Put a Little Love in Your Heart

I returned to my condo around 10:30pm -- I recognized the smell, and it was beautiful. It was the smell of a beautiful reconciliation, and I was so happy for Rita. Her stroke was more than partially due to her agony over the loss of her family. In one-half day, Peter and Rita re-pledged a love that somehow fell off the tracks. I would be alone again, but for a while, at least, it would be a happy alone. When it was time for Peter to leave on Sunday, they announced their intentions.

"Robert, Peter has asked me to come home with him. In this short time, he reminded me that he was still in love with me, and I was in love with him. We're going to get me back to the Dallas area so I can rejoin my family. I'm very scared but it wouldn't have been possible if you had not been with me these past months. Peter will be back next week, and we'll load my stuff into a rental truck and leave. I want to be with you to say a proper goodbye until he returns. He said he owes you more than he could ever repay."

I wondered about that comment -- was he inviting me to have sex with his wife? Or was he assuming that we had already been doing that for months. I doubled my resolve -- she's a beautiful woman but nothing should get in the way of their reconciliation.

Peter's return was way too soon but I knew I was minutes away from losing the second woman I truly loved. But the truck was loaded and ready to roll. Peter hugged me and said "Thank you for saving us. I was already lost without her but I would have been devastated if she had died." Rita hugged me long and hard. I didn't think this petite woman had muscles that strong. She said something about a message on the phone and slipped me a piece of paper. I looked at it quickly and it didn't seem to make any sense. I put it in my wallet for safe keeping. I helped her into the cab of the rental truck, blew her a kiss and they headed in the direction of Dallas, Texas. Ten minutes later, my cell phone rang. It was a new number -- it was Rita. She called me to say, "I know I will see you again! I wish you every happiness and the love of your family once more in your life."

The truck had been long out of sight and as I returned to my condo, I murmured, "I can only wish. Ralph, can you make another miracle happen? I didn't think so!" Since it was spring, I heard a clap of thunder -- of course, I saw the lightning too! "Is that you Ralph" I laughed and instantly there was another flash.

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Dallas Texas, June 25, 2021

Rita was still glowing in her reunion with her family. She'd been home -- yes, her real home -- now for about ten weeks. Peter was smiling again. Her kids told her it had been rare to see him smile all the years she was away. Yes, her infidelity had kicked him in the head, and the girls still held some animosity towards her. But seeing their dad smile again made them know forgiveness was underway.

Today, it's a special day. After working through the issues of their reunion, Peter decided to throw a neighborhood party. Rita would get a chance to get acquainted with the neighbors that Pete and the kids have been friends with for 12 years. Of course, not all of them had lived there for that extended period. The limited turnover of homes in this desired neighborhood meant it was easy to get the know the new folks.

As the families trickled in, Rita was overwhelmed with trying to remember names. Most came in as families but one family, a woman with her three older kids -- all college age or older came inside, and Peter offered her a warm greeting. Peter explained to me that she told him she was a widow, losing her husband 10 years ago. She was sad talking about him -- he was an alcoholic. "Pete, I want to get to know her better -- she has sad eyes. I know that look -- it's been mine for the past ten years. Maybe I can pay Robert's kindness forward!"

With Pete's full agreement, Rita set out to become friends with Joan. Joan's youngest had been 11 years old when he lost his father. His name was Greg. Now 21, he was in his final year at Texas A&M. There was a second boy named Peter -- he's 23 - graduated from Texas Tech with a degree in engineering and recently joined an oil exploration firm. Her daughter -- Sarah -- was a CPA and was married with a 12-month-old girl and a husband named Roger. Rita learned a great deal about Joan's background during their almost daily talks.

By mid-August, the two were such close friends -- so close, that any barriers were down, and both started coming clean about their pasts. Rita disclosed how it was her infidelity that broke her bond with a good and loving husband and ultimately the loss of her children. Joan could tell the pain in her heart as she decided to be brutally honest about what she had done to her family.

