The Mistake

It was quite some time later before I crawled upstairs again and very carefully slid into bed next to her. As always I touched her somewhere and this was no exception but I kept it cool by simply tucking my foot against hers. To my joy she reacted, increasing the pressure by just that little bit. It felt great. I remembered it being mostly absent these past weeks....

Once again it took forever to fall asleep and I lay there tossing and turning to the small hours of the morning so once I did fall asleep, I slept like a log. By the time I woke the sun was high in the sky and I lazily rolled onto my back in bed, wondering what I should do with the day. Golf was not going to happen. Not soon anyway.

It was disappointing to realise that Catherine and I had stopped doing the things we used to do together. We used to go for walks in the forest or in parks. We used to lie on the beach, catching some sun with me grinning inwardly at the guys who tried to have a lecherous look at Catherine while seemingly looking elsewhere. Sometimes we simply went for a drive and usually ended up having lunch at some place, somewhere.

It used to be fun. Partying ruined it.

I turned in the bed and lay there thinking about that and had to admit to myself. Golf had nothing to do with it. When I started playing we played together. She had her own set of clubs. But then I was invited to a club competition. I played a sterling round and dovetailed very well with my partner. Invitations to games streamed in and I floated on my ego, never even giving a thought to Catherine sitting at home.

Sit at home? Did she? Unless something monumental goes wrong, a typical round of golf would last in excess of four hours. With competitions there would be a prize giving at the end with the nineteenth hole taking another while. Six hours flat minimum. Add some boisterous celebration and it could mean twelve hours. Easily.

Lots of time for girls to play. Safely.

Did she?

If she did, would I have noticed?

Once again I felt anger well up. I was playing golf, partying and drinking. Not fucking around. Big difference.

And where was she anyway? From down below there was no sound so she had gone somewhere. Breakfast with Alex?

Angrily I rolled out of bed and got dressed. As I walked into the kitchen my annoyance rose just that little bit. No attempt at breakfast. The kitchen was exactly as it would have been had I gone for a game of golf. Breakfast was at the club so why have anything at home? If I did not do it myself, she usually set out everything I would need for a quick coffee. That was done so I switched on the kettle and wondered where she was.

Of course Alex came to mind all the time and instead of thinking of what she may have been doing at this time of a Sunday morning, I kept on conjuring up images of what she was doing with Alex. By the time I had my coffee I had successfully worked myself into a hot anger and walked outside.

I sneered at the garage where Catherine's car had spent the night, wondering if she even noticed that I had cleaned it. I walked into the garage, looking around at the inside. Admittedly, it was great to see an uncluttered space but what I needed to see was a little runabout parked inside. Not gone....

Once again I faintly heard my phone ring somewhere in the house and with a glance at the attic where my golf clubs were waiting for me, I slouched inside.

I was still looking for my phone when it started ringing again and I took it off the fridge seeing the list of missed calls. This one was the fifth call from Hank. With a sigh I took the call, knowing that he was already quite pissed at me for not being at the club. His rather strained 'hello' told me that I was right so I simply shrugged and said that a monumental thing had happened and that I won't be playing for some time.

I sat down at the breakfast nook, called back a few numbers and gave them all the same story. I did the same with the horde of messages, except one that had come through long ago. It took a while before I got myself into the frame of mind to open it and once I read it I was fighting with myself again. Why did she want to know what time I would be home? Info to plan a visit to Alex? I gritted my teeth and typed with a finger, stiff with anger.

"Planning something?"

It was quite some time before an answer came through. "Not yet. Depending on your answer I may."

I nearly hurled the phone against the wall and growled as I typed. "Where are you?"

"Middle weekend of the month. Where do you think?"

I was shaking in anger as I started typing a horrible message when something hit me like a sledgehammer and I sat there looking at the sunshine outside. I carefully deleted my anger driven message and started again.

"Mom and Dad?"

"Had a lovely brunch and now heading to the movies."

