“I might not be a savior,
And I’ll never be a king.
I might not send you roses,
Or buy you diamond rings.
But if I could see inside you
Maybe I’d know just who we are.
Cause our love is like a hunger,
Without it we would starve.”
“I’d Die for You” ~ Bon Jovi
Unable to look at Clyde like a solar eclipse, I remained seated—stunned.
“Can I ask why?” I responded, looking back at the security guard then back at Clyde. “Is there something I did?”
“The economy, as you know, is really bad.” Clyde answered, nodding at Ken. “As you’re aware, we’ve had to lay off quite a few people—we lost most of our mortgage banking clientele which makes up more than fifty percent of the firm’s business.’
“Clyde, you’ve always been honest with me.” I said, knowing I managed no mortgage banking client engagements.
Clyde neither nodded nor shook his head, he just glared back at me.
“Is there another reason?” I continued. “If you don’t want me here—I respect that. You don’t need a security guard—I’d leave on my own but I’d like to know the truth. I didn’t just lose a job, I’ve lost a partnership.”
“We’re a conservative firm, Landyn.” he retorted, clearing his throat before placing his elbows upon the desk and leaning forward.
“We’re in a conservative based business.” Ken elaborated.
“I understand that—it’s why I love our firm. We’re ethical.” I acknowledged, wondering where they were going with this. “Did I do something in regards to my work here that violated our core values?”
“You’re sleeping with the wife of our most valued client!” Clyde yelled, banging his fist on the desk.
The toxicity of his response left me even more stunned than when he told me I no longer fit in the firm’s plans.
“You’re getting only one side of the story Clyde.” I countered, having a good idea how he learned of my personal life. “With all due respect, you’re making an uninformed, one-sided decision.”
“There is only one side we’re concerned with Landyn—the client’s” he fired back. “Your personal life—how you choose to live it, is not in line with KSR’s core values. We simply cannot afford to partner with someone who lacks a sense of morality or even compassion for people, especially a home wrecker. Even if you weren’t involved with a client’s wife, we would handle this the same way. We hold firm, from the partner to the management down to the staff, their accountability for all ethical and moral decisions they make in their lives.”
“I had no idea she was Mr. Caiaphas’s wife until after I started seeing her.” I defended. “By that time, I couldn’t just turn my back on her.”
“You still could’ve stopped, Landyn!” Clyde scolded.
“We had already fallen deeply in love when I learned.” I stated. “You don’t know the story—you don’t know the kind of…”
“I don’t care—you should’ve left Mrs. Caiaphas alone. A partner at this firm would have done the right thing and walked away.”
“Mr. Caiaphas isn’t the man you think he is.” I shot back. “Shouldn’t our clients be held to the same moral standards we hold ourselves to? Isn’t the firm putting themselves at risk with clients who exhibit the same lack of compassion and moral ineptitude I’m being accused of? I didn’t go out looking to date a married woman, Clyde, let alone the wife of our most valued client. I didn’t come into her life—she came into mine. I’m being unfairly judged here. I didn’t fall in love with a married woman for fun. I truly love this woman and love doesn’t just abandon people—it catches them. Where’s the immorality in loving someone who needs to be loved?”
After I challenged the firm’s own set of moral principles, Clyde decided to go all in.
“As an owner of this firm, who started it from the ground up, inside a garage, you learn you side with the client or you’re no longer in business. I didn’t start this firm to lose all I’ve built because a partner couldn’t tell the difference between right and wrong!” he yelled. “You need to take a good look at yourself and see how you’ve jeopardized what was certain to be a great career. All you had to do was make the right choice, and in the opinion of our firm and its partners, you did not. We can’t put our trust in you to make the right ethical decisions going forward—decisions that could sink the entire firm—our livelihoods after decades of toil. Your inability to set aside foolish desires put the future of KSR at risk. Our decision has been made.”
I looked over at Ken, who nodded in affirmation with Clyde’s statements. All I could do was drop my head and nod as well—there would be no changing their minds. I then stood up, reached over and extended my hand out to Clyde.
“Thank you for the opportunity.” I said as he begrudgingly met my gesture.
I shook Ken’s hand and then exited Clyde’s office for the last time with a security guard in tow. As I ambled through the office, I felt like Bud Fox from the movie “Wallstreet”, as if I had just committed securities fraud—the entire firm eerily silent. Not only did it appear Mr. Caiaphas threatened to pull the plug on KSR, he also took the time to make sure my co-workers were aware of my foolish desires as well. When I reached my office, I quickly packed up my laptop and my accounting manuals. I then took my CPA certificate that was framed on the wall down and tucked it under my arm.
When I turned around, Ken stood next to the security guard.
“Did you need me wrap up a file before I left?” I asked, concerned this put him in a bad spot.
“Clyde gave Kevin all of your engagements.” He told me. “They promoted him to partner last month.”
“A month ago?”
“Yes.”
“I see.”
When the moment couldn’t find a way to turn into anything worse, I learned the day I confided in Kevin, a day I was at my lowest point, he had sold me out to Mr. Caiaphas. When I recalled the Rolex watch on his wrist at the symposium, it all made sense. Kevin had an incentive to get me out—to save his marriage to Sadie. He saw himself in Jackson Caiaphas—a victim trying to mend a marriage in turmoil. The only problem was, Kevin was Anya and Sadie was Jackson in their respective marriages. To know a friend, I completely confided in could betray me in such a way, gave me little hope I’d ever befriend someone I worked with ever again. My drive for success would never feel the same way ever again. Without drama and as a hurricane of emotions churned inside me, I exited the office for the last time.
The meeting I looked so forward to with Anya, now took on a different shape—the promotion I relied on to bring her home would never happen. All hope was lost—I should’ve known better that Capitalism bred marriages, not love. I recalled how Anya admired me for my innocent qualities—I was foolish enough to believe in love because I’ve never been married. To learn people found Jackson Caiaphas to be the victim left me without a leg to stand on in life—that my belief in love has cost me everything. I didn’t know how to tell Anya what just happened, but I knew one thing—she deserved the truth about me. I just didn’t want her to feel responsible for it—it was my decision to love her—my decision to try to save her. With my life now in absolute disarray, I texted the only good thing I had left in the world.
