Ides of March Pt. 02

At one point, while trying to play the role of my husband, he said, "You don't understand, you've ruined everything. I can't..." He froze, and his morbid gaze said it all. He'd fallen out of character, and was responding as himself. "I didn't mean that," he said softly.

"Yes you did," I said sadly and softly. "You meant it because it's true. This isn't getting us anywhere. I have ruined everything, all because of a decision I made a few hours ago. I could have enjoyed my celebrity date, our date, and been happy with that. But I wanted a more. I can't go back; can't rewind the clock. It's nearly three a.m., and even if we'd just talked all night, there's no way now my husband would believe me. There's nothing left except to move forward. Try to fix things or take my medicine."

Billy saw the tears starting to roll down my moist cheek. He looked heartbroken for me.

"Please hold me, Billy. Let's finish what we started. I don't want to think about the future just yet."

He came to me and rocked me in his powerful arms. Then a few light kisses on top of my head, and shortly after we were at it again.

I wasn't just sexually satisfied; I was becoming enamored with this incredible young man. When the conversation got too heavy, or my tears started, he would change the subject, and we'd end up talking about our similar childhoods in small rural towns and our families' farms. Things like strange relatives who only came over at Christmas, or some of our mothers' favorite recipes. We even talked of our first kisses in school, and who we gave our virginity to.

I slept comfortably in his arms until the desert night became too cold. Then he carried me into his bed, and I curled up into him. In the morning, I awoke to the smell of room service breakfast. We showered together, made love, and showered again - separately, that time.

At the door, Billy leaned in for a chaste kiss, and said, "I had an incredible time with you. Please, Barb, if you need anything, even just someone to talk to, let me know."

We both knew what he was saying, and it didn't need to be spelled out past that. My marriage was now a fifty-fifty at best, as I had traded it for an unforgettable night of passion.

Arriving back at our room, all of my worst fears were right there on my husband's face. He looked like he had twenty invisible knives deep in twenty different spots on his body, being twisted by twenty invisible men. Worse than that, my own children were looking upon me with anguish and an unspoken 'why?'

I did my best to get it together. Honestly, I hadn't wanted to meet up with my family that afternoon. Had they not known where I'd been all night, I would have probably tried to get out of it, feigning sickness or something. But finally, I'd put my own silly pride aside, along with my embarrassment, and admitted I needed to start making up for this mess, and I'd needed to start right then.

When I met them at the restaurant, the light mood I'd noticed as I'd approached faded. The rest of the afternoon was incredibly stressful. After, when I tried talking to Rob, and he'd told me he had to leave, and couldn't even stand to look at me, I understood. I would have felt exactly the same way, in his shoes. Even if we couldn't work this out, I knew I'd be instantly jealous the minute I saw him with someone new. How's that for irony?

I suddenly sat up the next morning, waking from a nightmare. I saw the early morning light and knew it was just before sunrise, and also knew my husband was gone. That thought set my mind ablaze with emotions. I lay back on the pillow. A very restless night had given way to a new reality - one in which I'd have to fight to keep my marriage intact.

The memories of the previous thirty-six hours brought mixed emotions. First and foremost, was the way Rob had been feeling and acting. Every bit of what he'd felt was my fault. Honestly, I could never have imagined his reaction to being severe. Quite a few of my newfound friends had told stories about their husbands' reactions to infidelity, and how their men found it exciting, even relished in them. I'd always thought they were exaggerating or at least that Rob would be different from those other men. I'd always convinced myself that was because he loved me. That morning, though, I realized the more in love someone was, the more extreme their reaction.

I spent the day with the kids, attempting to do some things we'd all agreed to before the trip started. They sensed how lost I was in my own thoughts, and after dinner, they both asked if we could all go back to the room and start packing.

Rob telling me he couldn't even stand the sight of me was the worst. I mean, how do you come back from that? If he'd allowed me, I could have helped take away the hurt. I could have made him understand. It's the least I could have done for him, and I'd have gladly tried. Thinking those thoughts had given me some temporary hope, but also scared me. Rob had never been unreasonable in our relationship - in fact, just the opposite. I replayed my 'date' with the Beast, trying to figure out anything that might help improve my defense.

