LETTING MY SECRET FREE

IT WAS THE WINE.

Well, it always had been the alcohol.  It makes me lose my head.  It was wine that made  me embarrass myself on my birthday spa day.  It was alcohol that me flirt with T at my front door, and last night, wine made me do another thing that I was not supposed to do...spill the secret to my friends.

We were at Chloe's house--a little night time get together with the girls.  No kids.  Just me, Theresa and Chloe in her basement.  The wine was flowing and the conversation, the same.  Suddenly, the topic turned from the holidays to why T suddenly moved away.  It was Chloe who brought it up, or maybe Theresa.  Anyway, they were mentioning that they missed seeing him at the gym (they still go--I do not), and asked if I knew where he went.  I said that I didn't know.   I wish I did.

I was hoping that the conversation would move on, however, it didn't.  As I gulped my third glass of wine (or fourth?  I don't remember), my tongue loosened.  Theresa mentioned his physical appearance, and that was when I let the first clue slip.  When my shocked friends asked for more clarification, I told them about the affair--blurted it out suddenly.  You should have seen the stunned  looks on their faces.

From then on, everything spilled out of me--the exposure to Philip, the miscarriage, the reason T left, and the fact that I am so incredibly miserable without him, stuck in a passionless marriage.  The tears flowed like wine, but it felt so good to let it all out, since the secret had been bottled up inside me for so long--never to come out.  However, I needed to tell my best friends about it, and I didn't realize how badly until last night.  After it was out, I was so relieved.  The whole world came off of my shoulders--and onto theirs.  They swear that they will keep the secret.

Chloe said that she had a funny feeling that something was different between us that second night at the restaurant.  She said that we were acting strange (since we did not outwardly hate each other).  It crossed her mind that we were more than friends, but she quickly put it out of her head, thinking it ridiculous.  My confession proved that her instincts were right.

PURPLE IRISES WITH NO CARD

ALL RIGHT.  NOW I AM NOT IMAGINING THINGS.

This is exactly what I got

Yesterday, I was in a bad mood.  Total Scrooge.  I went Christmas shopping at the mall, fought through the crowds, etc.  Seems like they all had the same idea--to drive me nuts.  Spent an hour on the line, at least.  Kids screaming in front and behind me.  Then I became dizzy because I had forgotten to eat, so a grabbed a Snickers bar and inhaled it in one bite.

Once out of that particular nightmarish store, I grabbed lunch--shoveled down a slice of pizza.  Then hit the highway for home to be back in time for Derek to get off the bus.  Once home, I threw all the packages in my room, swearing to wrap at least two of them before the day was done.  All I wanted to do at that point was to take a nap, but that was just a fantasy.

Then, at around two o'clock,  the doorbell rang.  Since I've been receiving packages lately (almost on a daily basis), I was not surprised.  When I opened the door, a man was there holding a box from SuperFlowers.  It stopped me in my tracks.  Could it be a long overdue peace offering from my husband?

However, when I opened the box,  it was quite clear that the flowers were not from P.  Nestled in the box were 20 blue irises (I say they are purple, but officially, they are called blue irises).  There was no card attached. I was astonished because P never gave me irises, but T did.  

Immediately, my mind drained of all sense.  My stomach did back flips, and my heart quickened.  My legs became weak and could not support the weight of my body.  I had to sit down.  I was sure that I knew who sent me the flowers, but how and from where?  Why?

As for P, I didn't know how to explain it to him, so I put them on my dresser in the master bedroom.  He doesn't go in there, anyway.  I spent the rest of the day and night in a daze--confused, afraid that he might come in and see the flowers, and then ask me where I got them.  I had an excuse all ready, but did not have to use it.  I spent a lot of time in my bedroom last night,  wrapping presents and staring at the flowers.  I wondered what this all meant.

Today, I visited the old age home.  I had not seen Frank in a little while, and maybe I thought that I could get some answers. Unfortunately, Frank was more confused than ever, and I was not sure if he even knew who I was.  It is really terrible what is happening to him.  It breaks my heart.

However, as I was leaving, he had a moment of sudden clarity and asked if I had gotten the flowers that he sent me.  I stopped, turned and asked him point blank if T arranged for the flowers to be sent to me, but that temporary moment of clarity slipped away.  He said "what flowers?", and I even though I repeated the question, I did not receive the answer I was looking to find.  He was lost in his own mind.

