THE AFFAIR (2 page)

There are times I can’t imagine my life without my husband Larry at my side. Then there are other times that I don’t know how I can continue another day, another minute of the sameness.

Thoughts of Jeremy and our son haunted me constantly. I tried hard to keep it from Larry. I had to. I wanted to keep it from myself. I wanted it to end. Sometimes I wanted my very life to end.

The day after our anniversary, I had an eerie, weighted down feeling. At the time it didn’t seem exactly like depression, but now I’m not so sure. I had to fight to remain in my own body. I continually felt a tugging of my spirit to leave. I’m not sure anyone can understand this unless they’ve lived through it, but that’s the only way I can describe it.

I truly believe that if I had not fought against the sensations that day, I could have closed my eyes and died.

I knew this. I was fully aware of my feelings. I knew it the same way I knew many things in my life. And like the other things that I knew, this too I shoved away from me.

I decided to make a short run to the local grocer for a few things I didn’t really need. I felt a sense of urgency, that if I didn’t connect with other living, breathing humans, my husband would come home to a cold wife, stiff with rigor mortis. So, I grabbed my bag and left.

The brightly lit store did little to lift my spirits. I was randomly picking out items, trying to prolong my time there, not wanting to go home alone to an empty house. I thought of Viola, the old woman I’d hit with my car six months before when I was leaving the grocery store. I’d seen her for only a nanosecond before she bounced off my car. Instantaneous guilt filled me. Why hadn’t I seen her? I gripped the handle of my cart, trying desperately to keep the memories at bay, knowing it was to no avail.

I shivered, the sensation going all the way to my spine. I again saw the blood, heard the fragile bones as they broke. I stopped in the middle of an aisle and wiped away the tears that always accompanied the memory.

“
Don’t move, don’t try to talk.” I whispered, going down on my knees beside the limp body, grasping the elderly woman’s hand. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you in time. I’ll get help,” I said, reaching in the pocket of my jacket for my phone.

“
What’s your name?” I asked after finishing the call, wanting to keep the woman as calm as possible.

“
Viola.”

“
Viola, you’re going to be fine. Help will be here soon. They’ll get you to the hospital.”

“
I don’t have money for a hospital,” Viola answered grasping my hand. “I don’t have insurance.”

“
Ill take care of everything, I’ll make sure your bills are paid. I’ll come visit you, make sure you have what you need. I promise,” I said, clutching the woman’s hand in mine meaning every word that I spoke.

It had seemed an eternity before the paramedics wrapped Viola up and carried her away on a stretcher. I’d stayed behind to talk to the police. And then I called Larry, frantic for him to meet me at the hospital. Larry told me to stay where I was, that I was too distraught to drive and at that point I was. So I waited for him to come.

When he did, I began babbling almost incoherently, so glad to have him at my side. “Larry, they took her to St. Mary’s.”

I managed to get those words out before collapsing against him. Overwhelming guilt filled me. Why hadn’t I seen her, why hadn’t I at least sensed her? I had always been good at sensing danger. There were too many questions I didn’t have the answers to. So I closed my eyes and prayed for the woman to be all right.

I didn’t open my eyes again until the car stopped and Larry turned off the ignition. Again I prayed for the strength to go into the hospital and see the old woman. When I opened my eyes, I blinked several times in disbelief, then looked at Larry. He’d taken me home.

“Larry, why did you bring me home?” I asked, dumbfounded as to his reasons.

“Come in the house, Mick. We have to talk.” He answered me in a tight voice, alerting me that something was wrong.

As an attorney, Larry was concerned with our legal liabilities, I wasn’t. We fought about my wanting to keep my promise and go to the hospital. At one point, he physically held me down. That surprised the hell out of me. In all our years of marriage, Larry had never attempted to use brute force against me. For weeks, we fought about my going to see Viola, until at last out of sheer exhaustion I gave up, and then gave in.

I knew Viola was part of the reason that I was feeling disconnected. I had hoped that I could escape thoughts of her by running away from my home. No such luck.

I wished I’d had appointments, doctors to call on, but my calendar was clear. I had the day off. There wasn’t even a reason for me to go into the office. But regardless of that I found myself wishing that I had gone to work just to be around people. I didn’t need to be alone. I thought about calling Larry and asking him to come home, but right then, his was the last face I wanted to see. No, I’d have to wait out the feeling of dread alone.

I hated this position I’d willingly placed myself in when I married the handsome go-getter who’d promised to protect me always. At nineteen, that had been exactly what I wanted to hear, what I’d always dreamed. Larry was my black knight.

Somewhere along the way my dreams changed. I no longer wanted to be protected or to have my decisions made for me, but I’d failed to notify my husband of the change. So, I unjustly blamed him for a situation I could have taken control of at any time. The problem was that I hadn’t learned that lesson soon enough.

It was only when I hit the dreaded forty mark that I really became aware of my growing resentment toward my life, my family, my husband and most of all, toward myself.

I’d turned into my mother. I didn’t want to rock the boat, to fight, to have it escalate into divorce as my parents’ marriage had. No, I wanted my marriage to Larry to be forever. I didn’t want to be crazy and alone so I kept my feelings bottled inside.

If it had not been for that little old woman darting out into the path of my car, maybe I could have lived out the remainder of my life this way. But it had happened. I was being haunted by a woman still alive.

