• I saw her wedding ring on the night stand table, next to the alarm clock blinking 12:27, I was concerned. She may have awoken during the storm, perhaps gone to check the fuse box. Lightning may have struck the house right as she was at the switch or closing the metal door. I was worried I’d find her lying on the rug in the garage. Walking through the kitchen a question struggled to articulate itself.
    I stuck my head in the garage. Only one car, then the question came to me:
    Why would she take off her ring?
    The next day, I could not work. I just sat at my desk and uttered profanities. I started talking to Stephen. After hearing the story he said, “Why don’t you get back at her? I know this girl named Rita, she’ll do you better than your wife ever could.”
    I didn’t have the nerve to call. He offered to make the appointment. I agreed.
    “Today,” I said, “make it for today.”
    On my lunch break I drove to the address Stephen had written on a yellow sticky note. It was a horrid motel. Room 37. The door was ajar and the shower was running. I went in, took off my pants and paced back and forth. When the door opened, I looked at my wife and shouted,
    “Your name is not Rita!”