My Husband's Affair Became the Best Thing That Ever Happened to Me (10 page)

It wasn’t fair.

“If she is pregnant, Brian will have to contribute financially to the child,” Dave was now saying. I choked on the lump that was growing in my throat, and did not answer him. “That will significantly impact your financial situation as a family. As Christians it’s important that we take responsibility for things like this.”

I felt like throwing up. I wasn’t interested in being a Christian right now, yet I believed in God, and I dared not throw away my faith at a time when I knew I needed God more than ever. I thought I might have to leave Brian for sure, if there were a child to deal with.

During this period of trauma and shock, I was not able to process many things logically. Two months passed before I remembered that Brian had had a vasectomy, and that I myself had not needed birth control for over thirteen years! I suffered this extra worry and anxiety for nothing.

Dave also told me that I should be prepared to be poor now. That made me really angry, but as usual, I held a lot of the real emotion I was feeling inside. I told Dave it wasn’t true, and that Brian had promised to take care of me financially, but both Lori and Dave were quite sure my replacement wouldn’t allow that for very long.

That, I thought, they were probably right about. But what they had underestimated was my own ability to create wealth. How dare Dave say that I was going to be poor, he who preached that all people

had the ability to succeed!

Yet, I respected Dave, so I pondered his words and his advice. Maybe he was right and I was just unwilling to face another painful reality.

I was somewhat aware of my own inability to make rational decisions right now. I knew I was merely fighting to survive, trying to live through my days, one moment at a time. I didn’t want to have to make decisions. I was afraid of making decisions. What if I was wrong? What if my life became worse?

Part of me wanted someone else to tell me what to do, the other part of me knew that this was my life, and only I would live with the outcome of the decisions I made. Therefore, I knew I must make them myself. Here I was with two wonderful, giving people, giving up their time to help me in my time of need, yet I was still feeling alone and afraid.

I saw the error of my ways, allowing my husband to be my sole provider for most of our lives together. Sure, I had now worked outside the home and independent of Brian’s business for a few years, but I was only creating a small supplemental income. It was far from something I could live on independently.

Never again would I allow myself to rely on another person to provide for my financial needs. I felt that it would be impossible and perhaps irrational to ever trust again.

A strong belief system had been permanently altered. It wasn’t true, that if you spent all your energy ensuring you were a great wife, your husband would stay. There is no such thing as “happily ever after,” I concluded.

I had believed what I had been taught in my church, that my life should be about pleasing my husband. He was to be the financial provider. My job was to support him. If I was a good wife, my husband would love me. I believed that because we were “good” people, we would never go through something like this. I learned that no one knows the future, and no one can know all of the decisions another person will make during the course of their lifetime. No matter how great your marriage, how strong your faith, and how good you are, you cannot know your future. To me it was now clear that it is unwise for anyone to be unprepared to support themselves financially. This would never happen to me again.

“Hey, I just got an idea,” said Dave. “You might not like it, but it might impact Brian, and cause him to change his mind.”

“What idea?” Lori asked.

“Tell him you want him to tell the children with the other woman there.” Lori and I stared wide-eyed. “Tell him that you think it’s only fair. Your children have a right to meet the woman who is better for their father than their own mother is.”

“He won’t do that,” I said.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Dave. “The mental picture will cause him to think about the reality of what he’s doing.”

It was a shocking proposal, but it warranted consideration. Only what if Brian decided to do it? It would be too difficult, perhaps even cruel, for the children to meet this woman at the same time as learning about the affair. Yet, I supposed if it came to this, in the last minute, it might stop Brian from actually leaving. The thought of Helen squirming in her chair in front of my children appealed to me.

Brian had told me that Helen was a thoughtful and caring individual like me. Yuck! To me, the way she was hurting my family proved she was the opposite and only thinking of her own selfish desires. I thought it would be good for Helen to personally witness the pain she was causing my children. I wondered if she would still think she was a good person when she saw their pain as she stole their father.

Lori thought this whole idea might be going a bit too far. She was a good balance for Dave’s “say it like it is” approach to people’s problems. We discussed the pros and cons for a while.

Ultimately, like everything else, it was my decision.

CHAPTER 6
when Life Doesn’t Make Any Sense 

DAY FOUR—FRIDAY, MAY 1 9, 2 00 0

Even before the gift of life was yours, it was tainted by the schemes of the Spoiler—for his intent is to spoil all that’s good. He sends rains of sorrow and floods of defeat, but the Gift; Giver will not have His purposes thwarted. For through the storms of life, the Savior’s voice is heard more clearly than before, and His presence is felt with intense reality. Through the blinding rain, the Life Giver extends His nail-scarred hand and takes your trembling hand firmly in His own.

FROM
HUGS FOR THE HURTING

JOHN SMITH

Weight: 151 pounds. Thirteen years ago to this day, I had given birth to Tamara Joy, a precious treasure of a girl. A gentle, caring soul, who brought harmony and peace wherever she went, a child who was truly a gift from heaven.

Now, how was I going to make sure she had a great thirteenth birthday, when in fact I wasn’t even sure how I myself would survive another day? I was glad she had school all day. I was glad we were only having a small family gathering to celebrate, and I was glad Danielle and her boyfriend were going to be making her feel special, by surprising her with cupcakes and singing at her school.

My father phoned me from Chicago this morning to wish Tamara a happy birthday, but she was already off to school, so he had missed her. He asked me how things were going, and since Lori had advised me not to tell anyone about Brian’s affair, I lied through the entire conversation.