But I did get some kind of answer.  I didn't mention anything about flowers before Frank brought it up, so now I know that they were from him.  I don't know if T had anything to do with it, but I have a feeling that he did, because of the irises.  Was it his idea? Why didn't he send a note from Frank? Did he want me to think that they were from him?  Was this a way for him to send me a message of some sort? 

I don't know what to think.

HOLIDAY PARTIES ARE A DRAG...I'M REALLY NOT IN THE MOOD FOR THEM

BAH HUMBUG!

I know just how he feels

Just joking...or am I?  I'm never like this during the holidays.  The tree is up, and the house is decorated, but I have no holiday cheer.  I'm Mrs. Scrooge.

I'm just not in the mood for holiday parties this year.  Maybe I'm just not up to the performance art of it.  Holiday parties are normally ramped up show-off fests where people are shoved together who really can't stand one another.  You are forced to make small talk with the wives of men who work with your husband.  You have nothing in common, except for to ask "how has it been since I saw you at last year's holiday party?"  Then you have to listen to the answer--endless drivel about sons and daughters, school events, and vacations...yada yada yada.   I couldn't wait to get home.  I would have rather stayed home with Derek, as a matter of fact, and I'm sure that Philip would have preferred it.  But, the boss expected the men to bring their wives, so...since I am still a wife (on paper), we got a babysitter and I went.

Well, that was Friday night.  Then Saturday afternoon, we went to Roberta's annual shindig, which is always a pleasure (a little sarcasm there).  The highlight each year is finding out what new dress she bought for the occasion, and how much of her is falling out of it.  Her wonderful friends are always there--loud, flirty and available to all men (whether married or not).  I never really liked her parties,  but at least she invites the neighbors.  Chloe and Theresa were there with their families.  Our new neighbors were there too, looking a little shell-shocked when they popped in to say hi.  I put on a smile on my face and tried to have a good time, but my mind was somewhere else thinking about what I was missing.  

Chloe caught me staring into space, asked me what was wrong.   I think that I managed to change the subject well enough--said something like I was feeling under the weather, or some other crap like that.  I wish that I could get all excited about the holidays, but no matter how many cookies I make,  I'm still stuck in the same rut, unable to dig myself out.    Maybe 

THERE IS A NEW FAMILY LIVING NEXT DOOR

I knew that it would happen eventually, ever since the movers came and picked up everything he owned.  I saw the sign on the lawn and I've seen people come in to look at his empty place.  Now it's official.  Yesterday, another family moved into T's house.

I know that you're thinking, "How could he sell his house so quickly in this economy?".  I was thinking the same thing.  I thought that the house would be on the market forever.  However, I found out (through word of mouth--Roberta) that he is renting out the house, so he still owns it.  I came this close to asking her if she knows where he lives now, but I stopped myself.  Then she asked me if I knew where he went.  I guess that she doesn't know everything.

So, as a measure of good will, I walked next door with a bin of chocolate chip cookies (God knows, I don't have enough of them) to welcome my new neighbors to the neighborhood.  I met Jennifer and Randy, and they were both very nice.  They have a son named Jake, who is six years old, and a daughter, Erin, who is nine.  It's funny how that is the type of family that I wanted originally, before T moved in.  I wonder how my life would be different if they had moved into the house in April, instead of T.  Well, anyway, both the children go to the same school as Derek, and hopefully he will become friends with them.

It was certainly weird being in that house again.  All the furniture was different, but the house was all too familiar.  I have to admit that I had to choke back a tear or two.  One month later, I still miss him so much, and think about him more than I should.

MY THRILLING NEW LIFE AS A NUN

I live like a nun, however,  I can't fly

Well, that should be the title of this blog.  I am pretty much living the life of a nun--praying, teaching...with no extracurricular activities.   Actually, you can say that I've been a nun for the last six months (except for that lost month in a half when I was a lusty vixen.  Boy, do I miss that woman.  She was fun ;).  Now, you may as well call me Sister Victoria.

I've actually taken up reading the Bible.  Do you know what?  There is sex in the Bible.  Sure, it's not the Nora Roberts kind of sex, but it's there.  In the state I'm in, I'd probably find sex in an accounting textbook.  It's...that...bad.

