When I saw Anya’s ring, my heart dropped into my bowels. The truth was simply this—I should’ve known better. To become irrational after feeling a spark all because a woman talked to me about love was nothing less than psychotic. After thirty-seven years of disappointments, I had no business believing in a moment meant for me. She could’ve never showed me her ring and this would still be all on me. The very first thing I should’ve looked for was a rock on her finger. I noticed the gold earrings, but not the sparkling diamond wedding ring? Not to mention, I’ve never met an available woman who was that open to having a deep conversation about love upon meeting. That alone should’ve told me she was unavailable. The ‘L’ word petrified Denise even after we experienced the most intimate act two people could ever share. No one in their right mind puts themselves out there by talking shamelessly about love unless they’re a single loser…like me. A brain existed inside my skull, but when it came to matters of the heart, I’d fall deaf, blind, and dumb all at once. Just seconds ago, I was dreaming about a future date with destiny, now, this special moment of mine turned out to be my most moronic by far, in a lifetime full of them.
“I was gonna tell you.” Anya defended. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, don’t even think twice about it. I’m sure you were.” I responded. “I was so into our conversation it didn’t even dawn on me. Honestly, I don’t even know how I could’ve missed it.”
“I’d understand if you didn’t wanna talk to me anymore.” She said, her head downcast.
“We can still talk as friends if you’re okay with that.” I told her. “I was gonna head home before we started talkin’ anyway. I’m only planning on stickin’ around for another ten minutes.”
“I’m okay with that. I understand.” She replied, her eyes jumping back to life.
“Let’s go talk to some real chicks, dude.” Mitch interjected. “Don’t waste your time on this…this trash.”
She didn’t defend herself as her eyes hit the floor again. Fearing he might go off on her, especially in his current drunken state, I aimed to downplay what happened. Sure, I was disappointed but there was no need to give birth to a whale over it.
“Hey Mitch, back off, alright?” I directed him. “I’m leavin’ soon anyway. There’s no reason to be an asshole. We were just talking.”
Mitch gave Anya a sideways glance she never saw then vacated the scene. As her eyes remained on the floor, it reminded me of the times my eyes used to do the same. When she offered nothing further to say, not even to defend herself, her understanding carried a silent sincerity to it. I appreciated Mitch looking out for me, but it wasn’t needed. I’d never be quick to fall in love with a woman again anyway—let alone one I couldn’t have. I mean, I was stupid at times, but not that stupid. I refused to ever relive the disappointment of Denise through someone else. Especially, having all those murderous thoughts when I knew the woman I loved was in the arms of another man. In her defense, our conversation had downhill momentum at breakneck speed. I couldn’t blame her for not wanting to stop—we both lost the ability to do so anyway. It was cool of Mitch to look out for me, but he was always looking for excuses to disrespect women so I couldn’t trust his motive. I met and hung out with him at Sonoma’s, but we didn’t grow up together and have known each other for only a year—I hardly knew the guy. We both had some shitty luck with women, but I didn’t carry the disdain for them that he did—not even close. I didn’t want any woman to see him as a reflection of who I was.
“I apologize for his behavior.” I said, shaking my head. “He looks for reasons to be disrespectful to women, especially when he’s drunk.”
“It’s okay. He’s your friend.”
“I’m not even sure if I can call him a friend. I just know him from hangin’ out here, that’s all.” I told her. “He was out of line.”
“It’s fine.” She reassured yet still shaken.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.” She perked up, her dark eyes widening inside mine.
“Why are you being unfaithful to your husband?”
“I’m not happy.” She sighed, her eyes now darting back and forth.
“Why not?”
“He promised me before we got married that when he started his business, I’d never have to work—that my job would be to raise our kids,” she claimed. “but I work all the time.”
“With all due respect…that’s no reason to cheat on your husband.” I stated, shaking my head.
She looked at me with disbelief etched on her face—this didn’t seem like something she ever heard before.
“You both made vows to each other, in front of God and family, that ‘for better or for worse until death do you part’.” I elaborated.
“What are you tryin’ to tell me?”