Part of me desperately wanted to tell my father how hurt I was. This was my own father. Even if we didn’t always get along so well, I wanted to tell him. But maybe it was true, I reasoned with myself, maybe I would one day forgive Brian, but my father might not be able to. Then it would make our already strained in-law relationships even worse. I wondered if my father couldn’t hear the trembling in my voice.

Here Brian had gone out and done the wrong thing, leaving me in desperate pain, yet I was expected to keep the secret, and by so doing increase my own pain, because talking about my situation made me feel better. I had to lie, because he had an affair! Was there such a thing as rights and wrongs anymore?

I was lying, to save Brian from dealing with the consequences of his own choices. I was lying to our daughter. I was lying to my father. How many people would I be required to lie to? I must be the one who is in the wrong, if I am required to cover up like this. Is it because I haven’t been a good enough wife? Surely, I must have done something shameful, if I must keep it hush-hush. The secrecy made me feel dirty and ashamed.

In the afternoon, I went to the mall with Danielle. We had to buy an appropriate purse for her to use in a week, when she would be accompanying her boyfriend to his graduation ceremonies.

This was about the last thing in the world I felt like doing on this day, but I loved Danielle, and I was dedicated to helping her have a memorable evening, no matter how difficult it was for me to help her while I was in so much pain.

As we looked in one store after another, there didn’t seem to be anything we could use. I was so tired and disoriented, I felt like a foot soldier lost in the jungle without my compass and without food. Perhaps we’d left making this purchase too late. It was mid-May and the graduation supplies were well picked over.

Finally, we found a perfect handbag at a large department store. The purse was exactly what Danielle wanted. It was small, decorated with white pearls and complete with a long, gold chain strap. A wave of relief swept over me until I realized there was not a single sales associate in sight.

We walked swiftly down the center aisles, passing one abandoned till after the other, but found no one to help us. A young lady looked forlorn, as she waited at the abandoned cosmetics counter. And a couple of women shuffled through racks in ladies’ wear, but where was the staff?
Have they all taken lunch at the same time ?
I wondered.

Time seemed to pass in slow motion. A minute felt like an hour. I wanted to get out of that store so badly.

What the heck did they expect us to do! I just wanted the damn bag, and I didn’t want to steal it. My frustration level was rising at a disturbingly quick rate, so contrary to my nature. I felt like I was going to die if I didn’t get out of that store fast.

We continued striding through the aisles, my eyes searching like spot lights for someone wearing a name tag. Where were they?

Finally, I spotted a clerk and headed for her like a cruise missile locked in on its intended target, which now had no chance of escape.

She was a middle aged woman with a sensible and matronly disposition, who seemed to be going about some work with a certain level of seriousness, but that seriousness did not involve serving the public at this moment. Upon interception, I confronted her and demanded that she locate a supervisor immediately. I was beyond accepting a mere cashier to take my money at this point. Someone was going to hear about my pain.

I told the manager, a small thin man with glasses, in no uncertain terms that this was completely unacceptable for a retail store. I suggested that they hang signs around saying
Please steal everything because we’re too cheap to hire staff.

In desperation, we purchased the handbag, because it was the only suitable one we had found in the entire mall. But when I was done, I told the manager I would never in my life set foot in his store again. Danielle couldn’t believe how angry I was. She had never seen me behave this way. I never had.

Later that day, I was relaying the incident to Lori, and she told me about her similar experience, on the same day, at a restaurant with her mother and sister. She had complained about the food, sent it back to the kitchen, and refused to eat.

We laughed at our similar experiences, our irrational outbursts, and I saw that Lori was really carrying my load with me. Interestingly enough, we both had continued to fast, even though the night before we both had agreed to start eating.

Brian’s mother arrived as planned around dinnertime, with her load of gifts for Tamara. She always gave the children handcrafted gift bags, which she made herself and filled with candies, small gifts and other intriguing craft items. It was very thoughtful, and she was very talented in this way.

I had prepared a light and easy birthday dinner that evening.

When food was served, I encouraged everyone to sit down and begin eating without me. During dinner I managed to keep myself busy serving the others.

No one seemed to notice that I myself was not eating. That was good. It was easy for me not to eat. This was my fourth day without food, and I had lost my appetite completely. Throughout the evening, whenever I looked at Brian, I noticed that he looked sad and much older than he was. I was sure he had aged ten years in the last four days. His face appeared tired and strained.

I never saw him look at me once during the evening, as we both did our best to go through the motions of this paradoxical celebration. I worried that our problems would ruin Tamara’s special day. My sadness was overwhelming, and I was on the verge of tears throughout the traditional birthday proceedings. I knew the slightest upset would send me sobbing. Were we really pulling this off successfully, I wondered?

Did Tamara not notice? She didn’t.

Did Brian’s mother not notice? What would she say? I was not close to her. We were from two different worlds. I felt misunderstood by her. I would never start mending my husband’s socks, when I could buy a package of six at Wal-Mart for $3.99, and therefore I thought I would never win her approval. God knows I had tried.

I wondered if Brian’s mother would care about my feelings if she knew what her son had done. I imagined she would be unsympathetic. Raised during the war and having lived a difficult life, she was a tough and strong person.

After dinner, I brought out the store-bought cake with thirteen lit candles, and we all sang to Tamara. It made me smile to see a gentle sparkle in this kind soul’s eye. I loved her more than words could ever tell. I had managed to protect her from some pain, and for that I felt a moment of happiness.