She was at lunch on Friday with her friend and was shocked to hear her friend tell her bluntly that she'd been mean, hurtful, and altogether wrong to tell her husband that he was bad at phone sex.
A few days earlier, she had found condom packaging in her husband's car and thought she'd had hardly any reaction. But unfortunately, her anger leaked out of the weak spots...in conversations with friends, in how she treated her child. Her anger and her feelings had had to go underground for so long that now, the only way they could get out was sideways.
She felt crazy. Did she even know what the truth about her feelings was? Did she really know how she felt? She knew how she felt at that moment across the table from her friend...lonely, sad, disappointed, and damn pissed. But she didn't know whether most of her feelings were valid and true or just phantoms, generated by her will to be happy in marriage no matter what person she was married to or what deeds were being done.
And so she modified her behavior, after her friend regurgitated some of the very advice that she'd given when her friend was going through her own disappointments. She felt mildly irritated and ashamed at the time.
He was coming home that night. She hadn't cleaned the house or kitchen. Things were a mess. She found every excuse that day not to do these things, even though she knew it was important to him. But finally, she did shower. She did her makeup and her hair specially for his homecoming. She subconsciously chose Greys Anatomy over being on time to pick him up. When he complained via various cell phone calls, she dismissed the complaints as invalid, thinking about the times he had left her waiting for hours, not just minutes. She put on the black wool coat that she knew he liked, black jeans, and the purple shirt that he loved also. She also wore the perfume that he loved and the peridot earrings he'd given her.
She made sure that her makeup highlighted her green eyes, skin that was like Irish cream, and her full lips. Her teeth were as white as she could get them so that she could confidently smile widely.
So much about her body's imperfections, she knew, could be forgiven by him as long as she dressed nicely and her hair and makeup were labored over. And indeed, he did tell her that she was so pretty he hardly recognized her when she picked him up. And the rest of the night, he did keep looking at her dark hair and her beautiful eyes and remarking on them. He couldn't resist touching her when they looked at each other across a table.
Too bad she couldn't always look just like that. But then, she knew, he wouldn't appreciate it anymore.
One thing she did know, though, was that he was a visual person. He was a person would always appreciate a beautifully done, up to date, head of hair, a well-chosen garment, beautifully applied makeup, a woman who was outwardly charming to all.
She told him at dinner that she was no longer on the birth control pill and would not be taking it anymore. Although she tempered this announcement with saying that she was going to get a blood test that required she not be on the pill at the moment and once that was done, she would get back on it. Inwardly, she wasn't sure about that. She gave him the option to decide if he wanted to use another birth control method or not. She probably would not be able to get pregnant without a doctor's intervention, she said, but nothing was guaranteed, and he should know that and make his choice.
That night he made his choice. And with it, so many doubts drained away. She realized that he was planning a future with her, not without her, and that having children with her, which he took very seriously, was not something he objected to. She felt so happy just knowing this.
So much anger melted away. Was he cheating when he felt like it? She didn't know, and he would never tell her. She wondered if it mattered that much. She knew that he was lonely in that city, and that he sometimes thought that sex would solve loneliness. She knew he was wrong about that, but that was not a knowing that she could give him. He'd have to learn it for himself.
For today, things were alright. For today, she could ignore the recent discovery of that piece of printed light cardboard.
And for today, she ate and ate and ate and ate, whenever he wasn't around. She got some sugary baked goods and ate. The symptoms were telling her that maybe things were ok for today, but it might be because of the copious, numbing amounts of food she was eating and the escapist movies she was watching. She should call her sponsor but she didn't want to be asked any questions. She didn't want to talk about her marriage.
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