The Last Few Years, Part 1

The Last Few Years

The story actually gets interesting before that, depending on your view of interesting. Five years ago, when I was in the middle of all of it? Eight years ago, when the affair had caused the separation and was heading towards a divorce? Ten years ago, right before the world expanded and my mind outgrew the space it was in? Twenty six years ago, when high school was almost over and I was nearly paralyzed by fear and worry and doubt? Forty three years ago, when my mom was almost eight months pregnant, round and huge, a teenager married less than a year and hoping I wouldn't come early and bring out the gossips?

I'm going to jump right into the middle, because that's what I do, always. I'm a jumper. I found out recently that it's not just a personality quirk; that my impulsivity is a symptom of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, which surprised me, because I've always been able to function fairly well. It seems, though, that my high intelligence (that I was born with, nothing to brag about) has helped me mask the symptoms of ADHD, so I can perform well while still struggling to focus or make reasoned decisions. Lots of my quirks can be traced to this disorder. It brings a combination of feelings; relief, that I'm not just a smart person in a loser brain, but also frustration, because things could have been different if I'd admitted I needed help earlier. Not that I want them to be that different. Today I don't. Yesterday I did.

Four years ago I was on the precipice of a new life. I had been fired - again - from a low paying secretarial job. It was the fifth time I had been fired, all within the last few years. The first was from an under the table job with my husband's friend who owned an insurance company. He started by paying me to update some data spreadsheets, then asked me to come in a few hours a week to help in the office. It was easy, and paid well, and he paid me through Paypal so I didn't have to claim it.

Then I made one of those blunders that you read about on Reddit lists. I was in the post-reveal season of an affair. Jeff and I had met the preceding fall, playing opposite each other in a production of Sound of Music at the community playhouse. We were always together, on stage and off. They happen sometimes in plays, those intense friendships that dissipate the second the set comes down. I had had many of these. Something was different about this, though. I wasn't attracted to him at first. In fact, at the first read through I looked around the circle and thought, 'no one to flirt with in this show'. I was looking for that, I guess, because my marriage had been unfulfilling for so long. It was a red flag I should have dealt with, but I ignored it.

Then I got to know Jeff, and he got to know me, and something just happened. As we got closer emotionally, we got closer physically. He put his arm around me as I sat next to him in the dark backstage, waiting to go on. He kissed me on the forehead as I said goodnight after a long dress rehearsal. One night, I was struggling to get my mic belt on under my costume, and I lifted my skirt and whispered loudly for him to buckle the mic belt around my waist. Underneath, I was wearing pink boy short underwear with white hearts, and black fishnet stockings. After the scene, I went to my empty dressing room and looked at my ass in the mirror, trying to see what he would have seen.

Finally, during the second show, we were sitting on the set steps waiting for our cue, and I leaned my head on his shoulder. I sighed, and told him the show was going too fast, and I was going to miss him.

He said, "I'm going to miss you too." Then, in almost a whisper, "A little too much."

My heart stopped. I couldn't think of anything else for the next twenty four hours. I was distracted at home, but Mark was used to that by now. Plays took up all my attention and all my strength, especially since I was still battling my health issues. Chronic Fatigue Syndrome left me with a reduced amount of energy - although, I'm realizing now, ADHD helped balance that a little - and when I was rehearsing a play my energy went there. It wasn't fair to him, or to the kids. But it was my passion, and I had spent all of my adult life caring for my husband, caring for my children, handling the schedule and the bills - badly, in the case of the bills, but I was still in charge of it. I fought my guilt over leaving my husband with my children by justifying the time away in my head. I deserved it.

The next evening, I left some Hershey's Kisses in Jeff's dressing room, with a note that said, "Just so you now, I feel the same way." I did, which surprised even me. He was almost fifteen years older than me. He was tall and thin and professional, while I tended to be attracted to stocky and bearded and artsy. He was married, with four kids; the youngest only four. I was married, with three kids. And yet…..

We were back in the same waiting space, our sides pressed up against one another in the dark, and our fingers laced together. We had started holding hands backstage, without mentioning it, without discussing what it meant to either of us.

He spoke quietly, so no one standing nearby could overhear. "The note you left, did that mean what I think it means?"

I whispered back, "Yes."

He sighed. "Shit."

Not the most elevating response to a declaration of - something, but it was probably most appropriate. We had multiple discussions over the next week. Declarations of admiration. Attempts to stay apart. Pacts to let it end when the show ended. Assurances that our feelings would continue, even if we didn't see each other again.

The show closed. We saw each other again.

Our affair lasted about six weeks. It was exhilarating to be wanted, to be touched. He was much more experienced sexually than Mark or I, and I found myself trying things I'd been unwilling to try before.

I realized how much was missing from my marriage.