Once a month we used to take my parents for a day out. Movies, lunches, festivals, whatever. I could not remember the last time I even spoke to them and yet Catherine dutifully maintained our little tradition. I carefully put the phone down and head butted the breakfast nook surface, forgetting that we had replaced the original wooden surface with a very beautiful but fucking hard granite top only a week or two ago. My ears were ringing when I came upright again and already a dull headache was going around my head like a clamp. I stared at my dim reflection in the highly polished black stone and whimpered with pain. I found it difficult to focus on the telephone but I did manage to type "I love you," before stumbling to the bathroom.

I heard messages come in but ignored it. I rinsed my face with cold water and it stung like hell. Looking in the mirror confirmed my suspicion. A white mark above my left eye was just slightly bloody and I chuckled mirthlessly. How anybody in his supposedly right mind can do something like this to himself defies reason. I stumbled downstairs again and got some ice from the freezer to put on my soon to be black eye.

With an ice filled plastic bag wrapped in a facecloth I went and sat down in the lounge, trying to hold a very cold thing against a rather painful injury. Heck, I had been in a number of fights in my life and got my fair share of black eyes and loose teeth but I could not remember it hurting this much. I started laughing at the absurdity of it all but quickly stopped it. THAT hurt!

With my head tilted backward onto the back of the couch I finally fished for my phone to see what Catherine had sent. The first was simply; "Thanks," and I felt the disappointment but the one below had rows of heart emoji's. The last one was simply to let me know they were going into the movie theatre.

I dropped the phone next to me and closed my eyes against the throbbing headache and some lingering ache somewhere inside.

Sometime later the parcel of ice slid from my face and flopped onto my chest like some icy goor and I woke with a thunderous snoring inhalation of air. It took seconds for me to recover from the fright and I sat upright, blinking. A stiffness in my left eye made me get up and walk to the kitchen, staring into the mirror finish of a microwave oven. With the headache somewhat eased I could afford a chuckle at myself. Although not badly swollen yet and still only somewhat red I knew enough to realise that I was in for a minor shiner.

"Explain this to the Vicar," I chuckled to myself as I returned to the lounge and stretched out on the divan with the ice pack back where it belonged. Once again I fell asleep and was awakened some time later by the ping of a message.

"Movie done. Still at the club?"

I smirked. Why did she want to know? Drop the old folks and go for a quickie? I gingerly felt over the lump on my forehead and shook my head. Doubting her had already led to me hurting myself once today. So, assume she was interested for another reason. Such as?

"No," was all I typed and sat back shaking my head. I realised I was at odds with myself. On one hand I was angry at her. Very angry. On the other hand, I was angry at myself. I was disappointed in both of us. How did this happen and why did we let it? What were we to do? Was this thing repairable? Should I confront her with it or should I give it time? Will it go away if I let it? Will I be able to let it go?

I sat back and looked at the wall clock ticking away at the day. The world out there was carrying on, regardless of our little squabble. On the greater scale of things this calamitous thing between us was insignificant and yet I ached as if the world was tumbling away.

I sat upright. Just imagine she dropped the whole thing in my lap. What would I do? What should I do? Act surprised or admit that I was in the know? If I let my anger show, would it hurt her? If I acted passive, would she think I didn't care?

Imagine I asked her outright if she had ever been unfaithful to me. Chances were she would say no, like any other human, even myself, in an attempt at hiding something and then I would blame her for lying to me and that had only one way of going. Badly wrong. If she said yes? My next question would invariably be "how many times" and "with who?"

No matter how this was approached, it had all the makings of a disaster. For a few seconds I considered counselling but I quickly shook that away. In my comparatively short life I had seen too many possible solutions turn bad because a third person got into a thing where a third person already was the problem. Two's company. Three's a crowd. Three plus one is explosive overload.

In spite of everything, I chuckled to myself. How many jokes with infidelity at the core circled the globe? How many of them had a true happening as a start? Would I ever be able to hear a joke like that again without feeling either anger or hurt?

A thought hit me and I sat there frowning at the floor. Did I have a trump card? Possibly. But like a trump card in a game played at the wrong moment, it may blow the bank or have no value.