“So, when the worse comes around, you bail?” I answered. “It sounds like your husband is a hardworkin’ ambitious man who is just tryin’ his best to provide for his family and you’re punishin’ him for it.”
“He promised me I wouldn’t have to work. He misled me.”
“I’m not certain about most things, but I’m certain he was being sincere when he made that promise to you. He just had no idea how much his business would demand.” I said, preparing for her to leave me on the spot. “Why would you penalize him all because you had to help to pitch in? That’s what a marriage is all about—it’s a partnership. I’m sorry, but your reason for straying are completely selfish if you ask me.”
Anya observed my face with a respectful silence, seemingly saying ‘I can’t believe what you just said to me’. Hell, I couldn’t believe what came out of my mouth and I even brought God into it! Although I felt like a fraud, this was more than about God. I disagreed with her rationalization so much, she only confirmed that love was the greatest lie going around. She seemed hurt by my words, but she needed to hear them as much as she needed to stop cheating on her husband. If she wasn’t happy with her marriage, she should ask for a trial separation, if not a divorce, and stop jeopardizing her character. What would her kids think of her if they knew? These love triangles usually ended in tragedy, and by being brutally honest I was attempting to save her life.
“There’s some…” She tried to explain, but I was too fixated on what she told me and cut her off.
“I’m no expert on marriage, but if you’re unhappy why don’t you just get a divorce? Why sacrifice your character, and even your safety? These kinds of relationships can put you in harm’s way and can hurt a lot of people.”
Before she could answer, Debbie abruptly returned from her extended bathroom break.
“Let’s leave!” She demanded with flushed cheeks. “Stage Five Creeper won’t leave me alone. I keep tellin’ him I’m married but he won’t stop! I can’t take it anymore! Let’s go please.”
Anya nodded with reluctance then turned to me with a look of despair.
“I have to go.”
“I totally understand.” I said, a bit disappointed as well. “Take care of yourself. Good luck.”
“You too. Goodnight.” She said, then quickly darted out with Debbie through the bar’s back exit just behind them.
“Hey, where’d the blonde married bitch go?” Spit Mitch, his forehead beading with sweat.
“She’s gone.” I told him. “You managed to scare them both off. You should be proud.”
“I wanna smack you.” He said, trying to maintain his balance as he raised the backside of his hand.
“I’m gettin’ outta here too.” Shaking my head.
“Are you mad?” He spit again, putting his arm around me. “You should thank me—they’re both no good.”
“How would you know?” I replied, trying to squirm out from under his arm.
“I’ve dated married women before.”
“What? You’ve dated married women before?”
“Yeah…Like four of em’.” Informing me with eight fingers.
“Dude, that’s beyond wrong.”
“Fuck em’ It works beautifully.” Trying to convince me. “No commitment.”
“Debbie and Anya are both happily married. They’re not lookin’ to hook up with anyone. They just needed a break from their kids.” I countered. “How could you even do somethin’ like that?”
“When you have mud on your shoes do ya walk in the house or do ya take off your shoes before you walk inside?”
“Huh? Where are you goin’ with this?” I smirked, shaking my head at him in disbelief.
“Same applies with datin’ married women, bro. You have your fun, then you dump em’. You don’t wanna track mud in your house…And let me tell you somethin’ else.”
“After your muddy logic? What?”
“If they were happily married, they wouldn’t be here of all places—a fuckin’ singles bar.” Claimed Mitch, pointing his unstable finger at me.
“Well don’t worry. Thanks to you, I doubt they’ll ever step another foot inside this place again.” I assured him. “Congratulations.”
“Ah…Thanks, dude!” He responded without sensing any of my sarcasm.
“You’re a real piece of work.”
“Hey, don’t leave yet…Come hang out with me and Alice,” he said. “she’s around here somewhere.”
“I have to head home. I’m really beat.” I replied, knowing full well he wanted to bum a free ride off me.
“Yeah, I’m gonna bum a ride home from Alice anyway.” He notified, then dropping what was left of his drink on the floor. “Ah…Damn it. Hey Land, see ya next weekend?”
“Sure.” I lied, unsure of when I’d be back again at Sonoma’s.
