Frankly My Dear

"Hello?" Sarah answered softly.

"Hello, Sarah. It's me, Tom."

"Oh ... Tom. I was wondering when I would hear from you," she said in an even tone.

"I'm back and I was planning to be at the house tomorrow morning. Will that be alright?" I asked carefully.

"Of course," she paused. "When will you be here?"

"Ten o'clock alright with you?"

"Yes of course, but ... why do you feel you have to ask permission?" It wasn't a complaint from the sound of it. It was curiosity.

"I've been gone for some time. I took nothing for granted and I thought I owed you the courtesy of a call first," I said in explanation.

"That's very thoughtful. I'll look forward to seeing you at ten, then." It didn't seem like a snide remark. It sounded sincere.

"Yes ... well ... goodnight, Sarah."

"Goodnight, Tom." I couldn't detect any particular mood from the call. She was calm and quiet and not at all confrontational. It gave me some hope for tomorrow and allowed me to sleep better that night.

I arrived at my home just before ten the next morning. It looked just as it had the day I left, three months earlier. As always, it was neat. The lawns had been cut and hedges were recently trimmed by the look of them. There was no sign of life, but that wasn't unusual. We seldom used more than four or five rooms in the house, and most of those were in the rear.

I left my car on the circular drive rather than park it in the garage. I was unsure of my reception. I didn't know what to expect from Sarah. I decided to leave the car at the front just in case things didn't go well.

I almost pushed the doorbell and then realized it was my home. I opened the unlocked door and entered. As I stepped into the foyer, I caught a glimpse of Sarah seated in the living room in her favorite chair. I stepped into the sunlit room and saw my wife for the first time in three months.

"Hello, Sarah," I said.

"Hello, Tom," she said, rising to greet me with a slight smile.

I walked to her and took her in my arms, gently kissing her. She surprised me. She returned my kiss.

"It's good to see you again," she whispered as she loosened her embrace. "You look so healthy and tanned. I haven't seen you look this good in years."

I thought I had prepared myself for our reunion, but I was wrong. This wasn't the same Sarah that I had left three months earlier.

"Would you like some coffee?" she asked.

"Yes ... thank you," I said, following her into the kitchen. She pulled out my favorite mug and poured the coffee, passing it to me.

"How have you been, Sarah?" I began, tentatively.

She looked at me oddly for a moment. "OK," she said softly.

"Tell me about the last three months," I suggested, trying to get the conversation going.

She gave me that odd look again and then sat in a kitchen chair, looking at her cup, her hands flat upon the table in front of her.

"I tried to find you, but Renee wouldn't or couldn't help me. You just disappeared. I suppose that's what you had planned," she said, looking up at me. I nodded in confirmation.

"I was upset for a while. I hadn't been on my own for many years. I phoned the children every so often, but it wasn't the same. After the first week, I knew I had to do something or I would go crazy. I went to see Dr. Taymore. I told her about our ... separation and your feelings about me. I asked for her help. All she wanted to do was prescribe anti-depressants. When in doubt, take a pill. I got angry and left her office.

"I searched around for another doctor, and with Renee's help I found Dr. Mitchell. She's quite a bit younger, but she's not like Dr. Taymore. She isn't a big fan of drugs if they aren't essential." She had been telling her story in a quiet, matter-of-fact voice.

"You said with Renee's help?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes. A few years ago, she told me that she had been having a difficult time with menopause and that she had found this wonderful doctor who had really helped her. It was Dr. Mitchell, and I got an appointment to see her."

"Are you suggesting your ... problems ... are associated with menopause?" I asked.

"Dr. Mitchell thought that was a possibility," Sarah said carefully. "She is good for me, Tom. We had a long talk and she felt I could use some professional help. She referred me to another doctor who specialized in emotional problems stemming from menopause. I didn't know there was any such person. I still wasn't sure if that's what was causing my ... behavior. I just knew I ... I ... couldn't go on this way. I had to try something to make me feel better," she confessed.

"So ... you were aware of your ... temperament?"

"Yes, of course. I knew I was unhappy, but I couldn't see how to break out of it. I just wasn't smart enough to get help sooner. I thought it would pass in time," she admitted.

