My name is Steven and for a long time I thought I understood Deborah. We had been together for 6 years and engaged for almost two. Our wedding was 7 weeks away. Everything was planned. The venue was booked.
The invitations had been sent. My brother William was my best man. Deborah had spent months talking about flowers, music, seating charts, and every other detail I didn't know existed until I got engaged. Our life wasn't complicated. I worked in commercial construction and Deborah managed a dental office.
We lived in a townhouse outside Portland and every family gathering seemed to turn into another wedding planning meeting. I was looking forward to it being over. Not because I didn't want to marry her. I wanted the opposite. I wanted the wedding behind us so we could stop planning our life and start living it.
Then Deborah changed the subject one Friday night. We were sitting on the back patio. I had just finished grilling and she was scrolling through her phone. "Can I ask you something? " she said. "Depends. " She smiled.
"Don't be difficult. " "Ask. " She put her phone face down. That caught my attention. "What would you think about doing something completely different before the wedding? " I leaned back. "Different how? " She hesitated. Then she said, "Going to a private party. " "What kind of party? " Deborah looked directly at me.
"A swinger's party. " For a second I thought she was trying to provoke me. Then I saw her face. She was serious. I put my beer down. "Explain. " "It's not as bad as it sounds. " That's usually how bad ideas begin.
She gave me an irritated look. "Steven, I'm serious. It's not like we'd be committing to anything. We could just go, meet people, see what it's like. " "See what it's like? " She folded her arms. "Something different. " I stared at her.
"We're getting married in 7 weeks. " "I know. And you want to spend a night at a swinger's party this close to our wedding? Why are you making it sound so disgusting? I'm repeating what you just said. She exhaled slowly.
Some couples do things like this together. It can make them closer. I shook my head. Not me. You're not even willing to talk about it?
We are talking about it. My answer is no. Her expression changed. Not hurt, disappointed. That was what stayed with me.
I stood up and carried my empty bottle toward the kitchen. Behind me, Deborah said, "You're being closed-minded. " I turned around. No, I'm being clear. You want to experiment with other people. I don't.
If that's something you need before marrying me, then maybe we need to have a different conversation. She looked away. Forget I said anything. I watched her pick up her phone. "Fine," I said.
"But don't bring it up again. " At the time, I thought that was the end of it. Three days later, I realized Deborah hadn't asked me for permission. She had been checking whether I would stop her. For the next few days, Deborah acted like the conversation on the patio had never happened. That was the first thing I didn't like.
If she had laughed it off or admitted she was curious and embarrassed, I could have understood that. Instead, she went quiet about it. Too quiet. At the same time, other things changed. She started taking her phone into the bathroom.
She began leaving for the gym later than usual and coming home with her hair still dry. And twice, when I walked into a room, she locked her screen so quickly that it was impossible not to notice. I didn't confront her. Not yet. I wasn't interested in accusations without facts.
Thursday night, I came home early from a job site because a delivery had been delayed. Deborah wasn't home. I walked in and saw her laptop sitting open on the dining table. I walked past it. Then, I stopped.