Can I Trust My Husband?

Today is my husband, Richard, and I's eight year anniversary. When you come to be in a relationship this long, those special days begin to just be a cute day date or dinner and drinks. We decided on the latter, but with all of our closest friends.

Richard is a well known art curator and I, a painter in New York City. So our relationship kind of works out perfectly, including the fact that he is the first man I've ever loved and truly trusted. I never would've imagined that meeting this cute, nerdy boy at NYU all those years ago, would turn out to be a life of my dreams surrounded by people I cherish.

We decided to meet everyone out at Aureole in Midtown later in the evening. Richard said he had to work late and would meet up with everyone at the restaurant. It wasn't unusual for Richard to be caught up with work, especially on a day like today. He works very hard to make sure we are set for life. I mean look at the life we've acheived, the townhouse, the status, the wealth! Coming from a small town in Pennsylvania, this is more than I've ever pictured.

Richard calls me around noon to say he won't be coming home to change and that he is going to pick up dry cleaning on the way. He also asked if I could bring his watch to dinner, that was sitting on top of his desk in his office. I go into his office and as he said, the watch is right there. I pick it up and turn to leave, when I notice a small journal poking out from a stack of papers. I've never seen him so much as jot down his thoughts, so I got curious. I pulled out this worn, wrinkled, handsized, black journal. I opened it, and instantly felt like this was something I should not be seeing.

I flipped through the pages with utter confusion. His perfect handwriting lined more than half of the pages front to back with names. But with those names, there were prices beside each one with ages, dates, and places all throughout the tri-state area; and some as far as Miami. These were not small amounts either. Some names had $5,000 and some as high as $75,000. It seemed as the dates progressed, the higher the value. At first I thought it could've been his tracking art pieces he sold, but something felt eerie about it. What in the world did I just find? These dates go back as far as our second year together. Is this the only journal like this? Are there more?

I couldn't even string together a full thought. What is Richard doing? I flip to the last page and find the name Anna Walters. It's her name, age and a price of $50,000. But that's...it? No date, no place? This is definitely not him selling art pieces. His computer lights up and a text from an unknown number comes through. All it says is 'Rutland and E 92nd, Brooklyn. 6pm'. I immediately pull up Google maps, and this is definitely not a place that Richard frequents. Is he cheating on me? There is no way, besides, there are people in this book who are in their 60's.

I continue about my day with my stomach churning nonstop. We are supposed to meet at the restuarant at 8 o'clock. It's past 6 p.m. and I can't stop thinking about what Richard is doing.

I go to the restaurant and see all of my beautiful friends and greet them and hear their congratultions. Then, Richard walks in, perfectly timed at 8 p.m., as he always done. If there is one thing about Richard, he is punctual. I wanted to confront him right there at the door, but I know now is not the time. Something about his is different now, that I never noticed before. He looks perfectly handsome, but his eyes- his eyes look odd. Our anniversary dinner goes by and it was a great time. To be around all the people I love the most, is a blessing.

The next day, Richard leaves for work. I immediately run to his office and look for the journal, but it's gone. I shuffle through everything, and it's like I imagined it. I get onto his computer, determined to find out what these names mean. I go through his texts, and nothing. The number from yesterday is gone. I'm so stupid, I should've wrote it down. I go to his emails, absolutely nothing. I then go open his documents and see a file recently downloaded. It's from a bank, but not from our banking account. And there it is, a deposit of $50,000. I get dressed and head to the bank.

I arrive at the bank and put on a helpless housewife act. I show the clerk my ID and tell him that it's urgent and my husband needs me to withdraw $50,000 and shockingly enough, he does it. My acting skills must be pretty good. I have the cash and now I'm determined to find out what my husband really does for a living. He can't lie to me now, now that I have proof that I needed. Only 5 more hours until he gets home...