John: How to Save a Life

I'm reminded of the lyrics to a song by The Fray -- How to Save a Life.

********

"What were you looking for Dear?" Andrea said, calmly, as if having a box of condoms in her bag was a normal...thing.

I couldn't seem to form words with my brain right at that moment and mumbled something unintelligible. "Your, ah, key, ah, I need to, ah, move your car, ah...why do you have a box of condoms in your handbag?"

"Because." Again, it was said nonchalantly, as if my question was somehow ridiculous.

"Because, why? Why do you have condoms in your handbag?" I was starting to regain my ability to think and speak.

There was a long, pregnant pause before she replied. She screwed up her face a bit, inhaled deeply and then said, "Well, you wouldn't want me to have sex without them would you."

It was as if I had been hit with a truck. I staggered back and sat in one of the chairs at the kitchen table. I had no idea what to say. No idea what to think. The air had been sucked from my lungs and I couldn't breathe.

Andrea continued on, "I use protection with him all the time. I'm pretty sure that he's very clean but I'm also sure that you don't want me bringing home any unwanted germs."

Andrea said this as if it was the most natural thing in the world to say. It was as if I was the one being ridiculous for questioning why my wife was packing a box of condoms in her handbag. Stupid me.

**********

Now before I go much further, I suppose it might be useful to tell you a bit about me, Andrea and the Stewart family. I'm John L. Stewart. I'm thirty-three years old. I'm married to Andrea P. Stewart (nee Leighton) and she is the same age as me. We met in university and married just after we graduated. I'm a mechanical engineer and Andrea is a real estate agent. We have three beautiful daughters; I told you about them earlier, and we live in a very upscale neighbourhood of Albany, New York State. The house is a two-story colonial with a three-car garage, a circular driveway and a pool in the backyard. The house is five bedrooms and six bathrooms. It's actually way more house than we need, but Andrea found it and at the time it was a bargain, so we bought it.

We've lived there for about three years now and gotten to know the neighbourhood and people that live around us. The schools in the area are very good and we both have an easy commute to work. Overall, I could say that life was just about perfect. Just about. If it was perfect, I wouldn't have to work 60 hours a week and Andrea would not have to work all hours of the day and night and weekends, too.

We manage to make sure that the kids are taken care of first and foremost and that we eat dinner together, at least three times a week. Sundays are always a time for us to be together to do something together and afterward, sit around the dinner table and eat, talk, laugh and get caught up on what everyone has done the past week and what is happening for the next week. The dinner-table is, for me, one of the hearts of the home. My mother and father taught me that. We gathered there to eat, discuss things, tell stories and laugh, sort out problems and make plans for the future.

That's why when Andrea and I had 'the talk', it was in the kitchen; we eventually sat at the table.

"This has nothing to do with you, John. This has everything to do with me. This is just something that I need, and it is separate from you and I and our family."

Well, you would have thought that the woman saying those words was a complete stranger from the woman that I had been married to for eleven years. A woman that I shared a family with, a home with, a bed with.

She continued, "Don't fixate on it, John. In fact, you can really forget about it, because it will not affect you in any way. Our life is unchanged. Our family is unchanged. It hasn't affected you in any way yet, and believe me Sweetie, it will not in the future. "

I drew in a large breath because I realized that I wasn't breathing. "Really? You're serious? I should just forget about it? My wife is fucking some other man and I should just...forget about it? OH MY GOD!"

I exhaled. Breathing is such a difficult thing to remember to do. "And you just told me that you've been fucking 'Rob' for two years! What the hell, Andrea!"

She looked at me with an expression that said I was being ridiculous, "Sweetie, you've been very busy with your work, and so have I, and the kids are at the stage that their lives are very demanding on our time, and so this is just a little thing that takes the pressure off for me." She paused to let that bit of wisdom sink in, "If you think about it rationally, our sex life has been reduced quite a bit from what it was, but there isn't really anything we can do about it at this stage of our life. I mean, unless we can somehow add hours to the clock or pause time so that we can spend time fucking like we used to," She paused for effect again. "So, what I do is really not important to us. It is selfish of me, yes, I confess that, but I get to scratch that itch and come home to you and our daughters and be a good mother."

