He’d make inappropriate comments about teenage girls. He liked that she was so tiny she shopped in the junior department. She caught him once looking at porn on the internet — young women dressed up like Catholic school girls.

These were the things she knew.

So yes, there were clues; but how could she have known the rest? It’s true she didn’t want to know. She didn’t investigate or explore. She may have thought what she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her, but it’s more likely she couldn’t allow herself to go there.

When she first met Dave, the thought of marrying a doctor seemed so glamorous. She would have a beautiful home and attend fancy parties wearing expensive evening gowns. And yes, these things all happened; but it was the other stuff she didn’t bargain for. The obsessive-compulsive behaviour, the strange food and cleaning requirements, and the complete lack of sympathy were all things she didn’t anticipate. As she got to know the other wives, she realized she wasn’t alone. It appeared that all doctors were the same way. When Christine was pregnant and fell down the stairs she said, “Oh no, the baby,” and Paul had told her she’d watched too many movies and to get up. Alicia’s husband demanded that the mail be put only in one spot, or he would go ballistic. Michelle’s husband insisted all the doorknobs be wiped down with diluted bleach every evening. Dave didn’t do any of this, but nobody in the family was allowed to ask him any medical questions, and there could be no food additives in anything he ate. Also, every floor surface needed to be daily cleaning. He was adamant that dirty floors were the root cause of all disease. This was Rachel’s life, and though it might seem odd to an outsider, she was used to it and even contented.

If only Dave could’ve been satisfied with their exclusive everyday life. He seemed to always need to step it up a notch. Some of the things were starting to make her feel uneasy. Instead of wanting Rachel to wear lingerie like some of the husbands, he wanted her to dress in white cotton panties and shave herself down there. And he wanted to play strange bedroom games. For some reason Rachel thought these games would be cathartic for Dave. She thought if she provided an outlet for his fantasies then he wouldn’t need to go on the internet anymore or check out their babysitters when they were walking away. But the games seemed to add fuel to the fire, and later she would hear him get up in the night and get on the computer. She never checked out what he was looking at, but as she lay awake listening to the familiar clicking of the mouse a dreadful feeling would come over her.

People said she must’ve known but when she said she didn’t it wasn’t a lie. She didn’t really know. She couldn’t really say she was shocked or didn’t believe it was true. Of course, this is what she said. She said the girl was making the whole thing up and she’d had a crush on Dave. When the charges were laid and the stories came out, she knew. But she kept up the charade. He came home the next morning from the police station denying everything. She supported him and washed the floors.

“I can’t believe this is happening to me,” he said.

“I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding.”

“You know I didn’t do it.”

“Of course you didn’t. I know you wouldn’t. You’re a pediatrician for Christ’s sake.” Was it accidental Dave chose pediatrics? It was only now that she’d allowed herself to think this. Was Darcy the first or just the first to tell on him?

“She probably thinks I’m rich. I’m no Michael Jackson. They’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“She’s probably just confused. She’s only thirteen.” She’s thirteen, Dave. Thirteen!

“She knows what she’s doing. Thirteen’s not that young. Her parents must think we’ve got cash.”

She bent down to scrub a spot the mop wouldn’t pick up, and she wiped a tear from her cheek. What next? Would they lose their home? Their cars? Live in some townhouse or apartment building eating Kraft dinner and taking public transit? This wasn’t the life she’d signed up for. This thirteen-year-old idiot wasn’t going to ruin her life. “Are you sure Brian’s good?”

“He’s supposed to be the best around.”

“Says who?”

“Ken.”

“Ken should know.”

Ken was the most ruthless divorce lawyer they knew. He hung men out to dry, stripping them of their homes, businesses, cars and their dignity. If Ken said Brian was good, Brian was good

When Dave went to hug her, she did her best to hug him back; but she couldn’t get rid of the dreadful thoughts going through her mind. You did it, didn’t you? You’re a sicko. What about our girls? Was this the first time? What are you looking at on the internet at night?

But worse than all these thoughts were the thoughts about what would become of them. Where would they live? What would people say? Would he lose his medical license? How would they pay the bills? She wasn’t going back to the life she’d had as a child: getting evicted, having the phone cut off, and eating pancakes for supper. She was one of “the wives”. People oohed and aahed when she said she was married to a doctor. How could Dave jeopardize everything they’d worked for, everything she’d struggled for?

“You need to call Brian,” she said.

“Yeah, I will.”

“Call him now.”

Brian came over and told them to go about their business as usual, not to talk about the case other than a quick denial, and to appear confident and sure at all times in the company of others. Brian explained that it was really a matter of he said, she said; and the he was Dr. David Blackwell a prominent physician in the community, and the she was Darcy Purdy a thirteen-year-old child of factory workers.

“I’m going to show how she’s unreliable. How she had a crush on him. How her family’s in debt, and how they’re fabricating this story to try and get out of this hole they’ve dug,” said Brian.

“How can you show she’s unreliable?” Rachel asked

“She’s thirteen. She’ll contradict herself. She’ll cry on the stand. I’ll trip her up. I’ve seen it before with the young kids when they’re in court; they get nervous and appear inconsistent.”

“Maybe it won’t get to that. Maybe she’ll drop the charges,” said Dave.

“I wouldn’t count on it. This one’s going all the way. Don’t worry though. She doesn’t have a chance in hell,” replied Brian. “I’ll be in touch.”

