30 Day Writing Challenge
Jorge makes it home just in time today, but when he walks in he doesn’t find Valentina. The kids aren’t home either—this is strange, he thinks. He walks cautiously into the living space towards the kitchen as if someone is going to jump out at him. No one is there. No one is home. He’d never heard the house so quiet. He pulls out his phone to check his messages, oh no, wrong phone, he thinks and checks his other pocket for the other phone. Jorge pats his back pockets and his front pockets, checks his coat, and spins around 3 times scanning the surrounding area. He runs to his car to see if his phone is in the car. Panic starts to seep in. Jorge’s face turns ghost white as he frantically checks his car.
This has never happened before. He used to be so careful. Now with everything going on, he’s losing his grip on things. He’s slipping up. This is all because of the baby, he thinks. Hitting himself across the forehead he grimaces at his own arrogance. He can feel it in his gut, this is all about to blow up. Well, at least he has his kids, he thinks. They will forgive him one day, he thinks.
Still not sure where Valentina and the kids are, Jorge jumps back into his car to retrieve his phone. All his hard work and effort to make it on time today is out the window. Now he will for sure be late to dinner. Once again, Jorge drives up McArthur Blvd at lighting speed. He makes it to his destination in just 45 minutes, a record speed! Looking at his watch, he thinks, oh man, maybe I can make it before Valentina, there’s still hope.
Jorge hurries out of the car towards the door, not noticing the white SUV parked in front of the house. He fiddles with his keys at the front door, trying to find the right one. Dang it, he thinks, so many dang keys. Before he can find the right one, the door opens. “Jorge,” he hears someone say.
“Oh hahaha, Jorge, I like that! His name is George. Valentina, I’d like to introduce you to my husband,” says Melissa. Jorge—George—Jorge is afraid to look up. Valentina, a fierce little women, retorts, “Oh that’s funny, when did you start going by George, Jorge?!”
Melissa looks at Valentina baffled, and Valentina continues, “I knew something fishy was going on. But this! This is too much! This is unbelievable. I thought to myself, how can you afford a BMW as a journalist, huh? One minute you were a starving writer and the next you are traveling the world as a journalist?! Did you think I was stupid?! i started to think, uhm if he’s lying about his income, what else is he lying about! I’ve been following you around for months— waiting for you to slip up. Well here you are. Do you care to explain to your other wife what is going on here Jorge Sebastian Martinez de Peña?!”
Still trying to process what is coming out of Valentina’s mouth, Melissa starts to put the pieces together, “Wait, are you? Are you saying George is….is….George what is going on?
There is no hiding now, no explaining, no rushing from place to place. Jorge slowly lifts his gaze to meet Melissa’s—the guilt and shame in his eyes confirming her biggest fears. Just like that, one by one, the skeletons in his closet come tumbling out…