Part 2: What Frank Couldn’t Read
Frank had been our neighbor when Eliam and I bought our first home.
He and his wife, Marian, had been wonderful people.
They collected packages for neighbors.
Remembered birthdays.
And somehow always knew when the neighborhood recycling schedule changed.
Marian had passed away two years earlier.
Not long after, Frank sold their house and moved closer to his grandson.
We hadn’t seen him since Marian’s funeral.
And now he stood beside my husband, holding a bright green lunchbox decorated with cartoon dinosaurs.
Whatever suspicions I’d been forming about an affair vanished.
But the new mystery was almost as puzzling.
Why would Eliam secretly take a week off work to spend time with our former neighbor?
I watched them sit down at an outdoor table.
Eliam opened his laptop.
Frank took a stack of cards out of a folder.
From where I sat, I couldn’t hear them.
But I could see Frank studying one card and pointing at something written on it.
Eliam gently shook his head.
Frank tried again.
Another shake.
The older man looked more and more frustrated.
But Eliam didn’t reach over and hand him the answer.
He just sat there.
Waiting.
Finally, Frank pointed to something else.
Eliam smiled.
Frank rolled his eyes, and they both seemed to laugh.
A few minutes later, they gathered their things and went back inside.
I waited until they were gone before crossing the street.
Near the entrance was a sign.
ADULT LEARNING CENTER
Beneath it were three words.
READING — WRITING — DIGITAL SKILLS
I stared at the sign.
Then I thought about the cards.
Frank hadn’t been showing Eliam work documents.
He had been practicing reading.
The realization left me standing motionless by the entrance.
One part of the mystery finally made sense.
But another part remained.
Why had my husband felt he had to lie to me for five days in a row just to help Frank?
That evening, I put his medication bottle in the middle of our kitchen table.
When Eliam walked in, he noticed it right away.
“I thought I said I’d take those with me.”
“To your office?”
He stopped moving.
I could see the exact moment he understood.
“Sandy…”
“I went to your workplace yesterday.”
He slowly pulled out a chair.
“Let me explain.”
“The receptionist told me you’ve been on leave all week.”
He nodded.
“Yes.”
“And today I followed your car.”
His expression changed.
“You followed me?”
“Yes.”
“Sandy, you can’t just—”
“I know.”
I didn’t try to defend what I’d done.
Following my husband had crossed a line.
But so had pretending to work every morning while inventing meetings that never happened.
“You’ve been acting out an entire workweek,” I said.
He sat down.
I stayed on my feet.
“Why are you spending your days at a learning center with Frank?”
His face changed at once.
“You saw Frank?”
“Yes.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Does he know?”
“No.”
“Good.”
That one word made me angrier.
“Good? Eliam, you’ve been lying to me all week, and that’s what you’re worried about?”
“I made him a promise.”
“What kind of promise?”
“I can’t explain everything. Some of it isn’t mine to share.”
I stared at him.
“Then explain the part that is yours.”
He looked up.
“You took vacation days,” I went on. “You got dressed for work every morning. You carried your laptop out the door. You came home complaining about meetings and traffic.”
He nodded.
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Because Frank asked me to keep his situation private.”
“Then you could have told me you were taking leave.”
“You would’ve wanted to know why.”
“Of course I would’ve. But you could’ve said someone needed your help and you weren’t allowed to discuss the details.”
Eliam went quiet.
“I thought you’d be concerned,” he finally admitted.
“Concerned? Do you have any idea how frightened I was when your receptionist told me you hadn’t been there all week?”
He lowered his eyes.
“I know.”
“I don’t think you do.”
I sat down across from him.
“You didn’t have to reveal Frank’s private business. You only had to be truthful about your own.”
He stared at the pill bottle between us.
“I didn’t want to break my promise.”
“I never asked you to.”
“I thought if you knew anything was going on, you’d realize something was wrong.”
“Something was wrong, Eliam. My husband was lying to my face.”
He leaned back.
“I was trying to protect Frank.”
“From whom? Me?”
He looked truly hurt by the question.
“No.”
“Then what?”
He hesitated.
“Frank is ashamed.”
“Of having trouble reading?”
Eliam’s expression told me I’d guessed right.
But before he could say more, I raised my hand.
“Actually, don’t answer that. You’re right. That part belongs to Frank.”
Eliam nodded.
Then he began explaining what he could.