So, how am I dealing with this lack of...contact?  Baking.  I'm like Martha Stewart here.  As I said before, I am up to my eyeballs in cookies.  I'm making chocolate chip now.  What the hell.  Might as well die from a sugar rush.  At least I'll die happy, right?  No worries, though.  I'm not planning death by chocolate chip cookies, but what a way to go :)

By the way, thanks for all your helpful suggestions, but I think that the last thing I need is to have a "Pure Romance" party.  I can try all I want, but you can't get blood out of a stone.  I just have to laugh.  It's better than crying, or dwelling on lost opportunities.

Where can you buy a nun's habit?

I COULD HAVE SWORN THAT IT WAS HIM

I'VE BEEN UP TO MY EYEBALLS IN COOKIES.

These are not mine, but don't they look good?

Now that's a good way to start a post, isn't it?  I have broken down and eaten a couple of them too.  I have made all types--peanut butter, oatmeal raisin, linzer tarts, sugar...but I purposely did not make chocolate chip yet, because they are my weakness.  If I make a batch of them, they will not make it to the little cookie tins that I am handing out as gifts for Derek's teacher, our priest, our mailman, etc.  Well...maybe if I make enough, I will have some left over for everybody else.

I'm debating if I should go over to the old age home to see my friends there, and hand out the usual tins, as I do every year.  I have to admit that I have chickened out lately because I'm afraid of running into Anita (T's mother), while visiting Frank.  I haven't seen Frank since late October, when he mistook me for T's wife.

Speaking of T, I could have sworn that he called me today.  The phone rang while I was knee deep in flour, and I saw that the caller ID said "unknown caller".  Usually, I don't pick up for unknown callers, but for some reason, I did.  Planting the receiver in between my shoulder and my ear as I continued to keep my hands busy at work,  I said "Hello", but there was no reply.  There was just silence on the other end.  Then I said "Hello?" again--still no reply.  It was then that I realized (or hoped) that it might be T.  I said, "Babe?" and the person on the other end of the line hung up.  then, the phone slipped out of its spot and fell to the kitchen floor sending parts everywhere.

Maybe it's the fact that it is a Wednesday, but I believe that it was him, and he just wanted to hear my voice.  If so, I wish that he had given me the same privilege.  Possibly, I'm just overreacting, and it's just wishful thinking.   Most likely it was not him at all--just an unknown caller who dialed the wrong number.  

But, the fantasy is so much better.

There I go again.

AN ANNIVERSARY TO FORGET

Oh, the joys of wedded bliss.  So much in love...and they lived happily ever after...blah blah blah. Yeah right.

Yesterday was our 11th wedding anniversary.  It was a big deal...but only to Derek. He seemed to be the only one excited about it.  I was apprehensive about the day, and Philip was indifferent.  Derek made us a card filled with crayon drawings and misspelled words--I will treasure it forever.  It was the only good thing that happened all day.

As for the actual day, all I can say is that I tried. I had dinner ready for him when he and Derek got home from an outing--Roast Beef, mashed potatoes, etc.--everything that Philip liked.  I tried to make the rest of the day special, since they were gone for most of it, but he was not in the mood to act like the happily married couple.  Eventually, I felt the same way.

I tried to be patient when he told me that he was not hungry, still recovering from the large Thanksgiving meal the day before.  Beside, they grabbed some "take out" on the road.  Derek and he planned to head directly towards the living room to watch a college football game.

Philip has not tried at all in these past two weeks.  I don't know what I expected, considering the circumstances of our near split.  He actually volunteered to go into work on the day after Thanksgiving, when others have off, until Derek begged him to stay home and take him somewhere.  I guess that he thought that it would been too hard to spend four full days in a row with me without the cushion of a work day.  Forty eight hours on the weekend is long enough.  Ninety-six?  Well, I guess that it was an impossibility.

I know..."Give him time".  I am trying to do just that.   You don't have to remind me that it's my fault that my marriage is down the toilet.  However, he could try to make it easier for both of us.  We could be like before--platonic roommates living in the same house, but trying, at least, to be civil to one another.  Right now, climbing that mountain seems to be insurmountable.

FYI, I am not sulking.

MUCH TO BE THANKFUL FOR

I spent this Thanksgiving at my parent's house.  Spent most of the day in the kitchen with my mom, sister and sister-in-law as "the men", including my younger brother,  hung out in the living room watching football.  I basically stayed away from Philip as much as possible.  I was better off.

