The Mistake

I guess I should have seen.... Well okay, I did see the signs but in my arrogance and delusion I never thought that Catherine, my beautiful wife of twelve years would seek the companionship of another guy. I mean. Seriously? I only go with the guys for a drink after work and normally get home in time for dinner. Of course, once in a while it gets a little rowdy because of some happening somewhere. You know. There was a thunderstorm on the Falkland islands that needed a toast. Somebody had a baby. Somewhere. Simple things that kind of led to a late night out.

I drank sparingly so I normally got home still reasonably sober. Well, most nights. There were a few that got out of hand but I never came home staggeringly drunk. Well, not often.

We still made beautiful love on the odd chance that I was home early but come to think of it, lately it came about because of me initiating it. It has been a while since Catherine started the thing. Another sign that I missed. Well okay. I ignored it.

But seriously. What is her problem? We saved up an attractive amount of money and made a substantial down payment on a very comfortable house in a good neighbourhood. I said 'we'? Come to think of it, yes, we saved up. She still drives the little runabout she had when we met. Nothing wrong with it. It runs like a charm so why change it? I bought a medium sized SUV a while ago but that was a necessity. My second car since we met was getting a little out of fashion so an upgrade was called for. Nothing wrong with the old one though. I sometimes see it around town, driven by a guy about my age and he looks quite happy with it.

Come to think of it. I think I missed a number of those silly things women regard as important. Like her birthday for instance. I didn't forget it. I remembered it in the pub and we had a good number of toasts to a wonderful lady. She was a little peeved when I staggered into the house and explained my condition to her, laughingly blaming her birthday for the mishap.

On our last anniversary I played golf all day and then went to watch some concert in a park with the boys. I enjoyed the music and the copious glasses of beer. She could have gone to the movies with her friends. Why wait up for me just to show me her puffed out cheeks. Seriously?

And yet, there I stood, looking at her sharing a table with Alex. Alex was a great guy and we used to move in the same circle of friends. Loved his wife completely and doted on her. Never went anywhere without her, except to work. Four years ago a drunk ran a red light and turned him into a widower.

As loving men do, he kind of derailed. He lost his job due to an expensive mistake because he didn't concentrate. His turning point came about when he lost his house and had to move into a drab low income housing scheme. Thanks to a shining career before the tragedy he found employment again and through diligence and hard work, he went through a number of promotions. Last I heard he was being groomed for yet another promotion.

Silently the good guy in me wished him luck in his job. The bad guy wished him paralysed fingers and a load of camel fleas in his balls.

There is a whole world out there. Why woo my Catherine? Yes, she is rather pretty. Well, okay. She is strikingly beautiful and blessed with something close to the perfect body. In my mind anyway.

Strangely it was not her beauty that grabbed my complete attention one evening in a library. Her voice did. I heard her speak softly to a friend and I was a goner. I went around the bookshelf and stood there listening to her talking. Her friend noticed me and nudged Catherine to be quiet. Where I got the brazen guts to do it I never will know but I stepped forward and after introducing myself, I asked her to continue speaking. I just wanted to listen. Of course they thought I was a weirdo and left, leaving me to stand there and kick myself for being a fool.

After that I spent every day in the library and then at last, one day she came walking in. As our eyes met I playfully covered my eyes and mouth with my hands and chuckled. She stopped and greeted me. My mind went blank but eventually got itself in gear again and I shrugged with a lopsided grin.

"Sorry about that incident Miss. It must have sounded creepy."

"It did."

I nodded and stood there looking at my feet wondering why it was rather easy telling a woman that she is pretty but telling her that she has a beautiful voice borders on a sexual harassment felony.

For weeks I still spent every free moment in the library and made a point of having something interesting to share with her every time we met. In time her visits to the library became regular and we started dating a few weeks later. Our relationship simply accelerated because we both knew. We were life partners so we got married before the year was out. For years it was bliss and then it fizzled out.

It fizzled out to the point where I now stood looking at my wife with another guy at a table in a very cosy and romantic restaurant. I knew they had long ago done the Deed. It was obvious in the comfortable way they looked at each other and confirmation of it was simple. For weeks now I had tried to get Catherine fired up but I may as well have tried to melt snow in a freezer.