Mark had been frustrated with my reticence in the bedroom. I had discovered his porn addiction about a year into our marriage. It had predated me, and he apologized tearfully and promised to do better. I rediscovered it several times after that. He tried different things to stop, and I tried to figure out how it made me feel. Sometimes it was a relief, because then I could confess my own sins (usually money related) and we could be jointly forgiven. Sometimes I was hurt and angry. Sometimes I was afraid, because he somehow expected me to be like the women in the videos he watched. He berated me for being abnormal, because those women did the things he wanted me to do, so why wouldn't I? I felt less and less safe being vulnerable with him. He only touched me with his eyes closed, and I knew it wasn't my face he was seeing. Eventually, I wasn't seeing his face either.

It was different with Jeff. He wouldn't stop looking at me, touching me. Every moment was an affirmation of his love. I felt cherished and valued in his arms.

And yet…..when the bubble finally burst, the secret came out...in a simple way, not a sudden discovery. Mark realized that I was finally as uninterested in our marriage as he had been for the last two years. He asked me why. I didn't answer. He asked again, and if there was someone else.

I told him the truth.

His response was unexpected. I knew he'd be angry that he had been tricked and lied to, but he had so obviously not liked me or loved me for so long, I was genuinely surprised that he seemed hurt. After the initial blow up, we spoke calmly of divorce. We joked about it a little. Jeff confessed to his wife, and then told me - for the first of many, many times - that he had to stay in his marriage, for his children.

Mark actually comforted me then. He could see that I was heartbroken, that I was losing someone I loved, and he felt pity.

He wasn't always kind. There were gut wrenching emails, angry texts at inappropriate times, and conversations standing outside in the rain where he begged me to recommit to my marriage. It felt like an epic moment in a romantic movie….the tiny drops of rain, my tears, his anguished voice….only the pit in my stomach at the thought of continuing to be his wife kept me from giving in to the pressure from him, from my family, from our friends.

That wasn't the last of Jeff and I, of course. Illicit love doesn't work that way. For a year and half he waffled back and forth between a life of love with me, and doing the right thing for his children and his Church. It was never about his relationship with his wife, which baffled me. Why would she want to stay with someone who clearly didn't want to stay? I was sure I would never lower myself to that level.

During this time, I was still working at the insurance company. Our very closest friends knew about my adultery, but the rest of our community knew only that we were separated. I was in the middle of an us-imposed Jeff free spell, and I wasn't supposed to text or call or see him. His wife had blocked my number from their phones anyway, but there were ways around that.

Instead, I typed out a letter, pouring out my heart and desires. I planned to send it to his office.

When I hit print on my laptop, nothing happened. I hit print again. Still nothing. I clicked on the printer button to see if I could diagnose the problem, and my heart sank. My stomach suddenly hurt, and I almost stopped breathing.

The day before, the owner of the insurance company had added his office printer to my laptop printer queue, so I could work on insurance quotes at home and print them to his office. My laptop was still connected to the work printer.

The next day, I got an email from my boss, who asked me to come to the office. I sat across from him while he showed me, with shaking hands, the letters that had printed to his printer. He asked me not to come back to work again.

As I drove home, I thought to myself, 'This is the low point. Everyone knows what I am now; the ugliest parts of me are exposed for everyone to see.'

That was my first time being fired.

The second time wasn't really a firing; I was hired through a temp agency to be the assistant for a lady that started her own business. After three days of sitting in her office doing basically nothing, I was contacted by the agency and let go. Nothing personal, of course, but her accountant told her she couldn't afford an assistant.

I got another job through the temp agency, this time at a local non-profit. It was pretty perfect for me. I enjoyed the office work, the people were kind, and the schedule made it possible for me to pick up my kids after school every day. That was still my job, even though Mark had moved out and left me with a negative bank account and no income other than the child support and alimony his lawyer had calculated. Sometimes he was gracious about that, wanting to help me get on my feet. Other times he was angry that he was paying for my mistakes. Just a few months before, on our fourteenth anniversary, I had asked him why he loved me. He answered, "Because of the way you take care of me."

Not exactly what I was hoping for, but okay. Now, of course, he had forgotten all that. He had forgotten the fourteen years (plus the two years pre-marriage) that I had nudged him to work, cooked his meals, washed his clothes, raised his children, and reminded him of the things he was going to forget anyway. None of that was worth anything, in the face of my betrayal.

He told me once that he felt like Jeff came into his house and stole something. I responded that I felt more like he had discarded me by the side of the road, and then got mad when someone came along and picked me up.

In the middle of the non profit job, things got more dramatic. Jeff had moved out of his house, and I drove past it on my way home from work. If his car was there, I usually stopped.

His wife insisted that they go to a week-long retreat for couples dealing with infidelity. He wasn't convinced that this would help, but he went. It was going to be the longest time we had ever gone without contact.

He told me he had to stop seeing me again. Again again. Every time I believed him, grieved, dealt with the anger and the ironic feelings of betrayal. And every time he told me that he couldn't live without me, that he couldn't stay married to her when he was in love with me...I believed him then too.

To be continued in part 2.