The smell of the blood that oozed from her body assaulted my senses on a daily basis. Her pitiful cries, the look of pain and shock in her pale blue eyes never left me. And with the memory, the dreams returned in full force.

Viola’s clothes spoke of poverty, and her words had confirmed it. Her main worry, despite my continued reassurance, was how she could afford a hospital visit. My promise that I would be there for her had brought a weak smile to her pale lips.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she’d said, squeezing my hands, her wrinkled flesh covering my own. It was only then that I noticed the trembling in my hands.

It was Viola’s touch that I felt now as I stood in the store trying to control the bizarre feelings taking over my body. I felt as if I’d betrayed the old woman by never following through on my promise. I’d left her thinking I would be there for her. I’d failed her and I’d failed myself.

I needed something to chase away the thought of Viola and her raggedy coat and the sight of cans of tomato sauce flying up in the air and landing on my car, eggs breaking and pooling into a gooey mess.

I couldn’t shake the memory. I looked down at my own cart filled with only the best the store had to offer, things I gave no thought to purchasing.

It hit me how hard it must have been for Viola to scrape money together for the meager groceries in her bag.

“
My food.”
I thought I’d heard her say those words but I was never sure.

Michelle, think of something else
, I scolded myself.
Viola is in the past. Keep her there
. So, I thought of my children, all grown and moved away and I thought briefly of my grandchildren. I knew this wasn’t an empty nest feeling, because the kids got on my nerves and I was glad when they finally left. As for the grandkids, my rule was two hours, then back home they went. Nor did I encourage spending holidays with us.

Larry had laughed at me when I shared my feelings with him. He thought I was teasing. Why, I don’t know. I told him in the most serious fashion. But he couldn’t accept my feelings, I suppose because he loved them so much and enjoyed their company. Several times a year he always planned trips for us to see the kids but at the last instant I usually told him I had an emergency at work and couldn’t go but that I’d make it up to him when he returned.

In my job as a medical sales representative that excuse was as flimsy as the nightgown I’d always wear for Larry on his return.

The kids enjoyed having their father to themselves and I enjoyed not having to visit them. Funny thing, as much as I wished for time alone, I couldn’t wait for Larry to come home. Maybe I was a bit crazy.

Chapter Two

I met Chance when I was shopping for my husband’s dinner. Can you imagine the irony in that? In his name? Anyway, when I could malinger no longer, I at last paid for my groceries and made my way toward the exit.

The sky had been a beautiful cerulean blue when I went in, but now it was an angry gray. Fat drops of water began to plop down as I left the store and by the time I was halfway to my car, the rain was pouring down in buckets. The paper bag I’d opted for in the store quickly became saturated and collapsed, spilling my groceries under cars and into the greasy puddles.

I stood for a moment, soaked to the bone, watching my dinner scatter like so many pearls from a broken strand. I started to cry. It wasn’t so much the food or the wasted money, but in that moment those scattering groceries represented my life and my emotions.

I saw tomato sauce flying in the air, eggs breaking, though I had bought neither. I could no more escape my feelings of guilt for not going to see Viola than I could escape my own flesh.

So I did the only thing I could. I cried harder than I ever had in my life, in the rain, in the parking lot, my arms outstretched to the heavens. At first I didn’t notice the man retrieving my items and placing them in a double plastic bag.

When he handed the plastic bag filled with my groceries back to me, I saw sympathy in his face and his eyes and cried harder. For a moment he looked confused. Then he put his arms around me and held me, pressing my head into his chest.

I held on to him as if my very life depended on it. Despite the cold rain, I felt an electrical energy emanating from his body and twining around me. I felt as if I had come home at last. Strange, but it was how I felt.

For long minutes the rain poured down over us. I truly wanted to stop crying, but the fact that I was crying in the rain, in the parking lot, with a strange man comforting me, made me cry more.

At last I gained control and lifted my head from his chest and looked at him. There was an expression of awe on his face, of wonderment. “Do I know you?” I attempted to smile, but the intensity of his look prevented it.

I forced myself to look, really look, at the man standing in front of me. He was tall, almost as tall as Larry. That would make him close to six feet.

His hair was jet black, like a raven’s, and had the tiniest sprinkling of gray around the temples. The rain had plastered his shirt flat against his chest and abdomen, revealing that he was lean and muscular.

I examined his face. Strong chin, a mouth that was firm and inviting, tiny laugh lines etched into the contours.

But it was his eyes that gave me pause. I’d been attracted to Larry because of the beauty of his golden brown eyes. This man standing before me possessed without a doubt the most captivating blue eyes God had ever bestowed on a human. I’d never seen that particular color on any living being. I gazed into their depths and became lost. I pulled back to get a better look at the total man. His skin was the color of heated gold from his obvious tan. In spite of the cold rain his touch was hot and inviting. But none of those things were the reason behind my actions. There was something familiar about him and it frightened me.

I closed my eyes against the rush of unexpected emotions. I knew I needed to get a grip, yet my head was spinning and for no known reason, I felt a surge of pure joy overtake me. I was relieved when he spoke.

“You look as if you could use some company. Would you like to go somewhere and have a cup of coffee…maybe talk…a little?”

“You’re right, I could use some company.” I was no longer sobbing, just crying quietly now. I took a good look at this man who’d taken the time to comfort me.

For the first time I noticed something behind the intense look in his eyes. He was in pain. I wanted to do something to help, anything to take away this stranger’s own pain and sorrow.