"And when I spoke to you about it?"

"I couldn't bring myself to admit I had a problem. I just denied it. I didn't realize how far I had pushed you. I didn't really believe ... or want to believe ... that you would really leave me. I certainly couldn't imagine you having an affair. But, when you left and I knew you were serious, I was shocked. I didn't know what to do."

"So, tell me about your new doctor then." I was curious just what was happening to Sarah.

"Dr. Bartholomew is a psychiatrist. He's a man, strangely enough, dealing with women's problems; mostly menopause, but sometimes the aftereffects of mastectomies or other disfigurements. He's quite old, I think in his seventies. But he's been quite helpful. I really feel he's made a difference," she said with a hopeful look at me.

"Good! Wonderful! Tell me more," I asked, beginning to feel enthusiastic about this turn of events.

"I don't know where to begin. I'm still seeing him and I will for a while yet, I guess. I don't have all the answers, but at least I know a bit more about what's been happening. By the way, if you'll agree, he'd like to talk to you too, Tom," Sarah said carefully.

"All right. Anything I can do to help, I will," I said emphatically. I saw the first hint of a smile on Sarah's face then. I could almost feel her relax. We had both been very tense, almost afraid to probe too deeply.

"Tell me about yourself, Tom. What have you been doing in the past three months to get that wonderful tan," she smiled.

"Playing golf. Doing the tourist stuff. Swimming, walking ... the usual things," I said simply.

"Renee said you were out of the country. Where did you go?"

"Portugal, then southern France and Scotland. I really needed to get away, Sarah. I didn't know just how much until I got there and began to relax and enjoy myself. I guess I needed therapy too," I said ruefully.

"You look wonderful. You look so handsome and fit. You look younger than when you left," she smiled. I had no reason to think she wasn't being sincere.

"I was just thinking the same thing about you. I don't remember the last time I saw you with a tan like you have now. What have you been doing?"

"Swimming in our pool. Walking in the neighborhood. Exercising. It was something both Dr. Mitchell and Dr. Bartholomew insisted upon. They both said my fitness wasn't as good as it should be even though I wasn't overweight. They were right. I feel so much better today," she smiled.

"I'm very pleased, Sarah. You've really made an effort, haven't you."

Sarah looked at me with a smile and then I saw a cloud pass over her face. Something was bothering her.

"Tom ... are you going to stay? Here I mean?" she asked with a worried frown.

I sighed and leaned back in my chair. How to answer that question? I was encouraged by the steps she had taken, but would that really change her behavior? I had a decision to make and I owed Sarah an answer.

"Sarah, you have obviously realized things couldn't go on the way they were. If I have accomplished anything, it is to bring that to the fore. I was hoping, I suppose, for a nice black and white solution: 'Yes, I will be the old Sarah' ... or perhaps ... 'No, I am not going to change.' Nothing is ever that simple though, is it?" I stopped for a moment, looking at my wife and knowing now what I must do.

"Yes, Sarah, I will stay. I will help you all I can and I will support you as long as you continue to get help. All we can do is try. If you keep trying, I'll keep trying," I promised.

She stood and came to me, putting her arms around my neck and then kissed me lightly. She almost seemed afraid to get too close to me. It left me wondering what other changes may have taken place. Finally, she stepped back and I could see a look of what I took to be uncertainty.

"Tom ... I have to ask you. Did you have an affair with another woman?" She struggled to get the question out.

I smiled. "No, Sarah. I did not. You know my feelings about infidelity. I could no more do that to you than you could to me. My threat was a desperate attempt to get you to recognize my frustrations and unhappiness. I'm sorry if I didn't make it clear just now. I probably shouldn't have said what I did in the first place. I assure you, I have always been faithful to you, and I always will be." I had spoken quietly, but I hoped, forcefully enough that she would not be in any doubt about my loyalty.

She smiled and then returned to her chair. My answer seemed to satisfy her.

"There's just one thing, dear," Sarah said. "Doctor Bartholomew suggested we sleep apart until we are ... on a more ... stable basis. He said it might be a mistake for us to resume ... marital relations too quickly."

