Chapter 2 - D-day part 2
So she walks in the door, sees me sitting in the living room (obviously not sick) and her eyes start cutting around the room, like she's looking for something. I ask her to sit down, say I'm not sick, and that I had to get her home alone so we could talk about something. She sits down next to me, very uncomfortable.
I tell her that I want to begin by assuring her that in my opinion there was nothing that we could not work through or forgive if we really wanted to, but that she absolutely had to tell me the truth about some things I needed to ask her. "I need you to tell me, once and for all, if there is someone else."
She said, "I will admit that there is an inappropriate relationship." Now that my radar was up, I recognized the double-talk, the half-truths, that I had been getting for so long. Plus, I had the notes I had found, which were not graphic but left no doubt that the relationship had become sexual. I asked her again to tell me the truth; same answer. Then I pulled out the enelope I had put under the couch cushion and started reading the notes to her. She finally said, "OK! It was sexual! What do you want me to say?"
"How about the truth?"
"That is the truth."
Here the blur starts -- there was a 5 or 10 minute conversation, a little about who it was (I already knew), how long it had gone on, just some of the bare basics. She asked what I was doing looking in her stuff; I said other people's honesty did not concern her at the moment. We both probably said some pointed things, but it did not get too heated or out of hand. My prayers for keeping my temper were being answered.
Then I remember telling her, without being sure that I meant it, and without knowing what I hoped she would say, that she had to decide whether or not to stay in this marriage, and the only condition on which I was willing to work on the marriage was if there was a complete end to any relationship she had to the other guy.
She paused. I had no earthly idea what she was going to say. I just knew her decision would have a lot to do with how the rest of my life would turn out. She looked at me and said, "I want to give us a shot."
"Then you have to end it."
"I want to see him to say good-bye."
"No, it won't be in person. If we are going to have a chance, then you have already had your last meeting with him."
So she calls him. She picks up the phone and dials the number I've already memorized. I'm in the next room, and I can't hear everything, but I can hear the tone. It was hushed, business-like, like "I've-got-to-tell-you-something-important-and-have-to-make-it-quick."
After they hung up she came in the room and sat across from me. She said, "I did it. Now what?"
Now what indeed.