Lies of Omission, or Just Lies?

"How long since your divorce, again?" I asked.

"Over a year. Why?" he responded.

"Nothing... just forgot there for a moment."

"I haven't. Now I get to plow a woman 16 years my junior!" His eyes twinkled as he grinned from ear to ear.

"Charming. Very charming. What happened?"

"We haven't been intimate since the kids were born. We grew apart. I don't love her any more."

"I see."

Something still didn't sit well with me, though. He still paid the mortgage on his family house, his ex-wife didn't work, and he paid all the bills. "For the kids' sake", he explained. He claimed he rented a room in Garden Grove, but always slept over at my place. We went out to eat, saw live shows, took in indie films, and spent long weekend nights in bed together. He told me about his ex-wife, and his days as a studio tech for some pretty cool bands from the past. He told me about his start-up business. He was amused that I insisted on paying my share whenever we went out together. He'd lay on the far side of the bed, stroking my cheek and telling me how gorgeous I look lying there next to him. I still couldn't shake that feeling in the back of my mind that something-- something-- wasn't quite right.

Early one morning, he called me. "I'm heading out of town for that trade show, and I wanted to call you from the airport just to hear your voice."

"Aw... I'll miss you, too! How long will you be gone?"

"A week. I'll call you first thing when I get back into town, I promise."

"OK, looking forward to it."

"You have my work number. Speaking of which, why haven't you ever used it?"

"I don't know... seems a tad presumtuous, I guess. Plus, I wouldn't want anyone I was romantically involved in calling me at work, ya know? Unless it was an emergency."

"Fair enough. I wouldn't mind, though... I like to hear your voice. Damn. I have to run... my flight's boarding. I'll call you when I get back into town. Miss you already."

"Have a great time! Talk to you soon. Take care of yourself."

Mimed kisses.

A week went by. No call.
8 days. Still nothing.
I call on day 9. Left a message.
Day 10, no response.
Day 11, I leave another message.
Days 12, 13, and 14 crawl by.
On day 15, I leave an angry message. "If you want to break it off with me, this is a pretty cruel fucking way to do it."

I never heard a word from him. A few months later, as I cleared a stack of papers from my desk, I found the number scribbled on an envelope. My curiosity piqued, I call. The operator answers, and I ask for him.

"May I ask who's calling please?" asks the operator.

I panic for a nanosecond and then blurt out my long-dormant suspicions: "Uh... his wife."

"Oh, sure, Mrs. ____. How are you? You're calling pretty early, huh?"

"Fine. Yes... I , uh... I am. Yes." I stutter.

He picks up the phone. "Hey, honey! Have you picked the kids up from practice yet?"

A moment of silence passes. I silently hang up the phone.

I've finally gotten my answer.