How does it feel when you realize that someone you know was a stranger?
Just over the muted flatscreen TV, the clock struck ten. For the umpteenth time that night, I tore my gaze away from the clock, staring instead at the glass of rich red wine in my hand. My hand was shaking in anger, I could still feel the stab of betrayal.
Just then, I heard the door open. But I didn't move. I stayed still and I also heard it close. I knew the moment she saw me.
"You're awake." She muttered hesitantly, "I thought you'd be asleep."
"I was waiting for you," I replied, still staring at my wine glass.
She walked to the living room and stood before me, dropping her handbag on the couch, she sat beside it. Suddenly, she looked different. She felt different. And she was my wife.
"Are you okay honey?" She asked me, while I kept quiet.
"Where are you coming from?" I asked abruptly.
"I told you there was a fundraiser tonight to help trafficked"
I looked away, not bothering to hear the rest of what she had to say. As I finished the content of the wine glass and kept it on the stool beside me.
"Do you know who John is?" I asked, my wife was quiet and cool in the confines of the living room.
"Your friend?" She replied.
"Yes. But we're not friends. We only met a week ago."
"Okay," she was still wondering where all my questions were leading. I didn't want to disappoint.
"He's a private investigator." I watched her eyes widen as the realization dawned, "I had him follow you."
I dug under the fluffy couch pillow and pulled out an envelope. I emptied its content on the center table, exposing pictures and documents of my wife.
"Baby, I can explain." She got to her feet.
"Explain?" I echoed. "I would love to hear that!"
"If you would just give me a…."
"You're going to explain how on earth I'm married to a KGB agent?"
As I dropped the bomb, the house fell quiet. That moment she knew she was busted and had no other lies to give.
"Uhm…" She muttered, there was a deft movement of her hands and suddenly there was a .22 in her hand. But I was prepared. I snatched up my magnum and pointed it at her just as she pointed her at me. We were both staring at the business ends of each other's pistols.
"It's over," I told her, "Surrender now!"
"No! I'm not!" You just messed up real bad."
"I did? How so?"
She chuckled lightly, but her gun didn't waver. "My dear husband. You just blew your cover as well."
"My cover?" I muttered, my pistol shook slightly from shock. "What are you talking about?"
"What kind of Professor packs a magnum? And now, I'm sure you're not a Professor. You're MI6, aren't you? And John is not a private investigator, he's your handler! So tell me, why should I surrender to a British spy?"
"Well, I'm not surrendering to a Russian Spy either."
"So, a Russian Spy and a British Spy on American soil. A match made in heaven. So what's it gonna be? Darling? Are we gonna kill each other? Or are we gonna fix this mess? We just found ourselves."
We kept our weapons raised for over ten seconds. Then we eventually lowered them. At the same time.
"So, now what?" She asked.
"You call your handler, I call mine. And we get to the bottom of this."
We set to work, as we did, one thing was certain. The home we knew, the one we had built on lies and secrets, was gone with the wind.
