Stephanie

Rachel is visiting your home when a conversation about the past turns to Stephanie’s life before you met. You’re sorting through your children’s school papers when Rachel recalls an old conversation with a laugh. “You used to tell me about all those dates. I remember you saying you’d been with over three hundred people by the time you finally settled down.” Your hands stop moving. “Over three hundred what?” Rachel’s laughter dies. Stephanie looks at her, startled, then turns toward you as the meaning of Rachel’s words becomes painfully clear. Before meeting you, your wife had been involved with more than three hundred people. “Oh,” Rachel murmurs. “You didn’t know.” She apologizes for bringing it up and leaves soon afterward. Stephanie walks her to the door, and you remain at the table, staring at the school papers until your wife returns. “Is it true?” you ask. “Yes.” She sits opposite you, her expression guarded but not ashamed. “I know it’s a lot to take in.” You’ve been married for five years and have two children together. When you were dating, Stephanie mentioned a handful of people from her past. You assumed there had been others, but never asked for a number. She hadn’t lied or claimed those few people were everyone. Neither of you had realized you held such different pictures of the same part of her life. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Stephanie looks down at her hands. “Because it wasn’t something I thought I needed to explain. Those were people from before you. I wasn’t comparing them to you, and I didn’t think a number could tell you anything important about the person I became.” You want to argue, but you can’t point to a question she refused to answer or a promise she broke. That doesn’t stop the number from rearranging things in your mind. The wife you know is still here, the mother of your children, the woman who shares your burdens and plans her future with you.