Doubt

She knew the exact moment when she had first had that thought-and shivered, buried it a thousand fathoms deep, from which place she dug it out, three months later, still raw and red, and turned it over in her mind, as she went through his credit card statements, every pocket, every book, every paper, even ATM receipts that he would throw around;she smelt all his shirts,was that hers?,no, smelt like soap, she was an idiot, why should she think this, but somewhere, somewhere, she knew, knew it, and this was driving her crazy, this doubt, and she should just confront him, she should, and now it's six months later, and he never comes home late, and he always calls, but she knew it, knew it, and what's to be done, the children love him, and so does she, and now she has clippings of ads by detective agencies, a whole scrapbook of them, numbers circled neatly in red, but she hasn't called even one, and oh, this is crazy, and the magnets on the fridge seem to form a strange haiku, a meaning only she can decipher, and then one day, he says, we need to talk, and oh, the relief, when he says this may come as a shock, and I know you'll hate me, but I don't love you anymore, and she asks, her voice steady, why, is there someone else, and he can't meet her eyes, and she knew it, knew it, and it's over, and she's delirious from the relief so she smiles at him, the happiest she's been in months, and he looks at her like she's crazy, and maybe she is, but god, it's over, and now the world is solid again, and red is red, green is green, and she can only smile at the man who's broken her heart.