As she reached over and softly caressed the side of his face, I turned and walked away. It hurt. It hurt a lot. In fact it hurt so much that I almost sobbed with the pain of it.

As I walked I came up to her little runabout again, parked neatly in the street with no real attempt at hiding. I felt shame fold over me. The little car's paint was dull. I used to clean it every weekend and lovingly polished it to a lustre. When did I stop doing that?

Many things are indicative of a disturbed mind. Losing your temper at an inanimate thing is right there at the top. I did the really odd thing. I leaned over and kissed the little car right there where the A pillar met the roof, feeling my heart break. Had it been smaller I would have hugged it.

I'm sure I was stared at by a multitude of people as I walked to my own car, parked quite a ways up the street. I don't think a PhD was needed to see I was an emotional wreck. Once I got to the car I sat in it for quite some time before pulling my phone from my pocket and typed a message I should have sent long ago.

"Cut me from the group guys. It has been fun but I'm done. Ciao"

I drove home slowly, listening to messages coming through but ignored it. Once the phone rang and I grabbed at it, only to see Jack's name on the display. I let it go to voicemail while I struggled to breathe properly. Why did I hope it was Catherine? And if it was, what was I to say?

Instead of driving into the garage with the SUV, I parked it outside where Catherine's little road pimple used to be left because her side of the garage was cluttered with my junk. Pride of place, right in the middle of the floor, my golf clubs, where I had left it after the last game. Expensive stuff that was supposed to bring my game into single figures. It didn't. In fact, my game crashed because the clubs did not suit me at all but they were expensive so I argued that I was at fault. I was. Not because of my game but the conviction that a good game can be bought. Yeah right.

The meal I was supposed to have had with the boys was not going to happen and even as upset as I was, an irritating hunger gnawed at me. Opening the fridge I looked at a few cans of beer and reached down for one. As I gripped it I stopped dead.

Was I hungry or was my body craving alcohol?

The test was simple. In front of me was a small bowl of potato salad, left over from some previous meal, made by Catherine maybe in the hope I would share it with her. I always was a sucker for potato salad and Catherine made the boss of them all. Finely chopped onions, lightly singed in butter to take the anger out of them, with a sprinkle of celery and just a whiff of parsley mixed with a tangy full cream mayonnaise, finely shredded boiled egg, a goodly dollop of sweetened condensed milk, a tease of smoke essence and small cubes of cheddar. Sometimes even pickles or whole mustard found their way in there. If she was wooing me, just a hint of Basil happened to slip in there by accident....

I looked at the small bowl and wondered if it would taste like a cloud. Just the thought of taking a bite was disappointing and my mind was made up.

The cans of beer went into a basket, along with a fair collection of pricey liquor. Three houses down I gave it to John Humphries, a careful drinker and connoisseur of Scotch.

"You giving up on the booze boy?" he asked with a friendly frown and I shook my head.

"Only the selfish stuff John."

He nodded and showed me to follow him into the house but I declined. "Thanks John but not tonight."

"Something griping you boy?"

I snickered and sighed. "Yes, there is but that is a story for another day. Say hi to Stella for me."

He chuckled. "I'll return the basket with some of Stella's cookies. Have coffee ready," he smiled and sauntered down the corridor leaving me standing at the front door wishing things I had no idea of.

Once I was inside the house again I went at that potato salad. It quickly brought back memories I didn't need right then but hunger and the heavenly taste drove me on so I cleaned it out. I washed the bowl and then stood around wondering what to do. Listening to music sounded like a bad idea. I knew. The first tragic love song to float from those speakers will have me in a heap of misery.

The house was clean. Catherine kept it so. The garage was a mess. My fault and selfishness.

It was late by the time I sat down on a toolbox to survey a clean garage. Those things I hoarded in there for my own pleasure went to the attic. Golf clubs some of the first. The lawnmower got a clean-up and minor service as did other tools held on site for the house.

