I sat on the balcony outside the hall with my squirt and tequila drink by myself. The ice clinked against my plastic cup and I gazed out onto the pond and swimming pool below. My plastic cup said something about summer camp on it and it was rimmed with salt and lime. Husband always was a good bartender. It was a brief minute for me to reflect on my life. However, very little reflecting happened.
One by one, Husbands’ family members wandered outside and sat down at the picnic bench that was my resting spot. Each had a sad story to tell, none were the same as mine, but each hard in their own way. I heard stories about family squabbles, parents not accepting gay brothers, addiction, work struggles… the list goes on.
We laughed about bosses and crazy moms while sipping on our tequila concoctions. As the sweat continued to drip down my back, and the tequila kept pouring, I found new friends in friends that I have had for a long time
I listened with an open ear and an open heart. I guess the saying “misery loves company” is true. Husband’s family never opened up to me like this before. Now that I was one of the gang with my separation-cheating husband-chlamydia-ectopic pregnancy saga, friends felt like they could talk. And I have learned how to listen. I changed. I do not judge like I did, so maybe in a weird wouldn’t.wish.this.on.anyone way, it helped me grow.
In the dark, our laughs could be heard through the trees, while the background booty music kept thumping, and we kept on breathing. I found humanity.
Camping After the Party: Husband is Trying
“Don’t worry, I got this,” Husband said as he grabbed a diaper and wipe and changed our one and a half year old son’s diaper.
I watched as he lay E. down on the air mattress inside of the tent, and carefully undressed and redressed our wiggly little man.
Well, shit. I had to give him props. At least he was trying to put whatever little pieces were left back together again. He really was a good dad. Both boys went bananas when Husband walked through the door. They squealed with delight, ran to the door, peeked over the railing, and couldn’t get to their dad fast enough.
He planned the camping trip out and executed every detail. He set up and took down the tents, blew up the air mattresses, bought the food, packed the coolers, brought some sleeping bags, and helped me find the camp ground.
He watched the boys on Sunday, so I could go home and clean and cut the grass and do that sort of crap that is hard to do with a one-year-old and a four-year-old.
He said he was sorry. But he and I both know that there are situations when sorry is not going to cut it. Sorry is the smallest word in a big word situation.
These deeds and small thoughts are starting to build up though, and my heart is starting to melt just a little bit. But do they ensure that my heart won’t break again? Does this mean that he will truly change and will never cheat on me again? That is the question, and I guess couples counseling is the only way I might find an answer.
Home Again, The Next Night
It was past midnight last night and my head hung low as I sat on the last step on the landing. Tears were pouring down my face and dripping down my arms. I wanted to pull every strand of hair out and grabbed at it in fist fulls. My thick brown hair clung to my fingers.
Runaway. Run away now. It was all I could think about.
I had just done another round of argument/crying/sex with Husband and my heart was tearing in two. I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t be in this house full of memories. I couldn’t sleep in the bed that we used to share. I couldn’t cook in the kitchen where we would eat.
Out. I wanted out.
Husband turned to leave as I was sobbing uncontrollably. I was in a hysterical ball of mess on the stairs in an old tank top wife-beater than Husband left behind and some cotton underwear. I screamed.
I tried to run out the door, but Husband said he was leaving. I couldn’t leave the kids alone so into the house I went. I collapsed on the sofa, hid my eyes, and sobbed some more.
Insanity. Crazy. Gone nuts. I didn’t want to do this anymore.
Husbands watched from the shadows of the doorway. Then he said goodnight and walked out.