ME: “Just so you know, I was laid off today. I’m ok. I’m good with it.”
ANYA: “OMG! What happened? Was it b/c you took a lot of time off?”
ME: “Not at all. They gave me all that time off. It had nothing to do with my work performance. Just an economic decision they decided to make.”
ANYA: “I’m so sorry! R u ok? What now? What r u going to do? Honey I’m so worried! What’s your plan?”
ME: “I have a great resume. I have great and valuable experience! I’m going to explore all my options and I think I will actually make more money now.”
ANYA: “I love your positive attitude! Proud of you for staying positive. Did you know it was going to happen?”
ME: “Totally blindsided! It was ok though. I’ll be ok, babe. I have money saved so I should be ok. Things happen for a reason. I’m just going to relax this weekend and weigh options then reach out to my network.”
ANYA: “Were you the only one?”
ME: “They laid off several staff members weeks before they let me go. I don’t know if they let anyone else go today—I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to know.”
ANYA: “I feel so bad. I’m so sorry. It’s tough out there.”
ME: “Don’t feel bad. I think the Universe has something else in mind for me and now I get a fresh start somewhere else. I’m looking forward to the challenge.”
ANYA: “That’s the attitude!”
ME: “If I was fired, I’d be negative. Just laid off.”
ANYA: “What’s the difference?”
ME: “Well, if I was fired, I probably wouldn’t be able to get a good reference from my former employer.”
ANYA: “No doubt you’ll find something soon. Everything works out the way it’s supposed to.”
ME: “Thank you. I think so too.”
ANYA: “You will. Don’t stop till you do. You ok?”
I was as far as okay with this as anyone could possibly be—unable to see the “everything happens for a reason” part of it yet—or if I ever would. I didn’t want her to feel responsible for it. I didn’t want her to feel sad and I didn’t want her to worry. I loved her and I’d do it all again for her and never change a thing. That’s truly the way I felt.
ME: “Yes I’m fine.”
ANYA: “I’m glad.”
ME: “You watch. This is probably a huge blessing.”
ANYA: “I believe that!”
ME: “Thanks for being there for me.”
ANYA: “Always”
I needed to know her love didn’t run from me, and when she texted me “always”, it was nice to know I had someone there for me at the lowest point in my life.
ME: “I think you’ll like what I have to say tomorrow, so don’t be worried.”
ANYA: “Ok. What time did they tell you the news?”
ME: “It was about 4. I just remembered a friend of mine, his Dad has a CPA firm and is looking to hire people. I forgot about that option. I’ll reach out to him. He’ll probably hire me next week.”
ANYA: “That’s great babe!”
ME: “I think so!”
ANYA: “You’ll be fine! I truly believe that!”
ME: “I think so too. It took me by surprise but I think I’m going to be much happier and in a better place when this is all said and done. I want to be with a firm who cares more about my license and the quality of work and not just the quantity of work. I think they were getting away from pursuing quality clients and choosing to increase their client base instead. They were beginning to take on some clients that could put the firm at risk.”
ANYA: “It’s going to work out for you babe.”
ME: “Thanks sweetheart.”
When I ended my textversation with Anya, it all started to sink in. How all I worked for, all the hours and the sleepless night, all the nights spent in unknown cities, and all the time spent in traffic, how all the stress and anxiety required to become a partner was all for nothing. I lost a million dollar a year potential payday simply because I believed in love—the promotion I banked on to save my relationship with Anya was gone forever. And little did Anya know; Jackson was in on it. That the husband who loved her so much, looked to destroy her happiness because I showed her what loving someone was all about. Anya’s love helped me not to dwell on how Jackson and Kevin had conspired against me—how I’d never feel the same way seeing a Rolex watch again. Anya was there for me when I needed her to be and I needed her now more than ever. I knew I would find work again, but it would take me a decade or longer to have another shot at a million-dollar salary, if ever again. The Zoloft had to have buffered the agony of this devastating news; unwilling to succumb to its dreariness—or maybe I was in state of shock about it all and unable to process it yet. My only fear now was losing Anya, because if I lost her, I would truly lose everything. I knew yesterday’s meeting, one I previously hoped to obtain at least a promise from, now took on a different approach and goal. I could no longer ask her to leave Jackson. I had to swallow my pride, continue with the therapy, and just wait for her to come home when the time was right for her to do so. I couldn’t ask her to make a promise to leave without my promotion to partner on the table. Even if it took several more years, I had to fight for her love otherwise its loss equated to a death sentence.
At about nine that evening, Anya sent me a text I didn’t expect from her on a late Friday night.
ANYA: “What r u doing?”
ME: “Moping! Just kidding babe. I’m just relaxing. What r u doing?”
ANYA: “Getting ready for bed. Was just worried.”
When she told me she was getting ready for bed, it stung to know she would be lying next to Jackson.
ME: “I’m ok babe.”
ANYA: “R u sure you’re ok?”
ME: “I’m really ok, babe. Please don’t worry. This is a good thing. Please sleep well.”
What she texted me was super sweet of her. The kindness and compassion she showed me was greatly appreciated—giving me hope for us. I then decided to stay up and work on the promises I’d make to her—conceding to wait until Andrew graduated high school and both him and Katie were out of the house in three to five years if I had to. I didn’t want to love anyone else. I had just lost my career job over my strong belief in our love. I’ve come too far and I’ve endured too much to just give up—I only wanted to be with her anyway so time no longer mattered. Once I got back on my feet, I could still offer her and the kids a really good life—one that didn’t stray from the life Jackson gave them. After losing my promotion to partner, I was no longer in any position of control or power with her. If she came sooner to me, it would be great, but if she didn’t, I refused to give her any grief over it. Since I would have COBRA, I’d just continue to work on myself. Without the money needed to take care of her, there was no way I could get mad at her for not making a promise to be with me. I had nothing to offer other than my love.
At the end of the most eventful day of my life, the day decided it wasn’t through with me just yet when Anya sent me a text at ten minutes past eleven that night.