Anya called me the next morning, leaving me a voice mail saying she felt terrible about what happened. I had totally forgotten I gave her my business card with my cell number on it. It was nice to hear her voice, but I had no intentions of ever returning her call. Afraid I’d run into her again at Sonoma’s, I decided a week later to call her back to say I got her message and that I wasn’t mad at her—I didn’t want to create an uncomfortable environment for her. I tried to fight back against my empathetic nature, but I didn’t take a woman’s desire to remain a virgin into marriage when she offered it to me. I sent roses to a girl on Valentine’s Day I never dated just to make her feel good and I considered another’s emotional pain over my own. It was only a matter of time before I would return her call—I didn’t want her to think I was a jerk. I needed some time to think about calling her back because she was a married woman, but I knew nothing would ever happen between us anyway. Even though I claimed to be over Denise, a part of me still struggled with her absence. After Anya told me she was married, it extinguished the fire inside for her. We had a brief conversation. She apologized for having to run out of there and then asked if I’d meet her for one drink as friends. Since I felt certain I’d never take it past a friendship, I agreed to meet her for just one.
It was a far cry from the date I envisioned the night I met her, but I believed my heartbreak could bring her some comfort and help save her marriage. Anya suggested we meet at a small restaurant and bar called Paseo in Manhattan Beach, a little over an hour drive from Newport Beach. She lived in Dana Point, and had a twenty minute longer drive than I did. After arriving at the restaurant ten minutes early, I waited in my car and thought of ways to help her. Anya needed to know what the pain of having someone you love, in the arms of another, felt like. How torturous those thoughts can be for the one being cheated on and how much she hurt her husband. Her spouse seemed like a good hardworking man who was just trying to be a good provider. She needed to hear this from a man who never had the good fortune of having kids and a marriage born of love. I contributed nothing to this world other than for myself, but she was a wife and mother. She had money, two kids, likely a beautiful home and obviously a loving hardworking husband. If anyone should feel unfulfilled, it should be me—having nothing close to what she did. If I could show her the schism between our lives, it should help put things in proper perspective for her. I also hoped she could give me a woman’s point of view to better explain what happened with my last relationship. Knowing I could take care of her now, I sometimes still fantasized about Denise returning to me after admitting she made a mistake. This meeting provided us with an opportunity to reclaim some happiness, and sanity, we’ve lost over the years.
A marriage is like a garden, you need to care for the small flowers just as much as the large trees and unfortunately, married people didn’t understand that. It couldn’t be all work and no play. There had to be some playtime in there with each other, not always with friends and family. If they didn’t have common interests and mutual respect, their marriage was doomed like a ship run aground in shallow waters. Anya and her husband needed to rediscover what brought them together in the first place. They could again share the activities they used to love doing together before they had kids—before the stresses of life claimed their love. When life becomes mundane then love runs a risk of dying. I’ve seen it happen, not only with my parents who now slept in different rooms, but also as evidenced in the high divorce rates. I planned to remind her of all the things that sprouted love for her husband—how they could never whither away and die. Her feelings for him were like a candlewick just begging for a flame. Being an advocate for love and marriage, I found it my duty to ignite a spark inside for her husband again. By cheating on him she risked an inferno, one that threatened to not only incinerate her marriage, but her family as well. Not to mention, she could be a potential client and establishing a good reputation for the sake of the firm’s business was imperative.
Just before setting foot inside the restaurant, a majestic orange sun falling out of a purple sky and into an azure sea caught my eye. It seemed close enough to touch, but much like love for me up to this point, it was an impossibility. As its splendor threatened to postpone my meeting with Anya, I pulled myself away from one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. Upon entry, the smell of freshly baked bread and tomato sauce permeated my senses, however my stomach failed to budge. The next thing I took note of stopped me in my tracks—there was no hostess at the front to greet me. Fearing I needed a reservation to walk in, it momentarily brought back memories of my dinner in Sacramento with Denise; how missing the onramp back to Citrus Heights upset her. Veering my eyes over to the left of the restaurant, I saw a large, but empty, dining room area illuminated only by the glow of flickering candles on each table—its romantic ambiance giving me goosebumps. Shifting my eyes straight ahead past the hostess less podium, I spotted a walkway that led directly to the restroom area—good to know in case she wasn’t aware of where they were. I then peered over to my right and there it was—an enormous bar that had to comprise at least a third of the entire establishment. It also provided ample evidence of my sudden nervousness—it should’ve been the first thing I noticed the second I walked in. There were only a couple of people sitting at this wooden, plasma TV laden monstrosity—two women at the end of the bar. After I disregarded the chance a host would magically appear, I made my way towards the bar area as both women came into clearer focus. Even before she lifted her head, I quickly recognized her dark layered hair. Although I saw her for the first time a week ago, her face was like the sunset I saw before entering the restaurant—one of a kind.
