by Aidèe Jaimes
“Oh, no, you will not blame your shit behavior on me. You cheated. Not. Me. You Fucking Asshole, do you even know what you have done!” I wipe at my face and turn to look at myself in the mirror, just now realizing I am crying. The desire to slap him, to do him actual physical harm, is so intense and overwhelming I storm out of the bathroom before I throw myself on him.
“Where are you going?” he asks desperately.
“I just have to get out of here!”
“You can’t leave! Please don’t leave, Cris! We need to talk through this.”
He grabs my arm and pulls me away just before I open the bedroom door, dropping to his knees. I turn on him and dig my fingernails into his hand until he lets go. There is so much anger radiating off me that he recoils. I know what he sees, I feel crazed and wild.
“I can hardly stand to look at you, Owen, much less talk. I need space to breathe!”
“Please don’t leave. Please don’t leave,” he repeats the words, and that’s the last thing I hear when I slam the door behind me.
My life is over.
I need to drive as far away as I can get. Buildings become a blur, streets, lights blending into the fog in my head. The tears flow unheeded. I drive around in circles, no destination, just driving, running away.
My cell phone rings. It takes me a second to understand the name. Owen.
“What!” I yell into the phone.
“Please, baby, please come back. I can’t lose you, please, I am so sorry!” He’s crying. I can’t stand the sound of his voice. Like nails on a chalkboard, it is such an ugly thing. I hang up.
He calls again and again. When I don’t answer, he resorts to texting.
Buzz, buzz, buzz! I hear them coming in one after the other.
“Shut up!”
I take the phone and throw it against the dash where it explodes into a million tiny pieces.
Violent sobs wrack my body and I am so blinded by my own rage and pain that I don’t see the light has turned red. There is a large SUV, much larger than my small Civic coming my way. He sees me and screeches to a halt, missing me by only a foot or so. I nearly spin out of control, my car fishtailing all the way to the curb. The driver of the SUV honks his horn and drives away in an angry rush.
Before me are two white knuckled hands holding the steering wheel. My heart is racing as it dawns on me that I almost died. If that car hadn’t stopped in time it would have plowed through my tiny car like it was nothing. That would have been the end of me. Mia’s small round face races to my mind. She would have been left without a mother.
I scream and slap my palms against the steering wheel, over and over, until they are numb.
“Why is this happening?” I cry.
It must have been a while that I sat there, I don’t know. Somehow, at some point, I was able to pull myself together long enough to go just a little further. I am obviously in no condition to be out driving. It’s putting me and everyone on the street in danger.
There is a hotel a few blocks away. The sign above the main entrance reads “Vacancy” in bright blue neon. I pull in under the overhang and ring a doorbell for the clerk to let me in. A woman looks up from behind the counter and buzzes open the glass door.
She’s young I think, maybe eighteen. Too young to be here this late in charge of the office, in my opinion.
“How can I help you?” she asks as I walk to her. Her name tag says her name is Sara.
“A room please.” Despite my attempt to swallow the lump in my throat, my voice comes out broken and squeaky. She takes one good look at me and her light brown eyes fill with sympathy and she suddenly doesn’t look so young anymore. I know she feels my pain, even before I’ve spoken a word.
She’s been where I am now, I think. There is a look about her that says she knows exactly what I am feeling.
The hotel room is clean. Nothing fancy. Double beds with a thin flowered coverlet my grandmother would have loved, a night stand between the two, desk with a phone, notepad and pen. I throw my purse on a chair set in the corner and take off my shoes. Leaving on my clothes and make-up, I slide in between the crisp white sheets and burry my face into the overstuffed pillow. I could never sleep with such a massive thing under my head. It doesn’t matter I suppose, there won’t be much sleep for me tonight.
I weep for hours, holding my arm over my eyes, thinking of my life with Owen. We have been through so much together. We dreamed for more still. Traveling, showing Mia the world. Maybe expanding our little family. Enjoying each other, finding new ways to keep our sex life exciting. Now I don’t know if any of that will happen. In the span of one night he put all that on the line.
I always told Owen that if he ever cheated on me I would leave him, no questions asked. There would be no forgiveness no matter what. I meant it when I said it, and had it been years ago, perhaps the break could be so much cleaner. Easier.
But we have been together fifteen years. That is a lot of life together. Things are not so black and white anymore. We are in an area so gray that I can’t see which way to go, where the line between right and wrong is. One decision seems just as bleak as the other.
I love him. Not only am I still crazy for that man, but our love has grown too deep over the years. Our souls are so bonded that to tear us apart at this point could create a wound that cannot heal. I know that I can’t live without him and there is no doubt in my mind that he feels the same about me.
And at the same time, I hate him. I can’t stand the sight of him. How could I feel anything but disgust after what he has done? I agonize over my feelings, torn between love and hate and an ache so great it overshadows both.
At some point sleep overtakes me. It’s a restless sort of sleep filled with dreams of Owen and another woman. I wake up sweating, crying, then fall back asleep again. The cycle continues through the night.