That night Rachel sat across the table from Dave and watched him eat in his hurried, disgusting manner. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world. He was going to wiggle out of this just as easily as he wiggled into Darcy’s pants. She couldn’t eat. She couldn’t even look at him.

“I’m going to bed,” she said.

“Already?”

“Yeah, I’m beat.”

But of course, she couldn’t sleep. She lay awake wondering how they were going to get their life back. And then she heard it; the click click click of the computer mouse. Rachel wasn’t going to lie there and pretend one more night. She crept out of bed and walked softly down the stairs. And when she peered in the office and saw the screen and what Dave was doing, a terrible feeling came over her, and it was all she could do to make it to the bathroom and retch.

“Honey, you okay?” he called out.

“Yeah, just an upset stomach.”

All week, Rachel couldn’t shake the feeling of disgust. This man that she’d married — the father of her three daughters–was revolting and she could no longer deny it. She could no longer say maybe, perhaps, or possibly. She knew what he was, and she couldn’t pretend anymore.

“Hey.”

“How’d it go at Brian’s?” she asked.

“Awesome. It looks like I’m going to get off. There are so many holes in their case; it probably won’t make it to court.”

“Really? That’s great.” She was going to get her life back. This would all blow over and the wives would start calling her again. The invitations would come back, and so too would their status. She grabbed the bucket from under the sink, filled it with hot water and Mr.Clean and retrieved the mop from the pantry.

“Are you going to wash the floors right now?”

“Yes, could you watch the girls?” she asked.

“Sure.”

Rachel mopped the floors until they gleamed, all the while planning for the party they would have once Dave got off. It would be a wine tasting with heavy hors d’oeuvres, and they’d hire servers and maybe a harp player. When she heard Georgia scream out, “No daddy!” she flew down the stairs in a rage.

“Don’t you touch her!”

“What are you talking about? We’re having a tickle fight.”

“Yeah mommy, he’s tickling me.”

“Go get your pajamas on,” said Rachel. “Now!”

“Honey, don’t you think you’re overreacting a little?” said Dave.

“Sorry. I’m just overtired. I don’t think I’ve slept well with everything that’s been going on.” She walked up the stairs to finish her mopping and thought about how she could keep Dave away from the girls. Maybe she could get a nanny. An extra pair of eyes couldn’t hurt. Maybe she could go back to work. Maybe she could meet another doctor at the hospital. Despite having three kids she still had a nice figure due to her religious morning run. Still, it’s not like she’d be hot property—three kids, and now this scandal.

“The floors look great hon. You okay?”

“Yeah. You just startled me. I think I’m ready to call it a night.”

“You’re going to bed this early?” asked Dave.

“Yeah. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

But as tired as she was, she just laid there wide awake and listened to Dave walk around. And then she heard it: click click click. She rolled herself into a tiny ball and cried herself to sleep.

The next day when Dave came back from his meeting with Brian he was not as chipper.

“Well?”

“Well, it looks like things aren’t looking as good as Brian had hoped.”

“What do you mean?” asked Rachel.

“I mean it looks like the other side has some new evidence, and they want their day in court.”

“What?”

“I know. I know it’s just complete and utter bull. Brian will fix it. It’s just a complication.”

“Yes. Yes, I’m sure Brian will fix it. Are you going back to work?” Rachel asked.

“No, they said until all this blows over I should just be on sabbatical. I’m sure it won’t be much longer. Maybe you could pick up some nursing shifts at the hospital.”

“What? I haven’t worked since the girls were born.”

“Well, you’ve kept up your license. How hard would it be to work as a floor nurse? They’re desperate for nurses over there right now.”

“Who would watch the girls?”

“I could watch them. I am a pediatrician you know?”

“I know. You’re just always so busy,” she said.

“Well, I’m not anymore.”

“I…I’ll look into it tomorrow.”

The next morning Rachel didn’t go for her run. She did wake up at her usual time, but instead she lay there staring at the bright red numbers on her alarm clock. She seemed to be in a bit of a trance and was startled by a loud knock on the door. She got out of bed and went to the door.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s the police. We have a search warrant for your home.”

“I’m calling Brian,” Dave said to Rachel as he stumbled out of bed and bee-lined for the phone.

Rachel opened the door and let the police in. “What are we supposed to do?” she asked.

“Ma’am it would be best if you and your husband take the kids and go out to the backyard, and we’ll call you when were done.”

“What are you searching for?” she asked.

“Our warrant just covers your husband’s office and your bedroom,” said the police officer.

“Brian’s on his way over. He said he’d meet us in the backyard. Grab the girls, and we’ll play with them on the swing-set,” said Dave.

When Brian came to the backyard he didn’t look the slightest bit shocked to see them all playing in their pajamas.

“What’d they take?” asked Dave.

“Not much. A laptop, a computer, some papers from your office.”

Dave’s face went white. “Why’d they take the computers?”

“They were on the warrant,” said Brian.

Rachel pushed Lindsey in the swing and decided the day was too pretty to wash floors.

About the Author

Amy Corbin

Amy has been published in filling Station, The Cynic, Ascent Aspirations, Shine, Every Day Poets, Every Day Fiction, Haruah: A Breath of Heaven, Ignavia Press, Flask and Pen,The Battered Suitcase, Flashes in the Dark, Short Story Library, Smokebox, Writers’ Stories, Wanderings, The New Flesh, and Boston Literary Magazine. She likes to drink strong coffee and sing in her car.