February Sucks

We made slow, gentle love that night. It wasn't the best sex we'd ever had; it was more like our fumbling about when we'd first been together. We were both dancing around the six-foot-six elephant in the room, and we knew it. Still, it was good, and it was satisfying, and God knows we both needed it.

I half-noticed Linda leaving our bed in the middle of the night and returning, spooning herself against my back. The next morning I left her sleeping as I got up early for work, and there was an envelope on the kitchen table with my name on it, in her writing. All sorts of bad thoughts ran through my head as I opened the envelope.

"Dearest Jim,

"Thank you for last night. I could tell it wasn't easy for you. We were both tiptoeing around eggshells, I think. So I know it wasn't anywhere near the best sex we've had, let alone as good as what I had with Marc. That doesn't matter. The comparison means nothing to me; I'm only telling you so you know I'm not fooling myself or trying to fool you.

"Last night, you showed me how very much you love me, and that means everything to me. I will never forget it. If you offered me a choice between a lifetime of nights like the one I had with Marc, and one single night like last night with you, I would choose the night with you, even if it was the last sex I'd ever have.

"I know you still have the confession I wrote. If you would, please staple this letter over the top of it. I can't erase what I wrote, or what I did. But I can cover it with new things, things we do together, just us, until it's completely buried. That is what I will do, as much and as long as you will let me.

"I choose you, today, tomorrow, and for the rest of my life. I do have a choice, and I choose you. Every time.

"I love you with all I have, and all I am.

"Linda."

My first reaction was what I'd conditioned myself to think over the past few weeks: yeah, she chose me, because Asshole wasn't available. But wait a minute, I thought. Asshole had been available, and Linda turned him down. She rejected his flowers and blocked his phone number, even though she admitted she was flattered by his attention. Maybe...

Damn. Why was it that every time I started to get my hopes up, that damn picture flooded my consciousness: Linda gorgeous in her blue dress, melting in Asshole's arms, oblivious to everything else in the world, including her damn husband. And, of course, after that I could never help imagining what they'd done together after she left me. Crap. Would that ever go away?

I kept putting off deciding about divorce, as we sort of lurched around trying to act married enough to fool the kids, and maybe each other. I stopped by to see L.W. -- I'd been doing that once a week or so -- and I unloaded on him. He let me go on for what felt like half an hour, until I ran out of steam.

"Feel better now?" There was a chuckle in his voice.

"Well, yeah, I guess I do." I was sort of surprised.

"Ready to listen for a bit?"

"Yeah."

"I think I know what part of your problem is," he began. "She's trying to get back to what you had before, and you're trying to figure out whether you want to let her. Which is natural, because what you two had together was very, very good. Problem is, it's impossible. The marriage you had is gone. The trust that held it together, and the promises that undergirded it, are shattered beyond repair. It doesn't matter that only one of you broke trust and broke promises. They're broken, and that's that. In addition, you've both changed, and the way you see each other has changed. The reason you can't find a way back, is because there isn't one." He let me think about that for a few moments.

"You told me a while back that the most important thing for you now was to provide a stable, two-parent home for Emma and Tommy. Is that still true?"

"Yes, it is."

"All right then, I see three ways you can do this. They're all hard, and none of them are guaranteed. When this first happened, you saw divorce as inevitable. On the other hand, you believe Emma and Tommy need both of you. So you could make the decision to divorce her, maybe even fill out the paperwork and arrange the settlement, but you wouldn't file until Tommy turns eighteen. That way you have your divorce if you still want it, and Linda gets fourteen years to try to change your mind, assuming she wants to. The problem is, if you give yourself an escape clause, it undermines your commitment. For a marriage to work, you both have to live as if there's no way out of it. And kids are smart: if you aren't completely committed to the marriage and to each other, they'll know it, and the whole reason you're doing it will be lost.

"Second: you can divorce Linda and look for someone else. Unless you already have someone in mind who might be favorably disposed, that means you have to go out and find someone. While you do, your kids are in an unstable environment, not to mention that you'll both be hurting financially. Again, the whole reason you're doing this would be lost.

