My Husband's Affair Became the Best Thing That Ever Happened to Me (19 page)

Now four years later, it was my arm that tightened around Dustin, reassuring him of my faithfulness, confidence and loyalty towards him. I knew I could never under any circumstances abandon my children. I was steadfast like Dustin. You would have to kill me to separate me from my kids.

“Can’t you just be friends with this woman and stay with mom?” Tamara asked in childlike innocence.

Brian searched my eyes. I knew he was looking for an answer. I bailed him out.

“No, Tamara. That is one thing Mom can’t allow,” I said. “Dad cannot have two women in his life. He is not “just friends” with this other woman. He wants to be with her now and he doesn’t want to be with me anymore. I am not willing to share your father with this other woman. Either he is devoted to me and to us, or he cannot live here.”

Tears were streaming down her face, desperation and disillusionment evident in her eyes. I pulled her in tighter with my free arm. “Mom will always be with you,” I said, “I will never leave you.” Tears came down my cheeks as well.

Brian gathered up his things and left without another word. The children and I were still sitting on the sofa when we heard the front

door close behind him.

After comforting the kids as best I could, it was clear that we had to get on with our day. Lori, whose two children were close with mine, offered to take Dustin and Tamara for the afternoon. She would let her children know what was going on so mine could have some peer support. In the meantime, I sought out Brian’s friend Darrell Barnes, who I hoped would be able talk to Brian and offer him advice and support. Helen was setting Brian up to get advice from someone she knew. I thought I could do better by hooking Brian up with Darrell.

Darrell and his wife Jeanette were friends we’d met a few years ago through our church. They were quality people, with a sincere desire to help others. They were also very real people, who did not try to put on a phony front to impress others. Most importantly, I knew Brian had respect for Darrell. Perhaps Darrell could understand Brian and be the friend he needed at this difficult time. Perhaps Darrell could help Brian to make the right decision concerning his life.

I rang them up on the phone. “Jeanette,” I started, “I have a big problem, and I think you and Darrell can help me. I was wondering if I could come over this afternoon and talk to you both about it.”

She welcomed me over so I headed straight there, relieved, but a little nervous.

When I arrived, they couldn’t believe how different I looked and how much weight I had lost. They were generous with their compliments.

They offered me something to drink, but I declined, telling them about my thirteen-day fast. The story of my fast gave way to my real story: Brian’s departure.

I explained the details and then told them how Brian needed a man to talk to. I told them how Helen was encouraging Brian to talk to her friend who had been divorced twice. I told Darrell how Brian had always respected him, and asked Darrell if he would consider contacting Brian to offer his friendship during this confusing time.

“Will he listen to me?” Darrell asked. “What will he say? Will he be angry when he finds out that you asked me to contact him?”

I told Darrell there was no need to lie, to just be honest and tell Brian that I told him everything and had asked him to call. I explained how Brian kept complaining that no one would listen to him and that all Darrell needed to be was a friend with a listening ear. I told Darrell that I didn’t have any magical expectations about their time together, but thought it was worth a try. So Darrell agreed.

As I drove home, I was feeling strong, almost invincible, strengthened once again by the act of verbalizing my story to willing listeners and encouraged by their friendship. I thought about my meeting with Helen tomorrow. I was scared, but I was feeling like a brave warrior. I trusted that I would be able to say the right things and have a positive impact on her life, and that impact would involve helping her to see that a future with my husband was not going to bring her the happiness she was missing in her own life. I trusted that I would be able to speak the truth in love and although I was still feeling an almost unbearable sense of pain, at the same time I felt as though I were enveloped in an extraordinary and unexplainable peace.

Later that night, when I tucked Tamara into bed, I struggled to answer her difficult questions. “If Dad still loves me, why is he leaving me?” At this point I couldn’t understand it either. I tried to explain that her father would always be her father, no matter where he lived or who with.

“Mom?” she asked, as I started to leave her room.

“Yes, Tamara.”

“I wish we still lived in the bible times.”
Bible times, bible times, what did she mean bible times ?
I was thinking as fast as I could.
What was so special about those days?

“Why?” I asked.

“Because then Dad could just have two wives,” she said. “He could marry the other woman and still keep you.”

I was stunned by the innocent logic of a child. I didn’t know what to say. I had always wondered how women in these cultures coped emotionally with sharing their husbands.

I walked back to her bed, smiled into her eyes, and kissed her one more time.

“Yes. Perhaps it would be better if we lived in Bible times,” I said.

As I closed her door behind me, I wondered why my child had to go through this. She was searching for any solution to keep Brian and I together.
Why do grown-ups have to go around screwing things up for children,
I wondered?

CHAPTER 13
Meeting the other woman 

DAY FOURTEEN-MONDAY, MAY 29, 2 00 0

I will go down with this ship.

I won’t put my hands up and surrender.

There will be no white flag

above my door.

I’m in love

and always will be.

CHORUS FROM “WHITE FLAG” BY DIDO

When the sun rose, its gentle rays penetrated the cracks of my window blinds and gently woke me up, reminding me that, regardless of my changing world, Mother Nature was still constant.

I awoke full of sadness, and feeling tired of fighting. This was the day I was supposed to meet Helen, and I didn’t want to go anymore. I lay in bed without moving.

