Between Pain and Hope: Betrayal & Renewal. Cheating Wife Stories, Reddit Stories, Infidelity Story

I had to travel across town on Friday to deliver some very important documents from my station to police headquarters. For the past two weeks, I have been chained to a desk due to a shootout I was involved in with my partner. The situation was completely justified. We stopped a criminal leaving the club, and he pointed a gun at us. And it wasn't even me who shot, but Jim. However, we were both seated at the table until the IBBI completed the investigation, and I was simply dying of boredom.

Since there wasn't much to do, I decided to stop home on the way. Helen had cooked a delicious brisket for dinner the night before, and I thought I could make a sandwich with the leftover meat for lunch. It was only two blocks from my route, and I knew that no one at the station would care how long my errand took. I drove slowly and stopped in front of Mrs. Ferguson's house and admired her flower garden. She looked after it 8 months a year, and the flower bed always looked delightful.

When I was only about 50 yards from my house, I suddenly noticed a man coming out of my door. It was Mark Malac, a guy who lived nearby, some computer genius who worked from home. "What the hell is he doing in my house at 11:30 in the morning?" I watched as he slowly walked around the corner and out of sight, after which I drove up to the house and went inside. The house was quiet, but I thought I could hear the sound of the shower running upstairs.

As I climbed the stairs and entered the bedroom, I experienced a terrible shock. Very terrible. The bed was in complete disarray. Pillows, sheets, blankets were scattered everywhere. It was completely obvious what Mark Malek was doing here. The shower was still running, and I could hear Helen singing to herself, as she usually does when she's in a good mood. "Damn it," I felt anger rise within me, threatening to overshadow my complete and utter amazement. My wife is cheating on me with some neighbor idiot behind my back.

Helen and I had been married for 24 years, and it seemed to me that we were quite happy. We met when I was still studying at the police academy. She worked as a cook's assistant at my cousin's wedding and was the sweetest girl I've ever seen. Short, pretty, not a beauty, but with an amazing figure. I managed to flirt with her enough to get a number, and we dated for about a year before we got married. Overall, our marriage was great. I worked in the department, and she stayed in the catering industry, doing a lot of freelance work for a company her high school friend ran. This gave her enough schedule flexibility to be an involved mother to our two daughters, Linda and Veronica. Linda had already graduated from college and was working in Chicago. Veronica was in her third year at Kenyon College. They were wonderful children, and Helen was a wonderful mother to them.

Helen and I were devoted to each other. We had the same values, and we valued family equally, and we enjoyed spending time together. When we met other couples who seemed indifferent to each other, we looked at each other with a smile. Even after two decades together, we still had fun with each other and never ran out of things to talk about. I thought I was damn lucky, except for one thing. This moment is sex. Helen was seductive and incredibly sexy, but to my disappointment, after a few months of marriage, I realized that having sex about once every 10 days to 2 weeks was enough for her. This was a far cry from the three or four times a week we started our marriage with, and I took every opportunity to complain about it. Over the years, we have argued about this topic more than any other. We even went to a family therapist when our girls were little.

After years of disappointment and dissatisfaction, I finally realized that my wife truly loved me. Her lack of interest in sex with me wasn't a personal problem; she just had a low libido. The psychologist helped me learn to cope with irritation, and Helen helped me understand that she needed to make more effort. So, once every 10 days turned into once a week, and sometimes twice if I managed to persuade her. I hoped that things would improve when the kids went off to college and we had more free time, but it never did. What made matters worse was that when we did have sex, it was often a disappointing experience. You might be thinking, "What a heartless woman! Why don't you leave her?" But the fact is that Helen loves me, and I love her. She shows me every day how much she means to her and how much she appreciates me. We look forward to growing old together. She's just not that interested in sex, and over the years, I have learned to deal with it.

And that's why when I went downstairs and ran out of the house, I was not just furious; I was stunned. Not only because I was confident in Helen's love for me and her fidelity, but she was so uninterested in sex that it couldn't even occur to me that she was capable of cheating. So, what the hell is going on here?

It took me no more than 3 minutes to get to Mark Malek's house and ring his doorbell. When the door opened slightly and he looked out hesitantly, saying, "Hey Rob, what are you—" "I hit," "Listen carefully, bastard! I know where you were and what you were doing this morning, and I'm on the verge of just shooting you and burying your body in the backyard." He didn't say a word, just looked at me with horror in his eyes. "Now, you will tell me everything I want to know. Answer every question. Then you will put yourself in order and continue to live your life, but you will never, under any circumstances, speak to Helen again. Have I made myself clear?" He nodded desperately. "Yes, yes, Rob, I understand," he said in a trembling voice. He was completely depressed.

I made it clear that if he left something unsaid or softened the story of what they were doing, he would be in trouble, and he laid it all out. He and Helen had been sleeping together for over 2 months. To my amazement, he said that she was the initiator. At a neighbor's Fourth of July party, she flirted with him when no one was around. Three days later, she called him late in the morning and asked him to come help her move her closet. When he arrived, she thanked him and kissed him before he could say anything like, "Are you sure we should do this?" They were already in our bedroom. Mark said he asked her several times, "Are you sure? Is this normal? What about Rob?" I don't know how true it was, but he insisted that she said she could keep it a secret from me. From that time on, they met a couple of times a week, either in our bedroom or at Mark's house. She did everything with him. This morning, he said, when I arrived at your house, she opened the door and we went upstairs.

When I heard everything, I just sat there in complete disbelief. The woman I thought I had been married to for 24 years had nothing in common with the [ __ ] who had been so passionately indulging in sex with Mark for the past few months. "One last question, [ __ ], and then you can clean up and get yourself in order. I find it hard to believe that you were the first person she had this much fun with. Did she tell you about anyone else?" He didn't even hesitate. By that moment, he was completely broken. "She hinted that there were other guys before me, but she only mentioned one of them. Joe. Seems to be Oberman or Alderman. He is a fireman," she said. "He ended the relationship because his wife became suspicious." Joe Alderman. He and his wife, Stephanie, and I have been friends since our children were 5 years old. This damn bastard. Perhaps I was lucky that I had a few hours before dinner to calm down a little and pull myself together. Helen was lucky because otherwise, I might have killed her, and I was lucky because then I would have gone to prison for many years.

By the time I got home for dinner, I had managed to get my rage under control. Helen, as always, was friendly and caring. We had a delicious dinner, and we talked about the usual things: how the kids were doing, what catering orders she had coming up, how bored I was of sitting at the table in the precinct. Surprisingly, I managed to maintain a normal appearance and contain the rage boiling inside. She was lying in bed watching a rerun of CSI. Of course, the bedroom was already tidy: clean sheets and everything. I leaned over to kiss her. She looked at me with slight weariness and said, "Not today, honey. Okay? I'm a little tired. Maybe we can just watch some TV together." Usually, these words were enough to make me retreat with a disappointed sigh, but not this time. I continued and said, "No, I really need this today, honey. Come on, you'll like it." "Rob," she replied in a dissatisfied tone. "I wanted Helen, and it's only 9:30. You can't be that tired." She looked into my eyes as if trying to understand how determined I was. She knew me quite well and probably realized that I would not back down. "Okay, Rob, if you insist," she said in a very tired tone, trying to push on the guilt, but I ignored it. "How about we just lay next to you and cuddle for a bit?" I asked. "No, honey, let's just do it." I made a couple of suggestions. There was obvious disgust on her face. "No, Rob, you know I don't like it. How could you even ask me this?" Looking her straight in the eyes, I quietly said, "How about I just pretend I'm Mark Malek?" Her body jerked slightly, and a muffled "Ooh" escaped her lips, and she stared at me with wide eyes. In all the years we were together, I had never seen such an expression on her face.

I had sex with her afterwards. Without saying a word or turning around, I headed to the shower. When I came out 15 minutes later, drying my hair with a towel, Helen was sitting on the bed again. She tidied up her bed, put on her nightgown, and combed her hair. It was obvious that she was crying. She looked at me sadly. "Rob, I..." she began in a trembling voice, but I interrupted her. "Me first, Helen," I said and fell silent for a moment, looking at her with cold eyes. "Today, before lunch, I drove home and saw Mark Malek coming out of our door. Then I went upstairs and heard you in the shower and saw the bedroom. So, I hope you won't insult my intelligence with any apologies or claims that I got it all wrong, okay?" She lowered her head, and I noticed her blush. She nodded without saying anything.

"I don't know if there's a chance our marriage will survive this," I continued. She suddenly raised her head and looked at me in horror. "But if there is a chance, it starts with you telling me everything. The complete truth. Do you understand me?" Helen nodded again and began to cry. "I'm so guilty, Rob. I can't believe I did such a terrible thing." She fell silent for a minute, choking on sobs. "I just want you to give me another chance. I'll tell you everything you want to know, but please promise me you won't hate me, okay?" "Then the whole story is you and this bastard. What? Where? When? How long? How often? And most importantly, why?" She cried a little more, then wiped her face. "I didn't even pay attention to him until the Fourth of July picnic. And then he was always there, bringing me drinks or hot dogs, being so sweet. A couple of times when you weren't around, he started flirting while looking at my breasts. But that was months ago, and I forgot about it until last week. He called and asked if he could come over for the recipe he was cooking something special for his new girlfriend. He came, and we looked at the recipe. I explained to him what and how. He was very grateful. We drank coffee, and then I suddenly felt strange. Before I could understand what was happening, he started making love to me." She fell silent, sobbing. "It was like I was in a fog and didn't understand why this was happening or why he didn't stop when I said no." When he got dressed, he said that he had put something in his coffee and showed me his digital camera. "He took pictures of us together, Rob. How do we do it?" And he said that I would have to keep seeing him, otherwise he would send the photos to you and all your friends from the station. Rob, I didn't know what to do."

I listened without expression on my face. She was almost certainly telling me a fictitious story, but I decided to listen to it to the end. She didn't know that I had already talked to Mark. He called last week and said he would come at 10:30 this morning and that I should be ready. I was terribly afraid because of these photos, and so I let him. I mean, he came, and we did it again. I sighed. "Helen, why didn't you tell me after the first time? Didn't you realize that we could test his blood for illegal substances and then arrest him?" She looked down. "Now I understand it. I was probably out of my mind. I was just terribly afraid of what you would do, both for me and for him. Oh, Rob, I was so afraid and so confused." She started crying again.

"I'm so sorry, honey. What a convenient story," I thought. Unlikely, but still not completely out of the question, if only one could believe that Mark Malek was stupid enough to do this to a policeman's wife. But his version, when I got a confession out of him, seemed much more plausible, although it contradicted everything I knew about my wife. And then there was one more detail that was impossible to ignore: how Helen happily sang in the shower just minutes after Malek allegedly forced her to have sex again. I thought a little more, looking out the window, and listened to her sobbing and sniffling. "You turned out to be very stupid, Helen. I thought that after 25 years, you would trust me more." She looked at me timidly and repeated again, "I'm so sorry, Rob."