My mouth was open as I listened to this...nonsense. "Wait, you're equating infidelity with being a better wife and mother?" I turned my head a bit so that I could hear her better. I couldn't believe what I was hearing from the woman that I had been married to for eleven years. Suddenly the room began moving and it was as if I was on a fairground ride that was spinning out of control.

I dropped off the chair onto the floor managing to catch myself with one hand and then the contents of my stomach unceremoniously made an appearance. I projectile vomited on the kitchen floor. After a moment I staggered to my feet and as quickly as I could, made my way to the bathroom off the master bedroom, to finish the job. I was on my hands and knees with the dry heaves, and my face poised at the entrance to the porcelain bowl, trying to regain my self-control, when Andrea poked her head around the corner.

"I'm really sorry Sweetie, I didn't ever plan for you to find out this way. I figured that it was best that you not know. What good would come of it?" She watched me heave again and then got a face-cloth and ran it under cold water and passed it to me. I took it and wiped my face and mouth. Slowly, on very wobbly legs, I stood. I could see the expression on her face. She truly looked concerned. That was the mystifying part. That was what I couldn't figure out. Who was this woman? What had she done with my wife? Where was the real Andrea?

"Sweetie, I'll drop the girls off at school and I'll see you after work. I'll make supper and then after the girls are in bed, we can have a drink and talk, okay. "

Sweat was rolling off my face and I couldn't seem to muster any words that would express, in any measure, just what I wanted to say. I mean, Jesus Fucking Christ!

I could hear doors closing and her car starting so I slowly made my way off the bathroom floor, flopped on the bed and closed my eyes. I had to concentrate on not trying to throw up anymore. There was nothing left in my gut to come up, except may be what was left of the shattered pieces of my heart. The rest of the day was a blur. I remember calling in to my boss and telling him that I was sick and couldn't come to the office. I had some things that had to be rescheduled but nothing that couldn't wait a day or so.

The house was quiet and so I knew that Andrea and girls had left. I looked at my watch and realized that it was past 10 o'clock. I got undressed and stood in a hot shower for an eternity. Maybe a half-hour; but my ability to tell time was somehow impaired. I got dressed in some jeans and a shirt and went back to the kitchen. My earlier efforts had been cleaned up. The window was open and the smell had pretty much gone away.

I sat at the table, staring at it, hoping that it would give me some great revelation as to what the fuck had happened this morning. I began to formulate questions. So many things that I needed to know. But I really wanted to rewind time, to make the day better by not having found a box of condoms in my wife's handbag. Maybe she was right; maybe it was better that I didn't know. But now I do know. And she is the one to tell me.

My head started spinning again and I had to go lay down.

Move this paragraph....

Fuck. The 'talk' did not go well. This whole fucking mess started with my discovery of an unopened box of condoms in my wife's handbag. I was looking for her spare car key (she often ends up with both of the keys to her car in her bag) so that I could move her car. Her handbag was stuffed full of the detritus that occupies women's handbags. Finding a box of condoms there was...well, a million things went through my mind at the same time. While I was looking at the box of condoms, Andrea appeared in the kitchen and she merely took the box from my hand and put it back in her handbag.

*********

Later that same day

After my attempt to lay down and regain some semblance of...ability to think, I got up and went back to the kitchen. The scene of the crime, as it were. I got a large glass of ice water and went and got a pad of paper and pen. I downed three extra-strength Tylenol and drank the water as I started to make notes. I'm an engineer and we make notes about everything, at least the important things. I had a hard time focussing on the fucking paper. I started to make notes, but they were incomprehensible gibberish. I ripped the page off, balled it up and threw it into the corner. I started lots of points but always came around to the central issue of: what the hell happened to my marriage?

