Infidelity Anonymous 03: Henry

Infidelity Anonymous 03: Henry's Story

This is the third installment in a series of stories about a fictitious organization designed along the lines of Alcoholics Anonymous where people who have cheated on their spouses, and the spouses they cheated on, can both find support and forgiveness as they work to rebuild their lives. There may well be an organization like this, and there are many organizations that attempt to meet the needs of those whose happiness has been destroyed by infidelity, but this creation is meant to be pure fiction.

Be warned: there is no humor in this story. It's very raw and that's exactly what I wanted it to be.

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Claire was filling her cup with black coffee. These meetings were the only time she drank it black. At any other time, it was cream and sugar; but these meetings were not a time to get comfortable, especially when it was her night to serve as moderator. She needed her wits. She needed to listen to every speaker who rose to share their story and she needed to watch the room. Being moderator was a lot more than just saying "Hello and welcome!" and "Who wants to share?" A moderator who knew the group could choose the next person to share knowing where that share might lead and hoping to bring out the best from the group.

She made her way to the podium and said, "All right, everyone. It's time to get started. Pour yourself a coffee and find a seat." About a minute later, Claire stepped back to the podium and began the meeting. "Welcome, everyone, and thank you for coming. My name is Claire. I'm your moderator tonight and I'm a victim of infidelity."

"Hi, Claire!"

"Let's start as we always do by saying the Serenity Prayer."

Together, they said, "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference."

Claire resumed. "We have a light turn out tonight, so I expect everyone will have a chance to share if they wish. I see a number of newcomers tonight, so let me remind you: we are here for everyone. We are here for those who cheated on their spouses and we are here for those who were cheated on. We are here to help all those who feel the pain of betrayal, and together we can help one another heal. Now, who would like to share tonight?"

As Claire was getting the meeting started, a big man entered the room and stood in the back. He signaled Claire.

"Henry? Yes, please, come forward."

Henry is one of the three who serve as moderators and arriving late is unusual for him. He is a gregarious man who enjoys the conversation and jokes before the start of the meetings as much as he values the meeting itself. Tonight he was just a member of the group like everyone else.

"Henry, we missed you last week. I hope you're well."

"Ah, yes, yes, I'm fine so far as that goes." Henry was not his usual self tonight. While normally a man who is fast with a joke spreading warmth throughout the room, he was unusually subdued this night. Turning to the group, and in a quiet voice so uncharacteristic of the man everyone knew, he says, "Hello. My name is Henry and I'm a victim of infidelity."

"Hi, Henry."

"A lot of you know my story. I've been married for ten years and quite happy for the first eight or so. I have two kids, a boy and a girl. They're great kids."

"I guess it was about two years ago that my wife started acting out of sorts. It was just little things at first and I doubt anyone else noticed it until later. I suppose the kids did, but they were too young to understand. Kids always think that everything is their fault and they probably thought their mother was unhappy with them. I think I hate that even more than what she did to me. At first she was just detached, aloof. Sex was like going to bed with an angry cat; and if I'm not clear on that, I mean it wasn't happening. The mere suggestion was a reliable way to start a fight. And on the rare times when it did happen, the angry cat became a cadaver that just lay there waiting for it to be over. I pretty much stopped asking. Then she grew snippy and critical all the time. That's what I think the kids saw and some of it spilled over onto them. They grew quiet and walked around the house on eggshells. Kids shouldn't need to live that way."

"I tried to talk with her, but she wasn't having any of it. She'd go right to 'There's nothing wrong with me. It's you. Get some help!' Boy, that got old, and then I took her advice and I got some help. I found a therapist who I could talk with. She kept telling me there wasn't much she could do without bringing my wife into our sessions, but when I asked I was shut down every time. I was running out of options."

Henry paused for a moment to collect his thoughts and suppress his anger.

"My wife went to a week-long conference out of town and I thought 'I can use the vacation.' It was the quiet before the storm. At the end of her trip I sent the kids off to my parents for the night. I had hopes that a week apart might have done some good. It didn't."

"She was in the air flying home when the email came. It was from an address I didn't know. The subject was 'Hello, cuck! I fucked your wife!' The thought of her cheating was unimaginable to me, but I opened the file anyway. He'd sent me photographs of my wife. They weren't the kind of photographs a husband wants to see. I still can't believe it. The son-of-a-bitch fucks my wife and then he brags about it by sending me photographs!"

