June 17, 2009
I rolled my window down to say good bye again, I really didn’t want to take off, but I knew I needed to. I asked him if he wanted some gum. He smiled and accepted my offer, so I threw a stick of spearmint gum to him. He made a perfect catch and I glanced at his face, unshaved, his golden hair blowing gently in the summer breeze. I felt a deep sorrow, because I had the feeling that I was not going to see him again.
He left the parking lot before me. I sat there for a couple of minutes and tried to compose myself, as I set up my GPS to take me back home. I drove for over thirty minutes on the 215, but I was so submerged in my thoughts that I almost missed my exit, if it wasn’t for the GPS directing me.
I
felt strong and somehow proud of myself for not giving in to my deep
desires of sinking in his arms. I had to bite my lips to avoid saying
what I wanted to say and to contain the kisses that were trying to
burst out of my mouth. I have no idea how I stopped myself, but I was
glad I did.
What
I couldn’t stop though, was the melancholy that took over my heart. I
started to ask myself too many what-if questions, the answers all the
wrong ones. I tried not to think about it anymore as I pulled into my
driveway. My husband and my son were there, ready to go to guitar
lessons. I climbed into the other car feeling somehow guilty, but
immediately realized there was no need, since I haven’t done anything
wrong.
My husband noticed my sadness and I talked about my career frustrations and my desire to make a big change and start doing what I’m really passionate about, like writing and running a half marathon. He said it was alright, that I could do whatever I wanted, but I knew that he really needed the little extra money I can make as a per diem Pharmacy Tech to support our household.
It was trying to make that extra cash, how I ended up distributing some hospital supplies, as an independent sales rep. And that’s how I met Matthew. I started to train with him last winter and have learned everything I know about hips and knees from his patient but entertaining sessions, which I really enjoyed, not much because of the valuable information, but because I could stare into his deep eyes while I asked random stupid questions about anatomy and physiology.
During
those days, we talked about our lives more than we talked about work.
The first day I saw him we had to drive to Brotman Hospital in Culver
City, from Pasadena, and we spend the one-hour rush hour drive talking
about ourselves. He was like an open book from the beginning. He told
me about the misery of his marriage, the book he had written and his
days as a missionary in Venezuela. His Spanish sounded like music in my
ears. I’m not always that open, but I felt as if I’ve known him from a
long time, or from another life, and probably said too much about
myself too.
During the surgery he whispered what the surgeon was doing and I felt drawn to him like a magnet. I listened carefully to everything he said, and stayed as close to him as I could, without letting him know that I was having palpitations every time I was by his side. He had to lean to talk to my five-foot-two little person, his greenish eyes bouncing from the operating table to my confused brown pupils that tried to focus on the surgical procedure. I liked Matthew since that very first surgery, but I didn’t want to accept the fact that I was feeling attracted to another man. I’ve been married for ten years and enjoyed a fairly fulfilling life with Larry. He is the perfect husband in many ways. He’s kind, smart, funny and can fix just about everything in the house. He’s also a great chef and a caring father. On the down side, he drinks beer almost every day and smokes like a chimney, which I dislike, but not enough to file for divorce. What I can’t stand are the times when he lies to me. I have learned to forgive and suck it in and he had learned that I’m not easy to lie to, so his behavior has been a lot better lately than years ago.
What
keeps my marriage together is all the work we put into it. We may have
some disagreements, but we try to work out our differences in the name
of the relationship. We communicate in a proactive and creative way,
that didn’t come naturally, but is a result of studying and hours spent
reading books.
So
when Matthew started to make my solid foundation turn into quick sand,
I was not ready to sink. I tried to ignore the desire that I had to be
with him, but I also managed to find an excuse to train with him, or to
borrow some catheters for a surgery. The desire just kept growing and I
started to feel completely helpless around him. Once I even said an
innocent but well meant “I love you!” after he told me I didn’t have to
wait another hour until the surgical instruments were sterilized and
dismissed the class. Then I hugged him and the touch of his body made
me even more thirsty. But I covered it well, and tried to see him just
as a friend.
When Matthew’s wife filed for divorce he wasn’t surprised, but it definitely broke his heart, specially after finding out that she was seeing someone else. I couldn’t imagine why a woman could want to be away from such an amazing man, but I guess he had the same impression, when I told him that there has been no intimacy in my marriage for a while. “I’d be all over you!” he told me in a kind of upset-at-my-husband voice. And I wanted him to be. More than ever after the bipolar training on the parking lot of Coco’s in Menifee. That training had to be rescheduled a couple of times because of Matthew’s complicated life. So I was a little anxious to see him. The learning part was seasoned with all kinds of jokes, some more dirty than others, but never disrespectful. The sun was bright and my whole self was feverish, consuming my defense mechanisms to ashes. I could totally explain spontaneous combustion that day. I still don’t know how I got to extinguish all those flames popping from all my pores. He explained it really well on an e-mail that he wrote to me a few days later, one that made me cry, as I realized that I was not the only one entangled in this bittersweet emotional mess, although he never said it was me who he was talking about:
“Once there was this girl who was younger than me by a couple years that had me so turned on that I couldn't see straight. Everything she said, the way she looked, smelled, acted, smiled, giggled, joked and looked at me was so exciting, but she was married. She never offered herself to me or anything like that but I'm glad I left when I did because in my life I have never wanted to you know what more than that day. Had she wanted to or had she given me a besote*there would have been no turning back. Nothing ever happened but I think about that afternoon quite often... Our minds were on the same page and we were both thinking the same thing and both of us knew because she was married that it was a no no, but mentally we both were saying yes yes! It was great. It was so hard for me to leave her in the parking lot as I drove away... Anyways, the mental part of things when it comes to things like women is critical, but in this case I think it was the woman that made it so intoxicating. It wouldn't have been the same with anyone else.”
Tears
rolled down my cheeks in confusion. I knew he was talking about me and
I knew I wanted to run to his arms and get lost forever. I tried to
reply to his e-mail three times, but I deleted them all.
The first one went like this: “I can understand how your toxic girl is feeling. I also have met a man that I like a lot and I feel like I’m going to faint when I’m next to him, but I wouldn’t dare to touch him.”
I deleted that one and wrote the next one:
“Maybe you should kiss her first, because she’s afraid that you don’t feel the same way.”
I had to seek expert advice for the third one. I called my best friend.
So I wrote:“I have some questions about your previous e-mail. Can we meet and talk about it in person?” I never sent any of them. Maybe I was too afraid of saying anything. Since he didn’t hear from me, he called me the next day. But I was in the middle of a huge fight with my husband. For the first time I had refused to have sex with him. He couldn’t take the rejection and went ballistic. So we didn’t talk about the e-mail, and I didn’t tell him that the true reason why I couldn’t accede to Larry’s demands was the fact that I had a crush on Matthew.
*besote is Spanish for "big kiss"
