This is where my memory starts getting a little dicey. I want to remember all those moments we were together those last months as best I can, even if they were bad, because I do love him. Don’t forget, even if it’s crazy, even if I am crazy, he is my husband, I do love him and he is the only man I have ever loved. He has broken me in more ways than I ever thought possible, but he was my person. I still want him to be my person. The person that he was.
When we got home from vacation, I remember the house felt big and empty. I was so happy to see my cat. I remember thinking “Are you still going to stay my cat?” Or was he going to be his cat? I decided that he was going to stay my cat if we didn’t stay together. I didn’t want to think like that. I wanted us to stay together. I still want us together. I want to and will forgive him for all his wrongdoings. When he realizes he is wrong. How he is not more important than everyone else in his life. That we matter too.
Somewhere in there, he shaved his chest. He blamed it on an oopsie when he was trimming his stomach hair but I knew. I knew it was for her. He has thick, manly, coarse, yet soft and silky chest hair. I love to lay my head on it, run my hands through it, pet it, when we snuggle and sleep next to each other. I love to find somewhere in it to put my hand to rest and feel his heart beat close to my hand. Along with him being my safety blanket, this is my safety blanket. It’s one of those intimate things without being intimate. My husband is not one of those men who walks around with his shirt off even around the yard. Since he’s bald, you almost wouldn’t expect the chest hair to be there. Like a best kept secret. If you like chest hair that is. Which, I do, on him. See aforementioned safety blanket.
We tried to fall back into a routine, but there was some tension. (shocked, I’m sure) I didn’t quite trust him, and with good reason. I kept catching him talking to her. Texting with her. I realized after some time he was downloading and deleting WhatsApp everyday when he went to work. I felt like I was babysitting my husband. I lectured him, he acted receptive. He wasn’t. He kept lying to my face.
That’s one of the things I don’t understand the most. The lies. Still. The lies. Why? Why lie? How do you go from me being the love of your life to someone you so casually cast aside and just lie to so openly? Treat with such cavalier attitude? How can you pretend to treat me with some contempt when all I have done is love you because I’m your wife? I know I’m not perfect, but I love you in spite of your flaws.
I ended up with a migraine that I couldn’t shake when we got home. I am sure this is no surprise to anyone. I am plagued by migraines normally, but they are under good control with daily medication. When they are aren’t, I get nerve blocks to help, but with Covid, I was treated first with some IV medication to try and break the cycle. I don’t do well with pain medication (this wasn’t a narcotic) and was out of for much of the night, but it did break the migraine cycle. My husband was on call the next day and I passed out at home which scared me. (Remember this) He assured me I was ok and I was probably dehydrated. (Which likely was true, also) Since I had found out about the affair my appetite had taken a hit and I had started to lose weight just a few weeks earlier. I’m not a big eater, but I am an even worse drinker. I could believe I was dehydrated. He had been pushing me to drink fluids the night before, but I wasn’t doing great being home alone that morning.
The following weekend, we did what any normal couple going through this would do. We went to go visit his parents. We hadn’t seen them since Christmas with Covid. We usually see them at least every 6 months. It’s now mid-September. 3 weeks since I’ve found out. He’s relatively close with his mother in particular, less so with his father. I took this as a sign we were ok. That we were moving forward. As an us.
His parents are lovely people, but his family is one of those that is very crisis averse. From the outside in they look perfect. On the inside you can see there are problems, but people don’t really talk about the problems. I was not sure how this trip was about to go. My husband is once divorced already, if I haven’t mentioned that. His parents were very not sure about me. 11 years younger than him. Single mom. Tattooed. Atheist. An independent…. yet, I won them over. I’m a generally likable person, I think. It was obvious I will silly over him and with him for the right reasons.
We were only there for an overnight stay- we flew in and flew out. I spoke with his mother about how I thought he was having a midlife crisis(no shit) but not that he was actually having an affair. I told her about his actions. She reassured he could be difficult but that he was happy with me, happier than she’d ever seen him and to keep on what I was doing. Both his parents individually told me I should get him out in the garden with me, which I was already planning on doing, as they both regretting not gardening together themselves. (His father is a gardener, his mother is not) I had bought books already for annual and perennial gardens that I had planned on looking through with him. The timing hadn’t felt right.
We had sat on the floor of the study with his parents and looked through old albums and yearbooks. We had a grand time. Truly. We had a great visit. There was some album his mother had shown me that had pictures in it I didn’t think he saw. I took pictures of the pictures. I spent all weekend thinking about how much I loved him. Like I spend so much of my time.
On the plane ride back I showed him those photos I took. And you know what? He wanted those pictures. When he was done getting those from me I started to sob on the plane. Because I knew yet again he wasn’t done with her. He wanted those pictures not for himself but to share with her. I thought the trip had meant something. Was I just a ploy? I didn’t understand. But you know what he did do, at least that one time? He held me. On that airplane, ten thousand feet in the air, he held onto me tight while I sobbed and sobbed. He wiped tears from my face. I felt love from him. Was I misunderstanding the pictures? I knew I wasn’t. I didn’t think I was. Unless I was. Pictures are all I have now. My memories of him and I haunt me. They keep me up at night. They flash through my mind at any moment. They bring tears to my eyes because he’s broken my heart and he’s all that I want.
Never had a white picket fence 