"I need to think about what to do with this, and it may take me a few days. In the meantime, don't talk to Mark anymore, and don't tell anyone about this, okay?" "Okay," she agreed hopefully. "Please, Rob, just don't do anything that could get you in trouble." I leaned forward, looking closely into her eyes. "Helen, tell me the truth now. Was that the only time you slept with someone else in all the years of our marriage?" She tried to look me in the eye, but I saw her gaze flicker to the side before returning to me. Over the years, I had interrogated quite a few suspects, and I knew roughly what this meant. "No, there was no one, dear. No one but you. Until... until Mark." She burst into tears again and did not finish the sentence. The obvious lie stirred my rage again. I got up and started walking around the room. "If you haven't realized yet, my dear wife, I'm not happy with you right now. You're sleeping in the guest room tonight, so grab your things and get out of here." "Rob, I didn't—" "You understand me?" I said more harshly. "I don't want to talk to you anymore today. Now get out of here." "But honey, I—" "Get out!" With a quiet sob, she grabbed her robe and left the bedroom.

I lay down in bed, turned on a football game for an hour, and then fell asleep. Surprisingly, I slept well despite Helen not being by my side as usual. I think letting off steam a few times the day before helped. When I went down to the kitchen, I smelled the coffee and saw that Helen had prepared a real breakfast for me. There were pancakes, sausages, and omelets, and even freshly squeezed orange juice on the table. Helen stood at the stove and poured me coffee. Her face looked exhausted and scared. "Good morning, dear," she said quietly, handing me the cup. "Hi, Helen," I replied neutrally. "Breakfast looks great." We ate together, talking only about safe topics, and I watched as Helen gradually relaxed a little. When I had had my fill, I pushed back my chair and stood up. There was one way to find out the truth about all this, and I was not going to put it off for a long time. After telling Helen I needed some time to myself, I stopped by my basement workshop and then went straight to Joe Alderman's house.

Just as I arrived, he was going out to get the mail. I asked him to come with me for half an hour to look at the car. I said I was planning to buy, and we hit the road. When I reached Forbes Avenue, where the car dealerships were, I turned down a quiet side road and parked in a secluded lot behind the football field. Joe looked calmly out the window until I turned to him with a revolver pointed straight at his face. "You [ __ ] bastard. We've been friends for over 15 years, and that didn't stop you from sleeping with Helen, did it?" His face turned white, and he backed away from me as far as he could. "Rob, I... I..." "What are you—" "I never—" "Shut up, bastard! I interrogated Helen, and she told me the whole damn story. I'm on the verge of putting a bullet in your forehead and burying you so that no one will find you." He's broken. I saw it in his face. In an instant, he realized that if Helen had already told me everything, then there was no point in denying it. Instead, he began to panic, trying to justify himself. "Rob, I swear it's not my fault. She pestered me herself. I swear, over and over again, I kept telling her that we were friends, that this was wrong, but she didn't give up."

I lowered the muzzle a little, away from his face, and watched as he took a deep breath. He was covered in sweat, his eyes full of horror. "Tell me everything, bastard. Slowly, carefully, and don't you dare leave anything out, because if your story doesn't match what Helen told me, I'll shoot you and make it look like an accident." He was more than willing to tell everything, doing everything to avoid carrying out my threat. His story was similar in many ways to Mark. Helen took the initiative. Our families often spent time together, and about a year ago, Helen raised the level of flirtation that had always been a little present between her and Joe. Eventually, she called and proposed to him, and although at first he refused, according to his words, she did not cease to insist, and in the end, he gave in. "Rob, you wanted to know everything, so I'm telling you. Just don't shoot, okay?" I nodded, and he continued. "She was the most passionate woman I've ever been with." "How long did this go on?" I growled. "About 8 months. We met once or twice a week. I was always afraid that you would find out. Then Stephanie started acting strange, suspicious, as if she suddenly had the idea that I was cheating on her. I finally convinced Helen that we needed to stop. It was in June." "How did she take it?" "She was upset about it, of course, but she agreed with me because she didn't want Stephanie to suspect anything. She even joked, 'Well, looks like I'll have to find a replacement for you.'" "Joe, have you ever asked her why she cheated on me?" "Yes, several times. Even in the beginning, before everything started, I said, 'Why do you want to do this?' And what did she answer?" "Nothing that makes sense. She simply said that she loved you, that you were a great person, but that she needed something more, that it was more exciting and brought her more pleasure. I admit it was the best sex of my life." "Do you think you were her first lover?" "No, she mentioned a couple of other guys she had things with. I didn't know any of them. One of them seemed to be a client she met at some catering event."

I leaned back and looked at him. He looked out the window. Finally, I said, "You're a creep, Joe. No matter how much she pestered you, you had the only right choice, and you betrayed it." He hung his head without looking at me. He was probably jubilant inside, glad that I wasn't going to shoot. "Our friendship is over, you bastard. Get out of the car. Here." "But from here too?" His sentence was cut off when he looked at my face. Silently, he got out of the car and walked a few steps away. I turned around and drove back to the city.

When I got back to Joe and Stephanie's house, I was lucky that Stephanie was home. "Hey, Rob. Um, weren't you just with Joe?" Stephanie asked, peeking behind me to look at the empty car. "Yay, but something happened. Listen, can we talk for a few minutes?" She nodded, puzzled, led me into the kitchen, and we sat over cups of coffee. "Steph, we've been friends for a long time, and there's no easy way to say it. Joe and Helen were hooked up." "What?" She stared at me, then, having come to her senses a little, she shook her head. "Rob, I would almost believe you if you said that Joe was with someone else. In the spring, I had a feeling that something was happening, but with Helen, excluded..." I took out a mini cassette recorder, which I put in my shirt pocket before leaving the house. Without saying a word, I rewound it and pressed play. We sat in silence, listening to my conversation with Joe. Several times I wanted to cry, and I knew the tears would come later, but I controlled myself. I watched Stephanie as her face hardened and her lips tightened into an angry grimace. It looks like her marriage to Joe was just as doomed as mine.

When the recording ended, we were silent for several minutes. I then asked her if this made any sense to her. "Not really, Rob. We were just friends for so many years, you know, and we always had light jokes between ourselves. A couple of times, you even spanked my ass or looked at my breasts in a swimsuit, but it was always innocent, and we all understood. But this... as I said, Joe was acting strange last spring, and I might believe that he was cheating on me, but Helen is the last person on Earth I would suspect." She looked at me suddenly suspicious. "Damn, Rob, you didn't come here to hit on me, did you? Like, get revenge like that? Geez, Steph, I thought you knew me better." "We've been friends for a long time, you know. I care about you. Do you really think I'm that much of an [ __ ]?" She started crying and said, "Sorry, Rob. I think I'm a complete mess right now and can't think straight. It's hard for me to have a good opinion of men these days, if you know what I mean." "Please, Steph, remember that you and I are the victims in this situation. Of course, you are a beautiful woman, and you know that I like you, but that's not the point. I wanted you to know what kind of bastard you are married to. I'm going to kick Helen out for her betrayal, and if there's anything I can do to help you with your relationship with Joe, I'll be glad to do it. I wanted you to know the truth and know that I'm on your side. That's the only reason why I am here. Believe me." Still crying, she came and sat on my lap right in the kitchen. She hugged me, put her head on my shoulder, and cried. After a few minutes, we both started crying. We probably sat there for half an hour.

Chicago was almost 6 hours away, and I had plenty of time on the road to think. I simply could not imagine a more complete betrayal than what Helen did. She clearly had a number of lovers, and in at least some cases, she was the one who initiated them. These connections lasted for weeks, and maybe months. Most of all, at the top of this whole scale of betrayal, was that she behaved like a wild, passionate woman with other men. All of her inhibitions about our sex life, her reluctance to try anything new, her refusal to even let me touch her before we had sex—I put up with it for years. Meanwhile, she enthusiastically gave herself to Mark, Joe, and apparently several other men. I didn't know exactly what I would do yet, but as I left Stephanie's house, two things were clear in my mind: One, my marriage is over, and Helen will bitterly regret what she did. Second, I have to talk to my daughters.

First, I reached Linda on her cell phone, and she was delighted that I was coming for a surprise visit. We ate at a diner around the corner from her apartment. She talked a little about her new job and her rocky relationship with her on-again, off-again boyfriend, Chad. Then she said, "Well, Dad, tell me. I'm glad to see you, but I know you couldn't just come across the country for no reason, and you've looked like you've been on pins and needles since you arrived, as if you drank four extra cups of coffee this morning." I leaned over and said quietly, "Honey, you need to hear it from me first. Your mother and I are breaking up. I found out that she cheated on me behind my back, and with more than one man. This went on for at least a couple of years." The next couple of hours were difficult. Linda didn't believe me at all, and I had a hard time convincing her that I was absolutely sure that Helen was cheating, while at the same time avoiding the most difficult details that I did not want to tell my daughter. When we got back to Linda's apartment, and she finally believed what I was saying was true, she started crying. I felt her pain that her illusion of a stable relationship between her parents was destroyed, and I cried with her for a long time. This day was definitely full of tears.

I spent the night on Linda's couch, and when I left the next morning, I asked her for a favor: "Please try not to call your mother for a few days, or until she calls herself. Today, I'm going to meet Veronica and then go home and work on the divorce. After that, how you would like your relationship with her to be is only between you. You know that your mother adores you, and I am sure that she has always been a loving mother to you and Ronnie. What she did was against me, not against you, honey." I arrived at Kenyon around 9:00 p.m. on Sunday, and my conversation with Veronica was similar to my conversation with Linda: full of pain, tears, questions that I couldn't answer.

Monday morning, I headed back home. My cell phone had been off since I left town, and now I turned it on to tell the station captain that I was taking a personal day. 11 messages from Helen were waiting for me on the answering machine, from tearful apologies to increasingly alarming and even panicked ones. I deleted them and continued driving, planning in my head how to play out the final scene of our marriage. It was just killing me. Killed the marriage that I had poured my whole soul into, that I hoped to share for the rest of my life, was gone, destroyed, shattered to pieces. And for what? So that my wife could have intense sexual pleasures, explore a side of herself that she could never show me. I called a lawyer I knew from the police union and received a recommendation for a divorce lawyer back in town. I drove straight to his office, spent an hour there, shared the recording of the conversation with Joe, and started the paperwork process. Since the girls were already living separately, there were no questions about custody or payments. I wanted to keep the house, and if Helen tried to fight for it, I would do everything possible to humiliate her publicly. Otherwise, I didn't care.