"Third, and hardest, you can try to build a new marriage with Linda. It won't be easy. The good memories you both have of your past will provide motivation, but will also get in your way. In many ways, you'll have to learn about each other all over again. And you'll both have to learn how to fight for your marriage. You two were so right for each other, I think you were under the mistaken impression that a marriage can take care of itself. It can't, and I think you both know that now."

"Which one do you recommend?"

L.W. snorted. "Recommend? I recommend you stay out of this fix in the first place, but it's a little late for that. I think the third one is probably the best for Emma and Tommy, if you can pull it off. That's a big if. You both have to be willing to go all in. You have to invest in her completely in spite of how cruelly she hurt you, and your fear that she could do it again. She has to choose you over anyone on earth, deliberately and continuously, every time."

I told Linda what the old guy said. She agreed with most of it, though she didn't like either of the divorce options. She hadn't wanted to believe that a years-long marriage could be ruined by something that didn't even last 24 hours, but she was coming to understand that's exactly what had happened.

"Choose you over anyone on earth, deliberately and continually." She said the words over to herself meditatively. "It sounds too easy, doesn't it? I made that choice on our wedding day, and I thought it was done and over with. I never consciously decided on him over you, though I know you don't believe that. There's more to it than that though, isn't there? The promise won't take care of itself: I have to practice it and fight for it continuously. That's what I didn't do that night. I'm practicing, Jim. I'm making myself conscious that I'm yours, wherever I go, every minute of every day. But what about you? I was horribly cruel to you, even though that wasn't what I set out to do. Could you invest yourself completely in us, in me, in spite of that?"

Well now, that was the question, wasn't it? I looked into her eyes as though I could find the answer there. Could I see something I could invest myself in?

"I don't know, Linda. I'll try: that's about the best I can say right now."

I did try, as did she, and things were improving slowly. I think spring helped us both. There's something hopeful about spring, and Linda was always happier when her flower garden was blooming.

Linda's birthday was coming up. She knows I'm not very good at coming up with ideas for presents, so she usually gives me hints. Very broad hints. I'd thought about not doing anything this year or doing something like Santa's lump of coal. Or maybe a stinky, sweaty Marc LaValliere jersey for her very own. Sometimes -- a lot of times -- I still felt that's what she deserved, but I'd promised I would invest in her. Besides, I had to think about what would be good for Emma and Tommy.

A week before her birthday, I was getting nervous. I hadn't received any hints, and I had no more idea than a rabbit what I should get her. She solved the problem for me, and there was no hinting about it, either. She didn't want any presents; she wanted a dinner and dancing date, with the kids out of the house.

"I know you don't want to go to Morrison's, and I don't either. I never want to see the place again. But I want a date with you that will begin to replace that night in both of our memories. And I want to wear my blue dress." She stuck out her chin and continued. "I bought it for you, Jim, and I don't want to remember it anymore as the dress I wore when I went with him. I want it to be the dress you loved me and romanced me in."

I had no idea whether I, or we, were ready for that, but nothing venture, nothing have. "All right. let's give it a try."

Bad idea. As my lovely wife descended the stairs in her beautiful blue dress, all the awful pictures I thought I had gotten rid of stormed to the forefront of my mind. Linda lost in Asshole's arms as they swayed together, as if practicing for what they would do later that night. Me, alone in our hotel room, while Asshole stripped her beautiful dress off her. Linda under him, responding to him, yielding to him, giving him all of herself.

I slumped against the door frame and covered my face with my hands, to try to make the pictures go away. It didn't work.

"I'm sorry. I'll... I'll wear the red one." It was one of my favorites, and showed her off almost as well as the blue one.

She was beautiful as she descended the stairs, her best smile on her face. What I saw in her eyes helped me push the pictures of her with Asshole back where they belonged.

We did our best not to think about what we were trying to forget, which worked about as well as it usually does. But the dinner was good, and as our conversation began to flow better, I was reminded of all the reasons I'd fallen in love with this woman. The fact that Asshole had wanted her too didn't make those reasons any less valid.

