Transcription
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It was a Thursday afternoon at Green Valley Country Club, where I usually played golf with three of my friends every week from early March to late September. But today was different. Sam called me at 10:00 a.m. and said, "Sorry, but Noah and I can't make it to golf today. We have an urgent meeting about some changes to the hospital expansion project we're working on." Since they both worked at the same architecture firm, I knew Sam wouldn't skip golf unless necessary. "Sorry for the short notice," he added. "We really have no choice but to go to the meeting." "I replied, "No problem. Jon and I will find someone else to join us and handle the costs." Sam laughed and said, "I knew you'd be happy to have us off today and save some money." We said goodbye with, "See you next week."
I called John, one of my best friends, and mentioned the circumstances to him. He said, "As long as Sam and Noah can't make it, why don't we take the afternoon off from golf too? So I can catch up on some projects at home. That will free up my Sunday for something else. I love to play golf, but I wouldn't miss it if we skipped one day either." So I agreed, but only after giving him some flak for the change in plans. We agreed to get in touch Thursday night to see if he and his wife, Jane, and me and my wife, Emma, could connect sometime over the weekend for cocktails or dinner or both.
I headed home after lunch, hoping that Emma and I could do something together for the afternoon. When I drove Dr. into the garage, her car wasn't there, and I cursed myself for not calling her as soon as I knew about the change of plans. "Oh well," I thought, "as long as she isn't home, I might as well make the best of it and do some of the honeydew projects that I had on my list too." I went into the house and looked around for a note from her, but there was none. I also checked the answering machine, and there were no messages on it, so I had no clue where she was.
Then I remembered we had caller ID that saved the last 25 calls we received, so I looked at the history to see if there was any clue as to where she was. To my surprise, the last three calls were from a number I recognized. They were from Rob's phone. I knew Rob because for a couple of years, he was part of our foursome. He quit playing golf about a year ago because he had a problem with his back, but he had not left the country club. He was still a social member, and I saw him there on occasion. After he quit golfing, Sam got Noah, a guy he worked with, to play with us in his place. Rob was one of Sam's friends, but I knew him too. I looked back to Tuesday's calls, and there were two calls from Rob's phone then also. I checked back over the entire 25 saved numbers, and 19 of them were calls from Rob's phone.
I knew that Emma did not get along that well with Rob's wife, so I couldn't imagine why she would have been talking to her. I was bewildered. Just what was going on here? I decided to call Emma on her cell phone, and when she answered, I asked her, "Hi honey, what's happening?" She said, "Nothing much. I was just vacuuming the living room. What's up with you?" Now, I was standing in the kitchen, and I didn't hear the vacuum cleaner running and was pretty sure she wasn't in there since her car wasn't home, but I did walk in there just to be sure. "No, she wasn't in there," I told her. "Not much here either. The guys all had other things to do today, so we're not golfing. I thought maybe I would come home and catch up on some of the honeydew projects. See you in a little while." "Oh, okay," she said, "but I might not be there when you get home. I have to run to the store to pick up a few things." "She sure was thinking f on her feet. If she was on her feet, I am not without my own wits either," so I suggested that I could stop at the store for her as long as it was on my way home. She hesitated a moment but then said, "Okay, that will be great." "What is it you need?" I asked. "Just a minute, I have to go get my list." "Damn, I married one smart and obviously devious woman. Pick up some milk, eggs, paper towels, and some steaks for Sunday night. Oh, and maybe some dessert in case we have company," she added. "Okay, bye honey," I said. "They'll see you in a little while," she said.
Goodbye. I figured I better get out of there for a while to see what happened. She obviously wasn't home now, but would she get back here in a few minutes? I just needed to get away and think this through. I got in my car and drove to the store, but didn't go right in. I sat there thinking for a while. First, Emma and I had been married for almost 4 years. We didn't have any children but were thinking about having a couple sometime in the near future. I was 34 and she was 30, and we had met about 6 years ago after I had gotten out of the army. We were both in college at Ohio State University, she a freshman and I finishing up my last 2 years. We met and dated off and on for almost a year, then pretty steadily for a year after I graduated. We were married, and she has continued to go to school part-time to finish up her bachelor's degree and get her master's degree. She's almost finished but has been taking the summer off this year. She is a very pretty woman with a very nice figure, and she has a wonderful personality to go with her looks. Emma is very well-liked among our friends and family, and she almost always turns heads when we go out. I can get a little jealous if men pay too much attention to her, but I have never acted on that jealousy in a way that would upset her, and she has never given me reason to doubt her faithfulness to me. Emma was my love, my very best friend, my confidant, my life. Ever since we had been dating steadily, I thought our minds and hearts were melded together. I could sense her feelings, and she mine. I could smell her fears, and she mine. I could feel her heartbeat quicken when I looked at her, and she could feel the desire in me when she walked past me. And I watched her go. There were lots of unspoken messages that flowed between the two of us on a daily basis. We just knew each other so well and were bound together so tightly that we were truly one. What could have happened here? I never knew Emma to lie to me ever, and I couldn't see any reason for it now, except that she was up to something I wouldn't like very much. I knew she didn't like Rob's wife all that much, but but there were lots of calls from his number. If it wasn't Rob's wife, then was it Rob? Then it hit me. At the last country club social event about two months ago, he had been dancing a lot with Emma. At the time, I was a bit jealous because she seemed to be enjoying his attention way too much, but I let it slide because he and I were friends and had been close because of the golf matches. As I thought about that, I recalled that we had had a bit of an argument that morning, and she was still upset with me when I got home from work. I don't even remember what the argument was about, but she was rather mad. It also dawned on me that the connection between her and me that I just mentioned hasn't been as strong the last couple of months. Had I been lulled into thinking everything was still the same? Obviously, I had. But now I knew that something was going on, and I was going to get to the bottom of it.