When I arrived at the house around 4:00 in the evening, Helen's car was gone. "Okay," I thought. I parked my car in the garage, entered the house, and called a 24-hour locksmith to change the locks. By 6:00 in the evening, when Helen returned, I had already made several preparations. I heard her irritation and disappointment when her key didn't fit the door. I opened it silently, and a worried but affectionate expression appeared on her face. "Rob, thank God you're back! Where have you been these two days? I couldn't find a place for myself out of excitement. Why didn't you call?" I ignored her questions. "Come in, Helen. Sit down in the living room," I said in a neutral tone. She tried to hug me, but I pulled away and walked into the living room. Puzzled, she followed me. "Rob, honey, what's going on?" Her voice trembled, her eyes were full of anxiety. I pointed to the sofa, and she sat down, not taking her eyes off me. I stood opposite, looking at the face of the woman I had loved for so long. I let the silence hang until it was almost palpable, and then I spoke. "Helen, you know that I would never hit you or cause you physical pain. You are a woman, and besides, I loved you with all my heart." She gasped. "Rob, loved?" "I don't—" "Shut up!" I shouted. "I won't hit you, but that doesn't mean I don't want to. So just shut your lying, traitorous mouth and listen to me." "Rob, I—" "Quiet, Helen," I said in a threatening tone. "I'm not going to do it again." Now her face was pale with fear and anxiety. I saw how her hands were trembling in her lap. "We will have this conversation in a civilized manner," I continued, "and then you will leave. I don't know where you'll go, and I'm not interested at all. Our marriage is over. Our life together is over." She gasped and opened her mouth to say something, but my gaze silenced her. "You cheated on me with Mark, with Joe Alderman, and probably with several other men. I don't care how many there were. For months, maybe even years, you behaved like a woman of easy virtue with other men, giving them everything that I begged you for, everything that you never did for your loving husband. Despite all my requests, if you consider betrayal to be a betrayal, then you managed to make it the strongest. All this is for the idiot next door, and even for one of our best friends, but not for the person who devoted more than 25 years to you. I really don't know who you are, Helen. I thought I knew, but obviously, I had no idea. I would bet my life on your loyalty and devotion to me. It's good that we didn't have to, right?" I looked at her. She was sitting motionless on the sofa, tears flowing down her cheeks. She didn't even try to speak anymore. She seemed fascinated. "I wonder what's going on in her head right now. Oh my God, looks like he found out everything. Or maybe it wasn't worth it. You know what amazed me most? You love me, after all. I know that you love me. We dreamed of growing old together, and I know you meant it. So take your punishment. You cannot grow old with me. You will no longer live with me. You will not be able to see me every day and fall asleep next to me in the evenings. You won't even be able to live in this house." I pointed to three suitcases standing in the corner. "In 5 minutes, you will pick them up, load them into the car, and leave. Helen, and you won't come back again." She then screamed, making me flinch. "No, Rob! No!" "Dear," I answered furiously. "I can and will do it. I'm kicking you out. But first, a few little things." I came close to her, and she retreated in fear, watching my every move. I took off my wedding ring and threw it in her lap. Her eyes widened in surprise. As I took her left hand and removed her wedding and engagement rings, I also threw the engagement card on her lap, but put the engagement card in my pocket. The engagement ring belonged to my grandmother. As you know, it remains with me. The wedding rings we exchanged, you can do whatever you want with them. Melt it down, throw it away, or shove it somewhere else. They represented our love and loyalty to each other, and we both know what that's worth now, right?" I walked over to the coffee table and picked up a beautiful glass vase, almost transparent, with bright blue and green reflections. "Remember this, Helen? From Venice, on the fifth anniversary of when we bought it together. It was expensive, but we both liked it, and it became a symbol of how dear we were to each other." I raised my hands high and then forcefully threw the vase onto the floor, breaking it into pieces. "Helen screamed in pain as she watched the vase crumble into small pieces. It's no longer worth storing," I said coldly. I turned and picked up two photo albums, throwing them into the fireplace. Our wedding album and family album. All the precious photographs, all the memories of what we meant to each other. They don't make sense now, do they, Helen?" I leaned over and splashed some flammable liquid on the albums, then lit a match and threw it on them. Helen suddenly rushed to the fireplace to stop me, shouting, "No!" but I grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back to the couch, where she collapsed sobbing. We watched together as the fire consumed the albums, and I quietly patted the pocket where I had the photographs of our daughters that I had taken from the family album. My memories of the girls were still dear to me. After a couple of minutes, both albums turned to ashes. Helen was still crying, turning away from me. "Okay, Helen, that's it," I said, busily clapping my hands. "The show is over. It's time for you to leave." When she didn't move, I grabbed her hand tightly and pulled her to her feet, leading her to the front door. "Wait, Rob, wait!" she begged, trying to break free. "You can't just kick me out like that!" "Actually, I can, Helen, and that's what I'm going to do." Pain and fear were visible on her face. "And you won't let me say anything, would you? Let me explain why. Why did all this happen?" I stopped and looked at her for a long time in silence. "Helen, do you really think you can say anything, anything that will ease my pain and my humiliation? Something that will make your betrayal, your complete betrayal and humiliation of me, at least a little less terrible?" But I didn't even explain why I do. "Do you really think I don't care about why?" I shouted. "Do you think if I find out why you did it, it will make me feel better?" "Okay, now everything is clear to me, because I know Helen's reasons." "Are you crazy?" She just looked at me, exhausted, scared, depressed, without saying a word. After another long moment, she said, "What about the girls?" "I went to see Linda and Ronnie over the weekend. They both know that you cheated and that I am filing for divorce." "Oh no!" she exclaimed and collapsed on the floor, sobbing. I looked at her for several minutes. My beloved wife, mother of my children, my life partner, my best and most reliable friend for a quarter of a century. Then I left her there on the hallway floor while I carried her suitcases into the trunk of her car. When I returned, she sat devastated, staring into space, silently. I lifted her to her feet and led her out to the car. The key was on the roof of the car, and I left it standing by the driver's door. I was looking for the right words to say goodbye, but nothing came to mind. "Goodbye, Helen" would have seemed too soft, and "Go to hell, you cheater" would have been too corny. So I just left it there. He returned to the house and locked the door behind him, then I stood in the hallway without moving, without thinking about anything in particular. I listened to Helen's car driving away. I even felt funny when I thought about it. Life without Helen was almost the exact opposite of life with her. I felt happy and lonely instead of generally happy and content. Now I had to cook my own food, and I ate very modestly instead of enjoying Helen's delicious dishes. But now I could have sex whenever I wanted. There was no longer any need to beg for it, and honestly, the sex was just great. This part may require some explanation. Matilda Jacobson worked in a civilian position at my station. She was 38 years old, divorced, and always flirted with me. I liked to answer her in kind, although I didn't put much meaning into it. Matilda was tall and curvy with platinum hair that was clearly dyed, and she was not shy about emphasizing her figure with short skirts and tight sweaters. She was not particularly beautiful; her face was rather plain, but she had an excellent figure. Most of the guys in the station, married or not, would love to sleep with her, but for some reason, she turned her attention to me. When other officers asked her out, she always joked, "Sorry, you're great guys, but I don't date cops."

The day after I showed Helen out the door, my partner Jim asked me why I was so depressed. We had worked in patrol cars for almost 10 years and knew each other well, so I told him the story, well, in general terms. I kept all the details about how much my wife betrayed me to myself. I knew that the whole team would find out about this soon, and so it happened. And by the end of the week, the guys patted me sympathetically on the back, said it's a shame that you were so unlucky, and invited me to have a beer every time after a shift. But I didn't expect that two weeks later, on Sunday, someone would ring my doorbell and I would see Matilda on the doorstep. She was holding a casserole in her hands. She was wearing short white shorts, a pink top that showed off her ample breasts, and a determined look on her face. "I thought you might need something," she said with a smile, without specifying what she meant. She followed me into the kitchen, put the casserole down, and immediately kissed me. After a minute, I gently pulled away, holding her by the shoulders, and said, "It was a pleasant surprise, Matilda, but what's going on here?" "You really don't understand," she said with a smile. I sat down at the table, moving away. "It's clear what you want," I laughed, "but why? It's like you don't date cops, do you?" "I don't date cops," she replied, "at least most of them. But I'm ready to date you anytime, Rob. All those years of flirting weren't just for fun. You were happily married, and I didn't want to interfere in anyone's relationship. But now, as I understand it, Helen has left and your marriage is over, so..." she licked her lips and blew me a flirtatious kiss, "I thought it was time to get to know you better." Her outfit, her kiss, and her words had an effect on me, exciting me, but I still wasn't a complete idiot. I said, "Matilda, of course, I'm pleased that you think about me and I'm interested in this, but I'm not the best option right now. I just kicked my cheating wife out of my life. I'm absolutely not ready for any new relationship." She smiled and kissed me softly again. "I understand, Rob. It's not about romance, it's just a no-obligation relationship with a woman who has been attracted to you for a long time. You're not going to put the casserole back in my car and throw me out, are you?"

We spent almost 3 hours in bed. Helen didn't even cross my mind anymore. Matilda had sex the way I had always dreamed Helen would. After the shower, we went down to the kitchen and ate the casserole that Matilda brought. Edible, but frankly, not as tasty as the dinners Helen always cooked. Then she kissed me and said that she needed to go home to feed her cats. "Matilda," I said, hugging and kissing her. "It was incredible. You are the sexiest woman I have ever met." Let's just say it was a slight exaggeration, but it seemed like the right thing to say given the situation. She smiled and replied, "It was everything I dreamed of, Rob. I'm looking forward to continuing." Then she noticed the hesitation in my gaze. "Don't worry, honey," she said. "I don't expect any promises, and I don't give them to you myself. I understand that you just threw Helen out, and you may have no idea what to do next, so all I ask is that you call me next time you want to have some fun in bed, okay?" With these words, she kissed me again, smiled, and left.

Since then, I have been meeting with Matilda quite steadily, a couple of times a week. It's been a year now, and I'm not tired of it at all. Knowing that I can have sex at any time, that the woman I'm in bed with wants to be there and enjoys what I do, is simply fantastic. She is ready for any option that I like. You may think that this is enough to make you happy, but those who have ever been happily married know that this is not so. Matilda turned out to be a great partner, but we didn't have the connection that Helen and I had. She was not as smart as Helen and not nearly as funny. When we went to the cinema or something, she couldn't say anything interesting about what she saw, like Helen did. Our conversations frankly became quite boring, and of course, we didn't have those many years of memories: shared memories of raising children, family vacations, and adventures. The main thing is that we simply were not in love with each other. Sometimes I would hint that we might not be soulmates, and she would always reassure me. "Listen, Rob," she said, "I feel good with you, but you are not the man of my dreams. You're the guy I like who treats me with respect and knows what to do with me in bed. I'm enjoying it, and I understand you're enjoying it too. After 12 years of divorce, I'm not looking for anything more. Well, unless George Clooney shows up on my doorstep."

So here's what was good in my life: sex with Matilda. And another advantage that this gave: not having to chase women, sit in bars, or go on dates to get sex. One call was enough. Everything else was not so rosy. It's hard to describe how much I missed my life with Helen before I found out she was a cheater. Her amazing cooking and her company, just being close to her, sharing jokes and pleasant little things with her that accumulate over 25 years of marriage. This doesn't mean I wanted her back. Even as my rage began to fade, I constantly felt angry at her and constantly questioned myself, trying to understand how a happy, generally not very sexy woman could become such a cheater. Was it about me? About who I am? I still haven't found the answer.

Linda and Ronnie were great. They were both, of course, shocked and I'm sure angry at their mother, but they managed to remain caring and loving daughters to both me and her. In fact, it was Ronnie who saved Helen's life, although I didn't find out about that until later. It happened on the Saturday after the Monday when I kicked Helen out of the house. On Thursday, she was handed divorce papers at work, citing adultery as the reason. I had no intention of messing around with language like "irreconcilable differences." Anyway, Helen took the pills on Saturday night, but then changed her mind and called Ronnie, terrified. Ronnie hung up and immediately dialed 911. Helen was taken to the hospital, her stomach was pumped, and she survived, although she spent several days in intensive care while the girls slept in chairs next to her bed.

