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Finding the Signs

Slide - The Goo Goo Dolls

Being obedient wasn’t easy at all. Working at the hospital was supposed to keep my mind occupied, so that I wouldn’t be thinking about the chaos in my marriage, and how much I missed Matthew, but it seemed like everything was trying to bring him back to my mind, all the time.

A nurse named Matthew Stewart came three times to the Pharmacy because he was having problems logging on to the Acudose machines. Every time he came to the pharmacy window, I had to hear his name and every time, I thought about my Matthew and something hurt in my chest. Later, when I was running an Acudose report for the previous day, the name Victoria Matthews showed up on the first page of the report and Mark Gonzales on the third one. This time I could feel my eyes starting to get moist and I had to make an unnatural effort to keep the tears inside my eyes. Was this some kind of joke?

Then I realized I had picked the wrong fictitious name for Matthew. I’ve chosen Mark, because it’s also a gospel name, I just moved on to the next one. Not very creative, but I couldn’t expect much from my depreciated brain these days. Now Mark was also following me at work, and I just kept wondering why I haven’t gotten an e-mail form him.

Matthew and Mark were both everywhere. Since Mark is also a verb, I almost fainted when one of the pharmacists asked me to mark the expiring medications with some colored stickers. And of course, he was in the hospital census: there was a Mark Roberts, who happened to be the patient with the most IV’s. So every time I labeled them, I had to take a deep breath. Even my cell phone asked me if I wanted my e-mails to be marked as unread! Ugh! How was I supposed to forget if everything was screaming his name? Was this the sign I have asked for?

I couldn’t wait any longer; I had to find out. I wrote a second e-mail:

Dear Matt,

Did you ever get my previous e-mail from this account?
I know you probably want to stay away from me and I understand. I'm very sorry about all this mess. I hope you're not feeling the way I am.
I've been feeling kind of sick, I guess this is what people that are addicted to drugs or medication feel like (withdrawal symptoms: lethargy, fast heartbeat, nausea, etc). I walk around like a zombie, and try not to think about you, but sometimes I just want to run to a pay phone and call you.
It's been very hard. Larry is trying to be patient, but he keeps bringing up the subject and gets very frustrated with me. He expects me to beg for forgiveness and sometimes he's very sarcastic and I get very angry. I feel he's being unfair and manipulating. He's also trying really hard to revive the passion, but I can't get close to him. I don't know what's wrong with me. We're going to counseling next week; I hope that will help.
Right now I'm not sure what's going to happen. I just feel like running home, to Peru, and be with my family that really loves me and I miss so much, now more than ever.
I don't want you to feel like any of this is your fault, I think we were both lonely and found each other in a very vulnerable place. I really miss you, you made me feel like in high school again ;-)
I'd love to hear from you but if I'm being toxic I totally understand. 
Besotes,
Isa

This time the response didn’t make me wait. I got two e-mails from Matthew. In the first one, he explained:

“I saw your previous e-mail but then I saw the next one saying that you could never see me again. I assumed that meant that I wasn't to communicate with you ever. I don't want to be part of breaking up your marriage…”

As I kept reading I felt alive again. He even made me laugh with his jokes, but the feelings that he poured on those two e-mails just modeled that close connection that we already had, even stronger. He told me how he felt when he discovered that his wife was leaving him for another man. He understood what Larry was doing because he had been in his shoes. I got chills when I realized the ironic situation.

I felt his pain as I read those two e-mails, but I also sensed his excitement, and he confessed that he had missed me. We were enjoying our new way of communication and I was starting to breath again.

I had a day off, and with the new energy that I had received from those e-mails, I decided it was time to go to my favorite place: the beach.

Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone with Nextel Direct Connect

Reading the Signs

Creed - Higher

The sun showed up early on my window. I had slept a lot better since I heard from Matthew again, and the idea of going to the beach filled me with good energy. I stretched and jumped out of my bed to get ready for my beach day. I wanted to get there early and beat the traffic. I went to wake Nathan up, but he was already awake, playing with his Legos.

“Ready for some fun in the sun?” I asked him trying to walk through the Bionicle battlefield.

“Yes! He smiled my favorite smile and his big brown eyes sparkled with excitement. “Can we have breakfast? I’m starved!”

“Sure, how about some breakfast burritos, fresh squeezed orange juice and a big kiss form your mom?”

“Yum! He stretched his raspberry lips to kiss mine. “That was delicious!” I squeezed him in my arms and felt the biggest love in the world.

“I’ll beat you downstairs” I challenged, but before I could run over the Lego arena, he pulled my pajama tops and sprinted ahead of me, giggling loudly. I ran after him but couldn’t catch up. When I got downstairs there was a book on the floor, staring at me: “Sam’s letters to Jennifer” by James Patterson. It was one of the books I had borrowed from my mother in law when I helped her move from Chicago. She had given me a box of books and I was going through them slowly. I picked the book up and it occurred to me that it had to be a sign and I needed to take it to the beach and read it. I wondered how it had ended up on the floor, maybe the cats had climbed on the shelf and knocked it down, but the way it was perfectly positioned for me at the bottom of the stairs just felt like an epiphany.

“Mom, c’mon! I’ve been here for an hour” I heard Nathan’s voice coming from the kitchen. “Coming!” I shouted back, hugging the book against my chest, certain now that it was intended for me to read.