I went into the store, bought the groceries we needed, and headed home. When I got there, Emma was just getting out of the shower and told me, "I just finished cleaning the house and thought I would get cleaned up myself. Thanks for getting the stuff from the store. Why don't you put it away, and I will be down in a little bit." I have never been one to sidestep problems. I guess my army training has taught me to face life head-on and without hesitation. So when she came downstairs, I asked her to sit down because I had something I wanted to discuss with her. I said, "Emma, you are my wife, my love, my lover, and my very best friend in the whole world. I have been here for you, and you for me, since we started to date steadily. You were the one person I turned to when I needed a rock to stand on, and I hope you feel the same way." I looked into her eyes and could see tears start to form. I continued, "I have to tell you, for the last couple of months, I feel like there is a wall being built in our relationship, and that wall has shut me out from your inner self, and I don't like it at all. Have I done something that created that wall?" I saw her shaking her head, but no words came from her lips. I continued, "Please talk to me, Emma, and let me know what is happening to us. I can't bear to have us grow apart like this." She had a tear running down her cheek now, and she looked down at her feet and said, "Mark, I don't know why you feel there is a wall being built between us. I love you, and I know you love me." "Then why can't you look at me when you talk to me?" I asked. She glanced up at me with a shocked look on her face, then looked back down and replied, "I guess there are some things I have to work through. I am sorry you feel there is a wall between us." And with that, she got up and ran upstairs crying.
Well, I knew that we had some major problems going on in our marriage now. I pretty much suspected what they were, but she wouldn't talk to me, and I had no proof of anything. So I decided to see what would happen. I walked up to the bedroom and talked to her through the bedroom door. "Emma, if you want to talk to me, I am here for you. I love you and want to help you with whatever is bothering you or work on anything I have done that is making you unhappy. Please talk to me when you're ready." I went outside and began to work on the projects. My heart was aching. I don't know how to describe it to you, but I felt pretty empty inside, and I don't care if I was a big tough army man. The tears flowed, and I felt pretty vulnerable. I didn't know what I would do if I lost Emma. If she wasn't my wife and lover, I just felt so powerless and weak. I was in a panic, to be honest. Emma did not come down for dinner, and when I checked on her at 8:00 p.m., she was sound asleep, so I went into the spare bedroom to sleep for the night. In the morning, I got up and went to work early, so we didn't talk. In the morning, I called John and told him that I thought we probably would be doing anything together that night or on Sunday either, for that matter, but I asked him if he could meet me for lunch. When we met for lunch, I explained to John what had happened and asked him what he thought of the whole situation. He dropped a bomb on me. He told me that he and Jane had suspected something was going on between Emma and Rob right after the country club social gathering. Jane had seen Emma's car in Rob's neighborhood. "I asked, 'Why wouldn't you say anything to me?'" "He said, 'We talked about it, but felt we ought to stay out of it because we really didn't know what was happening.'" "Okay, I can understand that," I said. "Please don't tell anyone that you and I have talked, not even Jane. I want to figure out what I am going to do about this, and I don't need a lot of gossip and outside input." I decided that I would have to have proof of her infidelity before I could handle the situation. I tried to attack it head-on, but her refusal to talk to me or acknowledge a problem growing between us told me I would need to have proof before I confronted her with specifics. I took the afternoon off and drove over to Rob's house to see if her car was there. It wasn't, so I didn't know when they might meet again. I called home around 4:30 p.m. and told Emma I would be home at 5:00 p.m. She said she was happy I was getting home early. When I arrived, Emma was warm and caring. She hugged me and smiled at me with that smile that always warms my own heart. I could tell she was trying to be close to me, but it just didn't feel the same to me. I could sense she was trying, and we never had to try; it just happened. I asked her if she wanted to go out to eat dinner, and she said yes. When she went upstairs to change her clothes, I checked the caller ID, and sure enough, there were two calls from Rob: one at noon and another at 2:30 p.m. I didn't know what to make of those calls, but I knew that she didn't meet him that afternoon.
The weekend was pretty uneventful. We did a few things together, and she wanted me to make love with her on a couple of occasions, but I just couldn't, so I made up an excuse that I had a sore back. On Sunday night, when I told her that, I saw her shudder and saw a tear form again. I just couldn't bring myself to be intimate with her until I got to the bottom of this supposed affair. On Monday, I arranged to get a few hours off each afternoon that entire week so I could check up on Emma. I knew if something was really going on, I would need to catch her. Nothing happened on Monday, but again there were three calls from Rob. Nothing happened on Tuesday, two calls. Nothing on Thursday, no calls. But on Thursday at noon, Emma called me and told me that since I would be golfing and eating at the club, she was planning on going to the library to work on her thesis for the afternoon and evening and not to expect her home until around 8:30 p.m. or so. I think she was expecting me to tell her if I was not golfing. Well, I wasn't going to golf, but I wasn't telling her that.
I drove over to Rob's house and parked out of the line of traffic so I could watch his house. I had my camera with the telephoto lens with me so I could take pictures if she showed up. At 2:00 p.m., Emma drove up and parked on the street outside his house. She got out and went up to to the door, and Rob opened it for her right away so she could hurry in. I sat there with my camera, snapping pictures from the time she drove up until she walked in the door and it was shut. I could barely see through the viewfinder because of all the tears streaming out of my eyes, but I did take lots of pictures. Two hours later, the door opened, and out she came. Rob reached out and pulled her back to himself and kissed her. He was standing in his doorway in a T-shirt and a pair of boxers. She was clearly kissing him back and reached down and slipped her hand inside his boxers and was rubbing him. Eventually, she broke off the kiss, and I could see her pointing to her watch. I assumed she was planning on meeting him later as well. She hurried to her car and drove off. The entire time, I was snapping picture after picture of the kiss, her hand in his boxers, and her driving off with Rob standing in the doorway. I didn't need to see them actually having sex to know that they had. You don't spend 2 hours together, kiss like I saw them kiss, and rub someone's tool like that unless you have been intimate. I knew it. No one can imagine the hurt and disappointment and anger I felt. My vision blurred, my head pounded, my stomach was in knots. I could feel my heart pounding like an air hammer breaking concrete. The feelings I had were overwhelming to me, and I knew at that moment I was lost. My life was over. The one person in the whole world I loved and trusted and depended upon had betrayed me, had broken my trust, and yes, had destroyed my manhood. I would never be able to forgive her. I would never be able to live with her again. I would never be able to live without her.
I reached under my car seat for my Beretta 92, a 10-round, .45 caliber semi-automatic. I drove my car up in front of Rob's house, walked up to his front door, broke through it, and searched his house until I found him upstairs in a shower. I opened the shower door and leveled the gun at him. The shock on his face was unbelievable. I almost laughed at him. I said, "Rob, you and those like you, you are the scum of the earth. Any man who would go after and screw another man's wife doesn't deserve to live. You have destroyed a good marriage, you have destroyed a good woman, two good women actually, including your own wife. You have destroyed me, and now I am going to destroy you." I fired two rounds into his groin, two into his belly, two into his chest, and two into his head. Then I left him there and walked out.
