If Loving You is Wrong

“Are you coming tonight?”

Her alluring voice played through the phone, a siren call of smooth, sweet promises laced with unspoken dangers. A drug, one that got my heart high and my brain numb. My mind, at least its more moral aspects, screamed at me to stop before things turned physical.

I’d stopped listening to that part of my psyche weeks ago.

“I’m thinking about it. She knows what time to expect me, but I can tell her I hit traffic.”

My chest felt like a black hole, an intense weight resting on it that sucked the air from my lungs. Was it excitement or anxiety? Or both?

I wanted this, I needed this. 10 years of lifeless marriage. We were more roommates than lovers. My wife had committed her fair share of betrayals, some of which I’d even found out about. 

I stayed because of the kids, as so many have. I never thought of myself, my happiness; I suppose that would be admirable if it weren’t for the fact that I was too damn afraid to stand up for myself. 

Surely karma would see what I’d gone through and consider the balance sheet equal. Karma owed me this one after all these years.

My response met with silence; just the sound of steady breathing came through the line. Was she getting cold feet? I hadn’t considered the possibility that Natalie would be the one to back out. She’d known from the beginning that I was married, and despite her momentary lapses into religious guilt, she never wavered that this was what she wanted too.

The silence grew louder with each passing second. For my sanity, I had to break it.

“Are you ok?”

“Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?”

Was she referring to me visiting tonight? Or what I would tell my wife when I arrived at the darkened house late into the night? My chest tightened further, the weight intensifying as I worried about my response. Just one hour prior, I was on top of the world. Everything I wanted was coming to fruition. With one sentence, Natalie had pulled the rug from under me to reveal that I was never on solid footing in the first place.

How should I respond? I needed to ensure that I didn’t push her further down the path of doubt, but I didn’t know what she was doubting. Precious moments ticked by; I was bordering on giving off doubt myself.

“I’m absolutely sure. I’ve never met anyone like you, I’ve never felt this way before. You’ve opened my eyes to what is possible when you find someone that you truly connect with. I want this with you.”

“I know, I feel the same.” She paused. “But, I meant tonight.”

The pressure on my chest eased. She wasn’t questioning our future, only if we should meet before I talked to my wife. Before I explained that the world Lydia had known would come to an end. 

“If you aren’t comfortable, I have no problem waiting,” I lied. My only hope was that the prospect of not getting our hands on each other would push her over from where she sat, teetering on the fence. 

I’d long moved past worrying about whether we should or that maybe this isn’t right. I thought she had too.

“Maybe that would be better, at least until you’ve left her.”

The cold sting of disappointment rippled throughout my body. My plans for the night, my excitement, it was all vanishing the more we spoke. My options were to give in and go home, face the reality I’d created for myself, or to press on. 

“If you’re absolutely certain that’s what you want… I won’t press you.” I’d always been terrible at expressing my real feelings, but I’d learned long ago how to manipulate others to get what I want. Call it a gift from my abusive childhood.

“I don’t know.” She was hesitating again, still on the fence. There was still a chance. “Are you sure she won’t find out?”

I had no way of knowing if my wife would ever find out, but I jumped at the opening Natalie provided. “One hundred percent, yes. I’m certain.”

My heart skipped three or four beats when I heard her respond. 

“Ok, come over then.”

*****

“Alright kids, it’s time for bed.”

My heart was beating through my chest. Was it excitement or anxiety? Or both?

Carl was supposed to be home in an hour; he’d left Philadelphia three hours ago. I knew exactly how long it would take him to get back; I’d checked Google Maps to get the route time and to see if there was any traffic along the way. I wanted to let him know if there were any delays, as Carl hated traffic. I hated when traffic caused him to become stressed out. I wanted him home, with his family, so he could relax after a long trip.

One-by-one, I hugged each of our three children and kissed their foreheads, tucking them into bed. With each bedroom door I shut, my chest felt tighter and tighter. Carl had begun to act strangely after he left for his trip. We barely spoke, and when we did, he felt distant. I asked, but he wouldn’t tell me what was going on.

“We can talk when I get back.” That was all he would give me when I asked what was going on with him.

I wished he would’ve just told me whatever he was going to tell me then. The anticipation was surely worse than whatever he would tell me, but my innermost fears manifested the worst-case scenarios then replayed them countless times in the days since he uttered those words. Things that could never happen, like Carl asking for a divorce. Or my worst fear, that he would leave me for another woman.

He was far too selfless for that. My Carl, the man who stood by me even when I broke his trust. I didn’t deserve him; he was far too good of a man. I couldn’t think of a better father, a better husband.

But… I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming. Something I wasn’t ready for. My stomach bad been turning for days. I hadn’t eaten; I couldn’t eat.  The thought made me even sicker to my stomach.

As I sat on the couch, my phone lit up. 

Carl Calling.

I snatched my phone off the coffee table and pressed Answer, trying to calm myself before talking to not appear as desperate as I really was.

“Hey, on your way home baby?”

“Yeah… I’m on the road now.” He sounded hesitant.

“So, I’ll see you in an hour?”

“I wish. I hit bad traffic, and we’re barely moving. All lanes might be shut down.”

An icy dagger pierced my heart as he recited his lie. All my excitement at seeing his name pop up on my phone only served to raise my spirits higher so that the emotional drop was even steeper. Crushed, I didn’t know how to respond. How do you tell the man you hope isn’t coming home to tell you he’s leaving that you know he’s lying – without pushing him further away?

“Oh… that’s not good. Have you looked it up yet on Google Maps?”

“Yeah, it looks like road construction up ahead. We’re backed up for miles. It’s going to be a while.”

All of my worst fears, the dread I’d felt for the past three days, bore down harder than ever before. I’d been fighting my fears, telling myself I was being irrational. Hearing how much Carl had rehearsed this lie, though, cut through any delusions I still had left.

“Carl, where are you headed?” My voice was much steadier than I felt, my fears turning into resolve as I spoke. The silence grew louder each moment he didn’t respond. The only thing I could hear was my own beating heart as I waited.

“What are you talking about?” His voice was slower, measured. He was gauging how much I knew. 10 years of marriage, I knew when he was lying, when he was trying to gain more time to figure out how much he could still hide. 

My heart broke as I realized he wasn’t headed home. Wherever else he was going, he didn’t want me to know. Based on his lie, he planned on being there for hours. Was he even coming home? I was afraid of the answer, but I asked anyway.

“Are you coming tonight?”