“Well, hi.” She greeted, a glass of red wine in front of her.
“Hello stranger.” I smiled. “This is a nice place.”
“Isn’t it?” A smile breaking on her face too. “Thank you for coming.”
“Thank you for showin’ up!” I replied, smiling.
“Landyn, this is my good friend, Carolyn.” She presented, putting her hand gently on the back of the woman who sat next to her.
Upon rising from her chair, Carolyn extended a hand out to mine. She was rail thin, standing about five feet tall, and possessing a runner’s physique with petite shoulders. A thin necklace laid upon her tan breastplate and she wore a thin yellow sundress only a person with her figure could look good in. She had brown round eyes and a narrow face with a bantam chin. I couldn’t help but wonder about two things—did they come together and why was she here?
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“It’s nice to meet you, Landyn.” Greeted Carolyn. “I just wanted to make sure she wouldn’t be here alone. I have to go now. Have a nice time.”
“Nice to meet you, too. Thank you.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow.” She announced as Carolyn walked away.
As we both bid Carolyn farewell, a part of me felt bad she left us.
“I hope I’m not the reason she had to go.” I said. “She is more than welcome to stay.”
“Oh, she’s on call at the hospital—she’s a doctor.” She informed me. “It’s my first time here and I wasn’t sure if this place would be packed or not so I asked if she’d come to save you a seat. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I…Umm…Of course not.” I answered a bit stunned, then taking the seat next to her. “Thank you.”
She smiled at me but then quickly looked away to reach inside her purse. It really surprised me to learn she had Carolyn meet her here for two reasons. One being, she feared I might stand her up, something I’d never do to anyone but may have happened to her before. And second, to ensure this meeting took place. The thoughtfulness in her thinking ahead was not something I was used to.
“How do you know Carolyn?”
“We used to work together.” She revealed, while checking her phone before placing it back in her purse. “We’ve known each other for over ten years.”
“Sounds like she’s familiar with this place since she lives here in Manhattan Beach.” I surmised.
“Actually, she’s a neighbor of mine.”
“Carolyn lives in Dana Point?”
“Yep.”
“She drove all the way out here?”
“She’s a great friend.” Anya clarified.
Carolyn had to be the greatest friend in the history of friendships. Sitting next to Anya, her perfume tantalized my senses so greatly, it made me wish I could sit closer to her. I then noticed she wore white pants and a dark blue neck top with scalloped edges. Her sense of style reminded me of Sara’s, who had a great fashion sense, but Anya’s bordered spectacular. Intently, I observed she was wearing her ring and had a smaller pair of silver earrings on this time around. I then looked ahead into the huge window that allowed us to watch a star fall without the slightest squint. The atmosphere around me seemed surreal, almost heavenly, calming my nerves.
“Nice sunset.” She declared, turning her face to mine.
“Isn’t it?” I smiled while returning my eyes to the view before us.
“It’s beautiful, I never get to see these.”
“Why not?” Asking then bringing my face to hers as the sunset resided in her eyes.
“Just too busy…I guess,” she said, gazing outside the window. “Time never allows it.”
“That’s too bad.” Replying as she turned to face me, her dark eyes having swallowed the sun.
“It is…I didn’t know they could be so serene.”
“They have a beauty all their own,” I said, my eyes finding comfort within hers. “always unique—never the same.”
“That’s a nice way of putting it.” She smirked, then returning her eyes to outside the window.