A couple of weeks after Helen was released from the hospital, my daughters came to stay with me for the weekend. On Sunday, before leaving, they sat me down at the table, clearly preparing for a conversation. "Dad, Ronnie and I have one big request for you," Linda began. "As long as it doesn't concern your mom, you know I'm willing to do whatever I can for you," I replied. They looked at each other. "Dad, it's just about Mom. Three weeks ago, she tried to die." "What?" I exclaimed. Linda told me the whole story, and then she said, "Here's the thing: until you and your mom are officially divorced, she remains on your health insurance. She started seeing a therapist to figure out why she decided to do this and why, well, she did what she did to other men. But if you divorce her, she will lose her health insurance and will not be..."

To continue treatment, so Dad, could you hold off on getting a divorce for now? I sighed to myself. It seemed like I couldn't win in this situation, especially when both my daughters were begging for their mother's well-being, and I understood that they were right. So, my lawyer filed a separation agreement in lieu of a divorce, and Helen kept her insurance and her ability to see a therapist. I didn't care; it's not my money. But the insurance companies, and although I was angry with her, I didn't want her to try to die again. And this time, she succeeded.

The holidays were painful. How could it be otherwise? There's nothing worse than Thanksgiving or Christmas to be reminded of how broken your family is. For Thanksgiving, the girls and I agreed to have dinner with Stephanie Alderman and her kids. She had kicked Joe out of the house, and he was now living in an apartment in the city. Their daughter Ariel and son Peter had been friends of our girls for many years. So, the six of us gathered at the dinner table as a family group, but of course, it was not at all like that. First of all, neither Stephanie nor the children could cook like Helen. But most importantly, we were all acutely aware of who was not with us and why. We tried to be grateful for what we had, and part of the evening was even fun. But when we drove home with Linda and Ronnie, the car was silent and gloomy.

Christmas was even worse for me. The girls felt they should spend the holiday with Helen since they were with me for Thanksgiving. So, I went to my brother's to spend it with him and his family. I love my brother and his wife, and their children are wonderful, all 10 years younger than mine. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop thinking about what this holiday would have been like if it weren't for my cheating wife.

But as the New Year came and went, I began to come to my senses. A little more than 3 months have passed. I was still alive. I was still able to have sex. I had a job, wonderful daughters, and friends. I understood that I could move on with my life. My partner Jim and his wife Patty were incredibly supportive. They invited me to dinner at least once a month and laughed and joked with me, helping me not to wallow in self-pity. I knew they were both angry at Helen and just as shocked as I was, but we barely talked about her.

Stephanie Alderman and I would occasionally meet for lunch or dinner, and we hooked up a couple of times in April. Unlike me, she did not have a regular partner and was terribly depressed and in need of support. We discussed this for some time before deciding, "Should we take this step at the risk of ruining a long-term friendship that was important to both of us?" But in the end, it felt right, and we spent the weekend at her house and then did it again a couple of weeks later at my house. You know what? It wasn't that good. Stephanie was attractive, less curvy than Helen, not to mention Matilda, but still curvy. But difficult circumstances prevented both of us from truly relaxing and enjoying the moment. After the second weekend, Stephanie said to me, "You know, Rob, I'm glad we did it, even grateful to you, because finding myself next to a man in bed, I realized that I had not yet turned into an old housewife beyond the age limit. But at the same time, I think I don't want to repeat it. I really want us to remain friends, and I think it will be easier if we forget about the extra bonuses." I had to agree, and Matilda and I returned to normal friendship and support for each other while she finalized her divorce from Joe, and I tried to figure out how to live alone on the second round, so to speak.

A year later, the holidays without Helen were much easier. Linda and Ronnie had to split time between us, and although the girls and I couldn't help but reminisce about how things used to be, we still had a good time, and it felt more like family time. It seems like I've finally started to get used to the idea of being single, at least for the foreseeable future. I even started thinking about starting to date someone. It became clear that there was no real future for Matilda and I, despite having as much fun as I could handle, and I began to wonder if I could find another true love at my already advanced age, less than 2 years left up to 50.

And so, when Linda and Ronnie came again for the weekend in the spring of the second year, I immediately knew something was up, something I probably won't like. And I was right, of course. "It's about Helen, Dad. She's little by little starting to put her life in order and wants to meet you." "Why does she need this? She can't doubt for a second how I feel about her." Ronnie sighed heavily and came to sit next to me on the couch, pressing her shoulder against me. "This is her therapy, she says. Things are going very well, and Dr. Oliva thinks it's time for her to talk to you, to explain herself and apologize." I snorted. "Explain yourself? Seriously? What difference does it make to me what pushed this?" "Sorry, girls, you shouldn't have said that. But why should I care why your mother did what she did? She did it. She destroyed our family. That's the end of the story. I don't want to listen to her apologize, and I don't want to listen to any pathetic explanations." The girls patiently explained that it was not me who needed the conversation, but Helen. "She needs to be able to admit what she did, Dad. I think this is her way of closing this issue. Dr. Oliva said that whether you forgive her or not is up to you, but taking responsibility for your mistakes is up to her, and she wants to do it." So, I have to sit and listen to her cry and say that she didn't mean to hurt me? Damn it. I got up from the sofa and left the room. But of course, in the end, they persuaded me. "Do you have daughters, then you know what I mean. I love them, and they still love their mother. Mother, as they should, no matter what." And refusing them when they really wanted something was not easy.

