“Who?” I asked, still confused, stepping back as she closed the gap.
“The woman you’ve been seeing. Colleen. Who is she?”
I wondered how she knew about Colleen. Then it hit me. She was jealous. The audacity of it made me laugh, which only fueled her anger.
“Is this funny to you?” she snapped.
“Yeah, it is. The hypocrisy is pretty hilarious.”
She ignored my remark. “Who is she?” she repeated.
I didn’t owe her an answer, but I gave her one. “Someone I met at the gym.”
Her response was dripping with irony. “The gym, of course.”
“How do you know about her?” I countered, shifting the focus.
She hesitated, then admitted, “I saw you at Golden Corral a few weeks ago, laughing with her. I got curious, so I went through your phone.”
“You went through my phone?” I gasped, feeling violated.
She wasn’t my wife anymore.
“Yeah, I saw texts from a woman named Colleen and connected it.”
I almost got indignant, but remembered my own snooping. Instead, I shrugged.
“What does it matter? We’re separated. You’re with Derek. Did you expect me to stay celibate while you enjoyed being single?”
Her anger flickered, but faded quickly. She seemed to realize her own hypocrisy.
“I guess I didn’t think about you with someone else,” she admitted softly, a hint of sadness in her voice.
Instead of feeling vindicated, I felt offended. “Oh, so because you didn’t want me, you thought no one else would?” I shot back.
“You’re putting words in my mouth,” she defended.
“Your actions speak for themselves,” I countered.
She almost argued, but stopped herself. Then, in a quieter tone, she confessed, “You’re right, Artie. I didn’t think another woman would be interested. But now that you’ve lost weight…”
She didn’t finish, but the message was clear. When I was overweight, she didn’t worry about other women. Now that I was fit and attractive, it was a problem. Too bad.