 

The heat was intense in Oceanside, but there was a cool breeze blowing, making it an ideal day for a run. Nathan quickly found some friends and was busy building a fort when I told him what my plan was.

“Just don’t go in the ocean until I’m back”, I warned him, fixing my hat.

“Fine”, he didn’t even look back at me, so I picked the running playlist on my ipod and headed south. I smiled watching the seagulls fly away as I ran closer to them, splashing around the shore.  I looked at my footprints on the wet sand being washed away by the chilly water.  I closed my eyes for a few seconds to enjoy the peace of the moment, which I had not been able to find in the last few weeks. I knew the endorphins were starting to flow in my brain when I reached my high, a kind or running orgasm. For a few minutes I had completely dissociated myself from all the drama and connected with my soul.

I went on for two miles and then ran back to find Nathan waiting for me with his boogie board, looking impatient.

“Finally! He protested with a frown.

“Oh c’mon, grumpy, it wasn’t that long”. I took my hat off, threw my sunglasses and the ipod inside, and sat it on the dry sand. Then I took my shorts off and covered the hat with them. Nathan was already in the water when I tried to catch up with him.

The water was refreshing and the waves were playful and gentle. I allowed them to embrace me for a while, completely relaxed, but suddenly the memory of the book came to my mind and I quickly got out, shaking the water of my head.

I picked up my hat and my shorts and went back to my towel, perfectly positioned next to the lifeguards, snuggly and warm, ready for me to lie down and read.

Once I started, I couldn’t put the book down. When I got into the part of Sam’s affair, I knew that I’ve been right about it being a sign. I paused for a while to reflect on the story, gazing at the ocean, when I saw Nathan's head, way too far in the ocean and drifting toward the pier. I jumped to my feet and ran, telling myself what a horrible mother I was. Two lifeguards had already reached him and he was coming out, fearless.

I hugged him tight, “are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine”, he said calmly.

“Were you freaking out? Cuz I was!”

“No, I was fine”, he repeated, unperturbed.“Where’s your boogie board?”

“Oh, I left it there, I just wanted to swim without it”, he pointed at the white and blue board laying on the sand, next to what was left of the fort, after the water collided on it.

I hugged him again and sighed. “Please, don’t ever do this again. I love you so much and I’d die if something happens to you.”

“Sorry.” He looked down with sheepish eyes.

“Let’s go get some shaved ice and a sandwich” I tried to cheer him up.

“Okay!” He shrugged and showed me a crooked smile. We walked back to our towels dragging the boogie board, and sat there for a while, until my heart came back to my  chest. Nathan had picked up my ipod and was listening to Breaking Benjamin and enjoying the sun. I took some money out of my wallet and handed it to Nathan. He walked to the Shaved Ice stand and came back with a huge cone. I took a ham and cheese sandwich out of my bag and tossed it to him.

Now that Nathan was safe I could keep on reading. Sam’s story was starting to sound like my story. I read about the night Samantha and Doc kissed for the first time, and when she got back home, his husband was sleeping and she wondered, “Would he notice that while he slept, I’d become happy?

Then it struck me and I felt palpitations on my chest. I’ve become happy after Matthew and I started communicating using the secret e-mail address. Would Larry notice that I’d become happy while he slept?

Unraveling the Signs

  Alanis Morrissette- Ironic

I haven't written poems since 1997. The endorphins from the run might have been tickling my creativity. I had the urge to write and I didn't have a pen or a piece of paper. But I had a Blackberry, so I opened a notepad and wrote:

Poem 1: SUMMER

I like the sunshine in the summer, burning my skin.
It's like your eyes.
I like the waves of the ocean, caressing me softly.
They're like your hands.
I like the summer breeze, whispering through my hair.
It's like your lips.
I like the wet sand that preserves the memory of my touch.
It's like your skin.
Eyes, waves, lips, sand. You've got the magic of nature.

The dream about Matthew emerged in my mind and directed me to check the secret e-mail account on my phone. My heart started to pound when I discovered the new unread message. But as I started reading, my heart burst out in pain for him. He knew his wife was having an affair, but they were still living together. He had asked her to stay and work in their marriage or leave and never come back, and she had left.

I thought about my own marriage and the ironic situation that we were living. Matthew had a lot of sympathy for Larry and he didn't want to have him go through what he was going through. And he couldn't stand the betrayal of his wife, but on the other hand, he couldn't stop talking to me, and by staying in touch with me, he was keeping a surreptitious relationship with a married woman. Was God using me to give Matthew a lesson on compassion for his wife?

On the other hand, I had never imagined that I could be involved in any kind of affair. I had several friends telling me about what was going on in their lives and I had judged them silently in my head, although I tried really hard to understand their behaviors. I thought that could never happen to me, because I was a Christian and had very strong values. But there I was, entangled in the same trap. I couldn't deny my human nature and Matthew was my Waterloo. Was this a lesson on humility for me?

The e-mail was long, because we couldn't talk as much as we used to anymore. And we no longer talked about our sexual fantasies, except for some isolated jokes.  We had settled for a friendly kind or communication. We talked about our issues and our feelings, which was great because I could never talk about my feelings with Larry, and I couldn't talk about my issues with anybody else. It wasn't something I was proud to talk about with my friends. Matthew was, at this point, my only friend.