On the second Saturday in May, at 2:00 in the afternoon, Helen's beat-up old Volvo pulled into her driveway. I haven't spoken to or seen her in over 17 months. I stood in the open front door and watched as she looked around the house and yard, remembering the place where she had lived for almost 20 years. Approaching the path, she stopped when she noticed me at the door. I saw that she was afraid to come closer. "Hi, Rob," she said quietly. "Hi, Helen. Why don't you sit in the yard?" For some reason, I decided I didn't want to let her inside the house. So, without saying a word, I walked around the side of the garage, heading towards the backyard, expecting her to follow me. We sat at an old wrought iron table and chairs on the back patio. I had brought a couple of sodas and now poured one for Helen, placing it in front of her. She looked thinner and older, a little more haggard than I remembered, but she was still an attractive woman, which immediately irritated me as soon as I noticed it. "Thanks for letting me come, Rob," she said after a couple of minutes of silence. "I'm sure you didn't particularly like the idea, and I appreciate that. Just don't lie to me, okay? I'm ready to give you the opportunity to speak out, just like the girls said you needed. Just give me some damn respect and don't lie. Tell the truth, or get the hell out of here." She nodded. "I will be honest, without lies and without excuses, and Rob, I'm sorry. I'm sorry more than I can express in words for everything I've done." "Yes, well, great. Everything's great now, isn't it, Helen?" I noticed that I was starting to get angry more than I expected. I took a deep breath and said, "Sorry. I will remain silent. Continue." After a couple of moments, she said, "You need to understand that what I did had nothing to do with you, Rob, or our marriage. You've probably wondered what you did wrong, but it was all about me. One day, as if by mistake, a door opened, and I walked through it, finding myself in two worlds at the same time: in one with you and the girls, and in the other, crazy, confused, where I behaved like, like a woman of easy virtue." I snorted but said nothing. Let him tell his damn story, no matter how ridiculous it may sound. "Do you remember 7 years ago, the summer when my mom and dad died?" Of course, I remembered. Her father died suddenly of a stroke in the yard on a beautiful June day. Her mother was inconsolable with grief, stopped wanting to live, and less than 3 months later, she passed away in her sleep. It was a hard blow for all of us, but especially for Helen, their only daughter. And then, in the fall, just a couple of weeks after Mom's funeral, Arleene was hit by a car." I nodded. All three of these deaths occurred in a short period of time. Arleene and Helen were colleagues in the catering industry and very close friends. Anyway, after all this, I just broke down. "You remember, I felt lost, as if I didn't understand why I was even living. I was just doing normal things: going to work, taking care of you and the girls, but deep down, I was completely broken. And then, in November, on the weekend when you went hunting in Tennessee with Joe, I suddenly decided to go out with Sandy, our former neighbor who is divorced, and have a couple of cocktails. I don't remember where the girls were. They probably spent the night with friends, but I needed to get out, be alone, do something different. We went to the Perosi bar, drank, and danced with some men. Then it got late, and one of the guys we were dancing with offered to take Sandy home. I saw that she wanted to spend the night with this guy, and I brought us to the bar in my car, so I agreed. And then she suddenly fell silent and took a deep breath. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and then a burly, middle-aged man named Ted came up to me. Ted Archer from Minneapolis. He struck up a conversation with me, asked me to dance, bought me a couple more cocktails, and I went with him to his hotel room. I can't explain it, Rob," now she looked at me straight, despite her tears. "He was strong, confident, and somehow managed to bring out the submissive side in me that I never knew existed. We went back to his room, and he, he did whatever he wanted with me, things that I never agreed to with you. He simply demanded, and I obeyed. This went on all night. I did everything he wanted. I couldn't say no. And in the morning, when I woke up, I was terrified. I was just sick of what I had done. I tried to get dressed quietly and sneak out of the room, but he didn't let me just leave and had sex with me again. When I returned home, I was hysterical. Thank God that you and the girls were not there yet. I showered again and again, threw my clothes away, and was beside myself. I couldn't understand how I could betray you like that, and how Ted could make me do what I told you I never wanted to do. I fell to my knees and begged God to forgive me, keep my secret, and give me a chance to make amends to you. And that night, I can't imagine you remember this, I was clingy and affectionate and a little scared, like we'd had a fight and I was sorry. I told you I didn't want to make love because I was afraid you might find out what I did, but I snuggled up to you and asked you to hold me all night. And when a few days later I saw that my secret was safe, that you did not realize what I had done, I cried with relief and devoted myself to making amends to you, to becoming the best, most ideal wife. In peace, we even had more sex than usual for about a month, and I let you do some things with me that you wanted to try instead of saying no, like I usually did." She took a sip of her soda, looking at me with sadness in her eyes. Her crying had stopped, but she looked very sad, almost devastated. "That's how it all started," she said, "that night with a guy from out of town." But the episode continued to bother her, growing in her mind until she thought about it all the time, wondering why she had allowed it to happen, why this man's dominance had affected her, and above all, why this experience had been so exciting. The desire for even more, more humiliating, semi-forced sex gradually grew within her. She struggled with this for almost 2 years, although she said she thought about it constantly. And then, when I was in college with Linda and Ronnie, she did it again. She found a bar about a half-hour outside of town, pulled herself together, and spent the night with a truck driver. "I was horrified by what I was doing, truly horrified. I felt like a monster, and at the same time, the sex was so exciting, and the feelings were so strong, so overwhelming, that I was simply lost in them. Now, since I visited Dr. Oliva, I see that shame and excitement are combined for me, almost as if it had to be shameful and humiliating for me to enjoy sex so much. And also that my, my sexual outbursts were a completely separate, completely separate part of my life. After the first few times, I began to build a little box in my head that held all the feelings associated with my, my behavior. I was still ashamed, even sick, but somehow the shame went into a drawer and stayed away from my daily life." She looked at me. "This must sound crazy to you, or maybe just as a ridiculous self-justification, but that's not true. I know there's no excuse for what I did, Rob, but after a while, it really started to live in a little separate part of my brain, and with the rest of my brain, I could continue to love you and the girls and be a caterer and a housewife." After Helen's second one-night stand, she stopped fighting her impulses as much, and her hookups happened more often when the girls and I were away. I think there were six in total, maybe seven, over 2 or 3 years. I tried really hard to remember, but I'm not sure. And then, one of her clients from the restaurant business approached her persistently, as Ted Archer did, and she began an affair with him. It was like my night with Ted, except it lasted almost 6 months. We met once or twice a week in the afternoon, and he just took advantage of me. He didn't hit me or hurt me, but he did whatever he wanted to me. And after it ended, I think something changed. Maybe I should say something broke inside me. I don't know, but after that, I started looking for another partner, and then another one. Between the customer and her latest playmate, Mark Malek, there were three other men over the course of a couple of years. One of them, our old friend Joe Alderman. And Helen discovered that she didn't have to be submissive. In fact, she increasingly took the lead with each man, having sex the way she wanted. But it was always sex, exactly the kind I wanted with her, but she always refused me. I've thought about this a lot, Rob, and this has to be the worst way I've ever betrayed you. I'm very sorry that I was like that with Mark, Joe, and others, but I continued to be such an arrogant [ __ ] in bed with you. I guess it doesn't make sense to you, but in my head, the two worlds were completely separate. There was Helen, the wife, loving, devoted, responsible, and there was Helen, a woman of easy virtue. Because I never stopped feeling shame, I always knew how inexcusable and destructive my behavior was. It was all part of his appeal, I think. The main reason I had such a secret life." Helen fell silent. She looked exhausted, devastated. The day was cloudy, and it became windy. She had been talking for almost an hour and a half. "Okay," I said after a while. "So, what now?" I didn't know what I felt. I was offended, sad, and even a little sorry for her. "How about this, but it's not so much a pity more than a pity for oneself." It was as if she had read my thoughts. She said, "I don't know, Rob. I can't even imagine how terrible this is for you and how angry I made you." She gave me a crooked half-smile. "You're a really good person, you know that. A lot of guys would just kill me when they found out rather than just throw my ass out of the house." She looked across the backyard and said, "Sometimes I almost wish you would, but I wouldn't want you to go to prison, not for what I brought you to." Turning to me, she said, "The thing is, I know you're worse off. I'm alone in a small apartment without the only man I've ever loved, and I'm lonely and sad, but at least I deserve this. I look in the mirror and know that I am to blame for this. But you, Rob, I took our happy marriage and broke it into a million pieces, just like you did with that vase, and it's not your fault. You didn't do anything, and there's nothing I can do to take it back. I would do anything, anything to make up for what I did, but I know there is nothing I can do to make it up to you. I'm so sorry, dear." Her head was bowed, and she was constantly crying. I wanted to yell at her that she no longer had the right to call me darling, but I didn't. I knew she knew it. Helen cried for several minutes, blowing her nose from time to time, and I watched her. I wondered why I didn't have a million questions for her, but I couldn't think of anything else I wanted to know. God knows I didn't need to listen to the details of her adventures. What she just told me, and what I heard from Mark and Joe, was more than enough. "Why on earth did you choose Joe and Mark?" I suddenly exploded. "Two guys we know, for heaven's sake. What the hell was that?" "I'm not sure," she said through tears. "I talked to Dr. Oliva about it. I guess that meant I was even more out of control, so I wasn't so careful anymore, trying to keep my other life at a safe distance from you and me. Maybe I was subconsciously trying to get exposed, like I was so ashamed and so desperate about what I was doing that I knew the only way to stop it was if you caught me. So, I started sleeping with Joe, and when you didn't find out, I chose a guy who lived right around the corner. Pretty stupid, huh? It doesn't make much sense even to me." She continued to cry, and I just sat and looked at her. Finally, she calmed down and looked at me, managing to smile slightly. "Is there anything else you want to ask me, Rob, or tell me? It's not too late to yell at me, to let me know how disgusting I've been and how angry you are at everything I've ruined." I got up and started walking around the yard. "I don't see the point in this, Helen. There is nothing I can say or do to change anything. You took a [ __ ] hand grenade, threw it right in the middle of our marriage, and blew it up. End of story. And now, a year and a half has passed. Obviously, I'm not as angry as I was then, just sad and probably bitter. I hope the story I told you helped you in your therapy." "To be honest, it didn't do much for me." "Well, to be honest, it sounds like elaborate psychological [ __ ]." She smiled. "I don't blame you. Dr. Oliva told me a lot about this. It's called schizo-sexuality. Can you believe it? It actually has a name. But if this sounds like nonsense to you, that's okay. I wasn't trying to justify what I did, Rob. There are no excuses, but I needed to admit what I did, first of all, to you, the person I love, the person I hurt the most." "Actually, I have one more question," I said. "Why did you try to die after I received the divorce papers?" "I just fell apart. I started drinking, and you know I don't tolerate alcohol very well. That Saturday night, I went to the bar hoping to pick up a guy and, well, you can imagine, let him use me. But the guy I went to the motel room with was so rude that I got scared and tried to back away. I ran out of the room, I went back to my car, jumped in, and drove away, just sobbing the whole time, scared out of my mind. And when I returned to the apartment, I felt so ashamed, so scared of what I had done that night and all the previous years with all these men. That's why I did it. At least I could stop the pain, I thought. But after I did that, I suddenly thought about the girls. I just couldn't do that to them. What I did to you was bad enough, but I couldn't deprive them of their mother. So, I called Ronnie, and thank God she called 911, and she shrugged. They got me to the hospital on time. I felt like such a terrible person, lying there, while all the nurses were so nice to me, as if I wasn't a selfish, cheating woman of easy virtue." Helen sat and simply looked at the ground. Then she pulled herself together and stood up, looking at me seriously. "Thank you for letting me talk to you. That was very generous of you." She smiled again. "I think the girls must have worked really hard on you, don't they?" I nodded and couldn't help but smile back. "I will do everything I can to make amends, Rob, even though there is nothing in the world that can make up for what I did." She walked around the garage to her car, and when I started to follow her, she said, "No, don't come with me, okay? Just let me go." I saw that she was crying again. I let her go and just stood in the backyard and watched her disappear around the corner of the garage. I didn't know what I felt. I was angry and, and a little, I don't know, shocked. Listening to Helen, I remembered all the horrors of the moment when I first learned about her and Mark: the rumpled bed, the smell of sex in our bedroom, all those visions I had came back into my head, and I couldn't get them away. I went inside and picked up the phone. "Hey, Matilda, it's me. Look, I know I was going to pick you up at the cinema at 6:30, but are you free right now?" "Great. Could you come? I really need you." "Amazing. See you at 10." When Matilda arrived, she saw that I was upset. She hugged me tightly and looked at me carefully. "Did the conversation with Helen not go well?" I shook my head. "Everything was fine. Lots of damn psychopathic talk, but I wasn't expecting much. It's just, I don't know, actually, I just don't feel very good." She smiled and kissed me. "Poor thing. I have a couple of ideas on how to make you feel better." She took me to the bedroom. "Damn," I said, looking at her. She smiled at me. "I have no idea what it was." "It doesn't matter," she replied. "How do you feel now? Any chance of doing it again and making it in time for the movie to start?" "I grinned." "Hands down," she said.

On Tuesday, 3 days later, there was a box at the front door when I returned from work. There was a note on it, written in Helen's handwriting. I just looked at it for a few seconds, then picked it up and carried it to the kitchen table. The box contained homemade apple pie. The note read: "Dear Rob, Thanks for listening to me the other day. It was very generous of you, much more than I deserved. I know you've always loved my apple pies, and I hope you enjoy this one. With love, Helen." I cooked myself dinner and ate it while reading the newspaper, glancing at the pie from time to time. For some reason, I wasn't sure I wanted to eat it. Finally, I decided that this was stupid. I went into the living room, turned on the baseball game, then went back to the kitchen, cut myself a piece of pie, poured myself a glass of milk, and took it all with me to the living room. The game was boring, and I turned it off after a couple of innings, but the pie was delicious. I ate three pieces. Helen's pie left me even more confused.

Then, on Saturday, I wanted to thank her, but I knew I didn't want to talk to her. So, I waited until early afternoon when she was at work and called her at her apartment. This was the first time I called there. Linda and Ronnie gave me the number, just in case, as they said. When the answering machine came on, I said, "Helen, hello, this is Rob. I uh wanted to thank you for the pie. It was delicious. Well, in general, that's all, I guess. Thank you. Bye." I was lucky that right when I saw Helen and my head started spinning, I met the woman I wanted to date. At least, I thought I'd be lucky, but it turns out I wasn't so lucky. Her name was Leanne, and I met her while working on a case. Jim and I got some idiot out of her house. He got drunk and hit his wife a couple of times. The neighbors called the police, and when we arrived, she was locked in the bathroom, and when she came out, we saw marks on her face. So, so the guy had to sleep it off in a police cell, and the next day, an attractive woman of about 40 came to rescue him. She was his sister, and her name was Leanne. Tall, slender, dark-haired, and divorced, as I found out later. "He couldn't say much good about her brother, but he's part of the family," she said with a sigh. I nodded and said, "I knew what I was talking about." We chatted while she waited for her bail paperwork to be processed, and then, on a whim, I asked her if I could buy her a cup of coffee. She looked at me in surprise and then said, "I don't have time today, but I wouldn't mind having lunch sometime, if you'd like." We arranged a date the next day at a diner two blocks from the site. It turned out she worked in an office nearby. "Sounds great, right?" We had lunch and really hit it off. Leanne was sweet, I liked her sense of humor, and she seemed interested in me, so I invited her to the cinema that Saturday. It wasn't until until I told Matilda on Friday that I'd be busy tomorrow night and asked if we could meet on Sunday instead that she practically tore my head off. "You son of a [ __ ]!" she hissed at me. We were in a quiet corner of the precinct, so at least she kept her voice down. "I spent almost a year and a half on you, and now you're on a [ __ ] date." I looked at her completely confused. "But Matilda, it's you! I was the one who picked you up from the floor when that woman of easy virtue knocked you down. I was the one who brought you back into the game and gave you more good sex than you've had in your entire life, you said so yourself." She continued like this for a few more minutes, and I just waited until she started to run out of steam. Then I said, "Matilda, I'm sorry, but you told me at the beginning that you're not the kind of romantic unless George Clooney came along, and I'm not him. You said exactly what you wanted: Friends with Benefits, some sex without strings attached." "Slightly less angry," she said. "Can't a girl change her mind, for God's sake, Rob? We've been in company for a long time. Have you ever noticed that I like you?" Alarm bells were now ringing loud and clear in my head. I said, "Honestly, Matilda, you are an amazing person, you're a wonderful lady, and the sexiest woman I've ever known, but I always thought we'd be, you know, buddies. Like we were. In my wildest dreams, I couldn't imagine a real romance, let alone marriage, with Matilda." But I didn't mean to put it that way. However, even the gentle words I spoke made her boil. "I understand, idiot. Matilda is good for pleasant sex, but nothing more. Listen, buddy, you're cut off. No more me in your bed, you can bet on that." And she turned on her heel and ran away from me. It wasn't fun, but at least I knew where I was. Was I'll miss sex, at least until I have another woman in my life, but I wasn't going to miss the terrible cooking, and to be honest, I didn't miss Matilda's company all that much. So, I met with Leanne on Saturday, feeling like a free agent, ready to start something new. And after a couple of weeks of dating, I realized that the word "lucky" was not quite suitable to describe my situation. Leanne was approved. She made it clear that we would not go beyond short kisses goodnight until she had a ring on her finger. Moreover, she was also a control freak. In her opinion, fun was sitting in my kitchen and telling me which cupboard to move the dishes into instead of leaving them where I like them, or why my car was too old and needed replacing, or which six other restaurants were better than the one I chose for us to dine at. So, after four dates, Leanne was history, and I never looked back, despite several calls from her, the last of which was quite angry. "For me, the mystery is not how she got divorced, but who was smart enough to marry her in the first place."