I was taken aback with this revelation. I thought I would be able to try and renew our long dormant sexual relations as part of our reconciliation, but now ... that seemed to be out of the picture for the present.

"I'm disappointed, Sarah, but ... if that's what he suggests, then ... I guess I'll just have to grin and bear it," I said with a half-hearted smile.

"Thank you, Tom. Thank you for being so understanding," she said, smiling.

Well, it wasn't the perfect solution, but it was better than nothing. At least there was some hope for us to rebuild our relationship. I would count on that.

Sarah's Story:

I was in a hurry. I was already ten minutes late for my luncheon date and I still had to park the car and make my way into the marina. I dressed as I always did for Michael, in as little as possible to hasten the undressing. I made my way to his boat and walked aboard, almost out of breath.

"Sarah, are you alright?" Michael asked solicitously.

"Yes, just a little winded. My session with Tom was a little longer than I expected. It took forever before he left for his office," I explained.

"No rush, love. Calm down. We have plenty of time and most of the afternoon to enjoy," he said smiling.

Michael Sandusky was my lover and had been for more than three months. He was a year or two younger than I, but it made no difference to either of us. He was unmarried ... had never married in fact. He didn't have a lot of faith in the institution, he said.

I suppose you're wondering why I would cheat on my faithful husband with another man. The answer was simple. Ever since Tom became wealthy, he had also become incredibly arrogant. When we were first married and he was struggling to get his company going, I was a very happy woman. We loved our two children and doted on them, as most parents would. Tom was handsome and I worked hard to make sure I looked presentable as his wife. I think I succeeded because he would compliment me regularly.

Something happened to Tom when his business began to flourish. He started acting as if he thought he was invincible. He was going from business success to business success and reveling in his prowess. Unfortunately, his attitude carried over into his private life, particularly with his family and friends.

I began to feel like I was an accessory, a decoration to be trotted out for inspection on social occasions. He also began to treat the children as his protégés. Naturally, they would follow him into the business. That was a given in his mind. When Aaron decided to study mathematics at M.I.T., Tom was only slightly miffed. He was sure Aaron would change his mind on graduation and become his natural successor.

When Bonita chose art history as her subject, he was more than miffed. It was as if she had run off with some scruffy hippie and renounced her family. He wasn't very pleasant about voicing his opinion either. He had alienated his daughter and misread his son.

I began to sense that he no longer saw me as a partner, but as a subservient guest. He didn't consult about decisions regarding important things like vacation destinations. He simply acted and then informed me of his decision. When I began to fight back, he was clearly displeased with my attitude.

I had reached my limit of Tom's unpleasant demeanor when I met Michael. I had been visiting some friends; friends that Tom hadn't yet alienated. Michael was a guest. I learned that he was living aboard a sailboat. The idea intrigued me. I was sure I would suffer from claustrophobia in such an environment. As we talked, I realized how enjoyable it was to have a conversation with a mature, balanced man. I was intrigued, but certainly not seduced by this stranger. Not yet, at least.

Michael was about Tom's height, and although fit, he was slim and angular in appearance. I wouldn't have thought him as handsome as Tom, but he was such a delightful person to be around that I never noticed the difference.

Michael called me the week after we met and suggested we have lunch together on his boat. I have no idea why I said yes, other than my interest in his lifestyle and the ease and comfort that I felt when I was around him. It seemed perfectly natural for me to accept a lunch date with a strange man in his "home."

Michael's sailboat was quite large, over forty feet. He called it a cruiser, not built for speed but for comfort and space. I was surprised when he showed me around. Everything was very compact, but complete. I was also intrigued by the stateroom since it contained a queen size bed. We ate our lunch on the stern deck under a canopy. I was amazed at how quickly the time went. We talked and told each other about our lives. I even confided my unhappiness with Tom's attitude. It was something I didn't think I would ever do.

Before I left for home, Michael insisted that he take me sailing and again, I really couldn't think of a good reason to say no. Afterward, I questioned my motives and began to feel uncomfortable at how easily I had agreed to meet with this man who was not my husband. Was I being unfaithful? Not really, at least, not yet. I wasn't so sure about what the future would hold, but I was sure I would not forsake my marriage vows.