What if Helen is prettier than me? What if she is better than me? What if I do something stupid? Say something stupid?
I didn’t want to face the truth.

I wanted to hide from my life, stay cocooned up in my dark bedroom and never see anyone again. I felt as though I was dead, but still breathing. Tears fell down my cheeks, dampening the sheets, but I didn’t even make the effort to wipe them away.

I felt like giving up, hanging the white flag of surrender outside my bedroom door, and saying to my enemy, “You win-just go now and leave me alone.”
I can’t go anyway,
I thought,
because I forgot to buy the construction paper and glue for my presentation.

I had just decided not to meet Helen when the doorbell pulled me out of my thoughts and out of bed.

Lori stood on my doorstep. In her hands was a small bag containing construction paper and glue.

“I knew you would be chickening out this morning,” Lori said. (I wondered how she knew, when I myself had been fully convinced I was going yesterday.)

“You’re right,” I confessed. “I just decided not to go.”

“Well, I just wanted to encourage you. I believe you are doing the right thing,” she said. “You go, girl! I feel like I’m living through this with you, and I’m so proud of you. You are doing an amazing job, and you can do this.”

I smiled and welcomed her in. Her friendship and praise made me feel better.

“No, I just came to bring you these supplies and to encourage you to go. You don’t have much time to get ready, so you go,” she said. “I’ll be praying for you.”

Lori gave me a hug and was on her way. I stood watching her go. There I was with my construction paper and glue, and no more excuses.

I started to get ready.

What would I wear? I had to look very attractive, even sexy, yet it had to look natural, not like something I had put special effort into. Honestly, I did desire to intimidate Helen, yet another part of me desired to do the right thing.

I chose a new pair of jeans, which complimented my slimming figure and a tight fitting tank top in a light blue color. The top was slightly low cut, and revealed a subtle amount of cleavage.

I fixed my hair and makeup in my usual manner, taking a careful and long look at myself in the mirror when I was finished. I examined myself from every angle and practiced smiling in different ways, tweaking and rearranging my hair again and again, until I was completely satisfied with my ensemble of intimidation.

Afterwards, I turned my attention to the bag Lori had provided for me.
How cute!
I thought.
And how thoughtful of her.
Of course I couldn’t just show up with construction paper and Elmer’s glue tucked up under my arm, and Lori had thought of that-the presentation was all prepared for me. Lori had also included a greeting card in the bag, because I had said I was going to write Helen a nice card.

The front of the card had a picture of a Victorian girl walking through a flower garden. It was blank on the inside, leaving me room for my message.

I didn’t have much time.
What was I going to write?
I practiced on a scratch paper first:

Dear Helen, If only we had had the opportunity to meet under different circumstances. I am sure you are a wonderful person, for my husband to consider his future with you ...

I stopped and stared at what I had written. I wasn’t going to say my husband was considering his future with her. I started over.

I wanted to write
There is no way my husband is going to spend his life with you,
but I thought this would make me sound insecure. No. I wanted to write something neutral, and I wanted to rise above the situation and my own feelings and write something kind. I wrote:

Dear Helen,

You have hurt me more than words could ever tell. Yet, I am sure you are a wonderful person. I want you to know that I have forgiven you for what you have done and I wish you the best in your future. I also want you to know that God loves you very much and he has a wonderful plan for your life, but that plan does not involve breaking up two families to create a new one. When we get to the other side of this mess, I would like to be your friend.

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to

prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a

future.”

JEREMIAH 29:11

Anne

Helen’s home looked considerably more expensive than ours. It was on a street full of other immaculate-looking homes in a highend but character-free subdivision.

I pulled into her driveway feeling nervous.
God, I can’t do this without you,
I prayed.
I ask you to come with me, and that this morning Helen could have a meeting with you not with me. Amen.

With that, I grabbed the ornamental gift bag full of my supplies, got out of the car, and rang the doorbell.

A short brunette opened the door.

“Hi, Helen?”

“Yes. And you must be Anne.”

I had to look down in order to see her eyes. She didn’t look much taller than 5’6”.
Why had she boasted about how tall she was?

She looked at me questioningly, as if she were comparing herself to me. I studied her face too. She had dark hair and dark eyes like mine.

“I just got my hair cut,” she said. “It used to be cut just like yours.”

So we had even worn the same hairstyle? Disgusting,
I thought to myself.

She led me through an immaculate hallway with light-colored hardwood floors towards her kitchen. Both of us now in stocking feet, so not a sound could be heard.

Her home looked like a show home. Every decoration was perfectly suited. Nothing was out of place, yet the whole thing appeared cold and sterile as if no one really lived there. There were no signs that a child also occupied this home. I felt sorry for her daughter.
Was

she accustomed to being brushed aside so her mother could engage in sexual encounters of her passing fancy?
I wondered.

Helen offered me coffee, but I declined and brought out an herbal tea bag from my purse.

“I hope you don’t mind. A lot of people don’t have herb tea, so I just brought some along.”

“Do you normally drink coffee?” she questioned.

“Yes, normally I love coffee,” I said. “But lately I can’t actually stomach it.”

She cringed a bit. We both knew perfectly well what “lately” meant.