Spinach in the Teeth of Spies

The surveillance photograph showed grainy evidence: my husband Daniel in the parking garage, his hand resting possessively on another woman's lower back. I stared at it over my lunch at Amarillo's, spinach from my spinach salad somehow stuck between my teeth, as if life weren't already humiliating enough.

My best friend Elena slid into the booth across from me. She'd dyed her hair again—this time a calculated shade of corporate blonde that matched her promotion to VP of Operations. We'd worked together fifteen years, since we were both entry-level analysts with stars in our eyes.

"You're being surveilled," she said, not asking. She slid a folder across the table. "I found the contractor. They've been tracking you for months."

Months.

I flipped through the photos. Daniel and various women. Me at my grief support group. Me buying antidepressants at CVS. My hand trembled.

"Why?"

Elena's palm covered mine. Her skin felt cold. "Daniel's preparing for a custody battle. He's building a file to prove you're unfit."

"But we don't have—"

"You're pregnant."

The breath left me. I hadn't told anyone. Not even Daniel.

"I'm a spy, Sarah," Elena said softly. "Not for the company. For you. I've been monitoring Daniel's digital footprint since he started working late. I found the surveillance contract in his outbox."

The spinach still stuck in my teeth. The betrayal unfolding like layers. My husband. My best friend, who'd hired someone to spy on him for me.

"How long have you known about the baby?"

"Three weeks."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"I needed proof first. That I could protect you."

The waitress refilled our water glasses, unaware she was witnessing the end of a fifteen-year friendship. I looked at Elena's carefully styled hair, her calculated ambition, the ruthless efficiency with which she loved people.

"You hired someone to follow my husband."

"I saved you from walking into court blind."

"You violated my privacy to protect my privacy."

Elena withdrew her hand. "That's what friends do."

"No," I said, finally understanding what Daniel had seen in me before I understood it myself. "That's what spies do."

I left Amarillo's alone. The spinach was still in my teeth, and for the first time in my life, I didn't care about appearances enough to fix it.