39: Suspicions Confirmed

(originally posted 02/02/2012)

(Okay. I've forgotten what day of the week it actually is. I think it was late Saturday night?)

I'm so mad at Greg I slept on the couch.


Sunday

How could Greg talk to me like that? I wasn't throwing myself at John! And what one earth is up with this Sylvia girl? The way she looked... The expressions on her face. Like she knew something I didn't know.

My phone rings.


John: Hey, I didn't wake you did I?
Me: No, I'm out in the garden.
John: Greg is still asleep I take it?
Me: I guess. Right now I just don't care.

There's a pause.

John: I'm sorry if I caused something between you two. That wasn't my intention, honest. I just wanted to talk.
Me: Don't worry about it. Greg got bit by the as.hole bug yesterday apparently. And what the hell is up with this Sylvia person anyway? Who is she?
John: Um, yeah, there's something I need to talk to you about.

I could picture him twisting his neck around to work out a few kinks. He sounds like something's bothering him.

Me: Does this have anything to do with what we talked about yesterday?
John: Huh? Oh. No, it doesn't. Could you meet me somewhere?
Me: Um, well I have to do some things today. Maybe tomorrow, okay? I'll call you and let you know.

There's an anxious sigh at the other end of the line.

John: Alright... and don't hesitate to also call me if you need anything.
Where did that come from?
Me: Uh, ok, thanks.

We hang up. I do more gardening, and when I'm done I hear a woman's voice coming from inside the house.


Sylvia: Greg, honest, if you ever expect to get past 3rd base again there's going to have to be a few changes around here.

What?!


Greg says nervously: Yeah that was a crazy game the other week wasn't it? It's amazing how many times I got tagged out at home plate.

I glance at the two of them as I walk by on my way up to check on Ben. Why is she even here?


Sylvia: Hello, Elena. I just came by to drop off a schedule for Greg.
Me: Hi.

I go upstairs and stay up there about half an hour or so. When I walk out of Ben's bedroom I can hear Sylvia's voice downstairs. How long does it take to drop off a schedule?


Greg: Sylvia, you know how I feel about that. I just can't.

I walk down the stairs.


Sylvia: But Greg, I told you. It'll work.

I'm really ready for this woman to leave now. As I walk around the couch I watch the two of them have a wordless conversation with their eyes.


Greg: No.
Sylvia: Please, Greg. Just try.

I can't take this anymore. She needs to leave.


Me: Sylvia, you've dropped off the schedule ages ago. Don't you have somewhere else you need to be?
Sylvia: Geez, Elena. Take it easy. (She says to the nasty look I'm throwing her.)

I have an idea about what is going on, but I wish I didn't. There are just too many clues here for me to ignore. What the hell, Greg? You're cheating on me aren't you?

Me: No, I'm not going to take it easy. (I look at Greg.) You're cheating on me? With HER? (I turn to her.) What kind of sorry woman goes after a married man?

Oops. Uh. That was me once. Well, that was a mistake.


Sylvia: Well, if you MUST KNOW. Greg and I have been friends for a long, long time. Longer than he's even known YOU, Miss Holier-Than-Thou.
Greg: We're friends, Elena.

Greg stands there staring at Sylvia.

Holier-Than-Thou? Because I slept with him when he was still married to Betty? She's implying that I'm no better than she is. She IS sleeping with him! Huh. No, you're not JUST friends, Greg.


Me: Oh, don't you even. I'm not an idiot. I see what's going on.
Sylvia sighs exasperatedly: Nothing is going on, Elena. Nothing but a friendship. If you can't handle that then that's your problem.

Greg looks at me with a worried expression.


Me: I was standing RIGHT HERE. Do you think I'm blind? Do you think I don't recognize what's going on? So, what, you're asking him to leave me? Get out.
Sylvia: I'm out of here. Greg, I'm sorry for you. I'm sorry you have to live with this crazy woman.

I look at Greg. He looks at me pleadingly, then turns and runs out the door to catch up to Sylvia. I watch them through the kitchen windows on the sidewalk outside. She's crying, he's patting her shoulders and trying to calm her down. I swear, if he puts his arms around her, I'm locking the front door and not letting him in. I know he doesn't have his keys. Those pants have no pockets.


I have no idea why, but as I watch the two of them I have the song "Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend" running through my head. Maybe there's some truth to that.