When I got home that afternoon, I noticed the flashing light on our answering machine and I pressed the play button. It was Tom. He had some important meeting and said he would be late getting home and not to bother with dinner for him. It wasn't unusual for him, but the tone of the message was irritating. He didn't bother to apologize. He'd given up that habit a long time ago. It was more like a notice on a bulletin board. No personality was attached to it.

As I sat by myself that evening, I began to take stock of my life. The children were already in college, with Aaron in Cambridge while Bonita was attending Wellesley. Tom was, as always, engrossed in his work and was off to the office every weekday. I had a great deal of freedom. A cleaning service looked after most of the housework and we often ate out, so my homemaking duties were limited. With both children away at school, I had a great deal of free time on my hands.

The question became what to do about it? I had suggested to Tom that I get a job to occupy myself but he wouldn't hear of it. It was "demeaning and unnecessary." It would lead people to think that we were struggling and that would be "bad for business." Apparently, my happiness was tied to the business as well.

I considered volunteer work, but once again, Tom thought it was foolish and inconvenient. He invented a number of preposterous scenarios to make his point, and once again I surrendered. I needed something, however. I seldom watched TV and there were only so many books that interested me. And then, quite unexpectedly, along came Michael.

The week following our original lunch, Michael called and invited me for a sail the following day. The weather was expected to be fine with moderate winds. We would leave as soon as I could arrive in the morning and be back at the dock in mid-afternoon. I would have plenty of time to get home, shower and change. I accepted the invitation. I knew I would when he first proposed it a week earlier.

In the days that followed, Michael and I met frequently, usually for lunch on his boat. He was mindful that both Tom and I were well known in the community. It would be very difficult for me if I were seen to be having lunch with a strange man. The boat, however, was the perfect rendezvous location. Hidden amongst hundreds of other boats, it offered the privacy we couldn't find elsewhere. Nonetheless, he was very cautious.

I began to think that we were destined to have an affair. It was just a matter of time. He was irresistible. Worse yet, I was falling in love with him. He was so kind and considerate that I could not help myself. He was everything I wanted Tom to be. He was everything that Tom used to be. It was almost as if I were trying to recapture the past.

Our first time was so idyllic that it defies description. We were off in some isolated cove, anchored and alone. It was a cool, crisp New England fall day and we were enjoying our lunch in the galley of the boat as it rocked gently. We had shared some wine and I was feeling at peace with the world. Michael took the plates and put them into the sink and then turned to me and pulled me up into his arms.

"Sarah ... I want you," he said simply. I only needed to nod my acceptance. He led me to the stateroom and we undressed. There was no urgency and yet I desired his manhood inside me immediately. I was aroused more than I could remember in years. As we slipped under the covers to hide from the chill, we embraced. Our nakedness was all the stimulation we needed. We kissed and fondled each other and then I invited him into me. He slipped in as easily as if we had been together forever.

We made love and I reveled in every moment of it. It was so sensuous and so complete that I orgasmed almost immediately and thereafter, several times. When Michael finally climaxed, I lay on top of him, smelling his maleness and feeling the trickling seepage of his ejaculation as it began to drain from me. I was dizzy with pleasure and happiness.

As I drove home that afternoon, I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Michael if he would have me. I would stay with Tom until I felt the children were well on their way to independence, and then I would leave him. I had mentally and physically completed my betrayal of him. I did not feel good about having done this to him, but I would not forsake my happiness in trade for his arrogance. A divorce was the most appropriate action.

"Michael," I said softly. "If I were to divorce Tom, what would it mean for us?" It was the day after we had consummated our affair.

He turned to me as we lay together in his bed. "It would mean that we could put an end to this deception. This sneaking around, pretending we don't know each other. It would mean that we could plan the rest of our lives," he said softly.

"I was hoping for that. It's what I want too. I love you Michael," I told him. I was sure I was smiling as I said it.

"Are you certain, Sarah? Divorce is a big step. A very disruptive step. Have you thought about your children?" he asked carefully.