I had heard my phone beep earlier on and now I opened the messages. A multitude from my drinking buddies wanting to know what was going on. I skipped those and opened the one that stood out as if on fire. I read it and in the privacy of our garage I broke down. It was a mixture of pride and incredible hurt. Pride because she didn't lie to me. Hurt because I had hoped all evening....

"Had something to drink and I am spending the night with a friend. Sleep well."

Some little bastard of evil on my shoulder wanted me to type "Give my regards to Alex" but I fought it and made for the truth.

"Home. Cleaned the garage. The potato salad was fantastic. Have fun and sleep well."

I fell asleep somewhere in the small hours of the night after almost suffocating on pillows pushed to my face but it worked. Early dawn found me staring at the ceiling. I washed the sleep from my eyes but contrary to my typical morning after a night with the boys, I felt rested. My body wanted to get going but I knew the neighbours may tar and feather me if I started the lawnmower at a few minutes past sunrise on a Saturday morning.

For the first time in forever I went to our entertainment centre and popped very specific CD's into it. With music ranging from heavy classic to heavy metal I sat there loudly fighting with Catherine, Alex, myself and even some figments of my imagination. I roared in anger. Wept a little. Begged some more. Promised the world. Laughed at my own lame jokes. Sat there wishing and hoping

Instead of going for a round of golf, I got stuck into the garden. By the time Catherine arrived I had done the lawn and was about halfway through the flowerbeds. I was excited. In my mind's eye I could see flowering plants creating colourful patterns. I wanted to get my ass into a nursery, and fast.

She got out of her car and gave me a long look while I made every effort to act as if I was blissfully unaware of her presence. I took note of the fact that she was still wearing the same dress she had when I saw her with Alex. Could it mean the stay-over was not planned or was she not so stupid? She eventually went into the house and I carried on working, hoping she would bring me some coffee. Not that I wanted it. I needed the gesture.

When she eventually appeared she was dressed in a T shirt and slacks with her hair tied up for a casual day. She was carrying a glass of fruit juice and I came upright, smiling my honest gratitude. As I bent over to greet her with a kiss I could smell the lingering scent of soap. For a moment I nursed the thought that she had had a shower to remove the odour of early morning sex from her body but I gritted my teeth and pushed it down.

"You've been busy?" she grinned at me as I drank down the cool drink and I nodded.

"An occupied mind does not dwell while the body is busy," I said smiling and nearly corrected myself for saying something that could have led to awkward questions. I saw the shadow of a question fly through her eyes but stopped it by handing her the empty glass. "I want to go to a nursery for some plants to put in here. Wanna come along?"

I knew this woman. If I blew at her she would have fallen over backward but she recovered beautifully.

"I need to do some shopping."

It could have been an attempt at getting out of it but I shrugged. "So? I can tag along and then go to the nursery."

And as sure as God made little apples she smiled at me. Her happy smile. My heart lurched and I hugged her to me. For seconds it felt great and then it hurt like hell as she wriggled to be released. As I opened my arms and stepped back from her the hurt must have shone from my face like a light for she lifted the glass and giggled apologetically. "A hug with a glass crushing a boob is not quite pleasant."

"Sorry."

"Thanks for the hug anyway." She looked me up and down and laughed softly. "For a trip to the nursery you are appropriately dressed but I think it may be a good idea to have a shower and put on something that does not smell like turf if you want me to walk by your side in a mall."

If I had not seen her with Alex that simple sentence would have been just that. A simple sentence. Small talk between a couple. As it was it hit me like a fist in the solar plexus. Hurt and regret fighting with the small glimmering of joy, trying to turn it into anger. I took off, almost running to the house, leaving a perplexed Catherine staring after me. I was in no hurry to have a shower. I needed to get away from her because my eyes smarted with tears trying to force themselves out and over my cheeks and if she saw me like that.... How was I going to explain it without blowing this thing sky high?

The shower did wonders. I rinsed a lot of pain down the drain and I was fine until I walked into our bedroom to find clean clothes laid out on the bed for me. The little shit sitting on my shoulder whispered in my ear that she was trying to cover her tracks. Soft soaping the fool.