We went dancing afterward. That, too, was awkward at first, but became less so as I held my wife in my arms. Her every act and look made clear that she was mine, and was going to stay that way. Of course, the little voice in my head had to speak up and remind me that's what it had been like on that night, too. It was correct, but did I really want to keep living that day over and over again like Ground Hog Day? No. Besides, I knew that Linda had grown and changed since that night. Perhaps I had, too.

We were sitting out a dance at our table when someone approached Linda from her side of the table. Several men had asked her to dance, but she'd turned them all down, so I didn't pay much attention.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but may I please borrow your husband for a few dances? There's a half-drunk guy over there who I can't get to leave me alone, and I think maybe a few dances with your husband might help him get the message. Only with your permission, of course."

"Why my husband, may I ask?" Linda sounded more amused than jealous.

"Because the way you look at him makes me think he's your white knight, so I know he won't take advantage of the situation."

Linda turned toward me with a loving smile. "Yes, he's all of that. He's my hero." She chuckled as my ears turned red. "So come on, Jim, rescue the damsel..."

"Ellen."

"Ellen, from the booze-breathing many-handed dragon."

I stood, and I was suddenly face to face with the most beautiful woman in the world. I had never imagined beauty like hers could exist. It wasn't just that she was sexy or hot, though she was all of that. She was a work of art. She should have been in some museum to be admired by the ages, except she was far too warm and alive and vital for that. Up until that moment, I'd thought that Linda was the most attractive woman in the room, as usual. Now, she wasn't. And it wasn't even close.

I was in a daze as I held my hand out to her -- Ellen -- and led her to the dance floor. She was a fabulous dancer in her own right, but she also had the rarer gift of making her partner look far better than he actually was. She melted into my arms for the slow dances as if she'd been born to be there. I never said a word to her. I wanted to, but neither my voice nor my brain was working just then. I didn't try anything with her; mortal man shouldn't dare. She smiled at me, I smiled at her, and nothing else in the entire universe mattered.

I don't know how long we'd been dancing together when she finally spoke.

"Come with me, Jim." You know how you read the part about the Sirens in the Odyssey and you think, Come on, no woman's mere voice can have that kind of effect? I'm telling you it can. Ellen could have led me off a cliff or straight to Hell, and I'd have followed her blindly with a goofy grin on my face.

We were almost at the door of the club when she stopped. She put her hands on my arms and turned me so I could see our table. Linda sat there in her beautiful red dress, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed her heart out. Seeing her was like suddenly waking up from a dream. Ellen spoke three words in my ear.

"Now you know."

Her words barely registered as I rushed madly to our table, narrowly avoiding a fully-laden waitress and bouncing off a stray bouncer. I wrapped my arms around Linda. I didn't see where Ellen went and I didn't care. All that mattered was the weeping woman in my arms. My shirt was sodden with her tears when she finally raised her face to me.

"I must look frightful," she said. What little makeup she wore (she never needed much) was smeared on her cheeks, and there were red splotches over most of her face.

"Nope." I smiled into her red, puffy eyes.

"Oh, yes I do," she said, hiccuping through her tears. "I'm going to the restroom to clean up."

"Oh, no, you're not," I said. "I've seen seen that movie and the ending sucked. You're staying right here with me." I soaked a napkin in ice water and washed her face; I gently patted all the red spots until they faded. I cleaned and tended the face I love. Finally, I was rewarded with a ghost of a smile.

"Can we go home now?" she asked.

"No," I said gently. "If we go home now, my last dance on your birthday would have been with someone else. That's just not right." I took her hand in mine; it was limp and unresisting. "Please, Linda. Dance with me?"

They played a few slow songs in a row, and my wife was in my arms, and it just felt right: like coming home.

"You're beautiful tonight, Linda." I always said that when we got home after a date, and it was always true, even, maybe especially, tonight.

"But I wasn't the most attractive woman in the room tonight, was I?" She smiled sadly at me and went upstairs for bed.