I drove home and went into the house. I could hear that Emma was in the shower, so I downloaded the pictures onto our computer. When she came downstairs, I was sitting in the family room waiting for her. She was surprised to see me, and I could sense the fear in her. "What are you doing here?" she asked. I told her that I had taken the afternoon off from golf again and that I had seen her arrive and leave Rob's house. I told her that I knew she was having an affair and that I had pictures to prove it. I started a slideshow of the pictures to run behind me as I talked to her. I asked her to explain to me why she did it. I asked her to explain to me why she didn't talk to me a week ago when I asked her what was wrong. I asked her to tell me what I had done to drive her into Rob's arms. I asked her to tell me how she could do that to me. I asked her how she could do that to our marriage. I asked her how she could do that to herself. She just stood there, tears streaming down her face, moaning and shaking her head back and forth. I screamed, "Talk to me!" but no words came from her mouth, no explanation, nothing. She had nothing to say to me. The despair I felt at that moment was the worst yet. I wanted to know so much, but she wouldn't tell me anything. She never said she loved me, she never said she was sorry, she never said a thing, just moaning and shaking her head.
Let's check the story from Emma's perspective. The last 6 months have been a blur for me. For most of that time, I didn't know who I was, where I was, or what I was. Only now do I understand what happened to me so long ago. Only after months in a hospital and months of psychiatric counseling do I understand what I have done. I wish I didn't understand, but I do. Mark raised a gun and pointed it at me. I was so shocked from the realization that he knew about me and Rob, but when he raised the gun, I got so frightened. I just shook. "Don't, please don't," I screamed. Then I looked at the hate in his eyes and knew our marriage was over, and maybe my life too. I could also see the hurt and utter emptiness in his eyes, and it made my skin crawl. I could see him going totally mad, and I knew it was all over for me. This wasn't the man I loved, the man who loved me. This was something else. "And yes, I do say something, not someone," he said with a voice cold as steel. "Emma, just look at the pictures." I glanced at the screen and saw shot after shot of me going into Rob's house, Rob and me kissing at his door, me with my hand on Rob's tool. There were so many pictures proving my infidelity to Mark. Then the last pictures I saw were of Rob lying in his shower, blood everywhere. I heard myself groan with the realization of what he had done. As I jerked my gaze back to Mark, he had turned the gun, putting it into his mouth, and after he said, "Goodbye, Emma," he pulled the trigger.
They tell me that police found me in shock, holding Mark. They tell me that gunshots had been heard at Rob's house, and someone got the license number of the car that drove away. They tell me that they knew it was our car and were already on the way over to our house. They tell me that I wouldn't let go of Mark for them to take him away. They tell me that I had snapped mentally, and nothing that was said or done for me would bring me out of it. They tell me that they took me to the hospital and admitted me. They tell me so many things because I cannot remember much at all what happened from then until now. I do remember what happened before that day, and now, 6 months later, I remember that Mark and I had fought, though I don't recall what it was about, and I was pissed at him. We went to the party at the club, and I was just going to make his life miserable. It so happened that Rob asked me to dance with him, so I thought, "Why not? I will use this to make Mark pay." Oh, Rob was slick, I will give him that, and he had me going almost instantly with his compliments. He told me how lovely I was. Now, what woman doesn't like to hear that? He told me that I was the prettiest woman at the club that night, and I was just so excited to hear that. He told me that he always wanted to spend time with me because I was so sweet, so smart, and so sexy. How could I resist such charm? I could have, but I was pissed at Mark and didn't want to. I kept encouraging Rob, and I could see that Mark was upset, but he didn't do a thing about it. Some sick thing in my mind told me a lie at that moment. It told me that Mark really didn't care, so why should I? Oh, what a lie that was, but I bought those thoughts so completely that when Rob called me the next Thursday, I bought it all and agreed to have lunch with him. We had a pretty intense conversation during lunch about us. Rob told me he would like to make love to such a beautiful woman, and even though I blushed, even though I knew it would be wrong, even though I felt it would betray the only man I loved, I was too weak to resist his charm. After all, I had convinced myself that Mark didn't care about me, that anything I did to him, he had deserved. The next thing I knew, we were in Rob's house, and were kissing passionately. He was a very good kisser, and I could feel myself getting hotter and hotter, wetter and wetter. I did nothing to resist when his hands slid down my body. I liked the way it felt to have him caress me, kiss me. I needed that so badly. By this time, there was no stopping it. Soon we were both naked, and yes, we did everything I should have only done with my husband. We made love to each other with our mouths for a couple of hours before he actually entered me. Oh, it was so hot. I will never forget that first time with Rob. I have never been so turned on in my entire life, and when he pushed himself into me, it felt like a hot poker was being inserted into me. It had me burning in an instant, and I could hear myself begging him to screw me senseless, and that is exactly what he did. He drilled me and drilled me like no one, not even Mark, had ever drilled me. I didn't even try to count the number of times I came that afternoon, many while he pleasured me orally, and many more being used by his tool. Oh yes, he used me for his pleasure, but in doing so, had pleasured me like I had never been pleasured before. I have to tell you, I loved it. Make no mistake, I loved it, and knew that I would be back for more.