Once we were seated at the dining room table, my brother and his wife had a big announcement.  My sister-in-law is pregnant with her first child, and is 3 months along.  If all goes well, she will probably have the baby in May. This news hit me in between the eyes, because my child would have been due at the same time, but I did not let it affect my mood.  I took a deep breath, smiled my biggest smile, and then hugged my excited relatives.  My sulking would have to wait.

You know, I like the look of this table

As I hugged them, Philip curiously gave me the usual look (the "everyone can get pregnant except you" look).  I thought that it was a little weird, since we have not been intimate for at last six months, and probably never will again.  So why was he giving me "the look" that always made me feel inferior (and still does, as a matter of fact)?  Maybe it was just habit--another way to make me feel like crap.  He doesn't even know about my latest tragedy.  Would he have been more sympathetic if he knew?  Who knows.  Anyway, I don't know why I brought it up.  I've let it go, like everything else in these past few weeks.   

That news aside, it was a great day in the comfort of my family.  Philip and I play-acted as if nothing was wrong--played our parts well.  We had never been overly affectionate to each other in the past, so all we had to do was to pretend that we still could stand to be in the same room together.   

Life is not perfect, but it was never entirely perfect.      I can't imagine what we would have done if we had split up before this holiday.  I am happy and thankful enough that my family is still together.

IT WAS ON THE TIP OF MY TONGUE!

Last night I went for a long needed night out with the girls. It was a Friday, and we haven't been getting together to play tennis, and we needed an excuse to go out.  

I had a few drinks, and my tongue became a little loose, but I didn't let the secret out.  It was right there, ready to fly out, but I kept it in his cage.  That was the agreement that I had with P, and I kept my promise.  But, God how I wish that I could tell someone (besides the priest).  Maybe one day, I will spill my guts to my friends, and let the  chips fall.  That should be an interesting conversation--to say the least.  They will either console me, or will be shocked beyond belief.

Getting back to last night, I had a great time.  We went to a nice local Italian restaurant.  The atmosphere was perfect.  There was no Roberta, no young guys hanging out at the bar, and no T with a date to muddle my mind.  It was just me, Chloe and Theresa--eating food, drinking wine and laughing.  All this, and I was hangover free this morning.  Thank God for small miracles.

I missed the laughing.  There has not been enough to laugh about lately, but I am not going to dwell on it, as promised.  I am keeping myself busy, preparing for Thanksgiving.  I've been watching the Food network lately, which is always fun this time of year.  Even though I am going to my parents house for Thanksgiving, I am still going to make a turkey over the weekend--for leftovers, etc.  I know that Derek loves turkey, and whatever comes with it (as does Philip), and I want to make him happy.  If it pleases P, well...THAT would be a miracle.

Speaking of this time of year.  It just so happens that our 11th wedding anniversary is coming up.  Should be interesting.  Eleven years ago, on November 25th, 2000, we married on the weekend after Thanksgiving (to make it easier for his family, who were coming in for the holiday).  It was cold and windy that day.  A sign, perhaps?  Probably, but I didn't see it.  Funny thing, I was checking my other blog and I noticed that I didn't post anything about our 10th anniversary last year.  It was supposed to be such a big occasion, and I don't remember what we did.  Maybe that was a sign of things to come.  Who knows?

So anyway, did I pass the non-pathetic, non-whiny test?  Yes, I still think about T and wonder what he's doing, and I probably always will.  But instead of listening to depressing music, I switched to Christmas CDs.  It's a step up.  You all should be proud of me.

SNAPPING OUT OF IT

I'm fine.  Thank you so much for your support.  

Sorry about that last post.  I even depressed myself when I read it, and I can only imagine what anyone else thought.  I almost deleted it because it was so...damned...pitiful.  But, it was about what's going on, so I kept it.  Maybe it was because of the rain, or the fact that it was a dreaded Wednesday where memories flood back into my head like a tsunami.  I guess that I should not blog when I'm having a bad day. 

I've come to realize (at last)  that I have become a bloggy bummer.  I'm going to change that.   I'm determined to snap out of it.  As for this blog, there will be no more self-absorbed,  melancholic and downright pitiful posts.  I'm sure that everyone (including me) is sick of reading them, and I don't mean to bum anyone out.    I'm just venting, and you've been my ventee (is that a word?).