Joan's Story

I wondered what I would say to Rita. It sounded like her life had some similarities to mine -- we both did stupid things during our marriages that cost us greatly. Rita's situation was different. Her infidelity cost her their marriage, access to the kids, and a lifestyle that almost cost her life. How can I tell someone who paid a high price, that I got away "free of the stain of sin"? Could I tell Rita I had an alcoholic husband who was verbally abusive, and I was afraid for my kids? Sure, that's what I told everyone at first after my family broke apart. I would need to admit that since moving to this new neighborhood, I just tell everyone I'm a widow and my kids even go along with that.

But the other day, Rita and I began telling more truths. I decided to tell Rita the absolute truth!

"I had a good husband. He loved me dearly and the kids as well. He started his own company but eventually sold it to a larger company getting stock in exchange. His salary was excellent, so we never lacked anything. I was 39 years old, and I got stupid -- I had an affair with a co-worker for almost a year. I didn't get caught so when I had an opportunity to start another one, I did that too. I figured I'd never get caught until I did -- not just once, but twice. My husband forgave me the first time and I told him I broke it off with that guy. I noticed my husband now doing a lot of drinking and he passed out a lot of nights. I figured I had no need to break it off with the second guy since some nights he was incoherent. Then, he caught us at our home, in our bed and he went into a rage!"

Rita told me to take a break and offered me some wine. Rita wouldn't touch it -- she knew her past alcoholism was always a fault that could hurt badly.

I took a sip and continued with my story. "When I saw my husband the next day, he had been on a 20-hour drunk. I'm not sure he heard what I said clearly, but I think he understood. I yelled that he was a drunk, a bad father, and a terrible lover. He could stick around but I was still going to enjoy my lover a couple of times a week. "You'll be a cuckold for the rest of your life -- I did that to the man I loved"

Rita realized that I had pushed my husband out the door and probably never saw him again. "Joan, so do you know if you really are a widow or are you just divorced?"

"Rita, I'm not even divorced! After that event, my lover Ed started complaining that sex wasn't as good as it had been and what was my problem. As I started thinking about it, I had been a good, no - not good -- GREAT lover when I wanted to humiliate my husband. How evil I had become! I had one more affair that year -- it didn't give me any satisfaction. For the past 10 years I've been celibate with no desire for sex." With my story finished, I sat there and cried like I should have during the last 12 years.

Rita promised to tell me her story tomorrow. Mine had taken the entire afternoon. I was not proud of myself, but she gave me the biggest hug and said to stop hating myself. If your husband is still out there, he's probably already forgiven you!

RITA'S STORY

I tried to get Joan on the phone for a couple of days. Her son said she had taken a couple of days off from work because she wasn't feeling well. I knew why! Joan had torn a tightly wrapped bandage from her body after 10 years and it hurt so bad. Now in the light of day, in the fresh air, with a little tender love and care, I hoped I could help her get back her happiness. My Robert had done that for me. He was wounded, almost mortally but yet he crawled out of the gutter -- the one he created for himself and threw himself back in almost every day. But, with time, he repaired himself and even admitted he was a much better man and person as he helped me. I never got a final number from the hospital, but I know at one point the cost of my care exceeded $100,000. It was the generosity of people that enabled him to get his money back but he immediately gave it back to them for future care of indigent patients.

I finally reached Joan and she said she was feeling a little better and invited my husband and I over for dinner on Saturday. I said I would be happy to, and we could continue our discussion if she was still ready to hear my story. Joan said, "Won't your husband feel uncomfortable hearing about your past and even your time with your friend... where were you then?"

I replied, "in Cincinnati" and Joan said she thought her ex-husband might have lived there a while after their divorce. I chuckled that Cincinnati is as boring a city as you will ever find. Wonderful, boring people -- most would do anything for you.

"Oh, and Joan, my time with my friend was very special but we were never intimate. I felt the urge, but he was so focused on me regaining the memories from my past and my 'personality' that we kissed like brother and sister but never in the way I did with my husband before I lost my way! When Peter came to his condo that day to reconnect with me, my friend did all the right things. By nighttime, Peter and I made love like newlyweds. It was the most exciting day in my life!"