I got up and put the pad of paper away and figured that I needed to get outside and get some fresh air and maybe that would give me some clarity and an idea of what to do. I walked for almost two hours, to the point that I felt faint. I realized that what little food I had tried to eat at breakfast time had disappeared all too suddenly and I'd only had a glass of water since. I stopped at a diner and managed to get a bacon, tomato and lettuce sandwich into me, washed down with a diet cola. I did feel a bit better with some food in and me and then on the walk home I did come to some idea of what I wanted to talk to Andrea about.

I wanted to know why she had replaced me as her lover and what were her plans for the future? If she was leaving me, I was very certain that it would be without my daughters. I was very determined that they were not going to be victims here, and that I would fight for them with everything I had. Just because their mother couldn't keep her legs shut around men, was no reason that my children or I would suffer needlessly.

I love my wife, at least I did. Now, I'm not so sure. Where had things gone wrong? I was, in my own mind, thinking that, clearly, I wasn't enough husband for her. If I was, then why was she looking for love and sex with other men? Was her plan to leave me? Was she intending to take my children? Was the box of condoms in her handbag a slip-up on her part to keep her secret or was this an opportunity to bring it all out in the open and then make her moves. Jesus, this is driving me crazy.

*********

Andrea

I made sure that I was home a bit early, I wanted to make a nice meal for us and spend some time after supper with the girls and John and be a family, all together.

John wasn't home when the girls and I arrived but his car was there. I figured that maybe he went for a run to get his head wrapped around what we had talked about earlier this morning. I had tried to be a bit flippant about it and make a joke of it, but John wasn't laughing and his reaction, when I thought about it, was certainly normal. I mean, how do you react when your wife says that she is having sex with some other man? I suppose I could have handled it better than that, but John finding the condoms threw me off my guard; thus, my feeble attempt to make a joke of it. I needed to get a grip on the situation, before things got out of hand and we headed into problems.

When John got home he was very quiet. He watched me like a hawk, circling to pounce on its prey. He said very little to me other than muted grunts and the occasional 'yup' or 'nope.' I wore one of my tightest pair of jeans and a sleeveless blouse and had pinned my hair up, just the way that John likes it. I even spritzed on some of the perfume that I know he really likes. I wanted to be attractive to him and let him know that what we needed to talk about wasn't going to threaten him in any way.

After supper the girls did their homework, I tidied the kitchen and then we went outside for a bit of fresh air, shooting some baskets in the driveway. John is always up for that, but tonight he sat inside and didn't say a word as we went outside. I was really starting to doubt the decision to indulge my fantasies outside my marriage. It was only once a week and during the afternoon, and I always, always, always made sure that we used condoms and I was clean, outside and in, coming home. I never allowed my Thursday indulgence to interfere in any way with John and the girls.

There were lots of times that I had cancelled my Thursday. Work, family and personal reasons sometimes affected what I did. But every single time I made sure that my family came first. Thursday was to indulge that 'itch' that needed scratched. It was something that just happened. Rob and I got to know each other after I went to work at the real estate agency. He's married and has a family about the same ages as my kids. I found that John and I never had time for just us. We almost had to schedule sex. That made it really exciting. I'm being sarcastic now. But I know, you're thinking, that I'm a slut for cheating on my husband. Maybe you're right. Maybe you're wrong.

John is a great husband and father. He works very hard to make sure that he provides for his family and I know that he does that with the understanding that if we had to live off just his income, we could it. So, he thinks of my income as a bonus, and we bank a bunch of it. A big chunk had gone to pay down the mortgage early and some for renovations to the house, but our savings and investment account is also healthy. Problem is, that with a demanding career and three busy kids, there isn't time for us. There isn't time to indulge ourselves and connect as a couple, as lovers. We used to be at each other almost every night. Now, it's lucky if we have sex once a week. I need more and I know that John wants more, too. Sex with John is great, why do you think we have three kids; and we're only just past thirty years old.