They happen each day, but I never watched sunsets anymore—I had no one to share them with. I used to catch many of them whenever I drove over the bridge on my way home from college. But I never had proof of their beauty—I witnessed them alone. There was no romantic element with her so I couldn’t say I shared this captivating occurrence with a true witness, but it was nice to share it with someone. As the sun’s soft fading light slightly reflected upon us, it gave her face and eyes a healthy glow. I could only feel sorry for the falling sun knowing its beauty could not measure up to Anya. Once I learned she was married, I had no romantic feelings for her, but I couldn’t deny an obvious truth—she was beautiful. Her husband had to be one of the luckiest men alive and would have to be beyond devastated if he knew she strayed with another—I know I’d feel that way if I were in his shoes. I remembered how broken up I was about Sara and Denise—I’d never wish that on another man. Tonight, I had to find a way to bring her back into his arms where she belonged. My eyes only observed her in an unselfish, complimentary and respectful manner. She simply wasn’t mine to see in any romantic sense. I planned to make her aware there was no romantic interest within, but she spoke before I could.
“Would you like to have a glass of wine with me?” She inquired while touching her face. “I apologize for starting before you, but I got here a half hour early. I’d like to have another if you don’t mind.”
“Is there a wine list to order from?” Wondering aloud, knowing most places that served wines had to have that around somewhere.
“I have it right here…” she paused, looking at me peculiarly. “In my hand.”
“Ah, theeeere it is.” I smiled, hoping she didn’t pay attention to my flushed cheeks.
She was definitely a wine connoisseur and deservingly so, since I couldn’t even tell the difference between a wine list and a menu. Before I could produce another foot in the mouth moment, her perfume aroused my senses as she edged closer to me. With the wine list still in her hands, she laid it down on the counter between us so we could both look it over together. By her unselfish gesture, I was instantly transported to the many times I’ve visited a book store. How I envied the closeness of couples sitting together on a large cozy loveseat reading from the same book. With such a simple act, just Anya being Anya, it awakened me to some of the good things about life I’ve been missing out on. Unfortunately, I couldn’t see it as a triumph but only as a reminder of how lonely I’ve become. It left me feeling like a thief for stealing such a moment—she didn’t belong to me. The only thing belonging to me was this moment in time.
As our eyes further scanned the wine list, she treated me as if my palate was just as fine as hers. Fine wine drinkers seemed to be people who looked down upon others. The last thing I expected was one to treat me as an equal. As we considered all the available palate possibilities, I decided to come clean.
“I have to be honest…” almost whispering. “I don’t know what’s good on here—I’m not too much of a wine drinker. I trust your judgment so let’s have something red.”
“You remembered I like red wines?” Her eyes now widening excitedly into mine with her white teeth making an appearance through a breaking smile.
“Of course.” Grinning, puzzled by her reaction. “How could I not?”
“Oh…I don’t know.” She then paused. “You’re a good listener.”
“I try to be.”
It made sense she could care less if I knew what wines were fine, after all she was already married and unavailable. The hardest part was learning she wasn’t a rich pretentious snob—like the people who knew what the finest wines on the list were. After she made, with great conviction to the bartender, a cabernet sauvignon selection I never knew existed, she shifted towards me and smiled—her right leg now against mine. An obvious accident, I waited for her to pull quickly away, but she kept her knee there for about ten seconds before she did. Unable to ignore how nice it felt, I forced my eyes away from hers and to the wine list lying on the bar.
“Thanks again for meeting me here tonight.” She said, breaking the silence.
“Thank you for askin’ me to meet you here,” I obliged, now noticing her petite pink glossed lips. “I’m really sorry it took me so long to get back to you.”
“It’s okay. I understand. I’m just happy you called me back…Considering my circumstances.”
“Don’t we all have circumstances?” I reassured. “It’s nice to be able to talk to someone. I had fun hangin’ with you last weekend.”
“I did too. I’m sorry the night had to end the way it did,” she responded, her eyes then falling to the floor. “I know your friend doesn’t like me at all.”
“Don’t worry about Mitch…He’s a hypocrite.” I smiled. “He doesn’t even like himself.”
“I kind of figured so,” she laughed. “When a girl isn’t interested, I think a man should stop.”