That night and the days that followed, I felt a change in my relationship with Mark. He said there was a wall being built, and he was absolutely right. I felt our connection slip, just like he must have felt it. I felt the gap form between us, and I felt my heart torn from the separation. And you know how stupid I was? I blamed it on him. That lie told me it was his fault. The next week, Rob called me a couple of times every day. He was so sweet and loving to me, telling me how much he enjoyed making love to me, asking me if I was all right. He was perfect, and when he suggested we get together again on Thursday, I agreed without a qualm. It was Mark's own fault for not caring about me. Well, we met every Thursday afternoon from then until the night that Mark confronted me. I loved every minute of the time with Rob. The sex was great, and I thought he would wear me out with orgasms because I had so many each time we were together. I made a point of only having sex with Mark when he absolutely insisted, and each time I would tell myself, "Rob did me better." I could feel that wall growing between Mark and myself and didn't care. Then he confronted me. He told me how much he loved me, how much I meant to him, and what a huge part of his life was tied to me. He told me I was his very best friend, his love and lover. He told me I was his rock. He begged me to tell him if he had done something wrong, something to build that wall. He pleaded with me to let him back into myself. In that instant, I knew my lie to myself caused me to hurt the only man I loved. I knew I had built the wall, not him. I knew I had betrayed every good thing he felt about me. I was not his, his love. I was not his lover. I wasn't his best friend, and I was not a rock. I was a cheater, a [ __ ] who gave herself to another man, a liar who stopped at nothing to hide her guilt and shame. At that moment, I knew just what I was, and I couldn't bear to be there with him. I ran up to the bedroom and cried and cried until I fell asleep crying. The next morning, Mark was gone already when I woke up. When he came home that night, I did everything I could to prove to him that I loved him and cared for him. I could tell that the connection between us wasn't there, not like it had been before, but I tried so hard to be the same. I failed. I could sense it in Mark. I didn't think he knew about Rob. I thought he just knew there was a wall between us, but I never dreamed he would have found out about Rob. I should have known better, but I didn't.
On Monday, Rob started calling, just like he had all those weeks before. He called me a couple of times or more a day, most days, but I told him that I would not be meeting with him anymore. He was surprised and didn't understand, and finally, I agreed to meet with him one last time to explain it all to him and break it off. I went to his house again, and yes, we did have sex. It wasn't the same as all those other times. I did have a couple of orgasms, just because of the intensity of the sexual activity, but it wasn't the same because I knew it wasn't Mark's fault. I knew I was cheating on a man who loved me more than anyone else could. I knew I was a betraying wife, and I just didn't get off on it like I had before. I told Rob I was sorry, but I couldn't continue our affair and to please not call me anymore. He smiled and told me he understood and that he wouldn't be a problem for me. He told me he loved me and would always care for me. He was as sweet as ever, and truthfully, I loved a part of him too, and I didn't want him to be hurt either. As I was leaving, he grabbed me and pulled me to himself and told me how wonderful a lover I was. Instinctively, after 2 months of intimacy, my hand drifted down and into his boxers, and I rubbed his tool one last time. I broke off the kiss and ran to my car to go home and wait for Mark. When I got home, I went to shower and clean myself up. I was going to fix myself all up for when Mark got home. I was going to start this night to tear down the wall that was built between us. I would rebuild the connection between us. We would be the same as we had been before. But when I went downstairs after my shower to get some clothes out of the dryer, Mark was sitting at the computer waiting for me. He told me he knew about Rob. He asked me so many questions about why I had done such a horrible thing to him, to our marriage, to myself, but I couldn't speak. I had done everything I could up to that point to start back to where we used to be. He found out. Now, nothing I did could make it right. He found out. That is all I could think, and I couldn't say a word. I just stood there with tears streaming down my face. I just stood there, moaning and shaking my head back and forth. He screamed at me, "Talk to me!" but no words came out of my mouth. I was in shock. I know, but it was soon to get worse. He told me, "Look at the pictures." When I did, I saw them all, right up to the point of Rob lying dead in his shower. When I glanced back at Mark, I first saw the gun. Soon it was over. He was dead. The next thing I remember is a couple of weeks ago in the hospital. Oh, there is some healing going on in my mind. Everyone believes I have made great strides in getting myself back on track. They have talked about letting me go off on my own for some outings. They tell me that after a few more weeks, I probably could go to an assisted living home and then eventually be able to have my own home. I am healed enough to understand that my reaction needs to be positive in order for me to be on my own, and I will do everything I can to heal this broken woman. But you must know that once I am free, I will end the torture I have to endure. The torture of knowing that I killed Mark. I killed our love. I killed our friendship. I killed everything I had in life worth living for. I know I cannot endure that torture forever. I will have to end it now.
For the second story, I looked at my reflection in the mirror, straightened my tie, and pulled it a little more snugly around my neck. I smiled, making sure my teeth were clean and no lingering piece of something or other was there to mar my visage. To my image, I said, "Steve, my man, you look marvelous." I nodded once to myself, impressed at my own cleverness, stepped back, picked up my wallet, watched a clean handkerchief, and then, as ready as I would ever be, walked downstairs to the kitchen. I smelled coffee as I strolled in and reached for a cup as I passed the counter where they were kept on a small rack. "Coffee smells good. I really need a cup before I have to do this thing." This thing was a meeting I really didn't want to have with a vendor I disliked immensely, but he was a necessary evil, and I had little choice. It was first thing, so at least the rest of the day would be tolerable. I didn't hate my job, but it was really boring. I needed a change, and if something didn't happen soon, I was going to make my own change.
