How Do the Scales Balance?

I made coffee and tried to put the looming conversation out of my mind. I was best when others thought me underprepared, but anticipating possibilities always left me flat. I had a knack for reading the moment and intuitively understanding the issues to address. And I articulated quickly too. So I didn't want to spend too much time thinking about topics and questions that might not even come up. I wanted to save my energy for when it mattered.

The morning dragged on with no word from Aaron. I called my folks to check on the kids and ask them to keep the girls another night, which they were happy to do. Then Annie wanted to talk to me.

"Daddy said we're gonna celebate tonight."

"Celebrate. I'm sorry, sweetheart, but Daddy isn't feeling well today. But I promise we'll go out as a family as soon as we can."

"But Daddy said tonight." Annie looked more like me, but she was her father's daughter in every other way.

"I know, sweetie. But sometimes we have to change our plans when things happen. We'll go out as soon as we can."

The silence lingered until Mom got back on the phone. She chuckled.

"Someone isn't very happy at all. She's making the angry face you used to make."

"Thanks, Mom. If anyone can handle her it's you."

"Nothing a couple cookies can't solve. Tell Aaron we hope he's feeling better soon."

"I will. Give Kiley a hug too."

I put in a load of laundry and then tidied up the kitchen. I didn't want to do anything that I couldn't drop as soon as Aaron came home. The problem was there weren't enough small jobs to keep me busy, so I was starting to obsess about Aaron. I kept reminding myself that I couldn't know his reaction until I saw him, so spinning on it was fruitless, but with nothing else to occupy me I kept doing it.

I thought about showering, but I wanted him to see me as soon as he walked in the door. He needed to know that he was the most important person to me in the world, now and always. It might drive me crazy, but waiting for him was small penance, so I'd do it.

But it might actually drive me crazy. I hate being idle. With nothing else to help me pass the time I prompted memories. Memories of Aaron and me. They always made me happy.

Our first date. The standard dinner and a movie. He suggested Italian for dinner -- a safe choice -- and "Inside Llewyn Davis" -- a risky one. We shared an enormous lasagna, and I took home his spaghetti carbonara. We learned that we both liked the Coen brothers, although I thought "Raising Arizona" was their best while he was enamored with "Barton Fink." Honestly, I never really liked "Barton Fink."

The first time we made love. My sister Margie and I were living together as I finished up my degree. She had left for the weekend. We never said it, but it was no secret that Aaron and I were going to have sex that night. He showed up with a chianti, we ate pizza, and then went to my bedroom. I was a little nervous, and he said he was too, but it didn't show. He moved me around confidently, he varied the pace and depth of his thrusts, and he told me throughout our first coupling how excited I made him. And that helped me to nibble and suck and blow him hard and ride him the way I liked for our second go. I was very sore the next morning -- it had been a few months since my last sex -- but that didn't stop us from another couple of sessions, and we spent so much time doing it I was still in the shower when Margie returned.

His proposal. We'd talked about marriage, and he let a couple prime opportunities pass -- Christmas and New Year's -- but then he found the perfect way. It was a regular Thursday night. We were at his apartment, and he made penne a la vodka, his go-to date-dinner. He'd rented "Arrival," and when it was over he worked our discussion around to the central question of the film: if you knew heartbreak waited at the end, would you still take the plunge. In the movie it was about the daughter's sickness, but his conversation centered on the failed marriage.

"Would you still get married knowing it might end badly?"

When I said I would, he went to his knee, produced a ring, and said, "I would too."

Prophetic, right? I certainly hoped not.

And then, as if I had conjured him, I heard the garage door go up. I took three breaths -- deep, deeper, deepest -- and sat at the kitchen table so I'd be the first thing he saw when he came in.

* * * * *

I opened the door from the garage to the kitchen and slipped through. The first thing I saw was Tilly sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in front of her. She looked strained. I guess I wasn't the only one suffering. I'd forgotten that this situation was new for her too.

"Thank God you're home, honey. I was so worried about you. Are you all right? Can I get you something? Coffee? Lunch?" Tilly's words came in a rush, her anxiety plain.

"No. I already ate. I'm going to change. Then we'll talk."

"Okay, hon. I'm going to fix some eggs. I've been too worried to eat. Are you sure you don't want any?"

