Page 66 of All In
“Good. Keep it up. You’ll be back to yourself in no time.” He winks at me as if he’s paid me the ultimate compliment. With a heavy heart, and the initial excitement now gone, I turn to head back to the never-ending pile of toddler socks. “Oh wait, Maria.” I shift my weight, grab onto the door frame, face my husband, the supposed love of my life, and give him a tight smile. “And make sure to give the bathroom a deep clean today. I really made a mess of it this morning.”
I sigh. My Nate is back.
Suddenly, folding socks sounds a lot more appealing than the Finger Lakes.
The weekend ended up being a bust.
We arrived at our cabin at ten that Friday night. Nate passed out on the bed by ten-thirty, claiming the long drive and a stressful week at work did him in.
The next morning, while on a hike (a hike that was supposed to help with my weight loss), he got a phone call. His face lit up when he saw who the caller was. He stepped away, and when he returned, he told me that we had to head back home because his conference was now back on.
Yeah, okay.
We drove five hours home and picked up the kids. As soon as we pulled into the driveway, he kissed me on the cheek and off he went to his “conference.”
I know full well what’s going on. And I’m choosing to ignore it. One day, when I have enough courage, I will confront him.
But not now.
Currently, I’m back in Mason’s room, folding yet another basket of laundry as him and Brielle play in their playroom, waiting for my husband to return home. Also, trying to put out of my mind what I know is happening.
My husband is cheating on me. The signs are there, flashing their warnings. The late dinners with so-called colleagues. Weekend conferences. Unnecessary overtime. The smell of perfume that isn’t mine on his clothes. He thinks he’s being slick about it all. However, as of right now, it’s only suspicions on my part. The proof will come. I need to remain calm and wait.
Although those thoughts taunt me daily, I choose to ignore them and move on.
Music from the radio in our bedroom is traveling through the hallway. I chose a soft pop/rock channel to help with my emotions. The songs are soothing and upbeat. I need that right now. Although angry screaming death metal might mirror my current mood as well.
Brielle’s and Mason’s laughter is coming from the room on the other side of the wall. No matter how crappy my marriage is, or how horrible Nate makes me feel, those two little humans make it all worth it.
A song I’m familiar with starts to play. “Lucky” by Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat. My body immediately sways with the beat. But it’s the lyrics that send a shockwave through my system. Lyrics about being in love with your best friend, seeing them in your dreams, coming home again.
Only one person has fit those lyrics for me.
Sam.
I stand up and walk to the bedroom as Jason and Colbie sing in harmony, letting the lyrics fill my thoughts and wrap around my heart. We were fortunate to share a love that went beyond romance and made us the best of friends.
My chest fills with the same familiar pain that always accompanies thoughts of Sam, and I know what follows that pain.
I sit on the edge of my and Nate’s bed, and the tears well up in my eyes as the duet continues.
I pull my body into itself as I wipe my running nose on my knees. Snot smearing the dark denim. It’s been two years since the email from Sam. The one he told me not to respond to, and for obvious reasons, I understood his request. Erica died. How or why, I have no clue. But he needed to be a dad to his son. Iwould have been a distraction. I get it and would never fault him for making his son his sole focus. It’s those types of qualities that made me love him so much.
But does he still feel that way? Even though I’m living this life, getting those emails from Sam always was a bright spot for me. I feel like I need that again. To cope with the absolute mess that my life has become.
I peel myself off of the bed and head toward the computer. I peek in on Brielle and Mason, and they are fine. Happily playing with one another.
The comforting sound of the computer coming to life starts to get my adrenaline going.
With a click of a button, my email opens. I type.
Date: June 30 2009 4:45pm
From: [email protected]
Subject: Hi