"I feel kind of numb right now. I don't know what life has in store for me if anything. I'm sure there are good times ahead of me, but I'm not feeling interested in anything that will take effort and drama right now. Maybe just a good friend like you. I do enjoy you a lot. I really started liking you when you pull a maxi pad out of your purse to wipe your dip stick when I checked your oil. I thought about that for a long time. Thanks for helping me get through all this bull shit."

Oh, Matthew, you have no idea how this makes me feel. I wish I could run to your side and hug you, I may even bring a maxi pad with me and let you check my oil again... I closed my eyes and I noticed a tear drop on my phone. I looked at the time. It was time to take off.

I drove back home before rush hour, but the traffic was already heavy on the 76. I cranked up the music and made a little detour to Starbucks to pick some iced green tea, as I usually do when I drive back from the hospital, on torrid days like this one. I turned around to ask Nathan if he wanted a drink, but he was fast asleep. His rosy cheeks told me that he was hot too, so I got him a smoothie and saved it for later because I didn't want to disturb the beauty of that picture.

As I was driving, I kept thinking about the e-mail and about Sam and Doc. I wanted to get home to finish reading the rest of the book. I had decided I was not going to bed until I've gotten to the end of the story. A loud yawn startled me on the 15. Nathan was announcing that he was awake in one of his wild ways. I handed him his smoothie and he gulped it down in a minute. "Thanks mom", he gave me back an empty cup. "Are we there yet?"

"In 7 minutes", I  read the time on my GPS.

At 11:30 I closed the book. Sam had never left her husband, but she kept seeing Doc secretly for years, taking advantage of Charles' trips out of town. She had found love in Doc because her husband had been an unloved child and had never been able to love Sam, in fact, he just kept hurting her.  After Charles died of a heart attack, Sam was finally free to express her feelings in public. It was late in her life and when people saw them together, they just couldn't conceive romance between them. "How strange and backwards the world can be sometimes. So many people just give up on love, even though love is the best thing that can happen to them."

What did that mean to me? I closed my eyes and prayed for answers and again, I heard His voice telling me to wait and trust Him. But He also said "do not give up on love, it is the best thing that can happen to you."

Daring to Love

Your Body Is a Wonderland - John Mayer   

The sun started to raise earlier and glimpsed through my window, eager to start the day. I tossed in my bed and tried to bury my head under my pillow, but it was too bright outside to hide. I felt rested and relaxed after my day at the beach. I sat on my bed making a mental list of everything I had to do, considering that I was scheduled to work five days in a row, starting Saturday. I let out a loud yawn and thought about Larry. He had been very quiet, and I started to worry about him. After the horrible arguments I'd been trying to avoid spending time at home and in his presence. I didn't want any more confrontations, which seemed to be impossible when we were together.

I was still sitting there, yawning and conjecturing, when he walked into our bedroom. A wide smile that I hadn't seen in weeks reminded me of the days after our marriage, the days when we woke up together. I couldn't remember exactly when he started to develop the habit of waking up at 4 am, but now I've gotten used to waking up in the cold arms of my loneliness. I looked at him puzzled. He was holding a Starbucks cup and his deep blue eyes looked peaceful when he gazed at my still sleepy face. "I brought you a soy vanilla latte, honey".

"Thank you!" I was shocked at the sudden random kindness, but it felt great and I immediately took a big sip. "It's great, thanks again." He sat on the bed, his gaze still fixed on my face. He got closer and kissed me tenderly. "I love you, and I still want our marriage to work out. Are you willing to work on our marriage?"

I tried to elude his eyes, ashamed of my recent secret contacts with Matthew. I felt the shame climbing to my face and making me blush. I didn't want Larry to notice, so I took another sip of my latte and said "yes". He hugged me tight and none of us could manage to hold the tears gushing out ruthlessly. We didn't say anything, we just cried like we cry the death of a loved one. Maybe because we were crying over the agony of our marriage.

Then I heard that voice again: "do not give up on love, it is the best thing that can happen to you". I felt something tangled on my chest that made it hard to breathe. Maybe we were about to see our rainbow after the storm. Maybe, like Matthew said in his e-mail, my marriage would be beautiful if I really put all my soul into it. A seed of hope was planted that morning and the sun made it grow by the minute.

I did all my busy work and sat by the pool, watching Nathan play in the pool. Larry joined us, but not for too long, he can't tolerate the sun as much as my latin skin can. Maybe he was drawn by my dark tanned body, which after all the running and the little appetite, was looking lean and toned. I was wearing my new bikini, the tiniest I could find around here, where the bottoms, in my opinion, look all like granny panties. Nothing like the thongs I used to wear in my country.

All the time he was there, Larry didn't take his eyes off me, as if he was admiring a piece of art. I felt a little uncomfortable, specially when I remembered all the times he had rejected me when I came to bed naked. He whispered in my ear: "I have a surprise for you".

"What is it?" I couldn't wait. I love surprises, but I hate waiting.

"You'll see", he gave me a frisky smile and kissed my neck like ten years ago. I froze and watched him walk away like a legendary conqueror.

"Mom, c'mon, get in the pool!" I didn't make Nathan wait. Speechless and amused I dove into the pool and into my own love dare.

Candlelight dinner was served at 7:pm: seafood pasta, salad and a glass of chilled Pino Grigio. The temperature had dropped and the night was perfect, the clear sky showed us generously, all its stars. I was wearing a yellow mini dress that enhanced my tan. Larry wore his favorite "It's happy hour somewhere" shirt and tan shorts. He looked like he'd lost some weight too. During dinner we didn't talk about the previous days, as if we'd submitted to an implicit armistice.