My Thursday indulgence was something that I wanted to feed my needs. I didn't want to make John feel bad by pestering him for sex that was going to be rushed and unfulfilling. Who wants that? I decided a while ago that I needed to do something that would give me what I wanted but, I had to make sure that it didn't impact in any way on my family. Really, they do come first, but I figured that there was a way for me to get what I needed and not put my future at risk. So far, I was right. But now, the challenge was to protect my family and give me the ability to keep doing what I was doing. That was the tricky part; how to not make my husband feel threatened and allow me to keep having my Thursdays.

*********

'He walks, you say sit down, it's just a talk.

Let him know that you know best'

Andrea

The kids were in bed and now was as good a time as any to talk. I got some wine from the refrigerator and poured some for me and got John some of his favourite beer. It was an IPA from a local craft brewery. My heart was beating pretty fast and I had to admit to myself that I didn't really have a lot of confidence that this talk would go the way that I wanted it to. A lot was at stake here.

"Sweetie, sit down, we need to talk." John looked at me sideways and slowly sat. I pushed the glass of beer to him.

I started, "I have to tell you that you have nothing to worry about. I'm not doing anything that will impact you or the children. No matter what you may think, you and they come first in my life."

John looked at me like I had two heads. I pressed on. "Really, Dear. This is not something that you need to worry about. I'm your wife. I love you, very much."

Then John countered with, "Yes, I suppose that you love me, but are you in-love with me?"

He was good. "Yes, Dear. I'm very much in-love with you. I have been since I met you and my love for you has gotten bigger every day and then it leaped again with every child we have had. I'm so happy with our life. Our children are perfect and you're perfect."

His mouth was open a bit and when he tried to speak, but his words wouldn't come out. He took a small drink to lubricate his throat. "So, what the hell are you doing having sex with some other man?"

I looked at my husband, "Well, that's a bit hard to explain, but I suppose I need to try. I owe you that."

I took a small drink and started. "It started as a fantasy, we all have them, I know you do, we've even talked about some of them when we have sex. And then it grew. It got bigger as we got busier with our lives. Your work, my work, the girls, life. We spent less and less time with each other. I wanted you so much that it hurt. But I knew that it wasn't going to happen. I had an 'itch' that needed scratching and you weren't always here to scratch it for me. You were busy with work, taking the girls to their activities, I was busy with work. My schedule is crazy. How many evenings and weekends have I had to work and you have had to work and it was impossible for us to be together?"

There was a pause, I needed a small drink. "So, I came to the conclusion that I needed this. I know that it might sound ridiculous, but it's what I needed. I needed the satisfaction that having sex brings to me. It calms me down, makes me feel good. Rob is able to help scratch the itch that I need scratched. We meet only once a week and we limit it to just an hour or so. It's just enough to make me able to get through the days and the week. I can't get enough of you, so, I substitute him for you."

John was staring blankly at the table in front of him. I could tell that he didn't know what to say or do. I pushed on.

"Sweetie, I want nothing more than for you to take me to the bedroom and fuck the living daylights out of me. That's what makes me feel like your wife, your woman." I put the emphasis on 'your.' With a quieter voice I said, "But I need this, for me. Right now, and for just a while longer, until our lives change a bit and we have more time for each other. So, please be patient with me and know that I'm yours. Totally. And I always will be. "

I got up from the table and took John by the hand and led him to the bedroom. He walked without saying a word. I undressed in front of him and then undressed him and got on my knees and took his cock in my mouth. It gave him away. It wasn't long before he was hard and then I went-to-town on it taking all seven inches of him so that my nose was nudging his pubic bone. He grabbed the back of my head and pulled me into him and fucked my mouth. I wanted him so much; and this was only the start.

You're thinking that I was a cheating bitch but that I professed to love my husband. Well, I suppose I was cheating, but I do love my husband. But I need him to give me this for a little while longer. I need him to give me the space to get what I need and I can be an even better wife for him and mother to our children. My happiness was the key to making me that better wife and mother. My Thursday afternoon was something that I intended to keep doing, for a little while longer. After all, I do know best. I know that this is what I need, for now. John will understand. He will let me do this. He loves me enough to understand and to let me do this.