After dinner, my husband went in to sit with Joan's youngest son. He's a senior at Texas A&M and football season in Texas is underway and, here, we even treat high school football as a 'must see' event. Joan and I sat in her dining room and just started chatting after the dishes were cleared.

"Joan, we seemed to have experienced almost parallel lives. It was so odd to discover that we're close to the same age and had similar experiences growing up and, I guess, got stupid about the same time. My marriage to Peter was great and we were happy. We had our two kids, both girls and you have your two boys and a girl. I was never much of a partier in college but worked in an office where the women formed their own sorority and found ways to get a little wild. I should have known as in my first year there, two of our co-workers got divorced. But back then, you just knew the husband had done something bad. Those girls that were out with you kissing other guys during the after-work events must have caught them.

Well, I was the oldest of them -- I think I was 38 at the time and a guy transferred into our office from Chicago and I thought he was a doll. He was 33 and single -- or so he said. Turns out, he was my age (38) and married but his wife needed to remain in Chicago until the house sold and her school year ended both for the kids but also her teaching job. Well once I started up, and even after I learned what a liar Russ was, I continued. Peter found out, confronted me, and gave me an ultimatum, NO MORE. I agreed and then went back to find another Russ. My drinking was getting bad -- girls' night after work became an almost daily event. Peter got mad one night, got a babysitter for the kids and arrived at the bar that he figured I was using. He guessed right at the wrong time. I found my new stud -- only he was going to be a stud for the night, and I had my legs spread in the back of his car when Peter found me. All he did was take a couple of pictures of me "in flagrante delicto" and headed home. I was served with a petition for divorce two weeks later and went to court about 4 months later. I was the cheater, and he became the cheated! The court system was typical Cincinnati -- just like the pilots used to say when you landed there, "Ladies and Gentlemen, you've just landed at the Greater Cincinnati Airport. Please set your watches back 20 years!"

I was happy. I got the kids, the house, and most of Peter's paychecks - $2500 a month in child support and alimony. Lots of parting gifts for my acts of infidelity. Those checks coming in like clockwork on top of my paycheck made me so happy I started to drink even more. It was almost two years later that Peter's parents filed a complaint with the Child Protectives Services agency, and I was investigated. They said to straighten myself up or they would need to act. I feel so much shame for what I need to say next, but I need to be honest. There was a next time -- four months later I went out after work, got sloppy drunk, and went with a guy to his house. After we had sex, I passed out and woke up at 9am the next morning. It took me until noon when my fuzzy head cleared that I remembered my kids. I left them in the house all night and by the time I got there, Peter's parents had them at their house and there was a restraining order against me coming within 500 feet of their home. Peter asked for an emergency hearing with the family court, and I had my custody revoked, alimony and child support terminated, and the house was placed back in my husband's hands. Only one more bad thing could possibly happen to me, and it did. Four months later, I was fired by my company for excess absences. That was on the termination papers -- actually, I was caught drunk at work.

It's odd, no one told me that my family had relocated to Dallas. My husband's company moved out of the Cincinnati area as they had acquired a retail chain that was very strong in the southeast and southwest United States and the airport service was far superior to Cincinnati after Delta dropped its hub status.

So, I got another job at about half pay compared to my previous job and still drank. Only instead of drinking in bars, I drank at home. Instead of Bombay Sapphire, I was drinking Gilbey's and buying it in the 1.75-liter bottles. My binging usually lasted 10 days or so. I thought I had hit the bottom when I started dating guys to have a decent meal and to get fucked. I didn't care about the love part. I was totally humiliated by the time a year went by and decided to stop trading sex for a dinner at Applebee's. But the alcohol always continued, until my first episode of acute alcoholism. Memory loss -- quite severe, no near-term memory -- classic blackout symptoms and I started to go cold turkey. I was good for almost two years. Yes, I still had a drink or two, but infrequently and always in moderation. At least I thought it was moderation until that man I was telling you about found me wandering the street, murmuring to myself, and wondering who I was. I'd probably still be in a mental hospital in Cincinnati if it wasn't for him.