The following weekend, Jim and Patty invited me to dinner, which they did from time to time, and to my surprise, we were joined by Patty's little sister, Barbara, whom I had never met before. I suspected a setup, but I played honestly, and we all had a calm and pleasant evening. However, I certainly gave Jim a hard time on Monday morning. He kept trying to look apologetic but failed miserably, bursting into laughter. "It's not my fault, Rob," he said, chuckling. "What Patty wants, Patty gets. She knows you're dating again, finally, and wants you to give Barb a chance." In fact, Barb was pretty, and I could easily imagine that she was interested in me, but I was also very careful. "What happens if she and I don't get along? If she thinks I'm an [ __ ] or something, then Patty will make me look like the bad guy. I don't want to be in this situation." Still smiling, Jim said, "Patty and I talked about it. She was very clear: all she wants is for you to date Barb one day. If you want, after this, whatever happens will happen. And she swore to me that if you two didn't get along, she would never be mad at you." "What the hell," I thought. So, I called Barb and invited her to dinner that Saturday. We had a great time, kind of low-key, and when I dropped her off, I thought I'd get a nice kiss, and that would be that. But she took my hand and said, "Rob, would you like to come in for coffee? It's still early." I'm not an idiot. She made coffee, excused herself, and returned wearing a sheer black lace nightgown that caught my attention. We had sex. I left tired, dazed, and happy. The sex was a lot of fun, and there was clearly the prospect of more, as much as I wanted. Barb was lively and attractive, and although I barely knew her, I certainly didn't mind the idea of getting to know her better and having a lot of sex to boot. But I soon realized why Barb is still single at 44, despite how pretty she is. On our second date, we went to a movie, then came back to my house, where we spent the night doing the same things we did on the previous date. The next morning at breakfast, Barb began to hint quite transparently that she was ready to move in with me. She remarked that a woman's hand could greatly improve this place, asked what I preferred for dinner, and complained about how small her apartment was and how high the rent was. I was too stunned to respond, so I wisely remained silent. This time, but already on our third date, she started talking about marriage. She asked when I would introduce her to my daughters, saying that it was important for her to establish a good relationship with them. Needless to say, it was a much faster pace than I was prepared to handle. Marriage, for God's sake? I only spent three nights with this woman. But when I tried to carefully explain this to her, the situation only got worse. At first, she ignored or misunderstood all my soft hints, so I ended up saying something more direct. "Barb, I think we're moving too fast. I like you, but I'm not at all ready to think about remarriage." She looked at me coldly and said, "Why? By a how? When the milk is free, right, Rob?" "No, Barb." "I if you weren't ready for marriage, then why the hell did you sleep with me every time we dated? What does it mean?" "Barb, I think we're both..." "No, you bastard," she said in an icy tone. "You're just another idiot who gives himself an excuse to do anything to get a girl into bed, to give himself another notch on his belt, no matter how she feels, how lonely she is." And at that moment, Barb suddenly burst into tears, sitting at my kitchen table, burying her face in her hands. I tried to console her, but she remained angry and cried, refusing to talk to me. I finally drove her back home, where she slammed the car door in my face and went to her apartment. A little puzzled, I returned home and called Jim. "Is your sister-in-law completely out of her mind, or is there something wrong with me?" He laughed. "Let me guess," he said. "You were having a good time on a few dates, and then suddenly she started talking about engagement rings, dinner sets, and where you should go on your honeymoon. Am I right?" "Spot on, mate." "So, has this happened before?" "I'm afraid so. Patty and I were wondering if we should warn you, but we decided to just see how things pan out. Barb is always in a bit of a hurry, to say the least. She's probably scared off guys already. It's a shame because she's a good person, but based on past experience, Rob, she won't even talk to you now. You are a past stage for her." "Well," I said, "I guess that suits me. We had quite a scary conversation. She was fun to be around, but to say she was a little hasty would be putting it mildly." "So, are we okay? I mean, Patty won't hate me now?" "Not at all, Rob. You just tried it, and that's all she could expect from you."

As the weeks passed, my dating luck was no longer on my side. I dated a few other women: the cousin of a police officer I knew, a pretty waitress from a diner I frequented, but nothing worked out. Sometimes we had sex, more often we didn't. I wasn't sure I was completely over Helen and ready for a serious relationship, but it still didn't matter because there was no connection with the people I dated. Meanwhile, Helen brought me food once a week. After the apple pie, there was peach pie, very tasty, and just like before, I left her a message on her answering machine to thank her. Then it became regular: fried chicken, meatloaf, big pasta salad. Suddenly, I was eating well again, at least a couple of times a week, but without Matilda, I was leading a fairly sexless life again.

One Saturday afternoon, I was returning from the hardware store when I saw Helen. She stood in the Acme parking lot, loading grocery bags into her Volvo. I waited at the red light and watched her, learning all her usual movements. I drove home and got back to working on the tiles in the bathroom I was redoing, but my mind was wandering. An hour later, I got up, washed my face and hands, and changed into clean clothes. I got into the car and, without allowing myself to think, found myself in front of Helen's house. When she opened the door, she was surprised to see me, but after a moment, she smiled somewhat hesitantly. "Hey, Rob. Come in. This is a pleasant surprise." She was wearing shorts and a green jersey top. She looked good, not as upset as when she came to my house, still as slim as ever, although now she was a little thinner than when we were together. "Hi, Helen." I walked in and sat on the couch in her small living room, still wondering what the hell I was doing here. "I wanted to thank you for all all the wonderful food you brought. You're still the best cook I've ever known. Everything was just amazing." She smiled widely, clearly very pleased. "I'm glad, Rob. I hope that, well, I hoped that you would like it. I still enjoy cooking for you." We fell silent for a minute. Her smile faded, and she looked a little unsure. She probably also wondered what I was doing here. "I asked myself, Helen," I said suddenly. "I want you to do it for me." Until I said this, I myself did not realize why I had come. She was completely stunned for a moment, and then she smiled timidly and said, "Okay, Rob." And she did it. I felt a complete mixture of emotions: gratitude, peace, anger, bitterness. It seemed like we were both thinking the same thing: all these years she'd been doing it for other men when she could have been doing it for me. We looked at each other in silence. "Thank you, Rob," she said quietly. I think she wanted to say something else. "That was really wonderful, Helen," I said. There was a long, tense silence. Suddenly, I couldn't take it anymore. "I have to go," I said gruffly. I got up and left the apartment without looking back. I listened, but Helen said nothing more.

Driving home from Helen's, I didn't understand what had just happened or what it meant. Although this is not entirely true, I knew what had just happened. I asked her, and she did it, and she seemed to like it too, but what did this mean, and what would happen next? That's where I was confused. Do I want to have sex with her again? Do I even want to see her again? I tried to put it out of my mind and go back to my business, wondering if the weekly food deliveries would now stop. But the next Tuesday, there was a pot of Helen's Hunter's chicken on the doorstep, one of my favorite dishes, which I'm sure she remembered. I cooked a big pot of rice and ate it three nights in a row, but I still didn't know what to say to her, so I left a thank you message on her answering machine as usual. During the day, while she was out, the next week she left me a pasta salad. Meanwhile, I was busy with work and work intrigues. A new desk sergeant had been transferred to our station. He was a complete bore, a smug idiot, and seemed to take an immediate dislike to Jim. This only confirmed that this guy is a complete [ __ ]. There was no person in the world who did not love Jim, a gentle, cheerful, and absolutely reliable guy. There was no one in the department I would rather have as a partner, and more than once, other guys told me the same thing. But this Sergeant Buster Redon, for some reason, got mad at Jim. He even tried to deprive him of his daily salary, allegedly because of incorrectly filled out time sheets. This nonsense continued for a couple of weeks until 18 of us came to the captain and said that if Redon did not transfer, then the blue flu (unofficial sick leave) would begin. The captain was a good man, and he had heard complaints about Redon before. He sighed heavily, threw his cap back, and said he would sort it out. A week later, we learned that Redon was being transferred to the 26th Precinct, and we all felt relieved. Jim was genuinely touched by how the boys stood up for him and organized a big bowling night for us all on Friday at the local club, beer and everything. We had a great time bowling, drinking, and making fun of each other, the way cops usually relax in the company of other cops. There was a pretty waitress who brought us beer and cleared away our empty glasses. She was in her early 30s with straight blonde hair and an attractive figure, and she seemed to smile at me every time she walked by. I wasn't entirely sure because I'd already had a fair amount to drink, so I asked my buddy Simon if he'd noticed it. He just laughed and said, "Of course, Rob. She wants you. In fact, most women want you. You're just a gift from God, you know that." And he laughed again, also half in the insole like me. It was of little use, but the next day, as I was raking leaves in the yard and trying to shake off my hangover, I thought about her again and decided she was attractive enough to give it a try. So, I took a shower, cleaned myself up, and after dinner, I went back to the bowling alley to drink beer. Her name was Alice. Alice Maynard. At first, I couldn't figure out if her friendly manner, her willingness to laugh and flirt with me between customers, was just a way to earn a good tip, but when I was about to leave and suggested taking her to dinner and a movie, she beamed and said she would happily agree.

Was Alice the one? It was too late for me to believe in "the one," especially after what happened to Helen, but for a while, it was too good to be true. Alice was lively and cheerful. She loved to dance, and she undoubtedly liked me, and as it turned out, after our second date, she loved sex. When I walked her out after our first date, she thanked me warmly and kissed me goodbye before disappearing into her apartment. But the next time, she invited me to her place, and the coffee smoothly turned into sex. Alice was never married, but she had several long-term relationships that she thought might lead to marriage. The first guy cheated on her after 4 years of marriage. She caught him in the middle of a relationship with his secretary when she decided to surprise him and stop by for lunch. The second left her after she found out that she could not have children. For some reason, they decided to have a child before marriage. After a year of trying, they were tested, and it turned out that she could not have children. So, Alice knew what it was like to live with a man, and she knew how to please him. For a couple of months, we saw each other at least twice a week, almost always staying overnight, either at her at her place or at mine. She told me about her life, family, work, past boyfriends, and I shared stories about Helen, my daughters, and my work as a police officer. She liked dating a cop, a man with a gun, a man who knew how to keep everything under control. I was more than 10 years older than her, but that didn't bother her. One day, while we were lying in bed, I expressed mild concern about this, and she became playful. "You know what they say, right, Rob? Age is just a number. You're only as old as you feel." "And you," she said with a smile, "feel damn good." The sex in the first months was just wonderful. With a new person, there is so much excitement, so much desire to try everything. It reminded me of what things were like when Helen and I first got married, before she turned into what she became. It wasn't just good sex; I also had good sex with Melinda, but I liked Alice. She was not as good a cook as Helen, but she was cheerful, brave, and optimistic about life. She had two failed relationships, had to care for her mother dying of cancer for over a year, and had a boring job as a waitress at a bowling alley, but she was still cheerful.