ANYA: “Huge fight. Facebook.”
When I read her text, it left me confused.
ME: “Huh? Is this text meant for me?”
ANYA: “Can’t meet for tea. Ugly.”
ME: “What happened?”
ANYA: “You wrote about LV and SF on Facebook.”
I had been a member of Facebook for a few years—it was a fairly new social media platform. I got on it just before I met Anya at the request of a friend. I did post about my trips to Las Vegas and San Francisco briefly, but didn’t say I was with anyone, but only to let my friends know where I was. Most of my friends on Facebook were from high school and I wanted them to know why I couldn’t make the reunion. When she revealed this to me, I knew Jackson was hell bent to destroy me and us. As the crest of the day crashed upon me, for the second time, I defended myself.
ME: “No one can see my Facebook account unless they’re my friend and I gave no details in my postings. He either hacked his way into my profile or paid someone to do so.”
ME: “Sorry, but I didn’t announce what I was doing or who I was meeting. I was just l letting my friends know where I was. That’s a shame.”
ME: “Your own husband does not respect you, Anya.”
ME: “After all you do to keep that family functioning, and all you do for the kids, even carrying his own weight so he can make a living, he does not trust you nor does he respect you. He could care less about your happiness. Just wants to make you feel guilty for his infidelities and about what you’re doing to the kids, and not what he has done to their mother. He’s an abuser.”
ME: “Sorry you have to go through that, but I’m not happy he’s invading my privacy. That information is for my friends only.”
After I sent her these texts, she never responded as she must have shut down her phone. On a day I expected nothing but everything in the world to finally fall in place for me, the day threatened to remove everything from my life. The next day should have been a good one for Anya and I, but now, everything appeared to be in jeopardy. Unable to sleep and deeply distraught by Jackson’s antics, I texted Anya at four the next morning.
ME: “I’m really sorry you have to go through what you’re going through right now. I hope you’re ok.”
ANYA: “Not ok”
ME: “The last thing I thought anyone would do was hack into my Facebook account. I would’ve never posted anything if I thought that your husband was that much of a stalker. That’s very creepy.”
ANYA: “You sure you put restrictions on your FB?”
I had to think about that one because I thought Facebook automatically had privacy settings—that only my friends could see what I posted, and not anyone else. Did she honestly believe for a second, I would’ve ever mentioned I was in Las Vegas and San Francisco if I knew her husband was stalking me on the internet? I purposely used the word “creepy” because I wanted to see her reaction—to see if she would defend him.
ME: “I’d have to look into that. I thought only my friends would be able to see what I posted on FB.”
ANYA: “I just want to bury my head and not wake up. I just don’t want to face anything anymore.”
When she texted those very words to me, I felt separated from her love. How her words coincided on the same day she knew I lost my job seemed curious. After she told me just the other day that she loved me more than ever, now she suddenly didn’t want to face anything? For the first time, it seemed to confirm that as long as our love was a secret, then she was in love more than ever. How could she ever have been open to mending if she didn’t want to face anything anymore? That she didn’t want to basically face the truth? That it was more comfortable to continue living a lie? How could she let Jackson win so easily?
This was the kind of things that would break me down emotionally—words I should’ve heard the first month we met and not twenty months later. These were the words that should’ve been told to Jackson—not to the man who loved her. All it took was Jackson getting into my Facebook account to no longer believe in our love? She owed me more, she owed herself more and she owed us more than allowing him to win.
ME: “R u home? I bet you didn’t get much sleep.”
ANYA “No sleep”
ME: “I understand how you feel. You’ve been feeling this way for a long time. I just think your life is going to be a living hell with him now. This is really something to pay attention to. He went digging for this. There’s no more trust.”
The more I texted her it seemed the more she believed Jackson had every right to stalk me on the internet—opting to punish me instead. Instead of seeing the mistrust in her marriage that has existed ever since he cheated on her, she instead blamed me for its existence in her marriage. Her sudden lack of wanting to face anything anymore left me with little faith she ever planned to face anything over the last twenty months. That falling in love was supposed to be fun and exciting, but not a lifelong commitment. Losing my sanity by the second, I texted her one last time then retreated.
ME: “I just don’t trust him—I think he’s up to something. This was something he went out of his way looking for. I’m here in every way if you need me. I’m in this with you.”
ANYA: “Thx I need to go to sleep.”
I had to give her the benefit of the doubt—she was under tremendous stress and fatigue and I knew firsthand how that was the soil for negative thoughts. I wanted her to get some rest first and then see how she felt afterwards. Twenty months went by with its hiccups along the way, but her mind could change in an instant. I held tightly to the belief Anya taught me—that women changed their minds all the time and a man needed to know this.
I tried to sleep, finding it hard to believe a week ago we were holding each other falling asleep together—more ready than ever to face the world together. Now, it seemed the world began to spin backwards, leaving us lost in orbit and not knowing when or where we would end up. Jackson and I were on a true collision course, destined for a major confrontation, and I could no longer tell if it would be a civilized or an uncivilized meeting. Something seemed super out of place with Anya—something I was unaware of. Less than twenty-four hours earlier, she told me that she loved me more than ever, but now she didn’t want to face anything? I understood women changed their minds frequently about things they wanted to do, but the same applied after a two-year relationship? Did she ever consider that changing her mind after allowing and encouraging someone to fall deeply in love with her could be emotionally abusive? I wanted to trust and believe in her love for me, but that trust and belief were now in question. Why couldn’t she see how I could draw up false conclusions about her when she felt she had the innate right to change her mind anytime she pleased? Even after someone went all in for her—even losing a career job in the process? It was her sudden unwillingness to face anything, after I went all in for her, that made me create wild scenarios in my head. Her continued inconsistencies threatened to destroy everything we ever shared. I was beginning to see the wrong person was seeing a therapist and on Zoloft. I was more than ready to face anything for her—even losing a career job because I trusted in her love and her sadness. Could she ever truly understand at all how I felt? Why was she giving in to him after all we’ve shared? I didn’t want to share any of these negative thoughts of mine—I may have been overreacting and not being fair. She texted me with little to no sleep and I had to keep my emotions in check now more than ever. I refused to slip up and let Jackson win.