I had some thinking to do, so I made myself some tea and sat on our sofa. I hadn't cheated on Linda, and she had most definitely cheated on me, but I'd completely forgotten about her, while another woman was in my arms. Would I have actually gone home with Ellen, spent the night with her, if she'd asked? Of course not, I told myself, just like I'd told our friends that night. I love my wife; I'd never do anything like that to her.

Really? My conscience wanted to know. Just how sure are you about that? The mere memory of Ellen in my arms made my pulse race. How sure was I? Where would I be right now if Ellen hadn't sent me back to Linda?

"Now you know." Yes, now I knew. I knew the guilt of having been cruel to the woman I love. I knew how easily it had happened, and I knew to my shame that I hadn't resisted, not even a little bit.

"Now you know." I knew how someone could do what Linda did to me that night. I knew that I could fail her as badly, and as easily, as she had failed me. I had to face it. My love for Linda had not been enough to keep me from cheating on her, in the same horribly cruel manner she had cheated on me.

"Choose you over anyone else on earth, deliberately and continually." When push came to shove, I hadn't done much better at that than Linda had. "Invest yourself completely." All in. I hadn't done that tonight. That wouldn't do. It was time to fish or cut bait. Had been for a while, actually.

What I intended to be deep thought turned out to be falling asleep. I came to, slumped at a thirty degree angle on the sofa, with my head at an angle my neck wasn't designed for. My mouth tasted like something had died in there days ago, and my eyes were crusted shut. I pried them open and found there was a little quilt over me that I hadn't put there. Odd. Further investigation revealed the smell of coffee in the air. Zombie-like, I followed it to the kitchen. One mug down, one shower taken, one more mug down, and I felt ready to acquaint myself with my surroundings.

The house was empty except for me: Linda must have gone to pick up the kids. I felt sorry for her if she'd tried to awaken me. That couldn't have gone well. I wandered about the house a bit, and found another one of those envelopes with my name on it. I guess Linda hadn't slept through the night, either.

"Dear Jim," she had written.

"I know you've tried over and over again to explain to me why my night with Marc was a big enough deal to you that you would even consider divorce. Some of it made sense to me, like the things you thought you knew about me that turned out not to be true that night. Still, I felt that you were making it a much bigger issue than it had to be, and I have to admit that sometimes I've resented you for it.

"Now I know. I watched you dance with another woman, knowing I could never compete with her, knowing there wasn't a single thought of me in your head, and I knew how you felt when I danced with Marc. I watched you leave the dance floor with her, and I knew how you felt when Dee told you I'd left with Marc. I hope I'll never know how I'd feel if I knew you made love with another woman. I know enough as it is.

"I am sorry, so very sorry, for everything I did with Marc. I am sorry I danced with him, I am sorry I left with him, I am sorry that I ruined our special night for him, and I am sorry that I shared with him what I always intended should be yours alone. I couldn't say that before, because I wasn't really sorry, as I think you know. I was sorry you were hurt, but I clung to the illusion that it was just one night, you would eventually get over it, we would be fine, and I could still enjoy the memory. I really didn't know how badly I had hurt you. That sounds silly to me as I write it, but it's true. Now I know, and I wish with all my heart I had been stronger, and had not let him take me. Any part of me.

"I think L.W. is right. Our old marriage is dead. Nothing can bring it back. My dearest wish is to begin a new one with you, starting today. I choose you, over anyone else on earth, deliberately and continually, with every breath I take. I have learned that promises don't keep themselves: they have to be tended and protected and sometimes even fought for. There are no time-outs from promises. I will keep you first in my mind and heart every moment I'm awake. Now I have the pain, mine as well as yours, to remind me of what can happen when I don't.

"I'm still just plain old, same old me. I can't compete with Ellen. In spite of that, could you go all in, and build a marriage with me?

"Love always, with all my heart, soul, and body,

"Linda."

Part of me still wanted to punish her for the horrible pain she caused me that night, that had been with me ever since. But how could I do that when I knew I'd been just that close to doing the same thing to her? All right, I didn't leave with Ellen, and maybe I didn't actually cheat, but we both knew I'd been ready to, and it wasn't my fault that I hadn't. I had been no better than she was.