Henry had to pause again to calm down. The group tries to keep the language clean because cursing tends to elevate the tension in the room. Tonight, Henry was doing all he could to keep a lid on his rage. His face was red and he was visibly shaking.

Claire stepped over to her friend. "You okay? You want to take a break?"

"No. I'm good. Just give me a moment." Henry composed himself.

"Once I opened it, I knew his name. He's a guy she worked with. I found out later that he'd been working on her for months, asking her out to lunch, flattering her and talking me down. I guess everyone in their office was her friend and not mine because no one ever told me about this slime ball."

"Well, needless to say, life in the house went from awful to downright hateful the minute she stepped through the door. I exploded. I was yelling and waving my arms, pacing the room. I kicked over a chair and threw a lamp across the room. After all those months of eating shit from her, and then the photographs, I went nuts. I hated her!"

Henry paused another moment to compose himself.

"She fled the house and went to her mother's place. Her mother has always been good to me; so when she called she was concerned, but she didn't berate me or accuse me of anything. I never did learn what my wife told her about the whole business. She stayed away for a few days until I assured them I had my anger under control. When she came home we had a long talk. She was unhappy with me. She'd been unhappy with her life for a long time. That was the only clue I ever got and I missed it. She had been unhappy with her life for a long time. Other than that, I took a lot of blame and I swallowed most of it."

"Over the next few weeks we argued whenever I tried to talk and mostly we ignored each other. Well, I guess you aren't really ignoring someone when you go out of your way to avoid them."

"I never did hear the words 'I'm sorry.'"

"I finally laid down the law. Either she went to counseling with me, or we got divorced. I couldn't take any more of it. She resisted, but when she found out I'd met with a lawyer she finally agreed to counseling. Needless to say, she rejected the counselor I was seeing. My wife said, 'She's already prejudiced against me.' I had enough problems, so I let her pick the counselor. That was a big mistake. That bit... Let's just say the counselor was not friendly toward men. She believed everything my wife told her and nothing I ever said. Instead of one woman throwing shit at me, I had two."

"Coming here became my version of going bowling. It was all that got me out of the house. I came here every week to recharge my batteries and then I was back into the hell hole for another week. When I was home, my kids were all that kept me going."

Henry paused, his anger finally dissipated. He had that faraway look in his eyes as he stared at nothing in particular. He was replaying the moment in his mind, reliving the night when everything changed.

Henry was quiet now, speaking in low tones. "Two weeks ago, I came home after the meeting. The next day was a school holiday, so the kids were with her mom. I was hoping we could have a little quiet time just to sit together and not yell at each other. Her car was in the garage, but the house was dark. I walked in the house, turning on the lights as I went from room to room looking for her. I found her in bed, cold, lifeless. She'd swallowed every pill in the house and downed them with vodka."

Henry was falling apart at this point, but he was determined to finish.

"She left me a note. It was just two lines. It said, 'I'm sorry. I can't take any more.'"

"I went home hoping to sit with her and not argue, so that's what I did. I sat on the edge of the bed and I cried like a baby. The anger left me until all I could feel was the pain. I looked at her face and I saw the girl I married. It took two years, but she was finally with me again."

"Everything after that is just a fog. I guess the police saw that I was in shock and they never hassled me for not making the call sooner."

Henry stood quiet for a moment, tears flowing freely down his cheeks.

"Life throws you some curves when you don't expect it. I've been coming here for eight months trying to learn to forgive my wife, to drop the anger and move forward. Now I'm starting over. Instead of being angry with her, I'm angry with myself. I should have seen the signs, but I didn't understand. I let her down."

Henry was crying now. He couldn't keep it together any longer.

"Thanks for listening."

Henry stepped away from the podium and was immediately engulfed by friends. Some had him in bear hugs. The rest just reached through the mass of bodies to lay hands on their friend who was in pain.

Claire stepped to the podium. "Let's take a few minutes to collect our thoughts."

The meeting never did come to order again that night. The group just sat in a circle, some talking and most listening. Sometimes, just being there is all you can really do.

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Well, you were warned. There is no humor in this story and no satisfaction. It's just a sad tale about as close to the truth as I know it. My assumption is that the wife is suffering from depression. Depressives get things twisted up in their minds and see the world distorted from what it is. Maybe your interpretation is different and that is fine, too.