I texted her a few hours later to see how she was doing.
ME: “R u home?”
ANYA: “Yes”
Her lack of a period at the end of her sentence told me that she was likely really tired and sad.
ME: “U should go to sleep. U need to rest.”
ANYA: “I’m trying”
ME: “Don’t think about it, babe. Just close your eyes and imagine you’re lying on a beach. All you can hear are the sounds of the waves hitting the shore and rolling back out.”
ME: “I haven’t slept much either. I’m going to rest too.”
As the morning turned into the afternoon and the afternoon turned into the evening, I hadn’t heard back from her. Although I felt listless as the reality of unemployment hit me, I was more worried about Anya. When I recalled Anya telling me that he would “come after me”, I knew Jackson and I were officially at war. I knew my fight for Anya to see the good in us had also now officially begun when Jackson forced my hand by stalking me on Facebook. But being considerate towards Anya’s emotions was key to keeping intact all we built on in San Francisco. Knowing Jackson actually read what I posted on Facebook, I updated my status to read “Worried about his best friend tonight. She deserves better.” Anya did deserve better than a husband who cared more about his happiness than her own. People would argue that he stalked me on Facebook because of the kids, but I believed he did this for himself. Because if he truly loved his wife, he would know that her happiness was important to her kids as well. Since he kept them in the dark, he was the hero in this scenario, and I, the villain. They would cry “why is this guy hurting my dad?” and no matter if they knew the truth about me, I’d still be the monster in their eyes—the most absolute gut wrenching and helpless feeling any person in my position could feel.
I knew if he ever called me, Anya told me she would leave him—I could only hope to bait him into doing so. But him knowing what the real reason why I existed in her life was, he didn’t want to face anything as much as Anya didn’t at this moment. Afraid I wouldn’t hear from her, I texted to see how she was doing.
ME: “Sick to my stomach over this. Worried sick about you. I hope you got some sleep.”
ME: “I was really looking forward to our meeting today. I’m so sorry you’re going through this. I would’ve never said a word about where I was if I had known he’d get into my FB. I hope you know that. I feel awful about this.”
ME: “Busting into someone’s private information or hiring someone to do so is just not the act of a sane or normal person. If he wants to talk to me, pick up a phone—I’m right here. Say whatever you want to me. Be a man about it.”
ME: “I’m sorry. I really am. I just wouldn’t have thought he’d stoop that low. I mean, he’s 13 years older than I am. He’s a 51-year-old man for crying out loud.”
ME: “Just know I’m thinking of you and I’m here for you in every and any way.”
Anya seemed to hold me responsible for this, and I understood how she could’ve felt that way, but he already knew who I was. He had to have known she was in love with me if he’s known for “awhile”. You’re going to fight for someone who is in love with someone else? I guess he believed if he took my ability to provide for her away, then she would run away and not want to face anything anymore. It was time for her to take a real good look at who she married and why she remained with him—her life would now be a living hell. Him getting into my Facebook account should’ve never determined she didn’t want to face anything anymore—that should’ve come twenty months ago. An argument for the day she met Lance, the man before me, should’ve sparked the sentiment she wasn’t willing to face anything. To read that from her twenty months later, especially after what she left me to believe the prior day, was soul shattering.
I wouldn’t put it past Jackson to install a chip in her phone—if he hadn’t already. Maybe that’s what made Anya sad, that she would lose contact with me. Jackson was a sociopath who viewed his wife as property. After over fifteen years of marriage, I’m sure she had that ingrained in her head—that she belonged to him. Twenty months though, allowed me to believed that couldn’t be true. Their marriage at this point seemed to resemble a form of legal prostitution if she truly didn’t love him and wanted to be with me. Based on what he did during their marriage, his infidelities, his emotional and even financial abuse towards her, lead her to approach me at Sonoma’s almost two years ago. Whether she planned it or not, I existed in her life because of his abuse. Did she think it would ever get better now? Did she want this same kind of marriage for her kids—an abusive marriage full of distrust? What was she really fighting for? Our love happened for a reason and Jackson pursued the truth for a reason—let the reason find the truth and take its course. Ten minutes after I sent my texts, she responded.
ANYA: “I’m ok. It’s not your fault. Sorry about your FB.”
When I read her text, I exhaled so heavily I almost fell asleep—grateful she didn’t hold me at fault. Did she know how hard it was for me to not tell the world about how much I loved her? Did she know how much I respected her? Even when she tore my heart into pieces with her inconsistency, I never thought once of telling her friends the truth about Jackson and why we were together. Loving her so much, it was really hard to keep that from her friends. It upset me that they thought she would just cheat on her husband without a single ounce of compassion for him or her kids. It’s easy to be critical though. They would argue then she should divorce him and then date me, but the reality was she needed someone to be there for her before doing such a thing. For a man of Jackson’s caliber to stalk me in the shadows left me in complete and utter shock. Why did he wait for over a year to do this if he truly cared for his wife? The minute I found out I’d be trying to stop it—if I loved her. His quest for power was always more important than his quest for Anya’s love and that’s why I existed. He never knew a man would ever threaten to take what he owned, let alone a man of my status, but the danger was finally real to him. His wife may have been next to him in bed, but he had to have somehow seen his wife’s heart belonged to me—the part that mattered the most.
ME: “Thanks for letting me know you’re ok. I was really worried.”
ANYA: “I know you were. It’s not easy.”
ME: “I know, Babe,”
ANYA: “I’m sorry I put you through this too.”
ME: “I’m fine. Just worried about you. Don’t worry about me. I’d face anything for you. I know what you’re going through.”
