The Classic Crusade of Corbin Cobbs

by Michael Ciardi

I managed to return to my classroom without any additional interruptions, but I couldn’t ignore the chronic tension throbbing between my temples. Fortunately, the desks were still empty when I stumbled like a slimsy drunkard into the room. My next group of students had gym the previous period, which guaranteed their lateness and afforded me a few extra minutes of preparation. Today, however, even another hour wouldn’t have been a sufficient amount of time to construct an informative lesson. As much as I hated to fully succumb to my ailment, I simply didn’t have the vitality to instruct another class.

  Alternately, I slumped into a chair behind my desk and stared vacantly at my computer’s blue screen. My hopes of plummeting headlong into this cerulean circuitry proved to be a vain pursuit. Within a few seconds, my thoughts reverted to my wife. I couldn’t help but to wonder what she was contemplating at this exact moment. I checked my cell-phone repeatedly during this period, wishing for a text message or voicemail from her that at least acknowledged my discontent. Since Rachel was virtually glued to a cell-phone because of her work, I couldn’t help but to rate her silence as an uncharitable attack on what remained of my sensibilities.

  Over the last several months, it had become customary for me to counterbalance my insecurities by formulating excuses for Rachel’s apparent aloofness. Perhaps she was simply too busy with a client to lend the current matter between us any further consideration. I had been routinely conditioned from interacting with her during hours designated for work, and learned to stew in an almost perpetual silence until she had slotted an appointment for me. But today was different. I needed something—anything—to convince me that she still cared enough about my sanity to at least treat me with a fleeting degree of compassion.

  After a few seconds I focused on my computer’s screen more intently. In the past, I recalled that Rachel had written emails to my school account when the subject matter broached on contentious business. Leaning on a hunch, I logged onto my mailbox and scanned over an assortment of unread emails. Among a screen littered with junk mail, one bold item in my inbox walloped me in the face with the brunt of a sledgehammer. The sender’s name was Rachel, and the letter’s delivery time was today at 12:17 P.M., shortly after our meeting in the school’s parking lot.

  My hand quivered on the mouse, almost as if I was afraid to click on the message that might’ve changed my perception of her forever. To complicate matters, my students were already filing into the classroom. But I couldn’t simply leave the item for later. It demanded my attention. I dared not pull my eyes away from the computer’s screen. Whatever Rachel had chosen to send me, I had to view it now. I depressed the mouse’s button twice, opening a letter on the monitor. Then, while easing back against my chair, I braced myself for the following words:

  Corbin,

  After meeting with you today, I started to feel really terrible about everything that has happened. I don’t know exactly how to say what I’m feeling inside, Corb, but I knew I couldn’t look you in the eyes and tell you the truth. But it’s too cruel of me to hide it from you any longer. Honestly, I’ve messed up. I have no excuses for what I’ve done, but the truth is that Leon and I have been involved. I’m sorry I have to tell you like this, but it’s the only way I can handle the situation right now. I know you don’t deserve to be treated so unfairly. You’re a good man, and I shouldn’t have allowed myself to get carried away with all the big promises Leon made to me….

  My eyes drifted away from the computer’s screen momentarily, and I sensed a stinging moistness jabbing at the center of my pupils. A flash of red then caused me to blink, and I barely managed to contain a rancorous scream. I wanted to slouch behind my desk and hide from everyone; my shame was almost insurmountable, and it was all for me to bear alone. Instead of relinquishing my composure completely, I resolved to continue reading the letter, even though each forthcoming syllable singed my festering wounds as if they were doused with sulfuric acid.

  …I’m so stupid for believing everything Leon said. He told me that he planned to leave Peggy soon, and he had developed real feelings towards me. I never thought what I was doing was the right thing, but I wanted a chance to have more out of life. I wasn’t thinking about the pain and humiliation I’d cause Peggy, and especially you. Of course, I should’ve realized that married men don’t usually leave their wives for another married woman he’s already sleeping with. I know how hurtful this must be for you to hear, Corb, and I’m not even sure what to do now, or if anything I say from this point can ever make it better between us. My timing is just as awful, too, and I can’t help but to blame myself for the health problems you’re having now. I hope you can try to forgive me for what I’ve done, but I won’t expect any sympathy from you. I’ll be home before you get back from the doctor today. We can talk more then, if you want. Please know that I’m sorry, and I wish I could erase everything that’s happened over the past couple months. Talk soon. Okay?

  Love, Rachel

  My finger depressed the mouse’s clicker again and the screen flickered to the school’s homepage. The last word of Rachel’s letter registered as the most bothersome to me. Love? Was this merely a statement volleyed so gratuitously among us that it no longer had any relevance? I wondered if she understood the selflessness of caring about something more substantial than her own petty whims and fanciful dreams. My bitterness had reached a level where it agitated in my diseased brain like deleterious venom.

  The students assembling behind me in rows must have observed me trembling in my chair. How could they overlook the ripe tears rolling over my cheeks, sliding in salty pathways to the crevices of my mouth? Is this how love spoiled a man’s soul? Was this my payment for being a faithful partner during the course of my marriage? Of all the deeds that my wife could’ve done to strip me of my masculinity, this event surpassed them all. She, above all others, knew of my insecurities, especially in regard to Leon Chase’s wealth measured next to my own.

  Whenever I broached the subject of money, Rachel was always first to remind me that life wasn’t a financial contest. We weren’t supposed to compete against one another more so than to coexist in contrived harmony. Why had I naively accepted such rubbish? Was I truly afraid to examine my own shortcomings? Did I actually believe that any feelings my wife stored for me remained persuasive enough to keep her from coveting more? Questions such as these rattled inside my head, causing my skull to pulsate where no amount of drugs could’ve masked the vibrations of shame. I wondered if either Rachel or Leon attempted to touch upon their guilt. Surely, they must have considered my feelings at some point. Why did they both think so little of me? These answers couldn’t be determined now. They would have to wait until later on this afternoon.

  From my understanding, few marriages recovered from a marital affair. The odds of staying together decreased even more dramatically when either spouse developed genuine emotions for his or her lover. In Rachel’s case, I would’ve guessed she was irrecoverably smitten by Leon’s promises of grandeur. For now, I had no power left within me to resist fleeing to another place, at least subconsciously.

  The students in company may have been bewildered by my inability to acknowledge them. But I didn’t intend to explain any of my woes to these kids now. For the first time today, I wanted to return to the shelter of my dreams, a province where the quandaries of life didn’t seem as severe in comparison. I reclined in my chair during these seconds, focusing my eyes on the ceiling’s fluorescent panels. I heard several students shouting my name, hoping to conjure a predictable reaction from me. Yet I had no energy or desire to attend to this anxiousness. My brief departure from their ranks was as welcomed as it was inevitable. I now determined that it was the brevity of such adventures that shaped me for the rest of my hours.

  Chapter 49

  1:42 P.M.