She answered on the first ring.
"Hey, you land okay?"
I had texted her the night before that I was covering Cancun. She had no idea what had happened.
"Ryan was on my flight."
A pause.
"To Cancun?"
"With a woman named Ashley."
Another pause.
Longer.
"Tell me what you need."
That was why I called Monica.
Not "I told you so."
Not "I knew it."
Not even "Are you okay?" when obviously I was not.
Tell me what you need.
"I need someone to stop me from calling him."
"Done."
"I need to know if I'm crazy for wanting to go through every financial statement we have."
"You're not crazy."
"And tomorrow I need the number of that family lawyer your friend used."
"I'll get it tonight."
I lay back against the headboard.
"I don't know if I want a divorce."
Monica was quiet.
"You don't have to know tonight."
"He lied to me this morning while he was packing for her."
"I know."
"He kissed me goodbye."
"I know."
"What kind of person does that?"
"A person you are allowed to stop protecting from the consequences of his own choices."
I stared at the ceiling.
That sentence stayed with me.
Ryan called eleven times that night.
I did not answer.
He texted first with panic.
Please talk to me.
Then explanation.
It's not what you think.
Then minimization.
Ashley and I have been having problems too.