"Positive."

I glanced into the family room as I went to the stairs. The room was the emotional center of our house, but it felt off. In fact, the whole vibe in the house was off. I didn't notice anything different about it -- the throw on the sectional was balled up, I assumed from Tilly -- but the usual feeling of solidity was absent. I'd always felt most grounded when I was home, but I didn't feel that way now. I guess that's another outcome of her betrayal: my home no longer felt special.

Our bedroom felt stale too. I unpacked the bag, laying the suit over the chair that seemed destined to hold clothes. T-shirts and jeans went into the hamper with my socks and boxers. I put away my toiletries and hung my hoody in the closet. I pulled on a pair of track pants and a long-sleeve t-shirt, then added my favorite cotton sweater. I pulled on my Skechers and returned to the kitchen.

Tilly was at the stove, stirring her eggs, which smelled really good. No diner could ever replicate those eggs. The girls loved them. I sat across from where she left her mug. Tilly always preferred to sit together when we discussed anything important, but this situation was different. We were in opposing corners, which felt unnerving, but sitting across from her would let me see her reactions. I took a deep breath, quietly, and let it out slowly. I mentally reviewed my questions.

I was as ready as I'd ever be.

* * * * *

When Aaron came in he looked, well, different. His clothes were mismatched -- he wore his cordovan wingtips with tan jeans and a green hoody -- and he hadn't shaved, which was really unlike him. But it was his eyes that I really noticed. I didn't expect to see the usual joy that percolated every time he saw me, but I didn't see anger or hurt in them either. I did see distance, an almost-clinical detachment. He was in business mode.

I needed him in husband mode, the mode we had when we solved problems together, when we decided anything of consequence in our marriage and for our family. I had my work cut out for me.

"Thank God you're home, honey. I was so worried about you. Are you all right? Can I get you something? Coffee? Lunch?"

"No. I already ate. I'm going to change. Then we'll talk."

Definitely business mode.

"Okay, hon. I'm going to fix some eggs. I've been too worried to eat. Are you sure you don't want any?"

"Positive." He went upstairs.

I scrambled three eggs with milk and salt and then added some shredded Parmesan. The girls loved their eggs this way. Well, Annie did; Kiley liked them because her older sister did. The eggs were cooking slowly when Aaron returned and sat opposite from my place. I heard him exhale slowly. This conversation was too important to start this way. I needed him relaxed, sitting next to me so he could feel my love, sense my sincerity.

"I don't want to do this in the kitchen, Aaron. I'll eat quickly and we can go to the family room." The family room had the bulk of our pictures and the girls' toys and the souvenirs from our honeymoon and the family keepsakes we'd received from our folks and grandparents. It was our place of love, and he needed to feel that love. And so did I.

"The kitchen is fine."

Crap. I couldn't fight him on this. I didn't want to fight him on anything. We needed connections, not more ruptures. But he wasn't making it easy.

"Okay. But can we wait until I finish eating? I want to give you my full attention."

"Sure."

I stirred the eggs.

"Where did you stay last night?"

"Residence Inn."

"I see you brought your bag home with you. Will you be here tonight?"

"I haven't decided. I told Annie we'd go out as a family to celebrate your award."

"I called Mom and asked them to keep the kids another night. I wasn't sure if you'd be home."

I sensed Aaron nod. "Good call. How did Annie take the news?"

I laughed, and I felt him smile too.

"Just the way you think."

It was good to talk about the girls. I could sense him relax just a tad. I plated the eggs and then took the seat adjacent to Aaron, which surprised him. Emboldened I touched his forearm. He flinched. I sighed.

"I'm sorry, Aaron."

He shrugged. I ate quickly, not tasting the eggs. After putting my plate and fork in the dishwasher I refreshed my coffee and sat next to him again. He gathered himself and sat up a little straighter. Business mode.

"I have some questions about your affair, Tilly."

"It wasn't an affair, honey. It was sex. Irregular sex at that."

"Call it what you want. I think of it as an affair. Why did you do it?"

"I can see how much I've hurt you with what I've done, honey. And I'll answer any and all questions that you have. But it meant nothing to me. I want you to see that it just doesn't matter, to me or to us, but I don't know how to help you understand that."

"Why did you do it?"