Jackson threw the gauntlet down with his money and politics reminding me why I despised everything he stood for. He coerced a friend of mine to betray me with his money and connections. He then whined to my boss to turn him and my colleagues against me. Now, he hacked into my Facebook account and it wouldn’t have surprised me if he tried to turn my own friends, I’ve known for years, against me as well. His last act of vengeance was simply now to turn his wife against me—to scare her into submission knowing if I blinked, she’d leave me forever. I wouldn’t even put it past him to even reach out to my parents, trying to turn them both against me too. Like he has done for decades, he planned to fool everyone—the same way he fooled his own kids and Anya’s family about his perfection. Throw money at people if he had to, just give them something so they will get in line like the sheep he knew they all were. I had learned too much to become part of the herd and needed to be eliminated. If I continued to defend myself, and I was successful, no doubt a hitman would follow—he was that far gone.
If this was proper in our society—to believe what came from the mouths of people who had an incentive to lie because they had to hold on to money and the people that helped that grow—then cast me out of our society. I wanted no part of its falsehoods just to protect the reputation of inherently bad people. That went for all those who surrounded him or met his acquaintance and who believed he was the salt of the earth. There was a reason his wife couldn’t help falling in love with me—he was quicksand. Being unable to help from falling in love with a simpler man and being unable able to quit him, spoke volumes about Jackson Caiaphas. Anya knew what he truly represented and she wouldn’t have sacrificed the pain of her kids for any other reason. If he planned to ruin my reputation based on lies, only to protect the lie that he was, he would be in for a rude awakening—he was open season now.
The next morning, I didn’t have to text Anya as she sent me one early.
ANYA: “How r u?”
ME: “I’m sorry, I just woke up. I’m ok. How r u babe?”
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
ANYA: “I’m ok. Was up late taking care of my nephew w/a stomach ache. Was going to take him to Disney but afraid to wake him.”
It then dawned on me the significance of Anya’s information about her nephew—he was likely at the house when Jackson blew up about Facebook. I then thought even further of the significance of her nephew staying with them—both Katie and Andrew were at summer camps and Jackson still didn’t have the privacy he hoped for. When I realized her nephew was probably with her when he exploded at her, I felt absolutely terrible about it and a lot more understanding.
ME: “I bet if you mention Disneyland he wakes up! Haha! How old is he?”
ANYA: “Ha ha! You’re probably right! He’s 7.”
ME: “Is it the same nephew that stayed with you last year and Andrew thought he was too immature?”
ANYA: “Yes! When Andrew rolled his eyes, I had to remind him he was 7 once and gave me a lot of grief!”
I thought about the relationship she had with Andrew and I could do nothing but smile—I loved how close she was to her son. I didn’t find fault in Anya being friends to her kids, I just selfishly rooted for her to parent because it could bring us together. She was a great mom, and she reminded me of my mom in a lot of ways so it hurt to be judgmental. It got really tough to know so much about her kids but seemingly ambivalent to me ever having the chance to meet them. It tore me apart whenever I thought about it.
ANYA: “So how do you like your Blackberry? Does it have a camera?”
ME: “It probably does but I’ve never used it.”
ANYA: “I just sent you a pic via BB Messenger. Did u get it?”
When I viewed the image, it revealed a little white dog sitting up on a chair.
ME: “Who is that?”
ANYA: “Was it clear? That’s Suki!”
ME: “I was going to ask if that was Suki! Very clear!”
Maybe that would mean nothing to most other people, but when she sent me a picture of Suki, she opened up a big part of her world to me—a victory at this point in time.
ME: “I think Suki wants to be on your lap!”
ANYA: “She’s just fine where she is!”
Grateful that Anya felt better enough to text me, I decided to get out of my bed and force myself to do something productive. With so much on my mind, it was hard to leave the house. I hadn’t even told my parents I lost my job yet, afraid to worry them. After pulling out of my garage, my wheels were pointed to Harbor City to go visit them, but changed my mind and decided to drive along the coast to Laguna Beach instead—I didn’t want to bum them out. When I found myself in Corona Del Mar, Anya texted me.
ANYA: “R u driving?”
ME: “Yes.”
ANYA: “Near your moms?”
ME: “No, I’m in Corona Del Mar now.”
ANYA: “What? I don’t get it. You just left your mom in Harbor City but you’re close to Corona Del Mar? How does that happen?”
I didn’t want her to worry about me, she had too much on her plate, but I was severely depressed and couldn’t get out of bed--I wanted her to think I was in Harbor City visiting my mother instead. I initally planned to visit my mom, but decided to feel close to Anya instead by driving along the coast to the hotel we stayed at in Laguna Beach. Since I was driving at the time she sent her text, I found a spot to pull over before I could respond while she continued to text me.
ANYA: “Wanted to see if you could meet for a bit but you’re far away. Nevermind.”
ME: “Sweetheart, I can meet up with you.”
ANYA: “It’s ok.”
ME: “I would love to see you for a bit.”
ANYA: “No really, it’s last minute. It’s ok.”
ME: “It doesn’t matter if it’s last minute to me.”
ANYA: “Where were you going?”
ME: “Not sure. Was just driving around and I ended up in Corona Del Mar.”
ANYA: “It’s ok. You’re in Corona Del Mar.”
ME: “Not anymore, I’m now in Costa Mesa.”
ANYA: “Can u meet me at the Good Morning Cafe in 30 min? I’m just getting home and I have to jump in the shower. I don’t have much time.”
ME: “Yes! I’ll see you in 30.”
ANYA: “Ok thx.”
Coming clean, I did lie to her this time about my whereabouts—if I revealed my car was still in Corona Del Mar, I’d never get a chance to see her—Costa Mesa was closer. Being a Sunday, the traffic would be on my side to our usual tea spot hangout. I needed a “feel good” moment of my own so I drove to Laguna Beach to get away from all that happened in a span of just two days. On my way to our meeting, the Sunday traffic worked against me. When she texted, it marked the first time she beat me to our spot.
ANYA: “Here want anything?”
ME: “No thank u! Almost there!”
When I arrived five minutes late, and saw her waiting in her car, my mind went blank. I was just so happy to see her I forgot all I wanted to tell her. As badly as I just wanted to hold and kiss her, I knew that wouldn’t happen. I promised to propose a plan to her—to see if our love could make it past the greatest test it ever faced. When she jumped from her car and into mine, anything could happen on the way to Cascade Park—Jackson could show up at any time, unannounced. Anya took a great risk to meet with me, on a night they usually had their family dinners, but more than anything, it showed how much I meant to her and how much she missed me. She was now in the face of it all, in the eye of the storm, and she chose to run to me for comfort and safety. I owed it to her to try and find a way she could have the love she deserved. A love all of us deserved. A love built on trust and mutual respect. All things she no longer had, if she ever truly did, with Jackson.
