Ashley came to the salon again on Thursday.
She arrived five minutes after two.
Her hair was tied back, and she wore no ring.
I noticed immediately.
I didn't ask about it.
She sat in the chair and placed her handbag on the counter.
For a while, she looked at herself in the mirror without speaking.
I wrapped the cape around her shoulders.
"Same color?"
She nodded.
"Please."
I began combing through her hair.
The silence felt different from the silence during our last appointment.
Before, she had filled every empty moment with a story about Dale.
Now she seemed afraid that anything she said might make the situation worse.
I could understand that feeling.
I had spent years choosing my words around him.
Finally, Ashley spoke.
"He hasn't called me much."
I continued working.
"I'm sorry to hear that."
She looked at me in the mirror.
"Are you?"
I met her eyes.
"I'm sorry you're hurting. That doesn't mean I'm going to pretend none of this happened."
She nodded slowly.
I began sectioning her hair.
She told me Dale had blamed her for the appointment at the salon.
He said she had been careless.
He said she had put him in an embarrassing position.
She had asked him why he wanted the documents notarized by someone who supposedly didn't know them.
He had told her that he was trying to keep business matters separate from his personal life.
She didn't know whether to believe him anymore.
I listened.
I wasn't going to tell her what to think.
She had to decide that for herself.
After a while, she spoke about the condo.
Dale had told her it was arranged through the company.
She had never asked to see the paperwork.
She had assumed that because he worked in roofing and understood business, he knew what he was doing.
I understood the mistake.
Not the affair.
Not the way she had spoken about me.
But the belief that someone who sounded confident must be telling the truth.
"Did he tell you the company was struggling?" I asked.
"Yes."
"And did he explain how he could afford the condo, the boat, and the ring?"
She looked down.
"He said he had money set aside."
"Did you see the account?"
"No."
I continued combing through her hair.
She had trusted him to explain the things she didn't understand.
I had done the same.
There was a difference between us, and I did not want to pretend otherwise.
She had known he was married.
I had not known he was planning to leave me.
She had chosen to believe his story about his wife.
I had chosen to believe my husband about our finances.
Those choices were not equal.
But neither of us had the whole truth.
Ashley looked at the mirror.
"I thought I was the person he was building a future with."
I separated another section.
"What did he tell you about the divorce?"
"That it would be easy. He said you wouldn't fight over the business because you didn't know anything about it."
I felt the familiar tightness in my chest.
"He was wrong about that."
She nodded.
"I know."
She did not defend herself.
That made the conversation easier, though it did not make it comfortable.
I finished applying the color and set the timer.
While we waited, Ashley asked whether I had been married to Dale for a long time.
"Twenty-six years."
She closed her eyes.
"I can't imagine."
I looked at her reflection.
"Neither could I, when I thought I knew him."
She opened her eyes.
"Do you think he ever loved me?"
I had no answer that would help her.
I couldn't tell her what Dale had felt.
I couldn't know whether he had loved her, loved me, or loved the way each of us made him feel.
I could only tell her what his choices had done.
"I think his feelings are something you'll have to decide how to understand," I said. "But his actions are real, whether he loved you or not."
She looked at the ringless hand resting on the arm of the chair.
Then she nodded.
I rinsed her hair.
The water ran over the strands and into the basin.
She sat still, staring at the ceiling.
When I finished, I wrapped her hair in a towel.
She looked tired.
Not like somebody who had lost a contest.
Like somebody who had discovered that the future she had imagined was built on things she had never checked.
I dried her hair and styled it.
She watched me work without speaking.
When I finished, she stood and reached into her handbag.
She took out a twenty-dollar bill.
For a moment, she held it between her fingers.
Then she placed it on the counter.
"Thank you."
I put the bill in the drawer.
"You're welcome."
She walked toward the door.
Before leaving, she turned back.
"I don't know what I can tell you that would help."
I looked at her.
"If you remember something that matters, tell the truth. Don't make it bigger, and don't make it smaller."
She nodded.
Then she left.
I watched the white Lexus pull away.
I did not feel better.
I felt clearer.
Ashley had given me information, but her pain was not proof of anything.
Her stories could help establish what Dale had told her.
The records would have to establish what he had actually done.
I returned to my station and wrote down the important parts of our conversation.
I kept her statements separate from my own conclusions.
Then I closed the book and put it away.
Click here to continue reading: PART 16: The Appointment Book Could Tell Me What Ashley Had Said, but Only the Records Could Tell Me What Dale Had Actually Done
The Woman Who Kept Coming Back Every Thursday, Never Knowing How Much Her Casual Stories Were Costing Me
Part 15 of 24