The sun streaming in through the sheer curtains wakes me. I lay in bed for a long time staring at nothing. My face is relaxed, my body resigned.
When I finally make my way downstairs, Owen is waiting for me with Mia in the lobby. I knew he would be. He was probably up all night just waiting for me to use one of the cards so he could find me. I want to be angry with him for this, but I simply don’t care right now.
His red rimmed eyes speak volumes when we look at each other, but I am so desensitized that none of his unspoken words make it to my heart.
“Momma!” Mia cries out, and for the first time this morning my soul sings.
I take her from his arms and squeeze her. “I missed you, baby.”
“Are you coming home?” Owen whispers.
“For now,” I say, because I just don’t have the strength to make the decision that will change our lives forever.
CHAPTER 6
Mia looks completely miserable. Almost as miserable as I am.
“Mommy, let’s go out!” she cries, pointing towards the front door. She wants to go outside, to see the sun, people, the sky.
I can’t bring myself to leave the house. There is too much gloom in my heart and my brain is stuck in a loop where Owen cheated on me and my life as I know it is over. What if in my own misery I miss a car coming down the street and she gets away from me for two seconds? God forbid! I can’t trust myself right now.
Selfishly I also think, what if someone sees me? I look awful; dark circles under tired red eyes, puffy nose, tear crusted cheeks.
My phone vibrates. I know who it is before I pull it out of my back pocket.
-What the hell is going on? If you don’t come out soon I’m going to come drag your ass out! I know you’re in there!
My eyes widen.
Jess is mad. She’s been texting and calling like crazy and I have been trying my best to keep her away until I know more about my own stance on my situation.
-We are ok. Come 2morrow for playtime, I text back.
I look at Mia, “We’ll go out tomorrow, baby. I promise.” She looks so disappointed it almost makes me change my mind.
It’s been three days since that night where my marriage suddenly became endangered. Owen and I still haven’t talked. Not for his lack of trying. The moment he opens his mouth I turn away crying. It makes me so mad that I can’t hide the hurt from him. Ridiculous though it may be, it makes me feel like it gives him the upper hand to know how much power he has over my heart.
It’s Friday and he will be off tomorrow, which means we will see each other all day. Something needs to happen, we can’t live in this strange, angry silence forever. It’s not good for us and it’s not good for Mia. I decide then and there that I will speak with him tonight. I’m just not sure what I want to do yet. Do I stay or do I go?
I mull this over-all day. He’s broken my heart. Obliterated my trust. My pride is in shreds.
But there is so much more to it than just my feelings involved. I sit at his desk to pay our bills. Owen has an account set up with both our names where the majority of his check is deposited. He has another portion going towards his retirement, and yet another amount unknown to me that goes into a separate checking account.
He says he only uses that for special occasions, to buy me a gift or for anything that might be expensive that he doesn’t want to take out of my account. I smirk. He calls it my account. The truth is, I don’t feel as if any of the money in it is mine, that I’ve earned it. And because it’s fallen into my bucket of responsibility to keep our finances, everything is paid out of “my account.”
It’s not my priority, not my biggest concern, but it is something that’s always been in the back of my mind. What if something ever happened between Owen and me and we separated? How would I support myself? I have zero saved. I knew I should do something, but I also assumed we’d be together always.
For his part, Owen would never deny me financial support, but I don’t want to be dependent on a man if we are no longer together. Of course, for Mia I would expect it, but not for me.
God, how did I get here?
I met Owen when I was working as a teller. He came in to make a large deposit for his company. When he saw me, he insisted I be the one to help him. I was glad to do it, I found him so incredibly attractive. I went home with him that night.
A couple of years later I was managing the branch, then I went to work at their headquarters in the IT department leading a team that tested software. I always joked that one day I’d be the CEO. I had paid my way through some college, had my own car, and had even bought my own house by the time I was nineteen. I felt I was well on my way to be something great.
But in a marriage, it can be hard to juggle two successful careers. Owen’s job moved us so many times, all over the state and for a year in Virginia, and it became impossible for me to get anywhere with any company. Once I had Mia, it was over. I never went back to work.
I love Owen, and I was content knowing that he was happy in his work. Maybe I assumed that someday I could find something as fulfilling as he does. Now as the possibility of striking out on my own is all too real, it’s terrifying to know that I never finished school, have nothing of my own and have been out of work so long I can’t even remember the dates for a resume.
It’s also infuriating. I want to hate him for everything I gave up to make his life richer, but I can’t. Instead I just hate myself. I did this, put myself in this position. I feel even more powerless at the thought.
I put my head in my hands and take deep breaths, telling myself it’s going to be okay no matter what, wishing to God I could believe it.
That evening everything is as it has been. We quietly work as a team caring for Mia. He plays with her for a bit while I make dinner, then it’s my turn to entertain her while he gets cleaned up. We play with her together a little while in her playroom before it’s time for bed. It gives me hope that if we can’t work it out at least we will always be there together for her. She will always have her mommy and daddy.
I am in our room first, waiting for him, sitting restlessly at the foot of the bed. When Owen comes in and sees me, he knows the time has come. He sits beside me, but I don’t look up, just stare at my hands on my knees.