Now, how to steer the game? Should I steer it or must I allow the other players to make the predictable error?

I was still nowhere near an answer when I heard the runabout pull into the garage and strangely I was unsure of what to do. If I got up to meet her in the garage to help her carry whatever she may have bought, would it raise a question? It has been a very long time since I had done that. If I did not? Will it be wrong?

I was still toying with a solution when she called from the garage; "Honey, I'm home."

Once again I got caught on the wrong foot. I was ready for almost anything but not that line. The one at the absolute centre of jokes about infidelity and my brain kicked into neutral as soon as my mouth opened.

"Come in. I have nothing to hide in here," I called and then felt the blood leave my face. Even if I spent hours practicing I may never have been able to come up with such an awful thing to say. I came to a flustered stop the moment she stepped through the door and we stood there, staring at each other. I must have looked a mess with a swelling on my forehead but that could not have been the reason why her face turned pale and her mouth contorted with pain. I could see her hands tremble and took the parcel from her. As I put it down on the table and turned back to her I saw the tears running down her cheeks and reached for her.

To my absolute dismay she stepped back and held up her hands to ward me off while looking at me with millions of questions swimming in those tears.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what made me say that," I mumbled and she dropped her eyes and then her face.

Softly she nodded and then looked up with the most painfully pleading look I ever thought I would see. She took a few sobbing breaths and then I could see her steel herself.

"You know," she said softly and the corners of her mouth curled down in pain.

Last night I broke down because she didn't really lie to me. I owed her that in return so I nodded without saying a word and watched confused shame swim over her beautiful face. From somewhere I scraped together some grit and reached for her as I stepped closer. At first she was as stiff as a board but I kept her in an embrace and felt her relax just that little bit before a sob ripped through her. That opened the sluice gates and she started crying as her arms went around me at last.

When she started breathing properly again she put her face against my shoulder and whispered something that was interrupted by a soft sob so I needed to push her away to see her speak.

"What was that?"

She cast her eyes down again. "Will it help if I begged your forgiveness?"

I needed to turn this thing from 'you' to 'us' so I shrugged and tried to smile. "Can you forgive me?" I whispered and my trump card tumbled out.

"Alex likes you. I love you. Big difference."

Women have the ability to take a deep breath through their vocal chords. This is normally reserved for that moment when they realise they had forgotten something and it never fails to scare the accompanying husband totally witless. Catherine took a breath like that but this time it was to start crying in a way I never thought possible. Not loud enough to make the neighbours rush over but so intense that I almost started crying myself simply because so much pain was pouring from her.

As she wept she sagged more and more and eventually I had to give up trying to hold her upright so we ended up on the floor in an untidy mess of arms and legs with her vainly trying to stop crying. There were moments but they quickly got swiped to the side by a fresh bout of sobs.

My legs were cramping painfully by the time she calmed down and I apologetically got to my knees to straighten them. She simply pulled her knees up and put her face to the floor where she softly cried for a while more before looking up at me. She was a mess and even as tightly wound up as I was, I grinned at her. "You look terrible."

She wiped at her eyes and then stared at the mix of mascara and war paint on the back of her hand before looking up at me, now looking even worse. She pointed at me and a wisp of a smile made her lips curl up. I looked down at myself and shook my head when I saw the smudges.

"Good shirt sacrificed," I shrugged and she started laughing and crying at the same time, pulling at me to help her to her feet. She grabbed me by my shirtfront and made me follow her to the couch where she made me sit down before hiking up her dress to straddle me with her hands around my neck, looking into my eyes, searching for something.

"I don't know where to begin," she almost whispered and I pulled her to me.

"What do you want to tell me?"

"How much I love you?" she asked in a faint voice and once again she sobbed but then straightened up with purpose. "How long have you known?"

I shrugged and had to admit it. "Something has been wrong for quite some time now but I was too busy partying to take note. On Friday night I was on my way to a sports bar and saw your car parked so I kind of looked around if I could see you. You guys were very visible from outside."

She hung her head and chewed her lip. "What did you feel?"

"Hurt."

"Anger?"