I was speaking to Ella, my wife of 19 years and the love of my life. Actually, her name was Catherine, but everyone called her Ella. That came from a little sister who couldn't pronounce her name, and Ella is what came out. It stuck. We had a son, Noah, who left for college a month ago, leaving the house an empty nest. At least that's what they called it when the last or only child left the home. Why, I had no idea. Ella and I would still be here, and we counted for something, or at least I felt we did. But hey, who understood those witticisms that everyone said when they didn't know what else to say? I directed my attention to my quiet wife. "Have any plans of your own today? I should be home on time, and I thought maybe we could go out to dinner tonight, save you having to fix anything, and we haven't done that for a while. Might be fun." I threw it out, expecting her to turn it down as usual. "No, I don't have any real plans, but I might go do some shopping, check out some shops, anything like that. And no to the dinner, they'll be too tired anyway. We'll just call for some takeout." I looked at her, not the least bit surprised by her answer. She was not even looking at me, and probably hadn't even when I came in or spoke first. She hadn't been looking at me for some time now, longer than I could remember. "Well, I didn't expect you would go for it, but I wanted to ask. Takeout is fine. It's something you've gotten very good at preparing." That was a sarcastic and mean response, but it was also true. I knew I could say it, however, since it would be too much trouble for her to respond in anything other than an apathetic word or two. As I waited, I was proved correct when she simply looked up for a second and then backed down, ignoring me. Her response was typical and what I expected. It was the pattern I had learned to live with, one that began long before today. It began sometime before Noah left for college and had nothing to do with the emptiness syndrome that Jack, my friend and resident amateur shrink, kept telling me was the cause. Ella had changed a lot in just a short time, short in that we had been happily married for those 19 years, and we dated a year before that. She and I had been a team, a couple with dreams and plans, and we shared everything. That began to change about a year ago, and the change had become more pronounced as time passed. The Ella I married was becoming a stranger in our home, and the loss was tearing me apart. The real problem was that she didn't see it and refused to do anything about it. In truth, a lot of things had changed. Now, she used to go to the gym with Noah when he was home, but he told me she had stopped several months before he left. She still looked trim and buff, but it was beginning to be obvious that she was starting to slip around the waist, and I could see just a little bit of a tummy beginning, not enough to make her less attractive, but enough to let me know something had changed. In addition, she had begun to be irritable and snappish with me. Nothing major, but it was rare that we could have a conversation without her ending it with some snide comment about me or my habits, little things like my hours being too long or the trips too many. I hardly ever worked overtime now, and I hadn't traveled for almost 7 months, but it didn't have to be correct, just something to snap at me about. The old Ella would never do that without trying to smooth things over by discussion. Ella always talked first and acted later. Her behavior changed radically, and that affected the way we interacted with others. Ella was just 42 but looked younger. I was older at almost 50, but I tried to stay fit for her. Most people would think we were both younger than our ages, and we had always been proud of that, but that was when we went anywhere together, and that hadn't been the case in almost a year. No reason, just her refusal for one reason or other. In truth, I had stopped asking about five or 6 months ago. There was no longer any point. The comment about tonight and dinner was asked in a sarcastic tone, not that she would notice, just like her answer had been automatic. The thing I noticed, of course, being a man, was that our love life had simply faded away and died. We had always had an active and varied sex life. We did everything and enjoyed each other completely. We knew what the other liked, and we always made sure that they were satisfied, but that changed. I asked, I begged, I pleaded, I did all I could to find out what happened and why she suddenly stopped wanting to make love, but her answer was just a shrug and a comment about the change of life and being too tired. Most of the time, she refused to see anyone and finally got angry when I continued to bring it up. Being the man I am, I simply let it go, hoping it would pass once she got through the change. Being the man I am, maybe one of the reasons our life is in the state it is. All of these things went through my mind as I sat alone with my wife at the table. I finished my coffee, rinsed my cup, and placed it on the drain board. I walked over to the door, picked up my briefcase, looked back at her sitting motionless at the table, and said, "See you tonight." There was no response. I opened the door and walked out to my car, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. God, how I had loved that woman my whole adult life. How I had wanted to grow old with her and do all the things we talked about when we were younger, all the things we dreamed about, the things we could do and the places we could go. It was not even a year ago when she talked about the possibility of our moving to Florida if I got that promotion to Regional VP. It was a strong possibility and still was. She hated living here in the Midwest where the winters were long and cold, and the summers were short and not all that warm. She hated the cold. I was still depressed as I opened the door to my office and turned on the lights. I settled down behind my desk, opened my computer, and waited for it to boot up. I got a cup of office coffee, grabbed a donut from the box someone had brought, and went back to open my email. I was munching on a coffee-soaked bit of donut when I opened the email from my boss requesting I get my butt into his office ASAP. I smiled at that, since it was not that uncommon to be summoned that way. Chris and I went back a long time, both of us joining Harrison Enterprises around the same time. Now he was a senior VP of design and implementation, and I was a senior manager of research and design. I finished the donut, wiped my face, and walked down the hall to his corner office. I passed the desk of Jack Malone, my friend and confidant, and waved in greeting. A quick word or two, a promise to stop on my way back, and then on to Chris's lair. I stopped to talk to Marie, his secretary, who told me to go right in; he was waiting. That meeting was one that changed my life, both for better and for worse. He told me I had been promoted to VP of Design for the Southeast region. I was going to Miami as soon as I could turn everything over to my second in command and finish the projects I had opened. I should be able to make the move in less than a month. I had finally climbed to the position I had coveted for so long. Ella and I could move to Miami, and we could afford to buy a very nice home there, subsidized by the company, maybe one on or near the shore with a slip for a boat and a nice-sized sailboat, motorized, of course. After sharing the news with Jack, making plans with my second in command, and summarizing the open projects with provisions for either closing them or transferring them, I found it was way past lunchtime. I sent everyone out to lunch and called home. I wanted to tell Ella the news. I dialed and waited, but got only the answering machine. I didn't leave a message and tried her cell next. That also went directly to voicemail, so I just let it go. She was probably with Jane, as she said. I decided to go home early and try to convince her to go out to dinner to celebrate. This had to be worth a dinner, at least. I stopped at the florist and picked up two dozen long-stemmed roses, pink, her favorite. I also got a large box of chocolates with nuts, also her favorites. I had the card printed with the message: "We finally got the transfer to our dream location. I love you, Steve." I drove the entire way home, humming to myself, a silly grin on my face. I was happy and on top of the world. Finally, things were coming true for us. A new future and a new new life awaited in Miami. Ella would change, become my active wife again, and we could begin our new life together, a team like we had always been before. She started to change. I stopped that thought. This was a new day and a new beginning. Nothing could stop us now. I drove into the driveway much faster than usual and almost slammed into the garage door before stopping. I had to calm down. I was almost delirious with happiness. It was all coming up roses. That reminded me to grab the roses from the back seat, along with the candy and the card, before I went inside. I opened the door, put down my keys, and carried the flowers and candy into the living room, ready to place them on the couch for a surprise later when Ella got home. I rounded the corner and moved toward the couch, only to stop dead in my tracks. In front of me, as I stood paralyzed, I saw Ella with her blouse open and her skirt pulled up over her waist, sitting on the couch. Between her legs was Ryan Parker, our next-door neighbor and onetime friend. And in that sudden burst of clarity that comes during some events, I noticed the room, her position, his position, her panties lying on the floor in front of the couch, and his pants down around his ankles. It was all crystal clear and etched into my memory for all time. Neither of them heard me, so they continued what they were doing. That was Ella moaning and urging Ryan Parker to keep on doing what he was doing. She had both hands on his head, holding him in place. It was obvious that this was not something new to either of them, as Parker clearly knew what turned Ella on. I used to know that quite well. Seems I had been replaced. I stood there another 20 seconds or so before sense returned. I felt the shock and disgust of what I was witnessing replaced by a cold anger. I wanted nothing more than to kill both of them, but that was not my way. That passed, and then I knew what I wanted to do. Still holding the flowers and the candy with the card, I walked into the room, moving around the
couch and stopping in front of Ella, standing behind the naked Ryan Parker. I kicked him, him hard in the bum with my foot until he stopped what he was doing and looked over his shoulder. All he said was, "Oh."