I sat on the foot of the bed and once again argued with myself. Convincing myself.

I loved her. Deeply. I had to see this thing through. She was to blame, of course. So was I. Once or twice I admired a rather beautiful woman and strangely, sometimes even wondered what they would look like in orgasm. I never pursued it but quite honestly? It was because of my own lack of confidence around women. The very idea of approaching a woman with a proposition made me cringe.

Women think with their hearts and consequently come to strange decisions based on feelings. Men think. Period. We meet sometimes. Somewhere. Female logic rules that they need to be nurtured. Their idea of nurturing of course, based on a definition not even God himself can understand. Small wonder that the Bible is written with men being the senior of the tribe and women....

Yeah well. Enough said.

I got dressed trying to remember the last time she had laid out my clothes. Another sign that things were out of kilter.

I came down the steps, still tying my buttons but feeling happy enough to float into the lounge. I still had a whole shipload of hurt weighing me down but as I saw her sitting at the island in the kitchen, waiting for me with a cup of coffee, I remembered a piece of wisdom that said that happiness can nullify even the deepest pain. It only needed time.

It still hurt but I could feel a glimmering of happiness softening the whole thing.

"I think I pulled a bubble of fat there in the garden this morning," I offered as excuse to make her drive the SUV. Something I didn't easily do because.... Not because she was a bad driver. On the contrary. I just wanted her to do whatever she wanted. Without Alex of course....

At the mall we acted as many long married couples do. Walking, looking and sometimes talking but rarely touching. Once inside the supermarket she needed me to look at something and grabbed me by the hand to pull me closer. I held on to that hand as if it was a life buoy, refusing to let go. More than once she had to agitate her hand to get me to release it so that she could handle something but I was ready to grab hold of it the moment she had it free again. I know she gave me a few searching looks. I saw her.

We paid for the groceries and left for the nursery. I blew the budget. Well, the budget I had set to give me enough money to play anyway. She wanted to add but I softly shoved her purse into her handbag.

It was fun. Once we got home and I had carried everything from the car we tried to remember why we had bought a particular seedling and eventually just paid it out at random and planted it, hoping it would look as good as we thought it may.

Lunch had been a sandwich eaten in the nursery while walking the isles of seedlings so we did not need to break for something to eat. Once all the seedlings were planted and Catherine had gone for a shower, I jumped into the car and made tracks to the nearest supermarket where I bought a complete car wash kit.

As was Catherine's thing on a Saturday, she curled up on the sofa with a book and soon she was asleep. I pushed her road pimple onto the driveway and gave it a thorough wash. Inside I even used a small bottle brush to clean the air vents. The carpets got vacuumed and then I grabbed the carpet cleaner for a deep down clean before pushing the little thing into the shade of the garage.

The polish I had bought was new to me but I quickly discovered that I had done myself a favour. It was some newfangled formula that did most of the elbow grease work for me but even then I was left with a lame arm from rubbing due to a rather thick layer of oxidised paint. The result was spectacular though....

We hadn't gone out to dinner for quite a while and I was a little careful of spoiling things by going overboard or too fast so we settled for a light pasta dish to take us to breakfast and I cooled down the whole 'new me' thing by going for a walk as I sometimes did. A long one. By the time I got back home she was sleeping soundly.

In the dim light coming from a nearby street lamp I stood looking at her. It had happened in the past and it had happened last night that she did not sleep with me. Only last night had any significance because I knew she was with someone else.

Did she enjoy it? Did he make her whine with her need for release? Did she arch her back for him? Did she whisper his name in that liquid voice when she came? Did she pull him deeper into her, rubbing him against that incredible patch of roughness deep inside her to make him explode?

I stood there looking at her sleeping peacefully and rammed the dragon of ego back into his lair of guilt. Had I been less of a conceited and selfish asshole I would not have had to even wonder at these things.

The long and rather brisk walk necessitated another shower and once done I shaved and dabbed her favourite aftershave just lightly on my face before crawling downstairs again. Freshly applied aftershave can be a little too much....