"That too, of course."

"Were you disappointed?"

I pulled at a strand of her hair. "Not then. Only later but I was disappointed in myself more than you."

"How so?"

I sighed and pulled her to me. With my lips against her forehead I whispered. "I caused this."

She pulled back and looked at me long and hard before she smiled sadly. "We both did."

I sat up straight. "No, we did not. It was me."

She shook her head. "It was both of us!"

"It wasn't!"

"It was too!" she giggled and I had to laugh as well. The incredible tension broke and the relief made us pack up with laughter. It felt weird and wonderful at the same time and before we knew it, it deteriorated into both of us sobbing softly. She sniffled a few times and then looked deep into my eyes.

"We both did. You may have started it, yes, but there came the day when I stopped trying to understand and forgive. After that I intentionally avoided being close to you. It simply hurt too much."

"Is that when Alex came into the picture?"

She shook her head, biting her lip. "No. Alex happened after my birthday when you forgot it and came home sloshed. He had sent me flowers and a special delivery of Italian Kisses."

"And I gave you a beery slobber."

"Yes."

"Did you eat the Italian Kisses?" I asked, fearing the answer.

Tears were running again. "No, I put them away to share with you but...."

"I deserved this," I muttered and she chuckled sadly.

"I could have kept on trying," she whispered but I shook my head.

"No, it would not have worked. I was on a roll. All that mattered was partying with friends and some golf in between. How did I keep my job?"

"You are highly respected at work."

I sneered at that one. "Maybe I was. I nearly lost you. In fact, I think that if I had not seen you with Alex so soon and this had time to really evolve, I may have lost you."

She sat dead still, looking at me, softly breathing through her lips and then squinted at me. "I need to tell Alex."

"Let him stew," I mumbled angrily but she took me by my shoulders and jerked softly.

"He was a friend and an anchor when I started floating away. I enticed him into an affair because I needed proof that I was still desirable and wanted but above all, I needed someone to love me. Someone to spend special moments with. Someone to...."

"I was there," I sneered and then shook my head. "No, I guess I wasn't."

She leaned forward and pulled at my moustache. "Yes, you were there but no, you weren't. I missed you and sent all kinds of signals instead of going to you. I don't blame you, really, I do not."

With a sigh I put my head between her breasts. "If you blame me, I have to blame you. It will take us nowhere except into a quagmire of blame, guilt, shame and whatever else."

She squeezed me to her. Hard. "What now?"

I took me a while to get something like a straight thought into my confused mind and I chuckled, still burrowing into her breasts. "We can go to the library."

"The Library? Why?"

"You can speak and I will be the creep falling for you."

Her laugh was wonderful to hear and I came upright to look into her eyes. "We need a road trip."

"Where to?"

"Anywhere. As long as we are alone with nothing and no-one to come between us."

"Like a festival for two?"

"For a week!" I said laughing.

"Two weeks!" she said, her eyes glittering with joy. "Where to go?"

I leaned back into the couch and pulled her over to me. "There are short cuts to somewhere and then there are those unplanned detours to nowhere. Can you get leave at short notice?"

She leaned forward and twiddled with a button on my shirt. "Jack took me aside the other day and told me to take leave. He was worried about me not really being myself at work. I think he suspects our marriage to be under pressure and you know how obsessed he is about his personnel to be happy at home."

I nodded. "Okay, tomorrow you put in leave for two weeks. I will do the same although I may have to face a threat of being fired but if it comes to that, then so be it. I have a woman to woo."

I saw her on her phone a while later. She seemed to be rather animated and emotional so I got out of sight to give her space. I had no way of knowing what it must have been like to tell Alex that their affair had to come to an end so I just stayed out of her way.

In bed that night we cuddled but there were still some hurdles to overcome before we could just make love again as we did before. Neither one of us ever had a thing for makeup sex even though my libido was enough to drive a serious case of blue balls.

The next night we spent in a chalet at a small holiday resort with our own private pool and somewhere there a spark flashed. We broke a lounger and during the night we made a total mess of the bed, trying to break that as well.