She believed that every day brought something good, and I loved being around that attitude. We would meet up with Jim and Patty every couple of weeks, and it was obvious that they liked Alice too.

One day, I was in the kitchen helping Patty with the dishes while Alice and Jim were outside. Patty asked, "How are things going with you and Alice, Rob?" I replied that we were fine, and she said, "It seems that this is for a long time." I looked at her, and she smiled. "Jim thinks so too. She's smart, pretty, and has a good head on her shoulders, and you seem to like her, even though it's weird." "Thank you, Patty. I appreciate it. Your and Jim's opinion means a lot to me."

So, everything was fine. Alice and I were a good couple. The sex was great, and everything else was fine. No complaints. This went on for about 5 months. During this time, I thought less and less about Helen. She still brought me dinner once a week, and I still called her answering machine to thank her. We didn't see each other or even talk on the phone. Linda and Ronnie kept me updated, telling me that Helen was doing well and that her catering business was taking off. Sometimes, I remembered what made me go to her then, why she agreed to it, what it meant to her, but I didn't think too much about it. And Alice kept me so busy that I had no time for it, until Ted returned to town.

Ted was the creepy ex she caught cheating on with her secretary. That was 8 years ago, and he later went to North Carolina. Now he's back. Although I didn't know about it right away, Saturday night, Alice and I came back to my place after the movie. After the movie, we went out for a couple of beers, and I felt relaxed and excited. I hugged her and headed towards the stairs, but she stopped me and said, "Honey, let's sit in the kitchen for a minute." There was something serious, even alarmed, in her gaze, and it alarmed me. We sat down at the kitchen table, and she said, "I need to tell you something. Something I still haven't said anything because, in fact, there was nothing to talk about. But but now..."

"Alice," I said a little impatiently, "let's get down to business. What do you want to tell me?" I couldn't wait to get this over with and go upstairs to the bedroom.

"You remember Ted, right? My ex." I nodded. "He and I corresponded for a couple of weeks. He wrote to say he was returning to town and asked if I would like to meet him for lunch. I thought about it and finally agreed, and last Wednesday, we had lunch at the Benton Grill." I definitely didn't like where this was going. I had a bad feeling that we wouldn't make it to the bedroom today.

"Okay," I said, and she lowered her head and then looked at me again. "And he, he wants to be with me again. He knows he screwed up when he cheated on me. He married this [ __ ] his secretary, but their marriage only lasted a couple of years years before she started cheating on him. He dated other women but says he realized that I was the love of his life. So he took a job downtown and asked if there was a way for me to forgive him, a chance so I could give him an opportunity again."

Silence. "And I guess I finally said, 'You didn't refuse him?'"

"No," she replied. "I said, 'I think about it.'" My face tensed, and she said, "Rob, listen. You are very dear to me, and you have been so kind to me. These last few months have been absolutely wonderful, but it's just... I don't know how to explain. I loved Ted for real, and he broke my heart with what he did. I hated him for this, but all these years, I, I don't know, I thought about it because I truly believed that he was the one. And now he's back and wants to be with me again, and it seems to me that it's right to try again with the guy who cheated on on you like that."

My voice seemed rough to me. I wasn't angry, exactly, but my throat tightened. "Here's the thing," she said. "I see he's changed. Almost 9 years have passed. He became calmer, more thoughtful. He's matured a lot since he did that to me." Her eyes filled with tears. "Listen, Rob, I don't know if we can do this. Maybe I'm doing something stupid, but the thing is, I think I still love him like I've never loved any any one before."

There was silence. She looked at the table. I looked at her. "Got it," I said. "Should I give you a ride home?"

She raised her face, and tears flowed down her cheeks. "Rob, I'm so sorry, but I would never do this behind your back. You've been so good to me." And she didn't finish her sentence, starting to cry. After a minute, she said, "I understand that things may not work out with Ted. This might be the stupidest thing I ever done, but no matter how good it is with you, it's not."

"I understand, Alice. I'm not the love of your life. It's normal," I said. "I never really thought it was like that." I was sad, but what was the point of hurting her even more? Alice was a good person and dealt with me fairly. So I drove her to her house, driving slowly due to the beer I had drunk, and she hugged me for a long time, kissed me tenderly, thanked me, and apologized again, said a few kind words, and then left. And I drove home again.

I went a couple of weeks without dating anyone or even thinking about it. I worked my shift with Jim, came home, ate, watched TV, or went for a couple of beers at the bar where our guys go. Once a week, I would find dinner on the porch and leave Helen a thank you message. The next day, my daughter Linda called to chat and asked how Alice was doing. They dated a couple of times, and "My Girls fell in love with her." "She's probably fine, but she's not with me anymore." And I told her the whole story. "Oh, Dad, I'm sorry. You deserve to have a good woman by your side." I laughed. "I don't argue, dear, but I'm not angry with her. She honestly told me everything, and for her, this guy, as she believes, is true love." We said our goodbyes, and I went back to watching the game.

A couple of endings later, I was watching a car commercial and suddenly thought, "Who is your true love, Rob?" I knew the answer, but that didn't make me feel any better.

Helen always brought me dinner on Tuesdays. It was waiting for me on the porch when I came home from work. One Monday, Jim and I were late at work due to a difficult arrest. All possible reinforcements were needed. I didn't get home until 3:00 in the morning, so the next day, I left work for lunch and went home for a nap. Those night shifts are exhausting when you're almost 50. I woke up around 4:30, took a shower, got dressed, and went downstairs to read the newspaper when I heard Helen's car pull up in the driveway. I opened the door and saw her walking towards me with a large bowl covered with foil. She was surprised, even shocked, to see me.

"Rob? I, uh, didn't expect to see you. I just..."

"It's okay, Helen. I was on duty late, so I left early today. Do you want to come in for a minute?"

"I, uh, thanks, Rob. That would be nice." I held the door as she walked into the kitchen. She looked good, her hair neatly styled, her blouse nice, and she smelled nice. Turning to me, she said, "This is paella with shrimp, chicken, and sausage."

"Sounds great," I said, picking up the bowl and setting it on the table. "Can I get you some coffee?" Unlike me, Helen could always drink coffee at any time of the day.

"It keeps me awake half the night if I drink it during the day," she said carefully.

"Yes, thank you." I brought her a cup of coffee, added milk and sugar, just the way she always liked it. She watched me carefully all this time without saying a word, just watching. I wondered how strange this must all seem to her, the two of us together again in our kitchen, as we had thousands of times, just not in the last couple of years, not since I found out about her cheating and kicked her out of the house.

I started talking to her about the kids, about Linda and her new relationship, about Ronnie's plans after college, and gradually, she relaxed. Ronnie was finishing her accounting degree and wanted to move to a big city, perhaps Chicago to be near Linda, or Los Angeles, or San Francisco. I believed that she was an adult and could make her own decisions. Helen didn't mind, but she was worried about Ronnie being all alone on the west coast. I couldn't take my eyes off Helen as we sat quietly and talked about our daughters, how good she looked, how strange it was to sit like this, as if our family had not been destroyed, as if she hadn't destroyed it.

"Helen, do you want to have sex?" I said this quietly, without getting up or moving towards her. Her eyes widened, and she looked at me for a long time, it seemed even a little scared.

"Rob, I..." she trailed off. "What, what will that mean?"

I shrugged. "Don't know. Maybe nothing. I want to have sex with you, if you want. If not, you can just say no. I will still thank you for the food and enjoy it."

She looked down at the table, her cheeks slightly red. "I want to have sex with you, Rob." She looked into my eyes. "But can I ask you to be gentle? Almost 2 years have passed."

I raised my eyebrows but said nothing. This was an unexpected did answer. "I won't hurt you," I said. A minute later, I stood up and extended my hand to her. She got up, and we went upstairs together. Really, it's been 2 years already. We slept for an hour or two, and we're now back in the kitchen. Helen heated up the paella and prepared the salad while I set the table and sipped my beer.

"Yes, that guy," she said. "I picked up after you kicked me out the night I took the pills. He was the last one. It's a pretty terrible memory I've been carrying around with me. Glad I now have a new one to replace it." She smiled warmly at me, and I couldn't help but smile back.

"I can't believe you didn't have opportunities," I said. "You are a very attractive woman, Helen. Have you ever gone on dates?"

"The first year or so, not at all. I was too broken. Sometimes, someone would suggest meeting, but I was too busy with work, seeing Dr. Oliva, and just picking up the pieces of my life. Later, of course, I dated a little, but going to bed seemed like something serious, something I had to be prepared for, and I just wasn't ready. The guys were good, but there was no spark, and I didn't want to just have sex with a person for whom I didn't feel anything special."

We had dinner, talking about the girls and a little about work. I made Helen laugh by telling the story of how we stood up for Jim and got Buster Redon thrown out of the station. She said that the catering business had acquired several regular clients, small conference rooms that provided her with a stable income, and that she was now earning more than ever. "I even started thinking about buying a house," but her voice trailed off, "but what I realized that what I really wanted was not just a house, but a real hearth, and buying a house won't make it a hot bed if I'm there alone by myself."

I had nothing to answer, so I just left the topic. This whole time with Helen was curious. It was mostly comfortable, familiar, and pleasant. After all, we knew each other so well, and at the same time, there were brief moments when the memories of what she had done filled me with rage, like a jolt of electricity. But over the past 2 years, I have had so many of these blows that they no longer last long. You see, nothing can hurt as much 2 years later as when it just happened. Whatever the reason, I still remember my grief when my father suddenly died of a heart attack in the canteen of the factory where he worked. I was only 24 then. I remember my feelings, but I don't fully experience them now. I loved him and missed him, of course, but without that acute pain, without tears in my eyes. He's gone, and I think the same thing happened to my marriage.

When Helen left, we both avoided talking about what happened or discussing what would happen next. The closest we came to it was at the door when she hugged me. "Thank you, Rob," she said, "I loved that," almost in a whisper, as if she was afraid to say it out loud. I smiled, kissed her, and said, "Me too." And she walked out to the car without looking back. I'm sure she was itching to ask, "What now?" but she was smart enough not to rush things. And I took a beer, went straight to the living room, and turned on the game. I also didn't want to think about "What now?"

I had just finished washing up after dinner on Friday when Ronnie called from college. It was quite normal; we called each other about once a week, but I was immediately wary. My first thought was, "Damn, Helen told her about our meeting this week." It's hardly about sex, of course, but something. However, Ronnie didn't mention anything. She just talked about her courses, about her upcoming graduation, about sending out her resume, and about all the things that were on her mind. And she asked me about Alice, if I missed her, and all that. I answered carefully.

"What do you hear from your mother?"

"Oh, I think she's doing fine. She still loves her job. I wish she would go out more often, you know, Dad, so she realizes that you won't get along with her, but she doesn't seem to be dating much." The conversation went on as usual, and I felt relieved. For some reason, I was sure that Helen would tell the girls, and the very thought made me angry, so I was glad to be wrong.

Over the next few days, I found myself thinking about Helen more and more often. In those moments when there was nothing else to distract me, sex with her was pleasant, not that exciting at first, but then things got more interesting, and her presence in the house was even more pleasant than I expected. And so, one Tuesday afternoon, I suddenly picked up the phone and called her at work.

"Hi, Helen. It's Rob."

She paused for a moment and then said, "Oh, oh, hi Rob. How are you? I didn't expect you to call." She sounded pleased.