My life now is what I chose, and even though it is not perfect, I have to live with it.  I'm making a promise to myself to stop whining like a five year old.   Time to pick myself off the ground, dust the dirt off of my clothes and get on with it.  Get back to my, as Mark once told me,  "Soap opera and Oprah watching, bored housewife" life.  Did he really say that?  Yes he did.  It was back in June at the restaurant, when I still hated him.  Didn't post that little detail at the time, but it was one of the reasons that I doused him with iced tea--among others.  He had this gift of saying whatever was on his mind, and at that time, I did not appreciate it.

Life was so much simpler then. I knew what the ground rules were.  I've got to get back to that.   Unfortunately, my posts will become boring, but so will my life.  Life in the fast lane was definitely more exciting, but I don't think that it was worth it. 

Maybe I should find a hobby.  Thanksgiving is coming, and I have much to be thankful for.  I am a lucky woman, considering all that I've been through.  I'm going to bury myself in holiday cheer (not the liquid kid, if you're wondering), busy myself with Christmas shopping, baking, etc.  Help out with school parties and events.  I'll be all right.  From now on, it's time to grow up, accept the facts of my life, and make the best out of it.  I am a strong woman...after all--or I will be.  Like the song says, "I will survive!"

EVERYTHING I SEE

This morning, I saw Doug, the "creepy guy" at the grocery store.  Well, I never called him the "creepy guy" before T gave him that tag.  I always thought that he was just a nice guy who always helped me load groceries into my car.  That was until he made me uncomfortable one day, and T was there to diffuse the situation.  About a month later, T told me that the guy was leering at, and talking directly to, my breasts.  Now I call Doug the "creepy guy".  Problem is, that I have no-one to talk to about him.

Such is life these days.  I see the creepy guy, and I think of T.  There are so many things that remind me of him.  When I pass a black SUV, I think of him.  When I see a Harley Davidson, ditto.  Many of the thoughts come out of nowhere, some that shouldn't remind me of him at all...like going to church.  You know how it is..."lead us not into temptation"?  When I think of the word "temptation", I think of him.  His picture might as well be next to the definition of the word.   T might not be around, but it hasn't stopped me from thinking about him.  One of these days, I'll be able to finish a sentence without saying to myself..."and then I thought about T".

Speaking of church.  I went to confession.   Bless me father, for I have sinned...confessed everything...affair, pregnancy...constant impure thoughts that won't stop, etc.  Not at our local Catholic church, mind you, because I didn't want to face Father Hanley.  I went a few towns over to a priest who has never seen or heard of me.  He said that I made the right decision to try to repair my marriage, and should go with Philip to marriage counseling.  Well...yeah...that's a great idea.  I would be more than happy to go to counseling.  Unfortunately, that would not fit into Philip's schedule--ever!

As for Philip, he is not making life easy.   He knows that a choice had to be made between him and T, and I chose him (well...technically, I chose Derek).  T and I are miserable, and that must make him very happy. For example, he saw me staring into space the other day and he snickered, reminding me that I should not worry about "my lover" moving on.  T could just open up his little black book and start with the A's.  It was so nice of him to point that out.  

T can move on, and I truly hope that he does.  Really...I do  (I think).  As for me, I seem to be stuck in a time warp--wishing that it was September again.  I'll even take August--before the affair,  when we were just friends.  I'll even take June, when I hated his guts--anything!  After a week, I just want to see him, talk to him or be near him.  There is this hole in my life that only he can fill.

This is so much harder than I thought it would be.  I find myself listening to Bread, and Barry Manilow songs, and there are no happy ones.  That's not a good thing.  I can only hope that eventually I will be able to wake up in the morning without wishing that I was still in bed.

MY ROOMMATE HATES MY GUTS

I guess that I can't blame him for feeling this way.  

I know it.  I see the frown that appears on his face whenever I walk into a room.  I can tell it when he looks at me.  The contempt is hard to hide.   Before the affair, I used to think that he didn't love me anymore.  He was bored with me, or didn't desire me anymore.  But now, after the smoke has cleared from my indiscretion,  I know for sure that my roommate hates my guts.

Sure, I know that I'm talking about the man who is my husband, but can I really call him that?  We no longer act like a married couple unless we are putting on an Oscar winning performance for our family and friends.  Derek doesn't seem to pick up the fact that we are married "in name only", and that's a good thing, but how long can we keep this up?  Will this get any better, or are we doomed?

Dear Wayward Wife, I hate you! Sincerely, Your Pissed Off Husband.

