Chapter 3: The Truth in the Parking Lot

Just as I was about to lose patience, my girlfriend finally came out. She was holding the hand of a little girl in a sparkly dance outfit, her hair done up with glitter and barrettes. On the other side of the girl was a tall man in his thirties—probably a parent. He looked successful, put-together, with a five o’clock shadow and an expensive-looking coat. The kind of dad you see at every school recital, always on his phone.

The man walked over to a black Mercedes parked by the curb, opened the door, and signaled for the little girl to get in first. The girl waved sweetly at my girlfriend to say goodbye. My girlfriend bent down, gave her a gentle hug, and said something that made the girl giggle.

So she was just inside with a student’s parent. The whole scene looked innocent enough, just another Tuesday night in suburbia.

Maybe I really was overthinking. My heart slowed a little. Maybe the pills were just a misunderstanding, too. People get prescriptions for all sorts of reasons, right? I tried to talk myself down, telling myself not to be that suspicious boyfriend.

Everyone who knows my girlfriend says she’s sweet and well-behaved. She always brings cupcakes to the studio on kids’ birthdays, always calls her mom on Sunday afternoons. I know better than anyone—she blushes just hearing a dirty joke. How could she possibly cheat on me?

Thinking that, I actually felt guilty for doubting her. I let out a shaky breath, telling myself I needed to trust her. Maybe I was the problem, not her.

But then, I saw something that hit me like a punch to the gut. The kind of blow that makes your ears ring.

After the little girl got in the car, the man blocked the window with his body, slid his hand under her sweater, fingers pressing against her skin, bold and casual, like they’d done this a hundred times. My girlfriend giggled and slapped him playfully. Her laugh floated up in the night—comfortable, practiced. There was no way this was their first time.