I was perplexed, but I didn't want to climb off my cloud. I surrendered and enjoyed every moment. When dinner was over and the wine had relaxed us, we went upstairs quietly and locked our door. Larry took my dress off and asked me to lay on my stomach and close my eyes.  Then he squeezed some massage oil on his hands and started to massage my neck. Then he slid gently to my back, and my buttocks. His hands continued to slither over my legs all the way to my feet.

When I recovered my consciousness he was making love to me like he'd never done before. I tried not to think about anything and just enjoy this beautiful time, but flashbacks of my dream with Matthew popped in my head trying to steal my climax. I had to open my eyes and stare at Larry to stay focused. I wanted my marriage to thrive like never before. And during this night I believed we could make it. Specially because after making love, Larry didn't turn around and fell sleep. He actually hugged me and cuddled me like a child. I felt loved. And I haven't felt loved by my husband in a very long time.

Rescinding the Dare

Pink - Please Don't Leave Me

As I drove to Orange County listening to my favorite music, my thoughts were fighting in my head. I thought about the previous day and compared it with the preceding ones. It seemed like my husband had been abducted by aliens and brainwashed, in a good way. I remembered Matthew's last e-mail. His advice had made me feel uncomfortable, but I knew his intentions were noble:

"If you work at your marriage really hard you will find your heart begin to soften and you will see him as a completely different man. Don't look for his faults look for his good things. Bind your anger and frustration by your great amounts of love and you will see not only the greatness in him, but also a higher level of greatness and joy in yourself. You will be proud of what you have been able to do together and your marriage will be beautiful..."

I wanted it to be that way, I thought it would be great to find that joy and I could feel the hope returning to my heart. It wasn't easy to forget all the insults and hurtful words that Larry had used to describe me: cheater, liar, whore, and piece of shit... Every single one of them had lacerated my heart and the wounds were still bleeding. I wondered how he'd reacted if I had really cheated.

I also thought about my feelings for Matthew. Through our secret e-mails we had been able to communicate our feelings and express ourselves without masks. I poured my heart in every word I wrote and didn't have to worry about what he would think. I could be myself and feel accepted with all my flaws. I revealed details of my life that I've never thought I could share with anyone. And I knew he felt the same way. I waited eagerly for Mark's next e-mail.

That Saturday was extremely busy at the hospital. The ER announced bed saturation and the nurses were stressed out with all the new admits. I was running IV's to the ICU when I saw a lady with a large rectangle box walking on the hallway. She seemed lost, so I asked if I could help her and she asked me where the pharmacy was. I pointed to the small window, puzzled and she asked me, "are you Isabel?"

"Yes, can I help you?" I swiped my badge to open the door, still shocked. She handed me the rectangle box.

"This is for you", she smiled friendly and walked away.

"But it isn't my anniversary", I thought extending my arms to receive my roses. Jason, the Pharmacist saw my eyes, that couldn't hide the emotions, filling up quickly with tears of joy.

"Roses! Who's sending you roses?" He asked in disbelief, and I hesitated for a second. I knew it couldn't be Matthew, but why did I even think of it? Maybe I wished Matthew would send me roses. But I knew they were from Larry. He'd done it before and I was thrilled about the thoughtful detail. "My husband, of course." I opened the box and read the card: "Love, Larry"

"Is he in trouble? I've never sent roses to my wife at work, in twenty years..." He joked.

The receptionist announced a Code Blue and interrupted our chat. I had to put the roses away and get back to work. Jason zoomed through the door. It seemed that the orders never stopped coming that afternoon. Nine new admissions and 87 IV’s later, I haven’t even been able to call my husband and thank him for the roses. I sent him a text message on my way to the ER to replace the crash cart after the Code Blue.

“Thank you for the roses, they are beautiful! Sorry I couldn’t call, we are super busy”

“Welcome, I love you”

 I still had to make TPNs and I was running out of time. My shift was supposed to be over at 5:30pm, it was 4:15pm and I still had a long way to go. I hurried to the pharmacy and started working on TPNs. Jason spent most of the afternoon running to the ER and the ICU. I watched the clock go beyond six and I was still drawing electrolytes for the last TPN.

 As I left the hospital at 6:30pm, I texted Larry “I’m just leaving, it was insane today, see you soon”. I was worn out, all I wanted was to get home and sit in the Jacuzzi. The drive back home was very slow. Everybody was driving back home from the beach and the 76 was packed. It was a very long drive.

 I finally opened my garage door, in search of peace and decompression. Larry was standing next to the rose bush, smoking a cigarette. He didn’t have the same look as the previous night. I got my roses out of the car and walked to him.

“Thank you for the roses. I had a really busy day at work…” I couldn’t finish my story. Larry tossed the cigarette and stepped on it enraged.

“Were you with Matthew? It’s almost eight o’clock. Did he go to see you at the hospital? Did you sleep with him?” His pathological questions made me extremely tense. I couldn’t even speak.

“I was working!” was all I could yell, before I ran into the house disconcerted. I thought my heart was going to burst in frustration.

Larry followed me closely and started to complain like a child: “I’m trying to save our marriage, I made you a special dinner last night, I gave you a massage, I sent you roses and you haven’t done anything for me. What are you doing Isabel? You haven’t given me any reassurance. You came home late and didn’t even call me.”

