Dani Shapiro

And you think he might be lying, said the investigator.

Did I see the laughter behind his eyes, or is my memory supplying it now?

Because I simply cannot imagine a middle-aged man listening to an earnest, overdressed 22-year-old girl tell him that she thinks her boyfriend might still be sleeping with his wife.

Yes, I said.

Days later, I got the proof about Lenny's lies.

In tears, I called my mother.

Oh, darling, I'm so sorry.

Is there anything I can do?

I don't think so.

A pause.

Do you want me to call his wife?

My mother and Mrs. Klein had met each other at a few school functions back when none of this could have struck anyone as a remote possibility.

Yes, I said, call her.

I'll do it right now, my mother said.

I sat by the phone and watched the minutes tick by.

I pictured Lenny's wife answering the phone with a chirpy hello and my mother's slow, steady explanation of why she was calling.

I had set in motion a chain of events which was now unstoppable.

More than 20 minutes passed before my mother called me back.

Well, I did it, she said.

You talked to her?