S Is for Silence

years of marriage, she’d be devastated. Better to take the high road and spare her the stigma of divorce and abandonment. His relationship with Violet was his to bear and he’d shoulder it like a man.
    He’d checked the classified ads for apartments in Santa Teresa and spotted a rental he thought would serve. Clean and attractive, with an ocean view, it said. He could drive down to see Violet every chance he got. He’d fill her life with riches—clothes, travel, anything she wanted. She might resist at first, not wanting to be beholden, but now that the Bel Air was hers, she’d realize how far he was willing to go.
    He filled the ice bucket with water and arranged the flowers, already fantasizing what was coming next. Compared to Violet, he was inexperienced and that was humbling. At the dealership, he was always on top—figuratively speaking—but here he yielded, allowing her to do with him as she would. Violet was the boss and he found himself giving up all power to her. The change was restful, a possibility that had never occurred to him. With Livia, he sometimes had to talk himself into making love. He had his physical needs, but it was just as easy to take care of them himself. With Violet, he was charged, half out of his mind in anticipation of her.
    Oddly enough, he’d caught sight of her earlier in the day. Shortly after noon, he’d driven into Santa Maria to do his end-of-the-week banking, forgetting that the bank would be closed for the Fourth of July. He’d parked near the Savoy Hotel, and as he was passing the tea shop window, he chanced to look in. There sat Violet with her little daughter, Daisy, and Liza Mellincamp, having a gay old time of it. He smiled at how happy she looked, probably because the car was now hers. He was tempted to tap on the glass and wave to her, but he thought better of it. From now on, in public, he’d act like he didn’t have a clue who she was.
    4:20. She was late, which she’d warned him about. At 4:26 he checked his watch again, wondering if something had gone dreadfully wrong. If she’d been unavoidably delayed, there was no way she could call because she couldn’t be sure what name he’d used when he was checking in. On the off chance Foley had arrived home unexpectedly, she could hardly excuse herself and go use the phone. Foley was paranoid as it was. Between bouts of lovemaking the day before, she’d let slip some of the things he’d done to her, the threats, promises of retribution if he ever found out she’d betrayed him again. Chet was appalled, but she’d shrugged it off as though it was no big deal. “But I’ll tell you one thing,” she’d said. “Next time he comes after me, that’s it for him. I’m out.”
    4:29. Chet could feel anxiety roiling in his gut. What if Foley had gotten wind of their rendezvous? Chet didn’t dare leave. If she finally showed up and he was gone, she’d be furious.
    At 4:36, he heard a tap on the door. He pulled the curtain aside, half-expecting to see Foley with a gun in his hand. It was Violet, thank god. He opened the door and in she strolled without a word of explanation. He waited, thinking surely she’d offer an excuse—errands, Daisy, heavy traffic on the road.
    “Jesus, what happened? You said four.” He knew his tone was accusatory, but he was so relieved to see her he couldn’t help himself.
    “That’s all you’ve got to say to me? I risk life and limb getting here and you’re pissed that I’m late? I told you not to get your shorts up your crack.”
    “Of course I’m not pissed. I was just worried, that’s all. I’m sorry if I came off sounding like a jerk.”
    “Where’d the flowers come from? You buy those for me?”
    “You like them?”
    “Sure, but it’s a lot of money for thirty minutes max.” She tossed her purse on the chair and slipped off her heels, which she kicked to one side.
    “That’s all the time you have? I thought you said an hour?”
    “That’s right. I got an hour and now half of it’s gone, so don’t hassle me, okay? We’ve got better things to do.” She began peeling off her clothes. Dress. Panties. She unhooked her bra, letting her breasts swing free. He couldn’t pinpoint her mood. Under the casual manner, there was an edginess he didn’t like. He waited for mention of the car, but she didn’t say a word. She might be uncomfortable expressing gratitude. She was staring at him. “Are you going to strip or just stand there and look at me all