“I sent you a text, I’m sorry, I was busy and tired. Why are you so angry? I didn’t do anything wrong. You can call Jason and ask him when I left the hospital…”

“Isabel, I’m tired of being the only one that’s trying to save this marriage. You’re just hanging out. I don’t see any effort from you. Can you just give me a little bit of reassurance?"

“I don’t know what to do! I feel like you’re constantly judging everything I do.”

“How about a card, a poem, a nice text message, a gift, something that will show me that you’re in this marriage. I'm not the one who cheated, and I'm the one doing all the work..."

“So you gave me roses and a candlelight dinner just because you were expecting something back from me? That’s not right!

I looked into Larry’s eyes underneath his frown, and I saw hate. I couldn’t believe this was the same man that had made love to me last night in the most selfless way. I couldn’t believe that his obstinate words were causing me all this pain, when I was just starting to believe in our love again.

Larry’s rage was irrational. Next, he took off his wedding band and threw it on the counter. “I’m not going to wear it until you do something” He walked away and slammed the door.

I went upstairs and washed my tears. Instead of the Jacuzzi I took a warm shower and tried to ignore Larry’s pejorative words. I didn’t know what to say anymore. I tried to understand his fears but he was being unfair and I was feeling sick on my stomach once again.

I got my pajamas on and went to bed without dinner. I picked up my cell phone and became Claire once again:

 

Dear Mark,

 

I thought that things were getting better, and that everything Larry was doing was sincere, but after what I saw tonight, I can tell that all he cares about is himself. He has not forgiven me, he continues to belittle me, and he demands me to reassure him and show him my commitment by doing something extraordinary (since he's sent me flowers, gave me a massage, etc....), which I cannot fake.

And I've tried to explain him and asked him to be patient, but he took off his wedding ring and said he'll not wear it until I do something. Of course I can copy/paste some poem and dedicate a love song, but that's not going to fix my marriage, it will just make him happy. That's all he wants now, some kind of demonstration of love that will convince him that I really want this to work. I'm afraid that by doing that, I'll be ignoring the real cause of the disease, the one that's killing all the respect and love that I once had for him. Yes, I know he's lost the trust and I know it's my fault, but I can't live this way. I don't want to go back to the same and pretend that everything's all right. I don't know what to do...

I’m so tired, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

 

Love,

 

Claire

Digging the Past - Part 1

Don Henley - The end of the Innocence

Going to counseling was Larry's idea, but I immediately embraced it. Perhaps a little help from a professional will allow us to communicate. I couldn't sympathize with my husband if he kept humiliating and insulting me. I couldn't continue living in a prison, unable to express the feelings that were bursting from my heart. Depression was taking over my life and sucking all the energy out of my soul. It was time for a change.

The first rule that our counselor outlined was that I should break all contact with the subject of my affair. He threatened to stop counseling us if I stayed in contact with Matthew. I felt agitated and could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. I flinched, trying to hide my guiltiness, but I knew the counselor was probably studying my body language and could see that I wasn't ready to pretend that Matthew had never existed.

In spite of myself, I agreed to abide the counselor's rule. I'd have to figure out a way to survive without Matthew. i thought my marriage was worth the effort, but I was already feeling short of breath.

Michael Stephens was younger that my husband, very pale, thin and his dark brown hair matched perfectly the color of his eyes. He listened to Larry's story showing no expression on his face. When it was my turn I sensed he wasn't quite as comfortable as before. I didn't hold anything back and described my marriage with an unbridled passion, confessing every detail that had brought me to where I was, every lonely night, every unfulfilled promise, every rejection and every insult.

I wasn't trying to paint a bad picture. In the eyes of all my friends we were a happy couple. I kept it that way for a long time, I've learned to be content with what I had and to find happiness within my soul and the deepest source. But that might have given Larry the false idea that everything was fine in our marriage, so he didn't put any effort to it. And that was probably why he was so shocked that I was attached to another man.

I don't like digging details from the past, for I had already forgiven and forgotten, but I needed to talk about the Connecticut incident because Larry constantly failed to remember what he's done to our marriage and he was constantly blaming me alone for this crisis. What he said the day he found out about Matthew still reverberated in my brain, like a migraine pain: "how could you do this to me, your devoted husband".

I didn't want to question his devotion, but his self righteousness. I knew he had made a big mistake and I had chosen to forgive him, to give him the benefit of the doubt, since I would never know the truth, and to move on with our lives.

It was April of 2006, Larry and I were getting ready to buy our first home. Larry's insurance business was taking him out of state at least once a month, but the income was steady and growing, so I couldn't complain. This wasn't the first time that I called Larry and couldn't reach him when he was out of town. Previous excuses had been: "my cell phone died", "I fell asleep", "I had a dinner with clients". But this time my gut told me that there was something else.

The next morning Larry called me before I left for work. "You will not believe who I run into last nigh. Do you remember Paul Lindley, from IBM, we were with him and his wife in Puerto Vallarta..."

"No, I don't remember, what about him?" I put a bagel in the toaster for Nathan.

"He owns this restaurant in Connecticut, with a casino. Great place, I had dinner with him and a group of his friends. But I lost some money in the casino..."

"How much?" I panicked, pouring some coffee in my traveling mug.

