The Letter

The Letter

A few days later he asked:  "Do you think I would cheat on you?"

The fact the question was asked dictated silence.  

He repeated it.  I remained silent.

He showed me the letter.  Typewritten.  Addressed to him at his place of employment.  An anonymous letter.  Describing the night he went out with his friends from work while I remained home with the kids.  A letter in which he was chastised for having an affair with his assistant.

He denied that anything was going on.  She was just a friend.

Why is he showing this to me?  Ah, it's a small town.  I'll find out about the letter.  Or he's worried I'll get a similar letter...

  

What's really important?

Where do I want to be?

After the disclosure he didn't proceed to the bedroom, pack his bags, and leave... but I realize now that in subtle manipulation he suggested I take action... He mentioned that he knew I was going to kick him out. Talked about coming home to his stuff thrown out on the curb... 

I didn't take the bait.  I didn't know it was bait.  I didn't realize he was intentionally planting an idea in my head.  It must have been to his supreme annoyance that instead of telling him to get out I took a different view of his inaction:  Why don't you leave if you're so miserable?  If you stay, it means you're not absolutely miserable.  Right?  We can work this out?  

He mentioned he didn't want to destroy his family.  The children.  Later, I realized it was more selfish than that.  He didn't want them to think he "left".  He was hoping in the kids' eyes I'd be the one to destroy the family, I'd kick him out.

I didn't.

So he didn't leave then.  

I asked him:  How can I live with someone that doesn't want to be with me?  How's that supposed to work?  He didn't know.  Didn't know what to do.  Said it was a big mess.  But we'd both been miserable for a long time.  What?  I was?  I didn't think I was.  Yes, in the past few years I was often angry over lack of help with children and around the house...but doesn't this get better when kids are older?  Once they're all in school?   

He went to bed.  

I sat on the couch.  For the first time in my adult life I was disconcerted at being miles from family.  I pulled out the computer, browsing jobs and housing in my home town.   I'd spent the last twenty years not looking back.  Why had it been so important to leave family and everything familiar?  Why hadn't I moved back home before?  What had changed now, in a brief span of twenty four hours?  Why did the prospect of the end of the personal relationship trigger the urge to leave?

The next day he checked my internet history.  And became angry:  That didn't take you long--you're already looking at jobs and houses?!  Why?  You live in a nice house next to the golf course, your career is going great, why would you move?  I blinked.  What the hell is wrong with you?  Do you think I really care about my house or living next to the golf course?  Do you really not understand I'd rather live by my family?  Do you think my "job" is more important that personal happiness?

Ah! I reflected later.  The mention of "the house" and the "golf course" was significant.  He'd included these two items in the mathematical equation, or perhaps chemical reaction, that symbolized the end of our relationship;  But he had assessed them the wrong value.  He hadn't included me in the conversation in his head.  My failure to act as he expected threw a wrench in the process.  

I hadn't kicked him out, and I was not beyond leaving.  

  

The Disclosure:  The Beginning of the End

Hindsight is not always helpful.  Yes, of course some things make more sense with reflection, but that (belated) awareness doesn't alleviate a currently undesirable situation.  The realization of what had been happening and what I (maybe) could have done to prevent it isn't comforting.  It's maddening.  Psychologically unhealthy.   

 

I didn't see it coming.

How did it start?  Or better said, why did it end?  To understand this, one must consider the disclosure...

Late summer, after months of out-of-the-ordinary behavior, unpleasant and directed at me, he returned home late after a meeting, walked into the living room, and blurted out: but for the fact we had children he would have left me a long time ago...he'd been miserable for years...I treated him like I didn't want anything to do with him....I ruined his life...but he didn't want to destroy his family...but for the kids he "was out outta here"....

I was the deer in the headlights.  What?  Are you drunk?  I sat on the couch, stared at him.  What are you saying?  Huh?  

He rambled and ranted about all the things that I would eventually realize had been occupying his mind for ... years?  I wasn't "nice".  Everyone at his work was "nice".  He needed a cabin to get away (from me?)...  Later, (now) I ask myself how he could harbor intense thoughts of dissatisfaction, and at the same time act "normal"... Who can do that?  Is this some form of mental illness?  Why didn't I see this coming?

The disclosure provided an explanation for the preceding months of angry behavior--obvious, but not directly expressed, criticism that I didn't keep the house orderly (each of us had full time jobs), that the children fought and screamed (three kids under the age of 10), that I didn't polish my shoes (who has time for that?), that the wrapping paper shoved under the bed was not organized (who cares), that I collected cardboard boxes in the basement (you never know when you'll need to mail something).  Nothing I did was right.  My non-profit volunteer work was "bullshit".  I spent too much time at my day job when I didn't need to.

I suddenly had perspective.  This explained why, the weekend before, he informed me he was going out drinking with his co-workers, without inviting me.  Or I should say, he feigned inviting me--as he was walking out the door for a fun filled evening of drinking:  "Oh, did you want to go?"  No, that's ok, I don't have a sitter for the kids...go ahead...

He didn't want me, his wife and companion of almost 20 years, to go.  This hurt, but not nearly as much as what was to follow... It was a few days later he summoned the courage to tell me he'd wanted to leave for a long time.

I was understandably upset.  This too made him angry..."We talked about this all the time!" he demanded (yes, demanded).  What?  I don't remember talking about this?    

If we talked about it, I didn't remember it.  Not only that, I didn't get get it ... I think I would have remembered such a conversation.  

Do you want to work this out?  He didn't answer.  Perhaps I should have asked if it could be worked out...

Are you past the point of no return?  He wouldn't answer...

I didn't want to know the answer.