Guilt-ridden, ashamed, and afraid her family will find out, she tries to convince him it was a mistake.
Refusing to be rejected, he begins to stalk her. Can she keep her secret
Someone once said a hangover felt like a sharp spear of
light, slicing your eyeballs out of their sockets and leaving every nerve
rubbed raw, while a hundred drummers played in your head, complete with
cymbals. I couldn’t remember who said it, but I could attest to the truth of
it. The room spun. My stomach churned, and my mouth tasted like sour milk. I
squinted against the bright sunlight. Darn, why hadn't I pulled the shades?
What time was it anyway? Rolling over
and lifting my head just high enough to look at the alarm clock, I tried to
focus. My eyes hurt just looking at the digital numbers.
Ugh, eight o’clock already.
Slumping back down onto the soft mattress, I pressed my
fingertips into my temples. Rotten headache, served me right. Had I really drank
a half bottle of wine? God, I had drunk
so much and barely remembered anything from last night. Anything that is,
except Paul’s hands all over me. Oh Lord, Paul. Memory of last night flashed
through my mind.
What had I done? Trying to block out the memory, I pulled
the sheet over my head, and inched my way to the other side of the king-sized
bed, glad for the coolness of the soft cotton sheets. What had possessed me
last night? I wasn't some sex starved
teen. I was married for cripes sake.
Oh God, how would I face Andrew?
Tears stung my eyes. Suddenly, my actions from last night
became all too clear. How could I have done this? Just because Andrew had been
inattentive and away on business a lot didn't justify having sex with another
man.
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and groaned. What attracted me
to Paul anyway? He wasn't even my type.
What the hell does a forty-two year old woman want with a twenty-eight
year old? Hardly even a man. Still a kid.
Young enough to almost be my son.
Stupid, stupid, stupid! I hated that I had given in. Hated
the guilt that seeped into me. I’d never be able to live with this.
Sexy though Paul was, with his black curly hair and tanned
muscular body, we had absolutely nothing in common. Paul, single, athletic and
outgoing, bordered almost on the point of being crude.
Oh, he treated
everyone polite enough, and all the women at the club fawned all over him.
Maybe that was the problem — he acted like God’s gift to women.
So what in the world made me give into his seduction? Clearly, I hadn’t been thinking straight.
“Thinking straight?” I covered my head with the pillow.
“Honey, you weren’t thinking at all.” My voice sounded harsh, raspy. I rolled
over, eased myself up, sat on the edge of the bed, and pushed back the wave of
nausea and dizziness. “Pull yourself together, girl. You have to think this
through.”
Think, I couldn’t even focus. And how was I going to face
Andrew when he came home later? I wasn’t good at lying, never had been. Andrew
would guess the minute he saw me. Damn, damn, damn, what had I done?
Worse, why?
I shuddered at the memory of last night. Paul hadn't spoken
a single word the whole time we were together. He wasn't tender or gentle like
Andrew. Our love making had been quick, fierce, almost animalistic. I held my
head in my hands. Couldn't even call it lovemaking? Nothing more than sex. Pure
unadulterated sex. Stupid, that’s what it was, plain, old, every day stupid. My
stomach turned over, and tears slid down my cheeks.
Shamed and disgusted, I lay back down, curled into a ball,
and wanted to disappear. Go back to sleep. Make it go away, a bad dream. But it wasn't a bad dream, and it wasn't going to go away.
I had to get up, move
on, had to work through it. Forget it happened. Yeah, like that was possible.
Never, in this lifetime. More importantly, I had to keep Andrew from finding
out. Right now, I needed to get up. There was much to do today. Lying in bed and hiding wouldn't solve
anything. Much as the thought appealed to me. There were errands to run and a
dinner engagement with my friend Jenny.
Oh, crap, Jenny.
How could I even
explain this to my friend? Jenny, who
knew everything wasn't all peaches and cream between me and Andrew lately,
certainly wouldn't suspect ‘little prude, Meg Baldwin’ of anything like this. I
really wasn't a prude, but Jenny thought of me that way.