"About $500 on the AMEX"

I almost choked. "Larry, we're trying to save money for our new house, I haven't bought anything for me in the last year and you wasted $500! I've paid off all our credit cards and now you're charging stuff again? Ugh! Unbelievable! I have to go, I don't want to be late for work"

I hang up the phone bitterly. I didn't like my husband's story and I didn't have time to think about it. I had to focus on dropping Nathan of at school and having a good day at work. I'd deal with it later. I could tell that there was something very wrong and I was going to investigate and get to the bottom of the issue. Something about Larry's story didn't sound right. I was starting to see his true colors.

Digging the Past - Part 2

Linking Park - From The Inside

 

 

It was a bright and sunny beautiful April morning in Laguna Niguel. The marine layer had dissipated and the sky started to look clear and blue. But my chest felt tight and there was a knot in my throat that made it difficult to breath the crispy fresh air.

I clocked in early that morning, and went to the break room for a few minutes before we opened the pharmacy. The store was quiet and there were doughnuts in the break room, but I wasn’t in the mood for sweets, or really any food at all. I kept thinking about Larry’s story. Five hundred dollars in one night seemed outrageous for gambling. I was furious about the waste of money, but there was something else. I had the feeling that he was not telling me the whole story. I felt anxious and disappointed but I had to get ready to work, so I poured some more coffee in my mug and walked back to the pharmacy.

A floater pharmacist was trying to figure out the alarm and it seemed that it was going to be a challenging morning. The phone was already ringing and there was a woman coughing and covering her mouth with the prescription slip that I was going to have to take from her. “Great” I thought, “all I need now is to get her cough”.

  My mind was blurry and I found it very challenging to focus on my work. I typed “constipation” instead of “congestion” on the directions of a prescription for a decongestant. The floater pharmacist found it amusing. I faked a smile and kept thinking about Larry.

The morning was busy and the day went by really fast. I couldn’t wait to get home and view my AMEX statement online. I wanted to know exactly how much had my husband spent the previous night. As I drove to pick Nathan up form preschool, Larry called me again.

 “Hey babe!” he sounded as fresh as lettuce. “I’m hanging out at the gate right now. My flight is in an hour. I miss you”

I didn’t have the strength to argue about that statement, so I chose to be polite “ok, I’ll see you tonight, I’ll try to be awake.”

Nathan’s smile when he saw me walk into his classroom gave me some peace in the midst of the storm unraveling in my heart. His small hands around my neck and his dragonfly kisses brought some hope back to my secluded soul. I felt as if I’ve been carrying a heavy weight all day and I just wanted to get home and release it.

But my surprise was still to come. The two $240 transactions on my online credit card statement were to even and I became even more suspicious. I clicked on the detail of the transactions and there was a name and phone number for the vendor: Kahoots. Without thinking it twice, I was dialing the toll free number. A male voice greeted me.

“Hi, is this a casino?” My voice staggered.

  “No Ma’am, this is a strip club”

The phone crashed on the floor and my heart blew up in pieces.  I felt humiliated and could have exploded of indignation. And then all these thoughts started to torture me: “What did I do wrong?” “Am I not pretty enough?” “Am I not good in bed?” “Why does he need to pay $480 for strippers if I can dance for free?”

  This was a big insult, so I decided I had to punish him somehow. “I’ll cancel his Wine Club! It’s not a necessity, but he will really miss it,” I thought.

So I opened a new tab on my Firefox and surfed the winery’s website until I found out how to cancel the membership. It was easy, I just needed to send an e-mail from the registered e-mail address. That meant I had to open Larry’s yahoo e-mail, which was no problem because we shared our passwords.

I signed in as Larry and opened his e-mail. I don’t remember when was the last time that I’ve had to open his e-mail. I was never the kind of person that liked to be checking somebody else’s private stuff, and I never had a reason to do it. But this time it was imperative.

The first thing that stood out was an e-mail from someone called “Hole4youinCT”. With that kind of name I knew there was more going on and I my heart was beating so fast that I thought I was going to pass out.

The subject read: “Re: Handsome, Intelligent, Well Dressed, Witty, Businessman in town, 46”, the headline of an ad that Larry had placed on Craigslist, to look for company. It reminded me of the headline of the ad that caught my attention when I found him on Yahoo personals, in 1999, not because of the contents, but because he had also lied about his age. His ad stated he was 38, when he was 46. Now his ad advertised 46, when he was 53. I should have figured that he was a fake from the beginning, but he had sworn that his age was the only false statement in that ad. I felt the blood rushing to my face and I had to walk away and go outside for some fresh air after I read the whole thread:

Sounds hot. I’m in meeting right now, and will send pic when I get back to hotel. Do you have a pic of yourself?

Larry

Hole4youinCT wrote:

When and where? Hartford area here, Hot, slim and give great head, let me deep throat that cock and suck you off, also love to ride that hot cock for you, baby, let me know when and where and a way to contact you, and send me your pics for mine, lets make plans, horny and those pics are getting me wet.

I sat down on the swing in our porch and cried desperately, not knowing what to think or do. If Larry was out of town at least once a month, I wondered if he had done this before. I wondered if he had really met with Hole4youin CT, if she was one of the strippers, if there was some kind of connection between her and the $480. I didn’t know who to talk to about this. It was too embarrassing to share. Was this the end of my marriage? When I ran out of tears, still not knowing what to do, I sucked my pain in and went back upstairs to send the wine club cancellation e-mail. I thought that would make me feel a little better.

 Then I sat next to Nathan and watched him build a dragon-like figure out of Bionicle pieces. I wished the pieces of my heart could be put together with the same artistry my son was using to build his figure.