After that first week with Rob living in an extended stay hotel, I tried to force the issue. My husband didn't want to talk to me. In fact, I felt as though he wanted nothing more to do with me at all. Nothing could have prepared me for that. Having no idea what could be done, I spoke to several people I knew. They were less than encouraging, claiming that my husband would never get with the program. He was too rigid, they said; he saw everything too black and white. They said that some men's pride controlled them in relationships, and some just flat-out wanted to control their women. A few gave me advice on how to fight fire with fire - force him to come around somehow, or else. I stopped listening to all of them by the end of the first week. Until that night, I had known Rob better than anyone. I also had to be the one to try to fix things, but first, I'd need to get him to talk to me. Finally a few days into the second week, I was able to get him to meet me at our favorite coffee house.

"Hi Rob." I said when he stood.

He didn't make any move towards me, even after I'd waited a moment.

With a heavy sigh, I took my seat. "You're looking well." I hadn't known what else to say.

You too," he shot back drably.

"Ok, husband, we should talk...."

He interrupted me right away. "Really?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "This is how we're going to do this? No contrition? Not even anything resembling an apology?"

My return gaze must have been one of fire. "I could say the same. No hug? Not even a handshake?"

The conversation got even worst, then. After a few more pot-shots, Rob finally asked me, "how could you do this to us?"

When I thought about his question, it dawned on me that it had had nothing to do with 'us' at the time I'd made my decision. "Because I could, is the most honest answer." I replied.

Then he got up swiftly, as if to leave.

"Sit down, Rob," I'd told him forcefully. Once he did, I took a sip of coffee, and then went on.

"I know you. You may not think so, or you may have doubts that you ever knew me, but both of those things are wrong. For instance, I know how bad I shit on our marriage and crippled our relationship. I also know my husband, so the one thing I'm definitely not here to do is lie, and I won't filter or embellish the truth either. I know I'll destroy any small hope we have if I make silly excuses. I won't say all those things people...cheaters say. I didn't come to insult your intelligence, because your pride and trust have already taken a big hit, and I need you to see that I still respect you as a man, and as my husband."

"Well, thank you for all that...and the sermon."

I carried on as if the cheap shot never left his lips. "I won the date. I don't know how, and honestly, I was still in a daze when we made it to the restaurant. By the time the fog cleared, I decided I'd enjoy it. I couldn't call because you had my phone and my purse. Being honest, I wouldn't have anyway, because it would have been embarrassing, like a child checking in or something.

"The rest of the evening at the club was nothing short of amazing. People kept staring at us - at me. Because of whom I was with. Billy was a gentleman, and he was surprisingly mature for his age. I didn't expect to be able to carry on a conversation with him; with everything you hear and read about professional athletes. That made the night all the more magical.

"When we left the club, Billy told the driver to take us to his hotel. I interrupted and told him to take me to the Bellagio. If you want to figure out how to contact Billy or the limo driver, they can confirm that. But then, I had second thoughts, and Billy told me he wanted me to see the balcony view from his suite, and that afterwards, if I wanted, he'd send me home. I should have held my ground right then, but I didn't. That was my mistake, I acknowledge that, but it was also my choice.

"At his room, we enjoyed a glass of champagne and watched the crowds on the strip below. The he put his arm around me. That was my choice too. It was also my second and most dreadful error."

Rob jumped in then. "Did he force you? Coerce you?"

"No," I whispered. "In fact, he gave me plenty of chances to go back to our room and end the date. That's not to say he didn't hope for more. Being a celebrity and an auction prize, I'm sure he was worried about his reputation, but also maybe being set up as a creep. He was very deliberate, all while being incredibly sexy. Right up until the moment I made my decision, I was only thinking about coming back to you. Billy can also back that up. It's important to me that even if you don't believe another word I say you know that much is true."

Right away, Rob said, "Okay. Give me his number."

I turned bright red. I was so embarrassed, realizing that I did have his number, and it felt like a great time to get up and run away. Rob must have read all those looks.

