Page 50 of Shame

At this rate, I might not even need therapy for myself. We’re actually figuring out a way through this. Maybe we’ll be amicably divorced by the summer.

It’s a strange thought. Makes me feel a little empty, and I’m still contemplating that when his knock sounds at the door.

I let him in, and this is immediately a different man than I left in his apartment this morning. He’s done something, I can tell. “What’s going on?”

“Now it’s your turn to sit,” he says grimly.

“You’re scaring me.” The kettle whistles, and I hold up a finger. “Wait a second.”

I pour water into the teapot, then leave it. Something tells me I don’t need to entertain him right now. I stalk back into the living room and curl up on the armchair, because he’s sitting on the couch. “What is it?”

“Everything you said this morning…I heard all of it. I don’t want you to live with any kind of doubt, and I need to fully own the damage I have done. The truth is, I collapsed in on myself just as much as our firm did. In a time of acute crisis, I failed to do the right thing on every level. Looking back, I see that I just abdicated my responsibility to this marriage. To you. I won’t make the same mistake again.”

There’s a real resignation to his voice, and it alarms me, even though he’s saying everything I want to hear. “What are you doing?”

“The right thing, no matter how much I hate it.” He hands over a printed piece of paper. “I’ve written something I want you to read.”

I reach out and take it.

I have to read it twice to understand what it is saying.

To Whom It May Concern,So Long As You Are a Better Person Than I Am;

I wantyou to date my wife. See, the thing is, I cheated on her. Like a lot of cheating spouses, I don’t have any good reasons why I did it. Sex, escape, adrenaline.

But I didn’t do it out of any sense of romance or love. Those, as pathetic as it sounds, are reserved for my wife, and she doesn’t want them from me right now.

So I think you should give it a go.

Know that I will always want her. Know that I will always love her. But I think she deserves a chance at a selfless love that doesn’t ask as much as my love asks.

Let me tell you about her. She’s creative as hell. Smart. Gorgeous. Her beauty is quiet, but lasting. She’s prettier now than she was when we met in university, although she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen then, and still is. She’s sexier now, too, in ways I was too selfish to properly explore when I had the chance. She works with her hands, with her entire body, and it shows. She’s got softness, too.

The way her muscles move beneath her curves is the most erotic thing I can picture.

Now she deserves the chance to freely be who she wants to be without any pressure.

If you think you might be the right person to give this woman the happiness she deserves—for a night, a day, a week, a month, or forever—submit your best effort to the P.O. Box listed below. All submissions will be treated with the utmost confidence by the person with the most integrity of anyone I’ve ever known.

My wife.

Who I don’t deserve.

I won’t know the entries. I’ve given her the key to the P.O. Box, and she won’t share them with me. She won’t want to, and that has to be my cross to bear.

“You’re joking,”I whisper.

“No.”

“Luke, this is a hell of a way to tell me that I’m pretty.”

“That’s not what I’m doing. You are, by the way. Very pretty.”

“You want me to date other people? Through a systemyouhave set up, rather than just, you know, the normal way.”

“You don’t need to use the letter if you don’t want to.” He shrugs, his whole body tight. “I just thought—I mean, it’s mostly for you, so you know how I feel about you. Yeah, that’s true. But I’m serious about other people dating you. You dating…other people. That’s—you should have that. If you want it.”

“And what if I say I do?” I stand up, furious and desperately in need of a cup of tea to restore me to the perfectly reasonable day I had been having up until he gave me this note. “Don’t answer that.”

---