Today included a flawless performance to submit to the Academy.  We were at a picnic for the end of the soccer league season.  I was working diligently with other mothers, setting up and serving the food.   Meanwhile, Philip chatted with other people that we knew, including Roberta.  As I watched him, he glanced in my direction as if to say, "what the hell are you looking at?".  I felt a chill go up my spine.  I could feel it.  He hates me.  But, nobody else can tell.  As far as everyone else was concerned, we are still the perfect family that we always were.

There was a coaches vs referees game, and at the end of it, trophies were handed out to all the kids who participated in the league.  Derek has another trophy for the shelf, and the three of us took a picture together with a proud Derek in the middle.  When I look at it, I could see the smiles that we faked, and the fact that we tried to be as far away from each other as possible, while both touching the person who is the only reason why we are still together.

Tonight, after putting Derek to bed, we returned to our separate areas of the house.  We don't talk, we don't laugh, we don't love.  We are just roommates who can't stand each other.  Tomorrow, we will do the same thing at church.  Act like a happy family until there in no one left in the audience.

The perfect family.   What a beautiful façade.  What an incredible crock.

IT'S REALLY OVER

I had one night left with T...one night with the man that I love.  I wanted to make the best of our last night together.  Seemed like a very tall order, and I was extremely apprehensive.  I did not know how he would react, since right before the doorbell rang I was in his arms.  Now I was about to tell him that I could never see him again.  I wouldn't have blamed him if he threw me out of the house.

He did not reject me.  He knew what I was going to say, but asked that I not say it--not yet, anyway, since it was our last night together.  We did not waste our last Wednesday.

In the morning, he told me that he would be gone by the end of the day.   Once he left, he would not be coming back. He had packed enough for a week, and then his things would be picked up later--furniture, etc.    Some boxes in the basement had yet to be emptied since he moved next door.  Guess he doesn't have to empty them now.   He hired someone to do the rest of the move for him. Everything was arranged, just waiting for the final word.

He asked me about the terms of the arrangement, and I could have lied and told him that P wanted to reconcile completely, but I didn't want our last words to be lies.  I told him the truth.   The truth didn't make him happy, as he did not like what the future held for me.   Then he surprised me.  For the first and only time, he asked me to reconsider my decision to go back to P--told me that I should stay with him. People get divorced all the time, and we could work it out--be together.   

I told him that I couldn't do that, and it broke my heart.  He didn't ask again.

Yesterday, at six on the morning, I said goodbye to T and walked out the door.  Like promised, I haven't seen him since.    His cell phone number has been changed to an unlisted number.  Yes, I've tried to call him.  I wanted to call him five minutes after I left his house, but I waited until later in the day.  You would have tried to call him too.  How he disappear so quickly?

I am not ready to say goodbye.  I'll never be ready.  I am distraught, because I can't believe that I will never see him again.  I keep staring at that empty house.  Yes, his things are still there, but he is gone.  As far as I am concerned, the house is empty.

I have to believe that I have made the right decision.  I can only hope that eventually P will let me be more than a roommate, and that we can sit in a room together without hate emanating from his direction.  It is just a fantasy at this point, because I know that he is only doing this because of our son.  At least I can be grateful for that.

A SUDDEN CHANGE OF HEART

Yesterday started like all the other days of my new existence as a soon to be ex-wife.  I woke up in the guest room at T's house, and dragged myself next door.  I passed P on the way into the house, and he didn't even look at me.  We were like two ships passing in the night (like the song says, but without the smile saying it's all right).  With a kiss, I woke Derek for school, and hugged him.  This had been my daily routine.

I stayed the day in the house,  spent the day whole wondering if P called a lawyer, and when I should call one.  I fretted about what I was going to do when the affair was made public, because we cannot hide this forever.  The nosy people will want to know why we were getting a divorce, especially our friends, relatives, and neighbors.  Roberta was going to have a field day once this secret was exposed.  This particular gossip would make her year--the fall of a "Perfect Wife".

As I wondered, I scrubbed the floors--worked my ass off.  It was the stress, I guess.  I clean so that I won't eat  (Eating used to be the thing that I did when I was stressed--don't want to pick up that habit again).  By the time Derek came home from school, I was completely out of energy.