Michael Stephens looked shocked listening to my story. It appeared that Larry had forgotten to mention this trivial detail when he contacted our counselor. Larry always thought that I was trying to justify my behavior bringing back this irrelevant incident in our marriage. All I wanted was for him to understand that I was just an imperfect human being, capable of making mistakes, same as he had done before, and expecting forgiveness and understanding, the same way I had offered him a chance in the past.

4givN

Black Eyed Peas - Don't Lie

Michael Stephens scrutinized our expressions. Larry sat there speechless, staring at the tan furry carpet. I dried my tears with some Kleenex that were strategically placed on the table right next to the couch. Remembering the worst moments of my marriage had brought back all the pain that I had managed to conceal for the past three years.

Finally Larry decided to break the silence and gasped, "Isabel, it was a mistake. I begged you to forgive me. I explained what happened and how I ended up in the strip club, but I never cheated on you."

"And I chose to forgive you, I chose to believe you, I chose to give you another chance", I sobbed. "I didn't harass you, I didn't make you feel like shit for what you did, I just moved on. And I tried to pay more attention to you, so that you wouldn't have to look for anything outside our marriage."

Forgiving Larry was strenuous. I couldn't have done it without God's help. Because a part of me wanted to run away, knowing that this was not the first time Larry had done something like this. The more I thought about it, the clearer I could see how in previous business trips some non reimbursable expenses had occurred. I could explain why the phone wasn't answered and why I found a condom in a brand new suitcase. Of course Larry had denied every one of my theories. And after hundreds of prayers and searching for wisdom in the Word, I had accomplished what I never thought I was going to accomplish: I've forgiven my husband.

The best part of relying on Him was that I was not bitter, there was no resentment whatsoever and I was able to turn the page without fear, just knowing that if Larry hasn't learned a lesson, God would take care of me. I had found peace in my heart in spite of the situation. I had connected with my soul and I'd realized that it was not my fault.

So it was time to tell my counselor about another controversial subject. One that could probably explain a lot of the conflicts that we were trying to resolve. I covered my face with my hands, distressed, and blurted out:

"But Larry, let's get real, we never had a great sexual connection. Our sex life was dysfunctional from the beginning, we were lacking a main pillar and our marriage was going to stumble somehow. We can't keep pretending that everything is great when we do not have intimacy at all!"

Now Michael Stephens looked puzzled and his eyes were trying to ask questions. I knew it was a touchy subject and I knew that Larry was going to kill me for talking about this, but I needed to talk to someone about this issue and I felt there was probably no safer environment that our counseling session.

Larry didn't look up. He let an ironic laugh out and shook his head in disbelief. There was an uncomfortable silence. Then Michael Stephens whispered, "what is going on with your sexual life?"

"Since we got married, Larry enjoyed doing kinky things in bed, like putting me on camera, or watching me play with the sex toys he had bought me. He was rather a voyeur than a lover. We had sex, but we rarely made love. I don't mean that Larry was a bad lover, he might have been great for someone that enjoys those kinds of games. I believe we were just not compatible in bed. I needed the cuddling to feel loved, but with my husband, I felt like a sexual object." I played with a strand of my hair, twirling it over and over. Larry glared at me, his deep blue eyes stabbed me without mercy. I caught my breath and kept going.

"I tried to play along for a while, doing things that I've never thought I could be asked to do. I did everything I could to please Larry, but he didn't stop to ask what I needed. So when I told him about my sexual needs, we stopped having sex. He started to make excuses, like being tired or stressed, and I tried to live without sex for months, even a whole year.  He even suggested that I go have sex with a couple of guys, because "my pleasure was his concern". But I wasn't interested in just a sexual encounter. I wanted love, and sex to be the sweetest expression of a higher connection at the deepest level of our soul.

Breaking contact - Part 1

Daniel Beddingfield - If You're Not The One

Michael Stephens asked Larry to leave the room for the last ten minutes of the session. As he walked out the door, I saw the anger in his gaze and I felt agitated. I wondered what would happen after counseling. I knew I had said too much and I had exposed our secrets. I could foresee the upcoming reproach. I quivered with fear and Michael Stephens noted my nervousness.

"What you guys have done destroys marriages", he said recalling the last details that I have given him about our sexual life.

"I know", I cried. "But when I agreed to do it I didn't think it was that bad, since my husband was asking me to do it. I wanted to please him and it was his fantasy. I didn't know he would become obsessed and would ask me to do it again. I just loved my husband so much that I wanted him to be happy. He doesn't understand that I did it for him. He still believes I'd enjoyed it so much that I'd want to do it again. I have to admit that it felt good, but it was totally meaningless.  I'm not interested in having sex without love. What is bizarre is that even after all these years, he keeps asking me to do it again. And I know Larry stays in touch with the personal trainer. He e-mails me all the time trying to set up another encounter."

Michel Stephens looked at the clock on the wall. We were out of time and Larry was probably having an anxiety attack, not knowing what I was saying.

"Look, I know my husband says that he loves me, but I don't feel loved. I feel like an object, like a trophy that he likes to display. When he's done showing me off, he'd just place me carefully in the wardrobe till next time. Sometimes he'd dust me and polish me, and display me in different corners of the house. But at the end of the day I'd go back into the cold armoire, alone. I've lived like this for years, trying to overlook my misery by focusing on the good moments of my marriage. I was not looking for anything else when I met Matthew. He was just my friend, but I felt too comfortable around him. He makes me feel valuable, he listens to me and cares about my feelings. I can see his soul when I look into his eyes and I see no masks. I'm willing to give him up if you think my marriage could be saved..." I bawled.