As she sat in the passenger seat, she turned her body towards me, a loving gesture that almost made me cry. As I looked into those soft dark eyes I adored, she looked back into mine and peacefully smiled. The look on her face told me we were home, away from the chaos that suddenly engulfed our hopes, wishes and dreams. It was a Romeo and Juliet moment—one that suggested an eternal way to be together, but also one I’d never allow. As her hand moved within and grasped mine, it made it hard to believe she could physically and emotionally be with someone else. I’ve had some major crushes in my days. When I was a young and starry eyed, I wrote a letter to Jenny Garth and Tiffany Amber Thiessen to let them know how much I admired them because I thought I had a chance with any girl if they got to know me. When they never responded to that crazy guy’s letter—the hopeless romantic in me died each time. Anya gave me those same feelings, the only difference being that if I knew her at that time, she would’ve been the only one to receive a letter from me. Anya did the impossible—she resuscitated the hopeless romantic in me. What I was about to do on this day, was the ultimate act of hopelessness. I just didn’t know it at the time.
“I know this is a hard time for you. For both of us.” I said, hoarsely and never more nervous in my life. “I’ve let my emotions overtake me at times and I want to be more sensitive to that.”
“Thank you.” she whispered, her sincere eyes never leaving mine.
“It seems we’re up against all odds here—losing my job wasn’t something I expected.” I continued. “They put me on the partner track, fully intentioned to make me one. To say losing that opportunity didn’t hit me hard would be a lie, but I believe in myself and I can find something else soon—getting myself back on the partner track.”
“I believe you will.”
“I know you do—thank you for believing in me. It’s beautiful to have that and I feel I can accomplish anything with your love in my life.” I stated. “But I also understand how much you’re hurting. I miss you more than ever too and I want to build on the good feelings we had in San Fran. I think it’s possible more than ever, and I have some ideas I’d like to run past you, if you’re willing to listen.”
“Ok. What are you suggesting though, babe?”
“These are my promises to you.” I announced. “Promise number one—no more pressure. Promise number two—pinky swear days…every day.”
“Ok.” She replied, wide eyed with interest.
“The third promise is a promise to me—you cannot feel guilty anymore when it comes to me. The fourth promise is a request—to see you as much as humanly possible. Promise number five—I’ll leave my options open so you don’t feel as guilty and also promise to focus more on myself—so I don’t give you a hard time when you can’t text me. That doesn’t mean you’re not my number one still, it just means it’s a promise not to pressure you. And in exchange for those promises we are together again, but if I break any promises, then I promise to let you go.”
“Do you have a time frame?”
“I was thinking between four to six years—when it’s likely Andrew and Katie will be out of the house.”
She looked at me in absolute disbelief of my proposed time frame. I knew what she couldn’t believe, but without her, my life would be over—if I couldn’t have her, I didn’t want anyone else so why not give her the time she needs? After all the love we shared, there could never be a replacement. Like I’ve maintained all along, I felt married to her, and I’d be forever a widower, and never a divorcee if things didn’t work out between us. I loved her that much and after losing being a CPA firm partner, I would need between four to six years to reestablish myself with another firm. It wouldn’t have been fair to her to ask her for a promise now—I couldn’t be the man she needed me to be to save her from the ire of her children if she left. If Jackson believed his tactics would destroy all I felt for Anya, he made a grave miscalculation. I wouldn’t run from her like Lance—I did not fear his power over me like all those who bowed down to him in the past. If he came after me, he would have to deal with me—I’d be willing to even die. The way I looked at it was this—if I couldn’t fight for Anya’s love, what else on this earth could I ever fight for?
Anya’s eyes started to moisten after she heard my suggestions. I felt with the therapy and Zoloft, only more great memories awaited us. I hoped to never argue with her ever again over our circumstances. She needed me to fight for her, by making a firm commitment to her, so she could trust in love again.
She then spoke a little choked up when she did.
“If it hurts my children, Landyn. Even if they are out of the house four to six years from now, then it won’t matter. I wouldn’t leave.” She told me. “Then I took four to six more years of your life away.”
When she hit me with this possibility, it rocked me to the core. How could she share so much of herself with me if she believed for a day being loved would hurt them? Maybe it would hurt them if I never was successful enough to help give them the lives they deserved? In that sense, the kids would be hurt and I wouldn’t allow Anya to leave. I guess the fact that every divorce did affect all kids on some level was painful to hear because she allowed and encouraged me to feel so much for her. I couldn’t deny what she told me threw a monkey wrench into my entire plan, but at this point it was a matter of life or death for me. She gave me a ton of feelings for her I couldn’t change even if I wanted to. Sure, wounds heal over time but I’d be out of love for at least a decade if not forever if this didn’t work out. If this love was anything less than a soulmate kind of love, I’d be gone before she could ever ask me to leave, but to lose my livelihood and the love of my life? There was no way I could find the strength again mentally for years to come. Although I now found myself giving up even more terms of the relationship to someone who already had our relationship entirely on her terms, without her in my life, I didn’t believe I could go on—I just couldn’t tell her this.
“I understand.” I said. “That would be on me then.”
“It’s not because I wouldn’t want to be with you.” She replied, thoughtfully and considerately.
I nodded, wiping a tear from my face then smiling through it.
She had to get back so I drove her back to her car. After she got inside her car and waved goodbye to me, her smile pierced my heart knowing I couldn’t afford to lose that. It seemed what I offered lifted her spirits though, and honestly, I was just really thrilled to see her regardless of how well she received my proposal.
Later that evening, Anya sent me a text.
ANYA: “U ok right?”
ME: “Haha! R u kidding? I’m good! I got to see u!”
ANYA: “Thanks for meeting me. I’m going to think about what you said.”
