walter’s face changed slightly when he saw mine.

He knew.

“Whatever Chloe has been doing,” he continued, “we should probably understand that before you start destroying thirty-two years over one mistake.”

One mistake.

Tiffany knew where the bedroom was.

She had taken off her shoes.

Walter had his own copied key.

I opened the door.

“How long?”

“Margaret.”

“How long?”

He looked away.

I left before he answered.

Chloe Was the Person I Had to Tell First

I sat in my car for almost twenty minutes.

Walter called twice.

I ignored him.

Then I called Chloe.

“Can you meet me?”

There was a pause.

“Is Samuel okay?”

“Yes.”

“Are you okay?”

I looked at the apartment building.

“No.”

We met at a diner near her office.

Chloe arrived wearing navy slacks and the same cream blouse I had once told her was too thin for work.

I remembered that immediately.

She sat across from me.

“What happened?”

I placed the copied key on the table.

She recognized it.

“Is that ours?”

“Yes.”

Her forehead tightened.

“Why do you have it?”

I could have started with Walter.

That would have been easier.

Instead, I said the part that made me look bad first.

“Because I copied your key without telling you.”

She stared at me.

“What?”

“Months ago.”

“You copied our apartment key?”

“Yes.”

Her voice dropped.

“Have you been inside our apartment when we weren’t home?”

I nodded.

Chloe pushed her coffee away.

“How many times?”

“I don’t know.”

“Margaret.”

“A lot.”

She looked toward the window.

I waited.

“Did Samuel know?”

“No.”

“You went through our things?”

“Not your private drawers.”

She turned back immediately.

“That is not the point.”

“I know.”

And for once, I did not say anything after that.

No explanation about emergencies.

No speech about being a mother.

No reminder of everything I had done for Samuel.

I let her be angry.

After a while she asked why I was telling her.

I wrapped both hands around my water glass.

“Because I used the key today.”

“Why?”

I told her about the SUV.

Chloe closed her eyes.