She held me up on some kind of pedestal. Seemed like
everyone did. Heck, how had I earned that reputation anyway? I’d never been
Miss Goody Two Shoes. I did the things most college students did. Drank too
much, skipped classes sometimes. Shoot, there’d been a lot of skipped classes
since I didn't really want to go to college.
But, hadn't I portrayed myself as the perfect wife with the
perfect life? Nothing about me seemed perfect now. I had committed the ultimate
sin, cheated on my husband. Cheated on my family. Cheated myself.
If someone had told me twenty years ago I’d be in this
predicament, I would have laughed at them. Even a week, no two days ago, it
would have cracked me up. Tears swelled in my eyes. I swiped them away. How was
I supposed to act normal around my friend or, for that matter, around anyone?
Nope, nothing else to do but postpone our dinner.
What good would that
do? I’d have to see Jenny eventually, and then what? May as well go. Get it
over and done with. I’d muddle through somehow. Besides, confession was good
for the soul,
Wasn't it?
I didn't have to tell Jenny everything.
In fact, I didn't have to tell Jenny anything. Like that was
possible. Jenny’d see right through me. Always had. She used to laugh at me in
college. I had talked about nothing but marriage and having babies. That’s all I
ever wanted. If my parents hadn't insisted, I wouldn't have gone to college in the first place. My dream was to
find the perfect man, have a dozen kids, and become the perfect wife and
mother.
Well, I had found the perfect man — Andrew. We were the
perfect match. Weren't we? If Andrew found out, he’d never forgive me. Not that
I’d blame him. I couldn't even forgive myself.
I eased off the bed and stumbled to the shower. “Damn it!” I
bumped into the rocker along the way. My head pounded with every step like it
was going to explode. Stopping in front of the large mirror over the vanity and
half afraid to look, my reflection stared back at me.
Other than a tangled mass of dark brown hair that
desperately needed a color touch-up, I didn't look any different. Even through my
bloodshot eyes, my face looked normal. A bit pale, some dark circles, but under
the circumstances that didn't surprise me.
What had I expected to see anyway? A sign on my forehead –
cheating wife? I rubbed some cleansing cream on the dark circles under my eyes,
relieved to see most of the black came off.
Phew, just mascara. I wiped off
the face cream and turned on the shower.
It took a bit of effort to step into the tub - my whole body
ached. Pulling the curtain, I shivered at the initial shock of cold water.
Finally, a hot steady stream rushed over me, but all the scrubbing didn’t take
the dirty feeling from my body. Didn't take the feeling of Paul’s hands away.
They’d be forever etched in my mind. Like an octopus he was. Couldn't keep his
hands off of me. The thought of it repulsed me. Why had I been so attracted
last night?
Guilt ridden and red from scrubbing, I snapped off the
water, took a deep breath, and swallowed the nausea, rising in my throat. I
stepped out of the shower and heard my daughter’s voice in the hall.
“Mom, Jason and I are leaving now,” Julie yelled. “Don’t
forget we won’t be home for dinner.”
Oh God, the kids. What if they found out?
I wrapped my robe around me, tied it at the waist, and
hurried to the doorway. Not only had I
betrayed Andrew, I had betrayed my kids.
Hugging my
fifteen–year-old daughter and giving her an extra hard squeeze, I barely got
the words out. “Okay honey, you and Jason have fun. I’ll see you later.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Julie returned the hug.
The puzzled look wasn't lost on me as Julie hurried off to join her brother. I wasn't sure why I
felt the need for the extra hug. Probably the guilt already eating at me.
What if the kids found out? What would they think of their
mother? Why hadn't I thought of all this before I so foolishly given in to a
whim? It wasn't like me to jump into things like this. I always thought things
through. Why not this time? I had never done a spontaneous thing in my life.
Why now?
I shook the thought from my mind, ran downstairs to make
coffee and thought about the errands I needed to run. Grocery shopping, dry
cleaners, post office, something else — damn, I hated when I couldn't remember.
Why hadn't I written it down? Lately, I’d been so forgetful it scared me. Oh well, I’d think of it eventually.