ME: “I appreciate that. Give me a test run. I think we have something special enough to see. I just want good feelings. The feelings we shared in SF. I really believe we have more really good moments to share with eachother. In fact, I think they could be the best we’ve ever had.”
ANYA: “I have to think about it.”
ME: “Ok. Was what I told you earlier what you were expecting?”
ANYA: “I didn’t know what to expect.”
ME: “I’m such a wild card sometimes.”
ANYA: “Ha ha! Uh yes, you can be!”
ME: “I plan on cleaning that up.”
ANYA: “Pinky swear, but I haven’t thought about it yet. Remember?”
ME: “I’m sorry.”
ANYA: “It’s ok. You looked really cute today! Have a good night!”
ME: “Hey stop teasing me!”
ANYA: “I’m not trying to!”
ME: “I know. Hey. You love me.”
ANYA: “I do.”
ME: “I know you do. I miss you.”
ANYA: “I miss you too.”
ME: “Either way babe, I will always love you. That’s the dilemma I’m in. I just feel if there’s hope for us, let’s give our love a chance. Have a good night.”
If she didn’t want to try again, I figured I’d remember she changed her mind all the time and that it’s not because she doesn’t love me—she doesn’t want to hurt her kids. I believed with every fight they hear and see, they would want them to be broken up so maybe, there’s a greater chance than even she believed there was.
At twenty-four minutes past six on the morning of August 3rd, 2009, Anya informed of her feelings about my revised plan full of concessions.
ANYA: “I thought about what you said and I appreciate it. I’m glad you feel better and that you’re working on you. The last 6 months have been tough on me more than you know. It doesn’t mean I’ve fallen out of love. It’s been tough. I love you more than ever. You mentioned 4-6 years and that scared me. You said if it doesn’t work out then it doesn’t work out. I don’t want to take 4-6 years out of your life when you could be building it with someone else. Of course, I’d be sad but I truly want you to be happy. By staying around to “see what happens” doesn’t make you happy does it? Idk about getting “back together” but I’m willing to take one day at a time. I don’t want to say we’re back together b/c then there r expectations and pressure. I hope you understand.”
I liked what Anya had to say, and if a woman always changed her mind, if she truly loved me more than ever, then she could also change her mind about this. What Anya didn’t understand, and what I could never explain to her, was that by allowing and encouraging me to feel all I did for her, enough to a point I didn’t want to meet anyone else, in fact I couldn’t meet anyone else because of all I felt for her, she had already taken those four to six years from me. Because women always changed their minds, and as a man I had to know this, I believed these were positive words from her. I sent her a series of texts in response.
ME: “So you’re saying there’s a chance? JK! I like that.”
ME: “I tried yesterday to set expectations to where if it didn’t work out then it’s understandable. If there is pressure then it just wouldn’t work out.”
ME: “I wasn’t planning on staying home and waiting for you. Not that I wouldn’t be faithful and true to you, but I would at least put myself out there in case things didn’t work out between us.”
ME: “You make me happy. When we are at peace and indifferent. It’s perfect. I love it the way it is between us right now and I think it’s worth seeing what happens.”
ME: “I love you more than ever too.”
ME: “I think the problem with me is that I was insecure. I focused on you instead of me. I pressured you because there were expectations. I think the expectations were fair for me to have considering all we’ve shared and I know the pressure was unwanted even when you told me you felt like running several times.”
ME: “I feel more secure now. I know I have to focus on me and I have. I laid out the facts based on what we know now therefore there are no expectations as far as not expecting you to so anything and there just can’t be any pressure and I know that.”
ME: “It’s just different but my feelings and love for you are stronger than ever. One day at a time sounds good. I like that.”
On the first day of my new life without a job, and my first Monday to myself in a long time, I waited for Anya’s response.
ANYA: “I’m glad to hear that you understand. Thank you.”
ME: “Of course I do.”
ANYA: “You do now. I appreciate that.”
ME: “I think we’ve learned through all the turmoil how to communicate better.”
ANYA: “I think so.”
ME: “Such a weird feeling having to wake up without having to be anywhere. No stress. A new life. Scary but exciting. Destined for something greater I think!”
ANYA: “Ahhh! I’m very excited for you! So, do you have a time frame? How much time r u going to take off before you start looking? Not 7 months, right?”
I had forgotten I told her a friend had taken seven months off before finding his next job. After eight years in public accounting, no doubt some time off was needed, but not seven months. When Anya responded “not seven months”, it gave me hope she wanted to divorce Jackson as soon as possible—especially if he continued stalking me through Facebook account.
ME: “Although I could use some time off, I’m starting at the very latest tonight. I’m not looking to take a vacation, babe. I asked some colleagues to come over so we could brainstorm business ideas. With my accounting and auditing background, I’m considering starting my own practice.”
ANYA: “Only one day? Awww I’d say take advantage and take two days! When r u having people over?”
ME: “No rest for the weary! It takes time to interview and everything so I can’t afford to get laxed. I’d probably have a week or two in between before I can accept an offer and to start a job. I think I’m having people over on Friday night.”
ANYA: “Very well!”
ME: “Did I tell you my friend took 7 months off?”
ANYA: “Yes”
ME: “You always remember the things I tell you. I don’t even remember telling you that.”
ANYA: “Uh oh”
ME: “No, babe. I remember everything I said about us! I was all over the place! I talked way too much. My throat was so dry.”
ANYA: “You were just fine.”
ME: “Plus my heart wanted to beat out of my chest.”
ANYA: “Ha ha! It was nice to see you too!”
ME: “It was really nice for me.”
ANYA: “Me too.”
I didn’t hear back from her for the rest of the day so I went to work on finding just that. I’d need another job to support any business idea that came my way. With about thirty thousand dollars in cash and another tweny thousand in investments, I had some time to figure things out, but I didn’t want to deplete the money I saved for a potential honeymoon and other destinations. The stocks I made investments in were steals and had gone up—like Sirius Satellite radio at twenty-five cents a share. I invested in Waste Management and Wells Fargo Bank—stocks with a great future. Wells Fargo was one of the banks that didn’t need a federal bailout, and I bought Waste Management when I learned they planned to close the landfill in Los Angele in 2016 which should increase their business. I also invested in some future start-ups and super low prices, but I had the take the risk now more than ever hoping these paid off soon giving me more leverage with her. One of the skills I gained during my years at KSR was the ability to grow my money and have it work for me—instead of me working for it. This was another reason why I believed we would be just fine and the kids hate for her, if any, would be short-term.