"Well, I thought, look, I thought you were probably going to bring food today, so maybe you can come a little later, and we can have dinner together. I can be home around 5:30 to 6."

"That would be great," she replied. "I have shepherd's pie, and I'll make the salad." Before I came, we talked for another minute and said goodbye. To my surprise, I realized that I was getting aroused again. Looks like it wasn't just her cooking that I was looking forward to.

I finished work a little early so I could get home before she arrived and cleaned up the kitchen a little before she rang the doorbell. She looked good. She was dressed simply, but her hair was neatly styled, and she looked pleased to see me.

"I'm drinking beer. Do you want anything?" I asked.

"Diet Coke, if you have it," she replied. I filled the glass with ice and poured her a Coke. Then, smiling, we clinked glasses and drank. With slight excitement, she began to tell a story about her friend Gloria from work, about some funny misunderstanding with three bean salad and lobster salad. I didn't really listen. I just looked at her, noticing the familiar gestures and expressions that I knew so well. Without saying anything, I crossed the room, took the glass from her, and gently hugged her and kissed her. Helen looked surprised, but did not resist. We had sex.

We had a couple more Tuesdays like that. Helen would come over with food, we'd have sex, have dinner, sometimes make love some more, and then she'd go home. I didn't want to discuss what that meant, and she seemed happy that I didn't ask.

One Saturday, a movie came out that I thought she would like, so I called her in the afternoon to see if she wanted to go. She was delighted, so we had a quick bite at a cafe we used to go to together, then we went to a movie, and then she came home with me and stayed the night. I was starting to get used to the fact that Helen was now ready for whatever I wanted, but it was a big change for me after so many years of rejection. The next morning, she woke me up, we had sex again, then made breakfast together, and said our goodbyes in the shower one more time before she went home. I felt completely exhausted the rest of Sunday.

It's been over 6 weeks since Helen and I started dating again, and I haven't told anyone, not even Jim. But the next time he and Patty invited me to dinner, I decided it would be weird to keep it a secret.

"Can I tell you something crazy?" I asked them while we were drinking coffee. "You are my most adequate friends, and I think it is important for me to know your opinion."

Jim looked at me seriously and said, "Are you going to come out as gay, Rob?"

Patty and I have known about this for a long time. We were just waiting for you to admit it."

"Your..." I didn't even smile and replied, "You got me, Jim. The thing is, well, I'd like you to be the first person I do this with. Wouldn't that be a problem for you, Patty?"

Patty choked on her coffee and started choking, and Jim and I just burst out laughing. When she finally stopped coughing, she said, "No, Rob, I don't have a problem. I just wish I could be there when you do." We laughed again, and then I said, "Actually, Jim, you got it wrong, but this does concern my sex life." For some reason, I hesitated to say it directly. "I'm actually dating again. Well, Helen. She's been bringing me food every week for a while now and leaving it at the door. You knew that, right?"

They nodded, looking a little stunned, and I continued talking. "Honestly, I don't know what's going on. After all this time, getting such good sex from Helen, I guess I should still be so mad at her that I want to kill her, but I actually enjoy spending time with her."

Patty squeezed my hand. "Wow," she said. "I never expected this, Rob. I don't think much about Helen, but every time I do, I get angry at her for what she did to you. But you know, you should do what brings you joy. If you like seeing Helen again, then by all means, continue."

Jim sat silently all this time, deep in thought. Now he nodded and said, "I think that that's it, Rob. My devotion is to you, you know it. As long as you feel good and she doesn't hurt you, I think it's worth continuing."

We talked some more, and Patty asked the question, "Do you think you and her will get back together?"

"I have no idea. I can't even imagine marrying her again, that's for sure. I've already been there once and bought, as they say, a t-shirt with this print. But on the other hand, I don't know. She's a great cook, you know that, and I get as much sex as I want when she's around, and there is this, this feeling of comfort, you know? This is an acquaintance. We know each other so well. We work together like real partners. Everything that was in a good marriage for which I appreciated it, even when our sex life was simply driving me crazy. So I guess I don't really have an answer. Sometimes I think about asking her to come back, but I keep giving up on this idea. Apparently, I'm not ready for this yet."

We chatted a little more about various things, and as I was leaving, Patty returned to the topic again. "Whatever you decide, Rob, it has to be what you want. You deserve to be happy, with or without Helen. Just be careful, okay? Don't rush." She surprised me by hugging me tightly and whispering in my ear, "We both love you, Rob."

"Thank you, Patty. I feel the same way about you and Jim."

I was sitting in the station doing boring paperwork for a theft case when Alice walked into the room. She looked great, happy, cheerful. "Will you buy the girl a cup of coffee?" she asked. I stood up and hugged her. "Pleasant surprise. I can offer you something better. I'm going to lunch in 5 minutes, and if you're nice to me, maybe I'll even buy you a sandwich."

We had lunch at Angelo's Cafe, ordering Greek salads and coffee. I tried to watch my weight since the shape was no longer fitting so easily. I listened to Alice talk about her life. My first impression turned out to be correct. "Everything is just fine with her. Ex-boyfriend Ted has really changed, you know," she said. "At first, I had doubts, and we did everything very slowly, but he became more attentive, caring. In fact, everything's just wonderful." Her expression suddenly changed from a bright smile to a slight hesitation. She extended her hand and placed it on mine. "I'm so sorry, Rob. I might be being completely selfish telling you about this."

"No, Alice, it's okay," I smiled at her. "Is it true? I'm happy for you. You didn't know if you could do it, but you had to try, and everything worked out for you. This is wonderful."

She smiled with relief. "I'm so glad you feel this, Rob. You've always, always treated me so well. Can we remain friends?"

"Of course," I said, although in my mind, I wasn't sure what that would mean.

"Well, then," she smiled again. "Can I tell you a little secret? We're engaged."

I expressed all the due congratulations, asked how he proposed, and everything in that spirit. To be honest, I was happy for her, but I wasn't particularly interested in all the little details. However, I gave her the opportunity to tell everything, and at the right moments, I said, "Really?" and "This is so cool." After, after we said goodbye with big hugs and congratulations, I returned to the cafe and decided to treat myself to another cup of coffee and a slice of cherry pie. How did I feel about Alice's news? To my surprise, I wasn't particularly upset. We had a good time together, but we never really fell in love, at least not like we do when we're young. I imagined that we could stay together, get married, or at least live together, and that might be fine. On the other hand, I realized that I didn't miss her that much, at least not after the first couple of weeks. I remembered her, our funny moments together, and I missed sex until Helen and I started seeing each other again. But I didn't really miss Alice, and it would be foolish to give this story more importance than it deserved. So I finished my pie and went back to work. I can't even say it was a bad day, more like a closed door, a period at the end of a sentence.

When the work day was over, I decided to walk home. I thought some fresh air would help clear my thoughts, but fragments of the past years kept popping up in my head again and again. Vivid images of our family, short happy moments with Helen, sharp stings of disappointment and anger when I found out about her betrayal. All this was mixed with recent meetings with her and Patty's words, "You deserve to be happy." No sooner had I reached home than I remembered my planned evening with Helen. She had to bring dinner, and I had to ask myself again, "Am I really ready to spend time with her, or is it only the feeling of familiar comfort and temporary peace that is holding me back?" These thoughts weighed heavily on me, but I couldn't find an answer to them.

When Helen appeared at the door, we hugged, and the familiar warmth of her hands awakened something long ago and forgotten in me. Dinner was, as always, delicious, and the atmosphere at the table felt like the good old days again. But I increasingly wanted a frank conversation without games and omissions, because no matter how much I convinced myself that I did not want to return to the past, next to Helen, this thought increasingly came to my mind.

When dinner was over, I put away the dishes and finally made up my mind. "Helen," I began, choosing my words carefully, "you bring food, we spend time together, we even make love, but what does all this mean for both of us?"

She froze for a moment, as if groping for an answer, then she said quietly, "Rob, you are the person I want to be with. Over all these years, I realized that no one else can replace you. Our life that we built together. I know I've lost your trust, and it may be impossible to get it back, but I still want to try." Her words sounded sincere, and I felt a surge of warmth and sadness at the same time. It was as if all this pain, resentment, betrayal, they were no longer so clear. The only question that remained was, "Do I really want to get back to this, or is it just a habit that keeps us together?"

"I don't know what I want," I finally admitted, "but one thing I realized: if we get back together, it has to be a real, honest decision, and not just memories of what happened or fear of loneliness."

She nodded and only said quietly in response, "If you decide that you don't want to continue, I understand. I'm grateful for the time we have now."

This time, saying goodbye at the door, I held her gaze a little longer than usual. There was a lot of unfinished business between us, but for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel trapped in the past. Instead, I had a choice in front of me, and no matter what happened next, I knew that I could move forward.

Several days passed after our conversation, and I tried to avoid making any decisions, immersing myself in work. Helen and I did not call each other, did not arrange a meeting, and I felt how those stormy emotions that had controlled me for so long began to calm down in my soul. However, one Tuesday, when I returned home, the familiar saucein was again standing by the door. Instead of leaving a thank you message on my answering machine, I decided to call her.

"Helen, this is Rob," I began. "I would like to thank you for dinner and perhaps invite you to dinner somewhere at a restaurant, if that's okay. I think we should choose a place near where neither of us have been to before. How about something new?"

She hesitated, but I could hear in her voice that she was happy. We agreed to meet on Friday evening at a restaurant that had recently opened in our area. Its name was Italian, something with wine and son in the name, and when we walked inside, I felt excited for the first time in a long time about having dinner with Helen.

At dinner, the conversation was surprisingly easy. We discussed new dishes, her successes in catering, and my recent affairs at work. And yet, at some point, we both fell silent, as if feeling that it was time to move on to the most important thing.

"Rob," she said quietly, leaning towards me so that no one could hear her, "I really want to be your wife again. It seems to me that we have overcome a lot, and that now we can be happy." She froze as if afraid to continue, but then added, "But only if that's what you want."

I looked at her for a long time, remembering all these years, everything that happened between us, both good and bad. I wasn't sure if I was ready to go back to the way things were, but I knew that I still treasured her, and that there was no one in my life who knew me like she did.

"Helen, I want to try it too," I finally answered, "but let's not rush. I need you to understand that regaining trust will not be so easy, and for both of us, it is important to build new relationships and not return to old ones."

She nodded, and I saw understanding in her eyes. Her face lit up with a slight smile, and we continued dinner, already more relaxed and calm. On the way back, I invited her to come see me, and she agreed. We found ourselves back in a familiar kitchen, feeling comfortable together again. We sat next to each other, and the silence no longer seemed heavy. That evening, we just hugged before she left, and I knew I was ready to let her back into my life, one step at a time.

Several more months passed. Helen and I dated, spent time together. Sometimes she stayed with me overnight, and sometimes I left her with me. After dinner, our meetings were increasingly reminiscent of our previous family life, but this time, I felt that we had a chance to start everything anew, without illusions, with complete honesty.

One Sunday evening, when I was driving her home, she asked, smiling, "Do you think we'll ever live together again?"

I smiled back at her and replied, "I think anything is possible, Helen. If that's what we both want, then maybe we can be a family again in the future." Her eyes shone with joy, and at that moment, I realized that despite all the mistakes and pain, we were given a second chance, and I was ready to accept it.