“How long?”
“What are you talking about?” She asked as she hoisted her purse up and walked out of the foyer and stopped short of the stair case where I stood.
“How long have you been sleeping with him?”
I really didn’t want to say that—knowing that all of the kids heard it. I had them turn off their distractions in order to do their chores and here I was dropping the proverbial f-bomb.
“Excuse me?” She stood her ground.
“His email address is 4oreverme4U and right now he’s in Europe and can’t use messenger so you’ve been talking with him via text. Which, by the way is twenty-five cents per text.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I loaded her email account and clicked on one of the pictures. “Tell me this is not you!”
“It is me.”
“How long?”
“Two years,” she replied with very little effort. It was like she was just waiting to tell me; seeing how long it would take me figure it out. Perhaps there was a Twitter poll on it.
The kids were standing at different doorways, hearing everything—thoughtful parents would have tried to shield them the verbal assault their ears could receive.
“Why?”
“Why do you think?”
“I can think of a lot of things-“
“You’re distant.”
“Because you are! I can’t even touch you without feeling I need to ask for an appointment. Apparently, Mr. Forever can drop a load, literally, whenever he wants to.”
My wife threw her hands in the air as she walked past me.
“The kids?”
“Hearing the truth, I guess,” I said as I raised my voice.
Again, sensible parents would have sent them out of the house—either giving them money to drive to Sonic, to a friend’s house or at least shove them out the door, but that thought did not come to either of us.
“Hey!”
She stopped and spun around on her heels. “Two years ago you started your new job, with a crazy schedule at the same as I was going through my license training.”
“Yes, we’ve been busy.”
“During that time, you would come late. Where were you?”
“Sitting at a computer, at work, trying to stop system viruses. And you?”
“I found someone who would listen to me.”
“I havre listened to you. Intently. I would have quit my job if you wanted me to...”
“But you didn’t.”
“Oh no, you are not playing the victim card on this. I didn’t go and send porn letters to someone and I didn’t have sex with them!”
“You think that’s it, that it’s just sex?”
“No, I don’t,” I replied. “Did you you tell him you love him?”
“Why?”
“Because. Just. Just tell me.”
“Why do you want to want to know?”
“You stopped saying it to me a long time ago. I’d say it to you and you’d nod or do something to avoid saying it. Every time.”
“You think it’s important that I tell you that? You have co-dependency issues.”
“Yes, I do, but hearing my wife tell say she loves me is not co-dependency it’s part of our marriage vows. It’s part of the damn promise; it’s what makes a true relationship and since you’ve stopped saying it—and by the way, where is your ring?”
“It needs to be re-sized.”
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know,” she replied as she turned away.
“Do you love him?”
“Yes.”
I wasn’t ready to hear that. I thought that if she sold that to my face-with us looking at each other in the eye she would see how damaging that answer was. It wasn’t like a knife to the heart, more like a shard of glass thrusted into your chest and your heart accelerates, you feel sick and the thoughts of dying a quick and gory death flash in your mind alongside the happy thoughts and the ones of your wife in the arms of another man; both of them fully aware of the shattered lives made with every thrust, every kiss and every term of endearment to each other.
Time went still and there was a sharp ringing in my ears as I lowered my head and dropped to my knees. My mind whispered a denial of the whole scenario.
Deny everything that was happening.
She didn’t just say that; tinnitus flared up.
She didn’t just lie multiple times; it was a misunderstanding.
She didn’t stop wearing her ring; it was just lost.
“I’ve prepared papers for divorce.”
“So soon?” I asked with my eyes closed. “Why not give it a few more days?”
“Mom?” Lexie asked from the hallway.
What do you tell your kids when they hear all of that? If they were under five we could have lied or tell them that everything was okay and that mommy and daddy were just having a little fight but they were all old enough to have watched “Keeping Up with the Kardashians” and “Law & Order: Special Victims Unit” and I’m sure Nick had seen one too many episodes of “Family Guy” as he would sometimes use a fake British accent. So, TV showed them a template for the dark side of marriage and their mother had confirmed that life was worse than TV; there was no laugh track.
“Your father and I are divorcing.”
As if she had to repeat what she said just in case I—and the kids—had not heard her a few moments ago.
“When are you moving out?” I asked.
My wife shot a Medusa-like glare at me. I was not about to be told that I had to sleep on the couch or go to a motel because I hadn’t done a thing.