"The same reason I sometimes order steak for dinner and sometimes have a salad. Randy is good-looking, funny, humble -- he's just a fun guy. We landed a big account, so we went out to eat, had some drinks to celebrate, flirted a bit like we always do. I was feeling horny and so was he. He raised his eyebrows, I laughed and stood up, we went to his room. I left when we finished."

"You haven't said why."

I had, but I recognized this as our Gordian knot. Usually our different approaches were complimentary, an enviable strength that served us well no matter the topic. This time they worked against us. We knew each other well from close observation, but if we were going to get through this as a team we needed to inhabit each other's reality. I needed him to really see that Randy -- and the salesman for that matter -- was about as threatening to our marriage as a gym workout.

"I'm trying to help you see that my time with Randy was insignificant. Like what I ordered for dinner. It had nothing to do with you, with our marriage, with our family. We were on the road, and it just happened."

"I can take issue with just about everything you just said, Till. It is significant, it has everything to do with me, our marriage, and our family, and it didn't just happen. You made commitments to me when we married. To know that you trashed them has really shifted the ground beneath me."

"I have always honored my commitments to you, Aaron. Always! I love you and cherish you more now than I ever have. I love you so much it overwhelms me at times. This thing with Randy means nothing."

"It means everything."

"What does it mean? I wasn't here. You didn't miss out on anything. And when I came home I was just as loving and attentive and supportive and engaged as I've always been. It didn't change me or our marriage or our family one bit."

"You lied to me."

"I didn't lie. I've never lied to you about anything important."

"Withholding the truth about something important is the same as lying about it."

"Exactly! It wasn't important. I don't tell you when I work out on the road, what I eat for breakfast, what cars I rent. It felt just like that. It didn't mean anything. I wouldn't lie to you, hon, not about anything that matters."

He inhaled slowly and closed his eyes for a moment. Recentering.

"Did you use a condom?"

His question surprised me a bit. I thought I had been making progress in gaining his understanding, so the change in direction disrupted me. Still, I had promised to answer all of his questions. This was going to be hard, but I knew it would come out at some point.

"Not the first time. After that, yes."

"How many times was it then?"

"I was with Randy three times."

Aaron clenched his jaw. On the one hand I hoped his anger would cloud his thinking, but then ripping off the bandaid is usually the best way. He didn't miss my precision.

"Were you ever 'with' anyone else?"

"Only one other man. Once. Many years ago. I met him in the hotel and we hit it off. No one besides he and Randy."

"I see."

He was pissed. His eyes were dark and cold and his face was tight. But now all my dirty laundry was in the open. I just had to help him see how little it mattered to everything we had made together.

"Have you been tested for STDs?"

"What? No! The first guy and I did use a condom, and with Randy it was only the once without."

"So you have put my health at risk."

"No, honey, no. I'm sure Randy didn't have anything. He hadn't been with anyone except his wife."

"What if he lied? What if she fucks around like you?"

Ouch! I almost retorted, but I caught my tongue in time. I'd hurt him, badly. He was getting a measure of payback. I sighed. I needed to be understanding. But it still stung.

"It was more than a year ago that I had unprotected sex, but I will get tested if you want me to."

"It seems like the least you could do."

"Okay. I'll arrange it. Anything to make you feel better."

"That hardly makes me feel better. But it is one less thing to worry about." He frowned, then relaxed and made a quick nod. "So you've had sex with Randy three times in the last year."

"Yes. But it's not what you're imagining. It's never been planned. We've probably gone on a dozen trips together in that time. When it's happened it's just because we were both in a mood for it. We only did it once each time. We've never spent the night together. We've never shared a room."

"Are you in love with Randy?"

"In love? God, no. I mean, I like him, but I love you. I could never love him. Or anyone else. You're my man, my partner, the love of my life."

"But you fuck Randy. And some other guy."

I sighed again. How could I get him past the sex part to see there was never one iota of love involved in any of it? It was a diversion. Like going to a movie or a concert. I hated seeing him so upset, and because of me. I had to find the words that would heal him.

"I don't know how to get you to see that every one of those times was nothing at all. Just scratching an itch. What can I do to help you understand?"

"I do understand. You think sex can be casual. No attachment. No emotion."

"Yes! You do see it." I felt my insides unbind. Maybe we could make it through this crisis.