Ellis's eyes had opened, and she met mine, staring back at her. The lust began to fade, and they got wider and wider until I was afraid they were going to pop out of her head. Then she began to shake her head back and forth, saying, "No, no, no," over and over again. She realized her position and began pushing Ryan's head away. At the same time, he was trying to pull back. The result had him sitting on on his back in front of me, almost sitting on my shoes, as she stared at me, her eyes now full of tears and her lips trembling with shame. She was trying to pull her skirt down and close her blouse, neither one easy to do with her hands trying to do both at the same time.
I watched the disgust on my face clear as she looked back up at me, her mouth working and trying to form words. My disgust faded, but only to be replaced by pain at seeing what my world had become. I felt the betrayal, the loss, the anger, and finally the pain, and I knew it was over. I had lost her forever, and there was no way back.
I decided to finish this now. I took the two dozen long-stemmed roses and pulled them out of the small vase they came in and threw them at her where she sat. I watched as they hit her in the face, falling around her body onto the couch and the floor. The vase followed, hitting the wall behind her. Finally, I took the box of candy, opened it, and dumped the chocolates on the floor as well. The card followed, landing on the edge edge of the couch. "Now I understand why you are always too tired to go to dinner with me or to make love with me. I see it now."
I turned to Ryan Parker, who was trying to get his pants up and his shoes on. I waited until he straightened up and then I HIT him in the face with all of the anger I felt inside. I was pleased to see the blood spurt from his mouth as he fell down again. I watched as he levered himself up on his arms, and I directed my next comments at him. "I don't know how you intend to explain this to your wife after I fill her in on your afternoon activities with my suob bic's wife, but be prepared to explain it now. Get the hell out of my house before I throw you out."
I said no more but went upstairs to pull down a suitcase and begin packing. I was still furious, but the anger was now fading, and a new feeling, one of a deep and racking pain, began to fill me. The loss of all I had believed in was almost too much for me. The long rise from the euphoria of the promotion and then to the equally long fall to the worst depression of my life left my legs suddenly shaky. I was almost finished packing when it became so strong that I had to stop. I fell on my knees there on the bedroom floor, and I cried as I hadn't since the day my mother died. I let it come, knowing there was little I could do to stop it.
I waited until it had run its course, leaving me empty. I felt her as she put her arms around me, holding me tight with her cheek pressed to the top of my head. She was cooing at me as if I were a baby. "I'm so sorry, Steve. I'm so sorry." That was enough to stop my crying as the anger returned, undaunted. I swallowed once, letting the anger grow until it burned bright again. It pushed the pain down and back, forcing it to release its hold on me.
"Take your filthy hands off me and get away from me. You stink of sex and you make me sick." I stood, my legs still shaking but beginning to get stronger, and closed the suitcase. I turned to look around and saw Ella kneeling there, her own face contorted in shock and covered with with tears, her shoulders shaking with her sobs, but I no longer cared.
I went into the bathroom and grabbed my shaving kit. It had my razor, my toothbrush, and several other odds and ends that I kept for traveling. I took those things, dropped them into a small plastic bag, and walked back out to grab my suitcase. I pushed past Ella, still standing in the doorway, and threw the bag in the suitcase down the steps, caring little where they landed. I went back in, looked around, picked up one or two small things from my bedside table, and then walked down the steps to find my bags. As I walked out the door, I heard Ella screaming at me to stop, to come back and talk to her, but I wanted only to be gone from that place.
I knew then that my marriage was over, and I think I felt a small breath of relief that it had finally come to this. Everything had been moving this way for the past year, and now it was time to accept that it was finished. All the sniping at me, the avoidance, the disregard for me and my needs, and the total disrespect that I had endured were over. Miami was waiting, and I was going alone.
I decided as I drove away that I wouldn't say anything to Ryan's wife. Lucy had her own demons to fight, and a useless husband wasn't going to change anything for her. Ryan had his own hell at home to live in, and I wished him and Ella the best. They deserved each other. I had a new job, a new place to live, and freedom to enjoy the rest of my new life with someone who would love me for who I was. I never looked back.
***
Let's see the story from Ella's perspective.
I had been feeling depressed and anxious for some time now. I knew part of it was that Noah was going to college soon, and I would be alone for most of the day. Then part of it was the beginning of that time in a woman's life before menopause when she begins to believe that she is no longer young and beautiful and alive to all life has to offer. My world had been Steve and Noah and the house and the things I could do to make their world a pleasant and safe place for so long now that the fear of losing all that was almost a sickness. Most of all, I was feeling very strange a lot of the time, nothing I could put my finger on or something I could tell a doctor about, just a strange feeling that something was wrong. I felt off, not myself, and I was beginning to become worried about it.
I hesitated to talk to Steve about it, knowing he would try to get me to go for help somewhere. He was a man, and all he could think was to try to fix things. I didn't want things fixed; I just wanted to be left alone to take care of myself. Nothing needed fixing; he had already talked to me about my unwillingness to go out or do things in the death of our love life, something I had little or no interest in now. But for the life of me, I didn't know why. I used to love making love with my husband, and nothing happened to change that. I just couldn't get up the energy to do it now, but that would change again. Things would run their course, and I would be back the way I was. I just needed time. He wouldn't believe me, but I knew I was neglecting him something awful. He tried to do things for me, asked me to go to dinner or to a play or just out anywhere. I said no. Nothing he suggested raised any interest inside me. I soon got tired of his asking and began to snap back at him and say mean things to him that I later regretted but never apologized for. I finally began to let it go, just let his pleas slide off my back. I began to ignore my husband and often my son. Later, it got even worse, but by then it was too late for me to change it.
I didn't realize it at first, but my decline had begun. I began to let my time at the gym with Noah slide, since I doubted I would continue once he left. I didn't enjoy it that much anyway, but Noah loved the way it made him feel, and he wanted that feeling for me. While I enjoyed his enthusiasm, I never got into it the way he did. I began to miss some sessions and then more and more. But it was dumb luck that things happened then. Just after I decided I was going to quit while I stopped wanting to exercise with my son, I did enjoy the attentions of the other men there, not in any way other than to make me feel better about myself. They meant nothing to me in any other way, certainly not in a sexual way. I wasn't even sexually interested in my husband, so it was very unlikely I was going to get aroused by someone else, especially not a stranger. I wasn't interested at all until Ryan Parker began to show up at the gym more and more.