“You betrayed me,” I say matter of fact.
“Yes,” he responds, and then he is kneeling before me and takes my hands in his. For the first time since I found out he cheated I don’t pull away, though the urge to do so is still there. He is looking me straight in the eyes now, his soul bared to me, and I feel a little more on even ground with him. He is aching, too. “I am so sorry, Cris. It wasn’t something I set out to do, I swear it. I was just so drunk and…”
“Why is it that people always use being drunk as an excuse, as if that makes it okay to do something stupid and hurtful?” I interrupt him, annoyed, and pull my hands out of his. He doesn’t move.
“It’s not an excuse. I’m just trying to explain the way things happened. Cassandra wasn’t someone I was attracted to really, but we were from the same town and our conversation sort of took off. When she asked to come to my suite it seemed innocent, like we could hang out in the living room. She wasn’t even flirting, so there were no red flags.” Just hearing him say her name irks me. Hearing that he’d been stupid enough to think a woman in his hotel room was acceptable makes me want to end things on the spot.
“Why the hell would you let her into your room to begin with? Why in the fuck would you think that was okay! How would you feel if I just went to a hotel room with a guy, no matter how unattractive I found him?”
“I was stupid to put myself in that position, I know that. I trusted myself too much. I didn’t think of her that way in that moment. It wasn’t a thought I had.”
I dismiss his words with a wave of my hand. “Owen, I’m not interested in that woman. I don’t give a shit who she is or where she came from.” Not true. I am so curious about her I can hardly stand it. Who is she? What made their conversation so damned appealing it landed her in his bed? What does she look like? Ugh! That’s the one that really gets me. Is she a redhead, blonde, brunette? What color are her eyes or her skin?
“And I don’t care why you did it either,” I continue. “It had nothing to do with me, so it doesn’t matter.” Another lie, though for my sake I really try to sound convincing. The events of the days, weeks, leading up to this have been playing and replaying in my mind, as I dig for clues as to what went wrong. Was it me? Am I just not good enough anymore?
“You’re right, it had nothing to do with you,” Owen says. “It was me. All me. You’re perfect, Cris, and you did nothing wrong. I am so sorry I tried to point the finger at you the other night. It’s that you caught me so unaware and I panicked.”
“Were you going to tell me?” I ask, my voice small now.
“I don’t know. I don’t want to lose you.”
I don’t want to lose him either, but I still don’t know what I’m going to do. The moment of decision is here, though, and it all hangs on my next question.
“Do you still love me? Not as the mother of your child, or as a friend you’ve known for a long time, but the kind of love you feel for a woman.”
Owen doesn’t hesitate. “Yes. It’s always been you, Cris. There is no one else I have ever loved like this, and there never will be. Please believe me.” His voice begins to crack and he shuts his eyes tightly before he lays his head in my lap and wraps his arms around my waist. “Please forgive me. I will never do this again.”
My own tears begin to flow down my cheeks and fall off my chin onto the top of his dark head. I cautiously bring my arms around him and cradle him to me.
“It’s not a matter of not believing that you will be faithful to me. It’s a matter of whether I can forgive you for what you have already done.”
He keeps his head down and his words are so muffled I can barely make them out. “I’ll do anything, Cris. Please don’t leave me.”
The plea and the pain in his voice are so evident that a sob bubbles forth from me. My fingers dig through his hair and I bring my face down to him, holding hi
m to my breast.
“I don’t want to leave,” I cry into his hair.
“I love you, Cris.” His face still buried in my clothes, he begins to kiss his way up, first my stomach, then my chest, pushing me back on the bed as he climbs, his hands gliding up to cradle my head. He kisses my neck, then my cheeks and my lips so tenderly.
I let him because I miss him, because I love him. And because right now I can’t wrap my mind around choosing anything but him.
He pulls away only to look down at me. My tears sting and when I shut my eyes they roll down my temples. Owen rubs them away with his thumbs, then his lips are on mine again.
It’s too much and not enough. We both work fast to rid ourselves of any barriers, pants and shirts flying. When I’m fully naked he lifts me by the waist and tosses me further up the bed, landing on top of me hard.
He takes both my arms and pulls them above my head, holding me firmly by the wrists. His kiss is so deep and desperate it’s painful. Our lips never break apart, even as I hear him swallow back a sob. I hold on as tight as I can, because I’m terrified that if I let go now it may be forever.
Neither one of us climax, instead he stops, still inside of me, and puts his arms around me so tight, he lifts me off the bed a little. He’s trembling hard and buries his face into my neck. I hear him weeping, sniffling into my hair, and it’s so heartbreaking I forget my own pain and wrap myself around him tighter.
When it’s over he rolls on to his back and takes me with him, keeping his arm securely around me. We never lay like this. Neither one of us ever feels the need for it and right after sex usually we want to go to sleep or eat. As far as we’re concerned, cuddling is sweaty and uncomfortable. But not tonight. Tonight, we need this almost as much as breathing. We both know that if we don’t cling to each other we might drift away too far, completely out of reach, and lose each other forever.