"Don't," he said. "You wanted to talk, so that means you have to answer too. Please sit."

I sat, and took some time to regain my composure. "Rob, look at me please. I am sorry, sorrier than you'll ever know. I don't know how to properly convey that, because I know what I was thinking at the time, and I know it was my decision to...stay. Somehow, 'sorry' doesn't seem to cut it.

"So I can only try to explain, and promise I won't ever do something so out of character and cruel to you again, and then do whatever I can to make up for what I've done. I'm prepared to do all that, including earning back your trust, if you'll only talk to me and tell what we can do. What do you want, Rob?"

I guessed I expected crying, begging, more sadness, something. Anything! What I got was nothing.

"Barb, I just need more time," he said. "I have no idea what I want. I'm not lost; I'm simply overwhelmed. I'm sad and pissed; I'm disheartened. In fact, it almost feels like I don't even have a heart anymore. It was there, and now it's gone, in the blink of an eye. I feel like an indifferent, dispassionate drone. So the only thing I need is time." His voice kept getting louder the more he said.

"Okay, Rob. I guess if my punishment involves running our entire household for a period of time, it's a small price to pay. I'll give you what you want, but don't expect me to just lie down. I'll still keep bugging you to talk to me about your feelings and what you want."

With nothing more for either of us to say, we both got up to leave.

Rob was hurting. I understood that. I wasn't some clueless bimbo. I was the cause of that pain. I knew that as well. Still, he was sulking, and the childish behavior was insulting and embarrassing. He basically shut me out of his life. He'd call the kids, but he had them under strict orders. When I saw their phones ring, and then they'd leave the room, I knew who was on the line. Often I left him messages that went unanswered.

I tried, I really did. I tried everything I could think of. Rob wouldn't talk to me, unless it had to do with the house or the kids. He treated me more like a nanny than his wife. I was quickly losing respect for my man - if he was still my man. I'd expected some punishment - maybe no sex for a period of time, maybe lots of screaming and inflammatory words. Among the worst I'd have been willing to endure would have been Rob checking up on me or putting some kind of app on my phone. That would have really hurt, since I'd been completely faithful and totally in love, save for one damned night.

The kids, his mom, my mom, everyone had tried to talk to him. Two plus weeks, and he wouldn't budge. Maybe he was right. His heart had been broken, or I'd just ripped it out of his chest. After the kids and relatives went to visit him, they all came back with the same story - he needed more time to think.

After a month, it became intolerable. As my guilt began to dissipate, I started to take a very serious look at our marriage. He'd changed - quite a bit, upon reflection - even before Las Vegas. Rob was more like my father now than the man I'd married.

I had to admit to changing too. The people in my circle of influence had their own code of morals and ethics, so much more relaxed than the ones instilled in me during my upbringing. They were not anywhere near as restrictive as my parents or the town I grew up in. I found my new acquaintances to be logical, sometimes brilliant in their social and political viewpoints. I couldn't say I was becoming of the same mind, because I knew I'd already become of the same mind. Most of my changes were complete.

Two days of those thoughts prompted my next action. I texted Rob, "Hey it's Barb. I can't get an audience with you, you won't talk to me. I don't think I can go on like this. The kids need you home, and frankly so do I. If you're not willing to do that, or even discuss our future, I think it's time we talked about a separation. I'm not saying I want that, but it's been a month. I'm carrying the load here, and I don't even know where your head is at. Please talk to me, or give me the green light on speaking to our attorney."

Rob's reply was simple and short: "I'm not ready yet."

I spent a lot of time that night trying to square that remark in my head. I'd caused this, so couldn't I wait? If I didn't want to wait, did that mean I didn't love my husband, or loved him less? When I put the actions and the guilt aside, the answer came easily. It seemed he wasn't willing to talk, scream, go berserk, or punish me even. Everyone I cared for seemed to be coming over to my side of things, or at forgiving me. Yes, I admit I felt a little bit vindicated for my actions. I was sorry, deep down and everyone who talked to me could see it as being sincere. But my husband wouldn't talk to me. That he was only doing nothing at all meant my respect for him was already fading, fast. I also felt my love for him lessen. If silence and hiding was his means of punishment, well I wouldn't accept that.