He suspected that I had a stroke and being a recovering addict as well, knew it was probably an outcome of my excessive drinking days. I had no insurance, no hospital would take me, but an ambulance dropped me at Good Samaritan and this man stayed with me. When the hospital said they were going to transfer me because I was an indigent patient, he took out his checkbook and wrote the hospital a check for $50,000. He dared them to wait until they verified, he could cover it when a neurosurgeon came by and had the nurses bring me back to a treatment room in the ER. Two hours later, they found a leak in my brain -- probably from the excessive drinking but if it wasn't treated quickly, I could become another vegetable in a ward of the state of Ohio.

I didn't recover quickly but my special friend was with me every step of the way. He even took me into his home -- a beautiful condo overlooking the Ohio River. It was the nicest place I'd ever seen. I cooked and cleaned with him -- he was retired after having sold his business and then liquidating his shares when the stock value soared. He was working with AA in appreciation for their help in regaining his sobriety and several downtown Cincinnati charities that cared for the homeless and those unable to obtain adequate food each month. We did some of that together when I was able and after a few weeks, some of my memory came back.

By this point, I had asked him if I could sleep with him for comfort and warmth. It was a bitter cold winter in Cincinnati, and we had returned from a soup kitchen one night and were chilled to the bone. We both agreed we were broken, and a sexual relationship would not be right -- maybe later, but not now. I was able to learn his full story, including his alcoholism, him leaving his family, and the shame he felt for his acts.

It was a couple of weeks after the new year when the TV station asked if I was willing to do an interview. They said someone might recognize me and it would help me regain my memory. My friend didn't want to do it. I realized he didn't want to be seen in the limelight for doing a good deed. But he agreed since he knew it might be good if someone would see my face as part of the story. Well, nothing came of it in Cincinnati but apparently some ABC affiliates, including the one in Dallas, picked up the story and showed it during a morning news segment.

You know, I recall now that he once asked me if I knew what this telephone number was for -- (214) 2XX-1234. When he said it, I had no idea -- then he said I'd was talking in my sleep and started repeating it back like I was on the phone with somebody and repeated it back to them so I could call them back. Apparently, I had done these three nights in a row. I didn't think any more about it and he didn't ask again. He recalled it again when our ABC station gave him the number to call -- (214)2XX-1234!

Since I didn't work -- my friend said he had more than enough money for both of us to live on, I paid him back by running errands. I went grocery shopping one day and came back almost two hours later.

My friend met me at the door and said "Rita, we need to talk!" I was scared stiff. What did I do? Please, don't throw me out! I'm still so vulnerable. We went to sit down but I started shaking, almost in a convulsive state and crying in sobbing waves. He reached out to comfort me and assured me it was nothing bad, but he had something to tell me.

"That number Rita, the one you kept repeating in your sleep, it was for a detective agency in Dallas. They are working for a client there that is searching for a Rita Collins. Her maiden name was Scott. Is that you? They said they reached your answering machine one day and left a message. In your sleep, you were recalling that number since they asked you to call them back.

My memory was back but not reliable. I suspected that Collins was my married name but Scott? Something about my past flashed across my brain -- I saw a man, yes, he's my father and my mother is calling to him -- "Scotty, go get Rita and come into dinner!" Yes, I was a Scott. My Mom called my Dad Scotty!

My friend said he was pretty sure that was right and already advised the agency that he thinks he knows her and where she is. He told me "Your husband and kids are looking for you! They hoped you were still alive and suspected that you'd still be in Cincinnati, so it was a good guess. Rita, they want to come to see you -- they want you to come home with them.

It turned out that Peter hired a Private Investigation agency to find me and one of their agents saw the segment on the news. They called our station in Cincinnati, they then called my friend, and he set up my first conversation with Peter in nearly 10 years. Now I'm back in my family's life, but I think of my friend every day! He's so alone! I wish him a happy life, like mine is now. I cried my eyes out that night. Oh my God, what could I possibly tell them to make them love me again, but even worse at that moment, how could I leave my good friend -- this man I love. I love him dearly and can't leave him -- he was still searching for comfort in his life!