“So…You’re sayin’ persistence doesn’t pay off?”
“Persistence only works if the other person is interested.”
“What if it’s part of his charm?”
“When did actin’ like a creep become charming, Landyn?”
“You got me there.” I grinned.
Although she really didn’t know Mitch, first impressions were important, if not everything. If he continued to disrespect women then the creep label should even have a bar code stuck to him. I may have known his reasons for being the way he is, but it didn’t excuse his behavior. Anya could’ve easily judged me by the company I kept at Sonoma’s that night, but she didn’t. She made her judgments solely on the person she talked with. In the world we lived in, where it was convenient to judge people, it was a quality she had I could only admire. In a day and age where the tangible wins over the intangible, she chose the latter leaving me astonished.
The bartender then gently slid two glasses of generously poured cabs in front of us. After we thanked him, she raised her glass and gazed up at me.
“To tonight.” She said.
“To tonight.” Responding in kind and lightly touching her glass with mine.
After we finished our first sip together, unrehearsed yet in perfect tandem, I looked over at her.
“Have you shared many sunsets with your husband?” I asked, initiating the reason why I met her here.
She shook her head.
“Many years ago, but not anymore.”
“Why not? I’m sure he’d love to share them with you again.”
“You’re right—he would,” she sighed. “but it’s hard when you have kids.”
I could see her point. I’m sure their kids took away most of the time they used to spend together, but shouldn’t she have expected that?
“That’s when you have to find creative ways to spend time together! After all, he’s your husband and should be your best friend too.” I said, making sure her eyes were within mine. “You’re obviously well taken care of. Isn’t that a man worth holdin’ on to?”
“I suppose…” Her eyes now straying from mine.
“You suppose?” I snickered. “Do you even realize what you’re in jeopardy of losing? This is why I met you here tonight.”
“Why you met me here?” A look of confusion now appearing on her face.
“I can’t let you throw away your marriage.” I proclaimed. “I wanna help you work through your issues with him.”
“How do you expect to do that?” Asking then taking a sip from her wine glass.
“The grass isn’t greener over here—it’s scorched earth.” I informed her. “I’ve been on this side for a long time. You have to believe me when I say you have a great thing with him. I’m here tonight because you need to realize that…Or you’re gonna lose everything.”
Anya sighed and bowed her head, keeping her eyes away from mine. A few seconds later, they returned.
“I think marriage…” She paused. “I think marriage is unrealistic.”
“Unrealistic?” Responding in pure disbelief.
“Yes,” she confirmed. “Unrealistic.”
“Well, I guess that’s the perfect philosophy then.” I said, straightening up in my chair and flattening the front of my shirt with my hands while leaning back.
“What do you mean by that?” She asked, leaning in.
“If you think marriage is unrealistic then what’s your incentive to be faithful?”” I answered. “Since marriages are unrealistic anyway, I mean why ever stop cheating?”
Her eyes met mine with a heavy gaze, like two clouds becoming dense with condensation.
“Why even get married in the first place if marriages are unrealistic?” I inquired as she turned away from me and looked out the front window searching for a sun that already set.
Appalled by her lack of a defense, I leaned in to make sure she knew where I stood.
“I don’t believe marriages are unrealistic…If you truly love someone.” I stated.
Upon my words, she continued to stare blankly at the window and into the night. I recalled when we met, how it felt her eyes wanted to tell me something. When she turned to face me, I realized the reasons we met tonight were for two entirely different reasons.
“I’m not in love with my husband, Landyn.” She disclosed, the redness in her eyes revealing why she provided no response.
“Have you considered counseling?” I asked in a gentle tone.
“I don’t wanna go,” she spoke without hesitating, her eyes on a nearly empty wine glass. “I have no feelings for him—I haven’t felt anything in years.”
“How many years?” I wondered, hoping she would look at me again.
“It’s been so long I can’t even remember.” She said, her eyes still away from mine. “When he kisses me, I never kiss him back. I never say “I love you” when he says it to me.”
“It’s that bad, huh?”
Anya gently nodded her head, wiping away at her eyes with both index fingers.
“How long have you been married?”