But then my mind kept going back to those nagging little thoughts I'd discovered since Rob left. It wasn't just about him becoming some sort of serious conservative, or me being influenced by uber-progressives in Los Angeles. It was about so much more.

My life, or at least what I envisioned for my life, suddenly seemed in conflict with what I'd believed just a month before. What had I said to Billy at dinner? I was proud of my family, and they were my whole life. While that was true, if I was going to be totally honest with myself, I wanted something more. Plenty more.

As a wife and mother, I, of course, was proud. Proud that the love Rob and I shared made two beautiful human beings, and proud that we'd done well in raising them. Sometimes, in the early days, I'd even been proud that they'd woken up in the morning, rather than died in their sleep.

I was also proud of my husband. He'd been my rock for so many years. After his accident and during his recovery, I hoped I'd reciprocated in kind.

As a woman, I had felt caged since I'd started my writing career. Not put in a cage by my husband or anyone in particular. Perhaps, it was a cage of my own making.

Love is an abstract, unless it's front of mind and discussed frequently. In that day-to-day family dynamic, there's often no real time to discuss hopes and dreams. Rob's slight disability would never get better as we aged. I accepted that, because I loved the man. However, what if his idea of life after the children grew and moved was a more relaxed, laid back existence? That's wasn't me, nor something I wanted. Definitely not to retire to a cabin in the woods, shooting squirrels through the window with a .22 for excitement, as my mother had done when my folks had quit working. The dreams I had for the future involved big city lights, nights out on the town, dancing in a fancy dress, and traveling to exotic places.

Having taken a hard look at our marriage, I concluded that we'd already been drifting apart, and I'd just been too busy to notice. Las Vegas had woken me up. Billy had woken me up.

So then did I really love my husband, or my life? Was I still in love with Rob? The answer was a resounding 'yes' - and yet, I wanted more. I wanted Rob to be a part of my bigger, brighter, more exciting future. Unfortunately, the same trip that had shaken me awake had shaken our marriage to its very core. How do you get from "I'm sorry I cheated; I'll do anything to make it right" all the way to "I need, I want, I'm not completely fulfilled" without taking the obvious exit ramp?

I'd decided I didn't want to lose Rob, but, for the moment, it seemed that keeping him meant waiting for him. The only thing I could speed up was our marriage's dissolution. I'd also decided I wanted more from life. Unfortunately, there was no guarantee that those two desires were compatible.

And that's coming from the more open-minded partner in this relationship. As it stood, if he did come back - well, if he came back to really try, rather than just for the kids' sakes - I'd always suspect him of spying on me, just as he would always suspect me of cheating. I'd remembered ten years earlier, hearing Rob describe all the tools police used to listen and track a suspected arsonist. I could only imagine the gadgets available a decade later.

After turning everything over in my mind, over and over again for hours, I finally made my decision. The next morning I called my father and discussed my plan. At first he wasn't happy, but he finally agreed that it was probably the best I could do. He gave me the number of his personal attorney, who would then direct me to yet another. I called Rob and left a message.

"Rob, we need to talk. I know you don't want to, but you have to quit acting like a baby. Grow a pair, stop sulking, and call, or I'm moving your shit to storage."

It wasn't something I ever imagined saying to the man I loved, but then again, I never dreamed I'd betray him either, until I had. That call was the hardest acting job of my life.

Things moved quickly after that night. At least he had the decency to call first before coming over. The way he'd been acting for a month, I half expected him to ring the doorbell, but he didn't. There was no screaming, no crying. I found that to be odd, and reflected on it for a long time afterward. We talked again about what had happened and why. But of course, we'd already done that.

I recounted some parts of the story for him, trying to answer specific questions: Billy asking me up to his suite, and me accepting with little resistance. I fought the urge to explain how I'd felt, with the highs and lows of the day, the heightened feelings, and my own stubborn desires. After so much time had passed, they all sounded like hollow excuses.