At eight, I was pitched out again.  P didn't say the words, but he didn't have to--just gave me that special look, and I left.  He didn't want to talk, and I didn't care.  I just wanted to trudge back to T's house and collapse.  Once I was there, I was tired, cranky, and my back was aching (it already hurt in the morning because of that stupid, lousy mattress on the guest bed.  I should have asked T to replace it weeks ago, if not for me, but for when his son Alex visited from Florida).  T was not home yet because he was working on a Wednesday for a change, so I took it upon myself to stretch out on his comfortable "Sleep Number" bed.

Inevitably, he found me when he came home, and for the first time in about a month, we did not try to fight our affection for each other.  I know that I was starved for it, and considering the bleak outlook of my marriage, I decided not to fight it.  P had said repeatedly that didn't want me back.   I knew that T loved me, and I loved him, and desperately needed his attention.  I didn't want to deny it anymore.  What was the point? 

Murphy's Law (of course) came into effect as the doorbell rang, putting an end to whatever had begun, or was about to happen--I don't know what that was, because the bell rang again, and I jumped up like I was on fire.  Somehow, I knew who had interrupted my plans at nine-thirty on a Wednesday night.  I straightened myself up, and went to answer the door.

I can't imagine what I would have done if it was someone else at the door--might have called T quickly, and hid in a closet somewhere.  But P was indeed at the door.  I fully expected him to hand me divorce papers, but instead he wanted me to come next door to talk.

I followed him next door, and we sat at our kitchen table to discuss what remained of our marriage.  P said, to my surprise, that he had decided to keep the family intact--for Derek's sake.  

There were conditions, however:  

1)  He does not want me to tell anyone about the affair (not family, friends or anyone else), because he did not want Derek to find out. He wants to protect Derek, and I can't argue with that.

2) We will live in the same house together, but not be together as a couple.  He will never forget or forgive me, and does not want to go to marriage counseling.  We'll be roommates, not lovers.

3)  I can never see T again.  It's a deal breaker.

It did not take me long to agree to the terms.  This was what I wanted, wasn't it?   I should be happy.  Derek will have his parents together, and the family unit will survive. Hopefully, it will not eat itself from the inside like a cancer.

So, this was my future.  I had consented to a loveless marriage, and after Thursday morning, I would never see the man I love again.  

I just had to go back and tell T about the "good news"--on a Wednesday...

continued...IT'S REALLY OVER

BLOWING UP THE FAMILY

P has been giving me the silent treatment, and I don't know what's going to happen next.    He must be getting a sick kind of thrill out of all of this.  

Let me explain.  Yesterday,  P, Derek and I visited the house where I grew up to help celebrate my mother's birthday.  I have been on edge for a while about this, because P has not informed me of his plans regarding the divorce that he is determined to get--he just told me that he wanted one, and has not said another word about it since Saturday night.  I had tried my best to find out what he had planned before we took this one hour trip together, but I guess that he'd rather see me squirm.  

So, in other words, I didn't know if or when he was going to stand up and announce to my side of the family that I was a lying, cheating whore.  Was it going to be while my mother cut her birthday cake, or while she was opening her presents?  A usually happy occasion was miserable.  Reunion with aunts, uncles and my sister were tarnished by the fact  that at any moment, P could drop the bomb to blow up my family's happiness.   Every time he opened his mouth, I held my breath. He knew that I was afraid of what he might say, and took pleasure in the torture that it caused.  Revenge must feel so sweet.

I didn't truly know that I was in the clear until we were in the van, driving home.  I could finally breathe after such a harrowing day.  I wanted to cry, but did not want to give him that satisfaction.  The ride home was as silent as the ride there. For once, I didn't want to talk, and didn't wait for P to give me that "get lost" look once Derek fell asleep.  I just wanted to get away from him.

Once I walked into T's house, I headed straight for the kitchen--didn't even say hi to T as I passed him sitting in the living room.  I opened the fridge, stole a bottle of beer, opened it and seemed to suck it down in two seconds.  I needed it so badly, and a beer never tasted so good.

"Is there a problem?" T asked.

I rolled my eyes, sighed, and then spent the rest of the evening venting about the day.  Today, I returned to more silence, and more pretending to be the perfect wife at church, then the social afterwards.   At night, once Derek was asleep, I was kicked out again.   I don't know how much more of this I can take.

WEDNESDAY BREAKFAST WITH MY BEST FRIEND

"Get your skinny ass over here," he said, after I told him that I didn't eat breakfast yet.  

