I Miss Her Every Day, Part III

I’ve written about how much I miss my wife before, and I guess it’s as part of the journey of ups and downs toward reconciliation that I go through periods in which I really miss my wife. This is one such period right now.

I guess it’s exacerbated a bit by the fact that I’m sick right now — picked up a nasty cold over the weekend, and am now rehabilitating — but I really do miss my wife. When I saw her on Sunday, it was the first time in over a month that we had face-to-face contact. She has not seen her dog — her prize possession — since the end of October, and she has not set foot in this house since some time in August. It seems that she’s holding out, even as the walls crumble. I hope they crumble soon, and fast.

This month is a triple-whammy month. I did not have this blog a year ago, so I did not write about it then, although it is probably recapped in one of my earliest posts. This month, December, is the month in which three significant events occur: my wife’s birthday, Christmas, and our anniversary. These all happen within the space of two weeks. Last year, she was living in this house still, but for each of those events she abandoned me to be with the adulterer. The pain was awful. This year, she is co-habitating with the adulterer, so she does not have to actually go through the motions of abandonment. That’s all been taken care of ahead of time.

A couple of weeks ago, I had a very strong vision that she would be home in time for her birthday. I’m not really certain where this vision came from, except that it happened, and it was a very clear, intuitive signal. I’m not psychic or anything like that, but it was like a beacon of hope that just came form parts unknown. I do not discount the very real likelihood of this vision becoming a reality.

Honestly, my sense is that she’s struggling now. Really struggling. The aftermath of my appearance at her concert very likely sent some waves through that diseased relationship she clings to. I imagine the adulterer was quite furious about it, actually. I can imagine that the blame game has begun. Coupled with this very likely is avoidance: the adulterer certainly should know by now that my wife has quite an explosive temper, and that arguing with her is totally unproductive. And he certainly should have the idea by this point that, no matter what he tries, he simply will not be successful at sustaining that immoral relationship much longer.

Anyway, those are just some random musings on this crisp morning, as I sit here, looking out the window at the naked trees under the grey, wintry skies. If you are a prayer-oriented person, I would greatly appreciate your prayers at this point, both for myself and my reconciliation efforts, as well as (and especially) for my wife, and her exit from the fog.

Adulterer, Interrupted

Yesterday was a big day. I had a full day of work, and then my wife had a concert in the late afternoon. I had not seen her for a month, so I planned on going. There was only one complication: it was almost a certainty that the adulterer would be there, too. Still, I went.

I arrived about a half an hour late, as it was about a half-hour drive from work, and the concert started right after my work day wrapped up. I sent my wife several messages both on the day of the concert as well as the day preceding, letting her know that I’d be there.

She played very well, and the group she accompanied was first-rate. Not really music to my taste, but very well done. The hall was kind of dark, and I thought I made out the adulterer about halfway toward the stage. I was seated in the back, as I arrived late and did not want to be obtrusive. (Years of concert-going has taught me this protocol.)

The concert wrapped up, and I got up to leave. I hung around the back of the hall for a bit to see if my wife would be coming out from backstage, but that did not seem to be happening. The adulterer got up, and I’m pretty certain he saw me. I pretty much ignored his presence.

Since nothing was happening, I decided to go downstairs to the reception, since I figured the performers would all end up there. Some did, but my wife never showed. So, I went back upstairs to see where she was at, and that was when I saw her with the adulterer, still in the hall, getting ready to leave. They did not see me. I figured I had a choice: I could either enter the hall and walk right up to them, or I could wait for her in the lobby. I chose the latter.

The lobby was quite crowded, so I ended up going halfway down the stairs, and then turned around to come back up.  It was just as I was coming back up that my wife emerged from the hall with the adulterer. She was closer to me, and he was on her left. She saw me, and as she did, the most bizarre expression passed over her face. The adulterer saw me and quickly averted his eyes. I walked up the stairs toward them, and my wife hung back to see me. She looked sick, physically sick, as if she were about to vomit. It was a very unpleasant expression on her face, an expression of someone who was forced to go instant cold turkey off a highly addictive drug, and to be showered with the reality of what that feels like. She was a couple of feet behind the adulterer now as I approached.

The adulterer turned his back and walked away, pretending not to be seen. He went and hid out by the coat racks. Pay attention, dear reader, as this is a very significant detail.

My wife said, “what are you doing here?” I responded that I had come to hear her play. She said, “this is not good.” I asked her what the problem is, and her response was that she had not invited me. I gave her no reply, and as we stood there, a member of the group she had accompanied came up to congratulate her and give her a hug. This person also introduced herself to me, and I cordially introduced myself by my first name, and did not say anything about being the husband. The colleague then walked away.

My wife reiterated that I should not have come, and I reiterated that I wanted to hear her play, as it had been a long time since I’d had the chance. I told her she sounded great.

The adulterer was still nowhere to be seen, ostensibly hiding out at the coat racks, looking for his coat. Now, he was already wearing a coat, so that action would have been absurd on its face.

