Shedding
March, 1998
The only things I’m good at lately are yelling at people at work and avoiding my husband and friends. The plus side about being a bitch at work is that I’m giving every a*shole we do business with a run for their money and my boss is giving me kudos for my tenacity. I smell a raise on the horizon. Courtney’s called a few times wondering where I am, but those calls have gone unreturned. Since Dr. Maria made me start wondering why I don’t talk to my best friends about my problems, I feel uptight talking to them about anything. It hasn’t been hard to avoid Kurt, though. In fact, I think we’ve been avoiding each other for years. He’s been busy planning a kayaking trip for the two of us. You know…because I love kayaking so damn much. To prepare me for the trip, he bought me the most ridiculous looking shoes I’ve ever seen. They’re called Uggs and they’re UGGly as all hell. They might be on the cover of Outdoor Idiot Magazine but they’ll never make it into mainstream fashion or onto my feet. Seriously, where does he find this stuff?
The last time I saw Leo was at his apartment, six days ago. We didn’t have sex that night. At first it seemed like it was certain we would, but after all of my clothes came off and he started to explore my body, I broke down in tears. Sure, I had already committed adultery in every sense of the word, but there was no absolution from having sexual intercourse with another man. Once I did that, there was no going back, and up until that moment on Leo’s bed, all of my sanity rested on the hope that I could put him behind me, forgive myself for my one and only mistake, and move on with my life with Kurt. I knew if I had sex with Leo, every single thing I had worked for in the last twelve years would come to a crashing halt. My much admired wedding ring would feel like nothing more than costume jewelry; my dream home would become a house of cards, and my fifty thousand dollar wedding vows would make about as much sense as jibber jabber. Everything I thought to be precious would really be shit. Maybe it’s already shit, but until I determine the full extent of its shittyness, I owe it to Kurt to put a lid on my libido. Plus, even more disturbing than blowing up my shitty world with adulterous sex is that it would officially make me a total failure. And the thought of that was more overwhelming than the desire to have sex with Leo. So he held me tightly while I cried uncontrollably.
For a few hours, I felt safe in his arms, a fraud sheltered from my fraudulent life. When he finally walked me out to my car, I told him I probably wouldn’t see him again because I needed time to sort my life out.
He grabbed both of my wrists, stared deep into my eyes and said “You have to.” And I do. As much as I want to be done with him, I can’t be. I’m addicted now. The next day, I gave him my phone number. Okay, not really, it’s just the phone number to my voicemail account.
There’s no way I can give him my real cell phone number!
Because of work and obligations at home…like ones that require me to act like a wife, I haven’t been able to talk to Leo for days. And as I listen to his latest message on my way home from work, I can tell he isn’t happy about it.
“You’re worrying me, Chrissy. If you don’t want to see me anymore, then at least have the guts to tell me. Don’t leave me hanging like this.”
Just as I’m about to pull into my driveway, I maneuver the car straight and drive to the end of my street. Am I crying because it really is over or because I don’t want it to be and I don’t know what to do about it? How come the only time I’ve felt sane in the last twelve years has been in the last few insane weeks? Jesus, I’m so exhausted from asking myself questions like this. I start to cry harder than I ever have; it’s truly an academy award winning performance. I can’t go home until the redness in my eyes goes away because Kurt will want to know “what’s wrong now” and I can’t lie to him anymore. I park next to the trailhead that I’ve come to know and love as the start of my morning jogs and give myself time to calm down.
I tend to make very quick decisions about things. Whether it’s about upping my 401k contribution amount, changing my political party affiliation, or lasering a mole off of my body, when I decide on something, I do it immediately. No decision is ever kept in limbo long with me, and what to do with my marriage shouldn’t be an exception. So if I don’t plan on divorcing Kurt, and I don’t, at least I don’t think, I cannot continue to see Leo. No good can come out of what I’m doing to those men and eventually I’m gonna get caught. Plus, if I end up on Leo’s bed again, I’m screwed, literally. The best way to end the charade, and my addiction, is to tell Leo I’m going forward with my so-called wedding in July and say good-bye to him once and for all. I pick up my cell phone and slowly dial his number.
“What the hell are you talking about?! Tell me one good reason why you’re gonna marry that guy.”
“For starters, we’ve been together a really long time.”
“That’s a stupid reason and you know it.”
He’s right, it is a stupid reason, but this is also a stupid lie. This whole charade makes me look and sound like a stupid idiot.
“I’d be hurting a lot of people if I backed out of the engagement. I guess I’m too scared to do that.”
“Then you aren’t the same person I’ve been talking to.”
That’s an understatement.
“So you’re gonna go through with a wedding to a guy you cheated on because you feel obligated to?”
Nope, I’m gonna stay married to a guy because I feel obligated to.
“Leo I don’t know how to explain all of this to you…”
“Why don’t you try explaining the connection you guys have. If you can convince me it’s more powerful than the one we have, I’ll send you a f*cking wedding present.”
“It’s not. It’s just-”
“THEN WHAT THE F*ck ARE YOU DOING!?” I wish I knew.
“Christ, end it with both of us. At least that might make a shred of sense to me.”
“Leo, it doesn’t make sense to me that a twenty-eight-year-old woman can be with a twenty-two-year-old guy. It would never work.”
“The age thing is bullshit. I’m sick of it, and it’s not the reason we wouldn’t work out.”
But I wonder…just how much of my decision to end it with him is based on that very insecurity?
“But say you did give us a chance and it didn’t work out; at least you wouldn’t be married to a guy you cheated on. He’s not the one for you, I am.”
“How do you know?”
“You wouldn’t cheat on me!”
Shut up, shut up, shut up! I have been cheating on you, but not because I want to, because I’m obligated to.
“I think you’re confused and making a huge mistake, but I’m not gonna talk you out of it anymore.”
Confused is putting it mildly.
“Ya know, Chrissy, when you told me you were engaged, I didn’t give a shit about the guy you were gonna marry. I was like, f*ck him! My philosophy’s always been, if you don’t take care of business, you go outta business, and his loss was my gain. But now that you’re actually gonna marry the guy, I feel sorry for him.”
That stung a little.
“Because I cheated on him?”
“No, because you don’t love him as much as he probably loves you. Nobody deserves to be in a marriage like that.”
His assertion that nobody deserves to be in a marriage like that is correct, but I feel like he has the order all wrong. And, what about what I deserve!? I feel like I deserve Leo. This call was a mistake. I don’t want to end it with him.
“I gotta go, Chrissy. Ho-Bag’s waiting for me outside to go to the gym.”
“I don’t want to end it like this. Can I…”
“No. I’m done. This…whatever it is, is over. Don’t call me anymore.”
I know I called to say a final good-bye, but I thought he would talk me into seeing him one more time. I’d refuse. He’d convince. We’d be back to square one. But nope, he’s quick to get off the phone. I’m panicking. If I hang up, he’s gone forever. His eyes open to look into someone else’s, his hand available to hold another’s. His voice will be able to tell someone else “I love you.” I’m stunned at his quickness to dismiss me. By the time I’m finally able to speak, “Leo, wait…” he’s gone.
The sky is purple like a bruise
I lie beneath it counting
All the dreams I fear I’ll lose…
And I just want something for the pain
(Something for the Pain, Leslie Nuchow)