"You just have to break all contact with him, that's the only way", he emphasized, ending up the session and standing up to walk with me to the waiting room.

I nodded in agony, knowing that I had to give up Matthew for good. I was certain about what I needed to do, the challenge was how was I supposed to do it. Deep inside my heart I didn't want to let go of the incredible connection that I had with Matthew. But the time had come and I needed to do it, for my marriage, my family and my promises.

Larry was sitting peacefully reading an old issue of Consumer Reports when we met him in the waiting room.

"Just one more thing..." Michael Stephens instructed, "... on a piece of paper write a metaphor of  what your life is and why. We'll share them next week. I'll see you guys next Tuesday."

Larry stood up and held my hand. I was surprised with the kindness and I liked it. I held his hand really tight and hoped that the session with the counselor had helped our relationship. At least Larry didn't seem to be upset with me, or was doing a great job keeping his cool.

I waited until he sat in front of the TV, with a large pile of hot wings.  Nathan and I had finished dinner earlier, but Larry had decided he wanted to relax and was on his second or third beer, maybe fourth. After the intensity of our counseling session I couldn't blame him. I would have done the same a few years ago, but I had learned that the temporary fix that I could find in a couple of White Russians was over the next morning and I still had to face reality and a horrible thirst, if not a headache. I have found a better way of dealing with stress, through prayer, meditation and running. Talking to Matthew had also become part of my therapy, and that's exactly what I was looking forward to doing that night.

Dear  Mark,

I went to counseling today, I have homework to do. The therapist said I'm not supposed to have any contact with you, because we're trying to rebuild the trust. Makes sense but I don't want to lose you. I've never, ever, had lied or kept any secrets in my marriage, but I feel like I've been the only one in the planet and you're important to me. Does that make me a horrible person? I don't know how I'm going to carry on without you.

I found this poem and I thought of you. Pablo Neruda is one of my favorite authors. I hope you like it.

If You Forget Me (Pablo Neruda)

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

Love,

Isa

Breaking the Contact - Part 2

 Bon Jovi - Living on a Prayer

I walked down stairs to check on Larry. I could hear him snoring from my room and needed to make my kitchen rounds, just to make sure the house wouldn't burn overnight. One night he had gotten so drunk that he had decided to make pizza before going to bed. I had retreated to my room and he had promised to catch up as soon as he was done eating. But I had waken up a couple of hours later to find the house in a cloud of smoke, and my husband laying on the kitchen floor. I had thought he was death! It never occurred to me that he had just decided to take a little nap while waiting for his pizza, which had turned into a charcoal disc in the oven. Ever since I had to go downstairs and make sure the stove was off, turn the TV off and lock the doors. It was a routine I've learned after years of trying to wake my husband up and persuade him to come to bed with me, without success.

Larry had passed out on the couch with a plate of wing bones in front of him, the TV still on the History Channel, and a red can of Tecate, almost completely full, on the coffee table. I touched his hair gently, feeling sorry for the pain I had engendered. His blue eyes suddenly found the sorrow on my face, so I just asked:

- "Do you want to come to bed?"

- "Why should I, Isabel?" He tossed, showing me his back.

 - "Yeah, why should you....?" I surrendered.

As I walked back upstairs I heard Larry's barking cough. I thought about the numerous times I've asked him to go to the doctor and have his sleep apnea checked. Evidently his health wasn't a concern to him. I've done everything I could to persuade Larry to live a healthier life, but it seemed that he was caught in a lifestyle of self destruction. And I worried about the repercussions that this lifestyle will have in his own life and the whole family.

He was a nineteen year old in the body of a senior citizen. How much longer will his body endure the abuse? What kind of example was he setting for our children? His fifteen year old daughter was already having issues with drinking and Nathan had suggested a six pack of beer and a case of smokes as a Father's Day gift for Larry.

I crept in my bed and prayed. I asked God if this was the life He had planned for me to live. I felt so lonely that I buried my face in my pillow and started weeping. The prayers turned into one of my desperate conversations.

"I know that you hate divorce, but how am I supposed to live in this misery? I've worked so hard for this marriage, and you know it, God. You know that I put all of me into it. You are the only one who can decide if I did enough or not. Why is my husband so angry at me, that I can feel that he hates me, even when he says that he loves me. And can you please explain me why do I miss Matthew so much, why do I want to be with him? It feels so right, that I know it can't just be a trick from the enemy. Matthew is a godly man, and only you know the truth about our feelings. You know that we are trying really hard to stay away from each other, but there is some kind of magnetic force pulling us together all the time. How am I supposed to break all contact with him?"

I turned the pillow over when I realized that the top side was soaking wet.

"What is this feeling, God? Please give me the strength to endure and the wisdom to understand the desires of my heart. And if there's a way that you can give me the desires of my heart, please do so. Show me the way out of this heartache. Please, Father, I just want a chance to be with Matthew. I know it sounds wrong, but you get it. You know it's a crazy request but it's authentic. If there is a way out, please let me see it. Make it so clear that I will have no doubt about your answers to my prayer."

I might have crashed some time during this conversation. What was amazing was how quickly I started to get my answers. It all began the following morning.