“I’m not.”
“Where are you going to take this?”
“I’m staying here. The kids need me.”
“They need both of us but you’ve added someone else. Will he go by, “uncle” or will you expect them to call him dad?”
At that, Lexie’s eyes burst into tears. I wanted to go over to her and tell her that I was sorry for what was happening but I couldn’t because I hadn’t done anything wrong except being a bit too blunt in my words.
I stepped around my wife and walked up the staircase but with I accelerated my footsteps until I was longing up three steps at a time. I ran to the bedroom, locked the door, opened the top drawer of my dresser and took a Manila envelope of banking information and some insurance forms. I shoved them into my backpack and then opened a locked box that was in the back of the drawer. The box contained my grandfather’s old revolver. I picked the gun up and with a small screwdriver I removed the cylinder from the gun, pocketed it and then placed the weapon back in place. I too, had watched TV.
I left the house without arguing with her; in fact I didn’t even look at her face and if I did, it would look like a distorted image and not of the woman I fell in love with years ago. The one who I gave a rose to almost every week; so many they were used on the day we were married.I even gave her specially made copper roses, heated by fire to achieve blood red petals. These were kept in a glass vase.
I will also state, with maybe a bit too much information, I once bought a “pantyrose” for her. I have no idea what became of it and didn’t want to put much thought into anything that was sensual or sexual as it would have caused me to crash my truck in blind rage or in depression. I wasn’t kicked out, but I wasn’t about to sleep on the couch and I wasn’t going to check into a hotel. I drove to the local Starbucks, took out my laptop and transferred funds from the back and into my Paypal, just in case she still had access to the account data or decided to go to the bank in the morning.
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Comments
Owwwwwwwww!
Reading this one hurt. This is one of my recurring nightmares, and my heart is still pounding, my pulse pounding in my ears, and my stomach threatening to revolt just from reading this.
When I approached my wife about transitioning, I thought that I had prepared myself for the possibility of losing everything, and I truly thought I had. But after about three days of hell, she texted me as I wasn’t taking her phone calls. Her text was that she had been thinking, and realized she loved me no matter what and wanted to talk. So I called, we talked, and here we are still together.
But part of what we talked about was he fear that I was going to find a man I was attracted to and fall in love. I am admittedly pansexual - so yes, I find some men attractive, as I do some women. But the key is that I am very much in love with my wife and am very monogamous. When I told her that my fear was that she would find another man, she was insulted. But then I explained to her that as she no longer saw me as a man, and as she is very heterosexual, that if anyone should be worried it is me. After all, the woman that I am desperately in love with hadn’t changed - yet the man she fell in love with no longer existed.
So, who is more likely to stray? The one who sees her love in front of her every day, or the one who feels like her husband is dead?
That thought is always in the back of my mind, and this story brought it to the forefront.
Damn - I was having such a good weekend too..........
D
D. Eden
Dum Vivimus, Vivamus
I’m sorry
I’m sorry
I just knew from the title...
I just knew from the title that I shouldn’t read this one, but the wrench in my soul wouldn’t let it past. Even after so many years, the loss still hurts. The fact that it ultimately rendered me the freedom to be me is besides the point and does little to mollify the pain. The fear of experiencing another such, dare I say, betrayal, is dibilitating.
I feel your pain but please
I feel your pain but please know that it get better
At least that’s what I tell myself irl.
Thanks you.
Fair winds
Chose not to try
If the wife felt isolated because her husband was distant, more involved with something then he should have been, then why didn't she plant herself right in his face and tell him how she felt two years ago?
Why didn't she go to a marriage counselor and try to find out how to tell her husband how she felt in a constructive way, two years ago?
Likely she did nothing to try and "fix" their marriage because she really wasn't truly in love with him from the start of their marriage. And likely she went into the marriage with the thought that if things didn't work out she could get a divorce, which is not an attitude to take into a marriage.
Was it wrong for the kids to hear their parents' exchange? Some might think so but at some point they will need to know the truth. And understanding the why for the divorce coming from both parents is better than getting lies from either parent.
This couple had problems early on, and should have been mature enough to realize it and sought help to try and learn how to once again become a couple. But perhaps neither really wanted to stay with the other, with their problems festering and leading to the events in this chapter.
Others have feelings too.