“Fourteen years,” she answered. “but we’ve been together for twenty—I met him when I was nineteen.”
“You’re thirty-nine years old.” I calculated.
Her eyes immediately jumped back into mine and she nodded.
“I would’ve guessed early thirties.” I came clean.
“Thank you.” She softly sniffled then smiled.
“As imperfect as it may be, it seems like you have a nice love story.” I remarked. “Our passion for someone naturally fades away over time—it’s normal for married couples to fall out of love. You could get it back, Anya. It’s foolish to believe you couldn’t get it back after being together for so many years. How many children do you have?”
“Two. A boy and a girl.” Smiling as she spoke. “Katie is twelve. Andrew, ten.”
“How are they not enough of a reason to fight for your marriage?” I challenged. “You have history with this man; whether you’re in love with him or not, you’ll always have that bond with him. Would you want them thinking it’s okay to cheat on their spouses one day because they think marriages are unrealistic?”
“You’re right,” she nodded. “but they don’t see me as a very loving person.”
“But here’s an opportunity to show them you are!” I said enthusiastically. “They need to know how important love is in a marriage—it’s everything. They need to see two parents who love each other—it helps them feel safe.”
“I never kiss him—I won’t especially around them.”
“I’m not saying make out with each other when they’re around but what’s wrong with a shoulder rub? Or maybe a hug?” I clarified. “If you’re affectionate towards him, they’ll believe a love like that exists for them one day. It’s essential to their long-term happiness.”
I felt like a dying star being sucked into her soft black hole eyes. It seemed they still wanted to tell me something else—something she couldn’t. I had my parents in mind when I spoke to her. How much their arguments inspired my search for a real love, especially when they started to sleep in different rooms. I put my head down for a few seconds to acknowledge her silence. When I brought my eyes back into hers, I noticed they began to swell with water then overrun. She looked away and quickly wiped a palm against her cheek, but another tear broke free and streamed down her face. An instant regret for sharing my thoughts hit me and I remained silent in fear. I wanted to rub her back but was afraid to touch her.
“I’m sorry if I’ve said anything wrong.” I backtracked. “I didn’t see much affection in my home and it created this all or nothing view on love. I never meant for it to upset you.”
“I love my kids,” she broke. “They mean everything to me. They are my everything.”
“I can tell.”
“I swear I’m a good mom.” She claimed, wiping her eyes again.
“Without question.”
“I’m sorry but I just…” She hesitated. “I just hate my life.”
“I don’t understand. It seems like you have…”
“Like I have everything, Landyn?” She finished my sentence. “Money and things don’t lead to happiness.”
I nodded but was not convinced if she truly believed that. When I failed to respond, she seemed to pick up on my skepticism.
“There’s something I need to tell you.” She said, shifting her body towards mine.
“There’s nothin’ to apologize for about last weekend—I’m the one who should apologize to you for getting swept up in it. I totally get it. I’m not judging you.”
Her eyes shifted downwards, and then back up at me.
“It’s somethin’ else.” She announced. “I don’t know why I feel I need to tell you this…But I do.”
“What is it?” I asked, falling deeper into her soft dark eyes.
“I didn’t fall out of love with my husband because he broke his promise to me about not having to work when we got married.” She paused. “I fell out of love with him because he’s been unfaithful.”
Her revelation rendered me in a state of absolute shock. Her true reason for falling out of love more in line with the kind of person I’ve gotten to know.
“Wow. I am just so sorry to hear that.” Stumbling upon trying to find the right words to say. “That’s the last thing I ever suspected.”
“He’s cheated on me three times.” Her voice struggling to convey with another tear streaking down her cheek.
“One time is enough.” I comforted.
“I know.” Wiping away the tears from her eyes.
“This really breaks my heart to hear.” Bringing my left hand lightly upon her shoulder.
“You’re probably wondering why I’m still with him…”
“Considering you just got out of an affair…I must say I am.”
“I have no desire to get remarried…I’m afraid I’ll just get cheated on again.” She explained. “I’m afraid to end up alone—no one wants to be with a divorcee who has baggage. I’m afraid I can’t raise the kids on my own—just a lot of reasons, Landyn.”