Ryan was our next-door neighbor and lived with his wife, Clara. Clara was a recluse, almost an agoraphobic. At first, she used to go out only when absolutely necessary, sometimes to a party, but she much preferred to entertain at her house when others invited her and Ryan. She refused and made no excuse. Ryan tried to get her to get treatment, but she refused to leave the house and made only token attempts to talk to anyone except by phone. That was useless, and she discontinued that at the first opportunity. Since then, she remained housebound. Like most of his friends, I had stopped going to see Clara, bothered by her problems and uncomfortable around her. Not much of a friend was I.
Ryan was 10 or 12 years older than me and owned a small hardware store in town. When Clara began to stay home and her illness was diagnosed, Ryan decided to sell his store and stay close to home with his wife. He had been with her for over 30 years, and he felt it was his duty to try to help her. He did all he could for her, but she continued to get worse and finally refused to leave the house except for a doctor's appointment or some emergency. Those also became rare, and finally, she left not at all.
We began to talk during our breaks at the gym, and I learned more about him and Clara. I apologized for not visiting Clara more, but he simply said he understood. He told me all of their story, and I found myself feeling sympathy for him. My heart melted at the sadness I saw in him. I wanted to help him, but all I could do was let him talk. I listened and became more and more sorry for him. I wish there were more I could do to help, but I was helpless to change anything for him.
I found Ryan to be a charming man, and once I noticed a very well-built man with a good body and a flat stomach. I also have to admit I noticed a nice bulge in the tight gym shorts he wore. I especially noticed that it got bigger after he had spent some time talking to me. That started some thoughts in my head that had been missing for some time. The only real problem with that was that when Ryan was out of my sight, so were those thoughts. My husband didn't cause them to reoccur in the evenings, and they lay dormant until I saw Ryan again at the gym.
Those thoughts got me to thinking. The next time Ryan and I were together, watching Noah work out, I got up my courage and asked him about his love life with Clara. He seemed embarrassed at first, but finally told me that there was no love life anymore. Clara had no interest and refused him whenever he made an attempt. She got angry if he tried and called him names if he persisted. He had finally given up and no longer considered her a wife except in name only, but he was too much of a man to divorce a sick and needy woman, especially when he had loved her for so long.
That night at home, I made my decision. I knew what I could do to help Ryan and at the same time help myself. In my own mind, it was so clear. If only Ryan could arouse those feelings in me, and if Ryan was forced into chastity by a frigid wife, then I could help both of us at the same time. It was so simple. I would offer to have sex with Ryan for his satisfaction as well as mine. Since I couldn't become aroused by my husband and he couldn't satisfy his cravings with his wife, it was a perfect solution to our problems. It was so clear to me at that point in my life, so very simple. At no time did I consider what I was going to do is cheating on my husband. I couldn't get aroused by my husband, so I was not meeting his needs, and he couldn't meet mine. So in my own mind, I thought that this way I could regain my own desires, and maybe they would carry over into my marriage. Bet that would be a good thing for Steve, wouldn't it? Ryan could get some satisfaction with my body, and that would be a good thing for him. Hopefully, I was going to get some satisfaction from Ryan, gauging from the way his pants bulged out when he was talking to me. It seemed to me to be a clear win-win situation. With that thought, it was settled.
The following day, I went to the gym with Noah, and Ryan was already there. I watched him work out, admiring his body as it glistened with his sweat. I wanted to reach out and rub those shining wet muscles and feel that bulge in his trunks so badly that I felt things I hadn't felt in months, perhaps even years. I was horny. I was actually getting turned on by watching Ryan's body. God, I knew that I had made the right decision. Once he was through with his workout, I talked to Ryan and told him what I had decided. He listened, his mouth curved up in a wide smile, and he actually blushed. He was almost comically grateful and said he had wanted to make a move on me for months but was afraid to do so, fearing it would ruin our friendship. He had some reservations about doing this behind Steve's back, but I explained our lack of love-making, and he seemed to accept that. Actually, Ryan would have accepted anything I told him just to get into my pants. I understood that. I knew men, and Ryan was all man.
We made plans for the first time to meet at my house. Ryan would tell Clara he had to go somewhere, drive around the block, park his car, and walk through the back gate and into the house. No one could see him once he entered the yard, and no one would be interested in him anyway. Steve would be at work as usual. Noah was going to be gone all day on a trip to one of the local colleges with his senior class, so I would be alone. I waited in the kitchen, watching the backyard that morning until I saw him come in, closed the gate, and almost run to the back door. I held the door open, and he came in without slowing down. It wasn't until he stopped and turned that he noticed I had on only a robe. I stood there grinning at him, and when his breathing had slowed, I untied the belt, letting the robe fall open. Underneath, I was naked. He let out a groan, almost a sob, as his eyes roved over my naked body. I admit to being turned on by his admiration, and I pushed the robe from my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. I stood there naked and fully exposed to this man who was my neighbor and Steve's friend. I let him devour me with his eyes, feeling no shame and no regret. He waited only seconds before walking over to me, pulling my body against his and pressing his mouth over mine. He was not gentle, and that turned me on even more. I accepted his tongue into my mouth, my own meeting and dueling with his. It did not take long before I heard myself screaming at him to do me harder and harder, and he answered with a growl of pure primal lust. I was almost conscious from the sheer pleasure. We came down together, both of us spent and sated. I let my legs relax and fall to the floor as Ryan lowered my body back down.
I moved back to the bathroom. Ryan watched me go, his own pants laying on the floor beside him. I closed the door and let everything inside begin to seep out of me. I then cleaned what I could with toilet paper until I felt clean enough to put my clothes back on. I would shower later, but for now, I was okay. I walked back out to find Ryan dressed again and sitting at the table, looking cautiously at me. I smiled, walked over to kiss his cheek, and sat down opposite him. "Thank you, Ryan. That was more than I could hope for. You were wonderful, and I enjoyed it very much. I hope this is just the first of many times we can help each other."
"No, please, thank you, Ella. I never expected that to happen. I have never climaxed so hard in my life. You are a wonderful lover, and I agree that this should be only the first of many. Do you think think we could do this again tomorrow at the same time?"