Always one to get my errands done and out of the way early,
today I dreaded going out. What if I ran into someone? I couldn't face people.
Not yet. One look at my face, and they’d guess. I went back upstairs, blew
dried my hair and slipped into a light cotton blouse and capris. After one last
look in the mirror, to assure myself I hadn't really turned into a monster, I
looked around the room — our room — mine and Andrew’s.
This was our sanctuary. We both loved this room. I loved the
warm burgundy walls. Andrew had been leery of the color, but once he saw it he
liked it too. He had given me a free hand with decorating for the most part -
as long as I didn't do anything too frilly. Of course, he insisted on picking
out the massive cherry furniture, the sleigh bed and oversized armoire. It fit
well in the large room. The only frill I allowed myself was the antique, pink
floral rocker. The other chair, another over-sized, over-stuffed one, Andrew
wanted. The burgundy and navy plaid chair fit well with the room. Gave it a
homey feel. Tears stung my eyes.
Why had I been so
foolish?
How could I have crawled into bed after sex with another
man? I definitely needed to change the
sheets, or more likely burn them. I yanked the sheets off the bed and got new
ones from the closet, picked up the navy quilt from the floor, where I had
kicked it, and made up the bed. Okay, enough of a delay, it was time to get on
with the day.
After a quick cup of coffee, I was off. Hurrying through the
grocery store, head down to avoid making eye contact with anyone, I prayed I wouldn't run into anyone, especially a gossipy neighbor. Usually I loved
grocery shopping. Loved planning dinners for my family, especially when Andrew
came home from one of his trips. I always tried to make something special. But
not today.
I threw only a few of the things from my list into the cart
and cut my shopping trip short. This was too much to handle. I had to get out of here. I could barely
breathe. The risk of running into a neighbor or someone from the club was just
too great. Besides, my head still ached something fierce. Served me right, but
no way could I finish shopping.
Relieved not to have bumped into anyone, I paid for the
groceries, hurried to my car, and pressed the remote to release the trunk.
While unloading the grocery cart, a sense of dread came over me. Someone stood
behind me.
Oh crap, why now?
Without looking, I knew it was Paul. I didn't want to face
him, not today, not ever again. How to explain to him this was a one-time
thing, that there was nothing between us? I couldn't bring myself to look at
him.
“Hey, Babe, how are you today?”
Just the sound of his voice sent chills up my spine, and not
the ones I experienced yesterday. Today, nothing about him excited me. Today,
the thought of him repulsed me.
Heat burned my face, and I knew color crept into my cheeks.
A wave of nausea formed a lump in my throat, making it difficult to speak.
Without looking up, I put my groceries into the trunk and slammed it closed. I
swallowed hard and cleared my throat.
“Hey, why the cold shoulder? What’d I do?” Paul grabbed my
arm.
I cringed at the sound of his voice, pulled away, got into the
car, and rolled down the window - just enough for him to hear me. Staring
straight ahead, unable to look at him, barely able to even talk to him, I took
a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Something told me this wasn't going to be
easy.
“Paul, about last night... It was a mistake. It’s not going
to happen again.” I started the car and forced myself to look at him. “I’m
sorry...” I just wanted this over and
done with. Wanted to be rid of him.
“What do you mean a mistake?” Paul’s smile turned into a
scowl. “You’re sorry...?” His raised his
voice and clenched his fist.
This wasn't going well. “Look, Paul, it never should have
happened. I lost control...” Think, darn it. There had to be something I could
say to let him down easy. Some way to soften this.
“Paul, listen... You’re an attractive guy, but I’m married,
please try to understand.” This was hopeless. The arrogant look on his face
told me I wasn't getting through to him. Something told me he wasn't used to
rejection, that he was the one who usually called it quits. Well, there’s a
first time for everything. Looked like he found his first.
“Hey, come on, Meg.
You can’t mean that.”
What had I seen in
him? Right now he looked like a spoiled kid whose mother told him to get out of
the cookie jar. He looked like he was going to throw a tantrum, and I wasn't about to stick around and watch.
I started the car, put it in gear, and drove off, leaving
him to stare after me.
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