“Okay.” I responded while doubting their validity only because she seemed so wonderful to me.
“I’ve never told anyone this before,” she divulged. “No one knows.”
“Really? I don’t understand.” I said. “Why would you choose to tell me?”
She looked down for a few seconds, then returned her delicate eyes into mine before speaking.
“I can’t help it.”
Having to break away from her gaze, I took a sip from my wine glass and slowly laid it back down. Working in public accounting for nearly seven years, I’ve had to deal with many complex issues but this was by far the most complicated scenario I’ve ever faced. How could a man be capable of cheating on such a beautiful woman? What kind of husband would cheat on the mother of his own children? She was too close to perfection to be unfaithful to—I had to be missing something here. Was she a control freak? Did she purposely withhold love from him and that’s why he sought it elsewhere? Was he not appreciated at home and taken for granted? Was she a slob? Did she break everything in the house she touched? Was she more of a liability than an asset? Was she the biggest bitch on the planet to live with? What man in his right mind would ever cheat on her? Not that she tried to sell me on anything, but as much as my heart bled for her, I couldn’t simply buy what she told me. Something was way off here.
“Anya?” I stated more than I asked.
“Mmmhmm?” Acknowledging me the best she could while working through her emotions.
“I don’t get it.” Shaking my head.
“What don’t you get?”
“Why would your husband cheat on you?” I bravely inquired, expecting her answer to likely end our evening. “I’ve never known men to just cheat for no reason—especially on a woman of your stature. It usually takes two to tango.”
“I put on twenty-five pounds when I got pregnant.” She answered without hesitation, her eyes never running from mine. “I believe he cheated because I put on too much weight.”
“So, he cheated on you after you had your daughter?”
“No,” she replied, her eyes now disappearing from mine again like a setting star. “I was pregnant at the time with my son.”
“He cheated on you…” I trailed off, appalled. “When you were pregnant?”
“Katie was almost two and I was seven months along with my baby boy.”
When she referred to her son as her baby boy, I felt nauseous—like I was the one cheated on. As I fought back tears of my own, I couldn’t imagine any woman having to deal with such anxiety and sadness during a time that should only be reserved for happiness.
“During your third trimester?” I instinctively recognized in disbelief, still reeling by all she revealed.
She hung her head, hiding damp cheeks behind her dangling long dark hair, then nodding in affirmation.
“All these years…I’ve just been suckin’ it up.” She divulged.
As much as I tried, I couldn’t muster up a comforting thought to tell her, both afraid to say the wrong thing and to feel more than I already did.
“My life is really complicated, Landyn.” She continued, thankfully breaking the silence I induced. “Just really complicated.”
Her warm yet moist eyes peered into mine not only in obvious sadness, but also with the quiet desperation of someone who wanted to believe love existed as much as I did. Like someone whose own experiences with men, the same as mine with women, led to a desperate hunger for meaning. I then saw someone in her eyes I had never seen in anyone else before—myself. There was no subtlety to my reflection in them, and not just one part of me but my entire being. The ultimate Freudian experience as my conscious, subconscious and even my unconscious mind were all melded into one. I’ve never felt someone else’s struggle and pain more acutely than I did Anya’s—as if it were my own.
She forced a small smile then wiped her eyes again before taking the final drink of her wine. I wanted so badly to hold her and to ask if she wanted to go for a quick stroll on the beach; or to somewhere more private. She had her own means of transportation, but we could take a drive along the coast before she left for home so her kids wouldn’t notice she had been crying. I wanted to tell her from this day forward everything was going to be fine. To show her the goodness in this world—that love did exist in any way shape or form she needed from me. That there was no reason for her to ever hate her life. To take away the burden of any unhappiness she felt that may have affected her kids. I then could not think of a more natural thing to do than to let my intuition and instincts take over from there. Reaching into my pocket and placing two twenty-dollar bills on top of the bar, I then rose from my seat next to her. Ignoring their depth and soul, I again beheld her soft dark eyes, those two sweet spheres I now adored, as they fell into mine for one last time.
“I have to go.” I told her. “I would love to know you better but you’re married. Please lose my number and don’t ever call me again.”