"I see it. I just don't agree."

"Oh, come on, honey. Sometimes we make love gently and sweetly, and sometimes we bang the crap out of each other. Sex can be done a lot of different ways, be a lot of different things, cover a lot of different ground."

"Yes, but no matter how we're doing it I'm always doing it with you. And only with you. That makes it special."

"It's special for me too. I love sex with you. It's wonderful. So fulfilling."

"But you fuck other guys too."

He was still stuck. I didn't know how many ways I could say it, but I had to keep trying.

"And it doesn't mean anything to me."

"It does to me." He put his hand over his mouth and squinted in concentration. Recentering again. I was about to speak when he beat me to it. "How many people know about it?"

"What do you mean? No one knows about it."

He scoffed. "People definitely know about it. How do you think I found out?"

Of all the questions he could have asked, this was one I hadn't remotely considered. It never occurred to me. It was enough that Aaron knew. I guess I thought he'd deduced it, since he was so good at that, but I never thought someone else might have told him. I was stunned.

"Who told you?"

"No one told me. I overheard Ted Winters saying something about it to another guy last night. It didn't seem like a secret to them."

Wow. I was stunned. My coworkers knew? This had the makings of a full-blown disaster. I immediately saw the implications. My professional reputation was at severe risk. At least some of my team knew I'd slept with a subordinate, and that could mean HR issues, which in turn could mean discipline from Jim and Frank. And what about Randy? He could claim harassment, though I was confident I could ultimately survive that accusation. But his wife was standing with us when Aaron dropped his bombshell, so he might be having his own marital crisis right now. And people can get squirrelly under stress.

I shook my head. I loved my job, but it was only that in the end. A job. I'd deal with work once Aaron and I resolved our issues. Aaron was my husband, my true love, my anchor, my partner. We needed to fix our marriage. Nothing else mattered nearly as much as that. I really needed to tap into his love for me, show him that nothing had changed between us because of my flings.

"Honey, It doesn't matter who else knows. You know, and I see how much you're hurt. I want to help you heal from your pain."

"You're the one who inflicted this pain, Tilly. I don't trust you to relieve it." His words put my heart in my throat. Before I could respond he said, "What do you see happening here?"

Thank God! His question had just put me on the firmest possible ground.

"I love you more now than I ever have, Air. And I'll love you even more tomorrow. This is just noise, honey. I know it hurts, but I can love away that pain. It's trivial compared to the love we have for each other, for the family we've built together. We still have our wonderful future ahead of us, everything we've always talked about. I know that you're hurt and that we have a lot of work to do. But I know we can do it. I'm more certain now than ever before that we're destined to spend our lives together." He didn't reply. He looked into the middle distance, and his face remained impassive. "Let's go into the family room and sit together. I miss touching you, holding you. We always feel better when we touch. You'll see that nothing's changed."

"I'm fine staying here."

He wasn't moving, and I don't mean from the kitchen. He wasn't moving from his business mode, and that wasn't going to work. We didn't see the world the same way, and we never would. I couldn't bridge the intellectual gap. I needed to get him to see that our feelings were what mattered, our emotional connections, and that ours were strong and resilient. He was feeling a lot of emotional pain, and that would only heal with emotional succor. He wasn't going to be able to rationalize his way to feeling better.

"Honey, your pain is raw and it's overwhelming you right now. Please don't lock me out. Let me help you find your center. Feel my support."

He stood up, so I stood up with him. Then he felled me.

"I'm not going to make any decision right now. I need time to think. I'll let you know when I'm ready to discuss things further."

* * * * *

I wanted to drive back to the park. I liked being outside -- especially when I need to burn off energy -- but I'd left without a jacket, and it was the last days of fall. So I went to the mall and walked the circuit on each level. Twice. Then I grabbed a slice of pepperoni from Slice Brothers. It wasn't healthy, but screw it.

I had all the answers that mattered. Tilly fucked Randy, but she wasn't planning to run off with him. She seemed sincere that she still loved me. But she fucked Randy several times and a stranger once, so how could I really tell? And the frequency with Randy was accelerating, though three data points wasn't nearly enough for high confidence. But practice does make perfect -- they were probably becoming more aware of what stoked their desires for sex with each other, and consciously or unconsciously they were likely doing more of those things.