My wife said to me, “I’ll talk to you later about this.” But, this was not said in a threatening tone. In fact, the whole conversation was said in a rather muted, hushed tone, even though the lobby was fairly cramped and quite loud. I asked her if she was okay, and she said she was. I asked her if she needed anything, and she said she did not. I asked her if she needed a ride anywhere, and she declined. I then told her I’d be going, and put my hand on her back so I could give her a kiss. She pulled away. I looked at her with a “what-am-I,-poison?” look on my face, and moved in to give her a kiss on the cheek. She pulled away two or three times, but eventually let me land one. Hey, I’m the husband, you know? But, at the same time, I was not going over the top, and was not about to make a scene.

Where was the adulterer during all this? I don’t know; probably he was still hiding out by the coat racks. I’m pretty certain he saw the whole exchange. And, I’m pretty certain that he was pretty miffed by it all, too.

That, however, is not my problem. He is the one who made the choice to have an affair with a married woman. He is the one who apparently thinks nothing of tearing another person’s family apart. He’s the one without any reliably functioning moral standards. He’s the one who claims to be a “spiritual” person, yet does all this.

So, I walked away, buttoning my coat to ready myself for the blustery, rainy December night. I turned back and looked at my wife, and she just stood there with a look of confusion on her face. In fact, as I remember it, there was a subdued sense of diffused panic about her expression as well.

This is how the walls come crashing down in the house of adultery. Sooner or later reality intrudes. In this case, and at this time, it happened to be the husband who showed up. In other cases, and at other times, other things happen, but sooner or later, reality always does intrude, and it delivers a nasty wakeup all each and every time.

Now, don’t get me wrong, dear reader. I did not go there to interrupt the affair or to humiliate anyone. I went there to see my wife and to support her. I went there to send her the clear message that I still care about her and love her, and that I still believe in her and us and our relationship. If this negatively impacts the adulterous relationship, well, that’s just how it’s going to work out. It’s a relationship that shouldn’t even be there in the first place.

How did I feel afterwards? Elated. Truly elated. I was thrilled. I got to see my wife, and it felt good. Something about that whole encounter seemed, in all its bizarre oddness and complete wrongness of circumstances, really right. It felt like the real beginning of the end of that affair.

Remember that significant detail I asked you to remember? (It’s okay, you can go back and take a peek if need be.) The adulterer turned his back and walked away. This means one thing and one thing only: the affair is dead. Dead, dead, dead. A man who truly believes in his partner does not walk away from her under any circumstances. Instead, he’ll take a stand for what he believes to be right, which in his case should be her, right?

Wrong. His actions spoke volumes. The aversion of the eyes, and then the walkaway, followed by the cowering among jackets that were not his. This is the action of a child, not a grown man, and especially not a grown man who is nearing fifty. One would think a man of his age — a man with a grown, married daughter, no less — would know better. He does not.

I walked out into that blustery December night and drove home. My trip home took about twenty minutes. Sometime later, they stepped out into that same blustery December night and drove “home”: he to his house, and she to the place he calls home, a “home” that was never and will never be hers. That drive would have taken them about an hour. I have no idea what transpired during that journey, but I imagine it was not very pleasant.

I’ve heard nothing since, and I guess part of me is waiting for the other shoe to drop. A lot of things could happen, but one out come is certain: the affair is dead. It might not be over yet, but it’s dead. Dead, dead, dead.

The Wall of Silence Breaks

Something odd happened today. I was in the office for a rather longish meeting; well, that’s not odd, but what happened just after that meeting wrapped up is: the wall of silence broke.

I was doing a bit of paperwork and had logged on to my online calendar when I received an email from my wife.

It was a rather brief email, just a paragraph in length, but it contained quit a lot. This is the first communication I’ve had from her in a month.

She thanked me for the little gift I had left for her a few days ago. She also thanked me for the messages I’m sending her, saying that she enjoys reading and listening to them. She apologized for not having responded. She thanked me for taking care of our dog.

She thanked me for a bunch of stuff: for our marriage, for the life we had built together, for the ways in which I truly understood her, supported her, and loved her unconditionally.

She also apologized for a bunch fo stuff: for having betrayed and abandoned me, for having hurt me, my family, and my friends, for not having been there for me through difficult times. She apologized for the awful things she said to me the last time we met. She apologized for having been dependent on me, and for not having held up her end of the relationship.

She assured me that she does not have any negative feelings for me, and that she truly appreciates me.

She also stated that she felt sorry that I still believe in our marriage, but honestly, this was kind of weak sauce.

Now, I might ask myself, “Why now? Why is she saying these things now?”

Honestly, I have no idea. This email came in during the middle of the day, and it was a dreary, rainy day at that. She probably feels lonely. She probably feels guilty. She probably feels unfulfilled with where her choices have led her. She probably is beginning to feel remorse and regret.

I’ve said on a few occasions that the last couple of times I saw her she appeared to be on the verge of a breakdown. I imagine she had some sort of breakdown today, even if only a minor one.

She has a concert on Sunday, and I am going. The adulterer will most likely be there as well. These will most certainly be a very interesting few days ahead.