It was yesterday at nine a.m., Derek was already at school, and I had planned to spend the day cleaning, or curled up in a pathetic ball in the bedroom--didn't know which road to choose.  I knew that T was home all day, however I didn't want to "go there".  But T called to check on me, because I've been a wreck lately.  When I answered his question, he gave me no choice.  He was making breakfast, and I was going to eat it.  No arguments.  So I got my "skinny ass" over there.  

Did he really say "skinny ass"?  Go figure.  I never thought I'd ever hear those two words directed at me.  But, after four months of dieting, exercising, worrying, crying, and stress cleaning, I have lost 30 lbs.  I'm almost at my goal weight, and I didn't even realize that I was this close.  So much else has been going on.  Weight loss has been the least of my problems.

Breakfast was bacon and eggs, home fries, toast, OJ, coffee.  It was delicious, and I ate like a pig (or like I had not eaten much since Saturday night...which was true).   I didn't realize that he could cook so well, because even though I used to show up each Wednesday at nine-thirty, I never went there for breakfast.  I was usually there for...well...something else.  Anyway...

I thought that it would be awkward to be there with him on a Wednesday during the day, considering what I know, and the fact that we still love each other.  But, he made me feel at ease.  He wanted to cheer me up, and not in the usual "Wednesday" kind of way.  It was more like it used to be over the summer--easy conversation, teasing, and laughing.  God how I needed to laugh!  I missed it.

Later on, while we sat on the couch in the living room, the conversation turned to my situation.   T assured me that I shouldn't worry, and that he knows in his heart that P will take me back, and it would be sooner rather than later.  I was a bit doubtful, but he insisted that P loves Derek too much to let the family fall apart.  P just needed time, and he knew that I would not give up until my family was back on track.  When the time comes, T is ready to take himself out of the picture.  His bags are already packed.

Then, of course, I said something stupid.   I told him that it wouldn't be as easy for me to leave him (insinuating that was easy for him to pack up and leave me).  He bristled when I said that.  He said that it was incredibly hard for him to leave.  He would much rather that I picked him, instead of P, but he knew that it was not going to happen.  

So much for the easy conversation.

But the uneasiness did not last long, as he suddenly dropped the subject.  He started to talk about the weather of all things.  It was a desperate act--grasping at straws to avoid talking about the inevitable.  Ignoring the reality that even though we love each other, we are doomed to be apart.

TRICK OR TREAT! I'M BACK OUT ON THE STREET

I  don't know what happened. 

Yesterday started out great.  There was a Halloween parade at the school, and a class party afterwards.  I brought homemade cupcakes, and was there helping out.  Assisted kids with their costumes for the parade, then poured juice in cups for the party.  Derek had a great time, as he does every Halloween.

He was also excited that he did not have to take the bus home.  Since I was there anyway, I signed him out early, and we drove home in order to get a head start on Halloween.  As I drove into the driveway, I saw that Philip had some home early from work.  We carved the pumpkin together, like always.

Today, the three of us met with Chloe and her son, Cody, and we walked around together, house to house, trick or treating.  It was like all the other Halloweens in our past.  Derek was happy, and Philip and I seemed to be getting along well.  We were a family again.

We came home after about two hours later, with the bag sufficiently stocked with candy.   Derek took a bath, and got into his pajamas.  We lit the candle in the pumpkin that was carved yesterday, and then together, we watched the "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown" DVD with glasses of hot apple cider for each of us.  

After Derek went to bed, Philip's smile went away, and his expression became cold.  Suddenly, he asked me to leave.   It came out of nowhere, and I was stunned!  What did I do?  Did he wait until Halloween was over before he hit me with the news?  Guess so.  Maybe he was planning this all along.

I thought that we had been getting along so well.  Guess not.  Sure, we avoided talking about the marriage, and went into our separate areas of the house, but it was working.  All we needed was more time.   I guess that my master plan was not working as well as I thought.  Tonight, P actually mentioned the word divorce, and he practically laughed in my face when I suggested marriage counseling.  So much for that idea.

So at nine o'clock, and after a week back at home, I walked next door with my tail between my legs.  T is working, so no one was there to greet me and tell me that it was all right.  Right now, it is just me, the laptop, and a bunch of scary movies on TV that I don't want to watch.   This is after I sat alone in the living room and cried for a half hour.  My marriage is over!