"I think we can. Noah will be in school, and we can make it upstairs to the bedroom the next time. This time was too quick, but it was wonderful. I think we can be more comfortable in bed. We can take more time to get to know each other and find ways to make the other happy."
That was the beginning of our affair, which continued almost daily until the end of the school year. After that, we were more careful, and the frequency began to decrease until we got together once or twice a week, and sometimes less. Ryan was still a wonderful lover, and I enjoyed our time together. The only problem was that nothing I did carried over into my husband's bed. I still had no desire to make love with him, and I felt nothing I was doing was wrong. I knew that I was not thinking correctly, but I didn't care. I didn't want to give up Ryan, and I didn't want to make love with my husband Steve. As a matter of fact, I got angry at Steve because he couldn't turn me on like Ryan. The one thing I knew was that I didn't love Ryan, and the thought of living with him was not one I would ever entertain. I love Steve. That was a surprise that I wasn't even aware of until it was too late, but I did know that in my heart, and although it didn't stop me from doing what I was doing with Ryan, it kept me feeling safe, knowing I had the love of my husband Steve to fall back on. Funny that I never doubted that the thought that I could lose my husband was not even a glimmer on my radar.
The summer ended. Noah went off to college, and Steve continued to work predictable hours, leaving me and Ryan more time to have our sexual liaisons. Things were slowly ending with Ryan, and we both knew it, but we still got together as often as we could. We sometimes just did oral for each other; the effort of full sex not worth our time. I love the way Ryan did it, and often just let him go at me as long as he liked. I would blow him if he asked, but I didn't really enjoy it very much. He seemed content to do me, and I let him. That's what he was doing when Steve walked in and caught us.
In retrospect, I remember it like it was just an hour ago. I was sitting on the couch in the living room, my black robe open where Ryan had been fondling my body. He had pushed me back, dropped to his knees, and lifted my skirt up to my waist. I leaned back, enjoying what he was doing, and I let my body respond. The climax still a ways away, I was just beginning to feel the stirrings of lust when I felt Ryan jerk and pull away. I opened my eyes, and as the lust died, I stared into the eyes of my husband, Steve, standing there now.
As I look back on it, certain things remain clear and precise. The first time I looked into his eyes, I saw disgust and anger. Then, as I watched, I saw the anger begin to be replaced with something else. It took a minute, then I recognized it. I had seen it a few times before in my life with Steve; it was pain, pain coupled with sadness. I can't begin to tell you what that felt like to see that pain and that sadness and to know that I was the cause of it. Nothing in my life hurt as much as that knowledge, not even the loss of my parents when they died in a fiery car crash. That look, the one I saw that day, will haunt my dreams for the rest of my life. As bad as that memory was, it was far less than the one that happened a few minutes later.
Ryan dressed and ran from the house with only a quick, "I'm so damn sorry." I watched him go, blood dripping down his chin, understanding that for the first time in almost a year, I felt nothing for him. I cared nothing about what might happen to him. As I slowly walked up the steps to find Steve, I don't believe at that point that I understood what had happened and how my life was going to change. I only knew that I had to go to my husband and try to explain.
I walked into the bedroom and stopped in total shock. My husband, the man I loved with all my heart, the man that provided a strong, loving home for me and our son, was kneeling on the floor, his head in his hands, sobbing his heartbroken. I almost died myself then. At that instant, all I wanted was for God to take me, take me then and let me not have to see what I caused for my husband. My heart broke at what I had done to this man. I went to him, knelt on the floor behind him, and held him in my arms. I held him tight, whispering softly to him that it would be all right, that it would be all right. I had to tell him; I had to let him know. "I'm so sorry, Steve. I'm so sorry," over and over, holding him and waiting for him to hear me and understand. I wanted only to comfort, to love him as a wife should.
He pushed me away. He pushed me back and away as if he couldn't stand my touch. He was angry, and in his anger, he said words that still echo inside my head when my eyes close and everything becomes quiet. He said words that caused my world to stop, to change forever. His words: "Take your filthy hands off me and get away from me. You stink of sex and you make me sick." They say when you die, your whole life flashes in front of you. That could well be true because I think a lot inside me died that day, but my whole life didn't flash in front of my eyes. The things I lost: my life with Steve, my home, the times we spent as a family, the dreams we shared for our future, our plans for our retirement years, all the things I loved and cherished, all those things that we shared together, those are the things that died that day, and part of me died with them.
Today, I am sitting here in a small apartment that I rent month to month. I could afford better since Steve left me comfortable, but I have no desire for anything better. In front of me are the final divorce papers, telling me that my marriage is forever gone. Steve has moved on with his life now in Miami, the place we both dreamed about. It seems like that was forever ago, but actually, it was only a year or so. I saw the note after he left that day, those words almost screaming at me at what I was to lose. It was lying on the floor near the scene of my debauchery, so simple: "Our Dream location. I love you, Steve."
My apathy and my disinterest have returned, banished for a short time by my betrayal of my husband, then by my losing fight to regain my marriage to Steve. I fought the good fight, but I was hampered by his refusal to talk to me or try to understand what I did. It took some time for me to understand that the "why" was never important; the facts were, especially to Steve, and what could I really say to him after all I did? I did it, and I continued to do it, even after my rationalization of trying to restart our love life faded away. It was okay to lie to myself, after all, but I couldn't lie to him, not after what I did to him.
Our son, Noah, hated what I did, but eventually forgave me. He is my only connection to what I used to have: a life with a man who loved me, and who I loved back with a fierce passion. Why that passion deserted me for a time is still a mystery that I fail to understand. Over and over, I search for a reason, any reason, but none comes. But it's too late now anyway, so why dwell on it? My life now is much as it was before Steve ended it. I go nowhere, I do nothing. I think of little else but what I lost. I never see Ryan anymore and don't want to. I sit and think and remember what once was. Mostly, I remember my thoughts as I decided to have my affair with Ryan. It was so clear, so simple then. I thought of the good things that could happen. I thought of the pluses and the minuses, the pleasure I wanted and could enjoy, but I never once thought of the consequences of what I was going to do. I never once thought of what could go wrong, what bad things might happen. I thought of everything that I could gain from it, but never once did I think of what I might lose.
Thanks for watching. Do you think better communication could have changed the outcome? Share your thoughts in the comments and don't forget to like and subscribe.