After revising my resume and sending it to a few internet job postings, Anya sent me a text that left me a little unnerved.
ANYA: “Ok so if one of your friends on Facebook is not blocked, you can open up his or her wall and see every conversation you had with your friend. You don’t have to hack into your personal profile.”
Her text left me open to misinterpret it. After accusing her husband of hacking into my account, she seemed to defend his actions by clarifying he didn’t “hack” into my Facebook account, he just stalked my friends instead for weaknesses to get to me. In essence, I guess the more proper way to hack into an account, without it being “technically” hacking, is to stalk the person of interest, find out who his friends are, then stalk them to see what the person of interest is posting about. Her text just really rubbed me the wrong way—it seemed she was more interested in defending the person who dishonored her in life and not the defend the man who had. It wasn’t hacking but rather some alternative method to stalking—basically telling me that Jackson was not the creep I pegged him to be. Whether he hacked me or not, he still violated my private information. Since he knew Anya would leave him if he ever called me, he created a go around—a stalking loophole.
ME: “I checked my privacy settings and it was restricted to my friends only. You have to be accepted as a friend to see anything I post on my wall.”
ANYA: “Yes, but if I click on one of your friends, and he doesn’t have his restricted, I can see all the convo that u sent him.”
ME: “How would he know they were a friend of mine though? The only way he could tell it’s a friend of mine is if he got in my Facebook account.”
ANYA: “It’s listed under your name and just click on one.”
ME: “Where do you see that? My friends aren’t listed under my name. You have to be in my profile to see my friend’s name.”
After jumping online to see for myself, she was right—he didn’t have to be in my page to see who my friends were.
ANYA: “No, if you have an account you can see all the names of your friends. Click on Jay, the first one.”
ME: “Oh wait. I see what you’re saying.”
ANYA: “He’s not restricted.”
When she clicked on Jay’s name, and even saw the names of my Facebook friends, mostly people I knew for years, it made me wish she could meet each and every one of them. Talking to her made me realize something—this is why Jackson told her one of my friends told him that she was seeing me. He was telling a twisted version of the truth, none of my friends ever told him a thing—it’s what he saw on their Facebook pages when he started stalking me two years ago is why he grew suspicious. I had a feeling on of Anya’s friends, likely the one she not so affectionately referred to as “Mother Hen”—she knew my name and gave it to Jackson.
ME: “I see.”
After Anya showed me this, I seethed only because it seemed she defended him. One of my biggest hurdles was feeling like she never vouched for me so her text hit me in one of my weakest spots. She told me she would end their marriage if he ever called me, because she told me that would be just crazy. How was what he did any better? Stalking someone on Facebook by creeping through the Facebook profiles of his friends, who believed their information to be private, was not enough evidence of his insanity? How was that not sociopathic or even narcissistic behavior? Stalking Jackson never crossed my mind and I was curious about things too. After she informed me of how he learned of my postings about Las Vegas and San Francisco, I decided to test her true loyalty.
ME: “Still doesn’t make it right.”
ANYA: “No”
ME: “My Facebook is none of his business. Very creepy.”
ANYA: “I know”
ME: “If he wants to play games, I’ll play. That’s inexcusable.”
ANYA: “I think it was done out of curiosity. No different than you looking him up. Not to make up excuses.”
After reading her text, a whole range of emotions filled me—doing a Google search on someone was entirely different than going through what people believed was a private social media account. If she didn’t want to make up excuses, then she should’ve never made one. The bottom line was this---I was in a ton of anguish because of the horrible things he did to her. I trusted her those things were bad enough to leave him if someone was there for her. If she defended him in anyway, regardless if she loved him as the ‘father of her children” then she would conspire with him against me if she had to. This was really the first time she defended him. I went into this for her only because of what she told me about him, and I actually lost things in my life trusting in those things. I even saw it as a crazier act than him calling me. I trusted her to defend him when we met—not now. I didn’t care if that was the father of her children, you’re defending a dishonest narcissist—she should be admonishing him, not finding excuses for him especially after all I had done for her. It just really rubbed me the wrong way when she tried to defend his actions. If he loved his wife and family so much, he should’ve let her know two years ago, not now. She was going to compare his curiosity to mine? I never cheated on her and I was the one who didn’t make the vow not to!
ME: “The difference is that my information he looked up was meant to be private. It was something he had to poke around in, fiddle with and find. I think it’s creepy.”
ANYA: “I know”
ME: “If it’s public knowledge and he Googles me, I could care less.”
I sat down on my bed and tried to cool down—her defense of him really irritated me. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing to her, but how dare she do such a thing? After all I’ve gone through for her based on all the terrible things she told me about him? I had to endure her sleeping with the man because I trusted all she ever told me about him, and now she defends his action? How could she? Defend him to your friends who’ve lost nothing, but not to the man who actually lost his livelihood because of the things she told me about him that I trusted. She should be vouching for me, not trying to find ways to deny my existence. I then asked her a question that burned me to know.
ME: “How r things with him? Is he watching you again? How r u?”
ANYA: “Idk. We haven’t talked since. I’m ok. How r u?”
I softened my stance one I received this information from her—considering to look at things differently. I then thought that she likely told me these things not to necessarily defend him, but so we could continue to see each other without him learning of it. Jackson never played fair—he’d tell the kids their mother didn’t love him and was with another man. I knew Anya well enough to know, she’d never do something as immature as that. When I started to consider she was not truly defending him, but rather trying to keep him from gaining and wielding his power recklessly over her, I felt bad for feeling the way I did. I always faced the worst-case scenarios with women having no problem abandoning me, and I had a hard time seeing it any other way. Fear would just automatically take over and my emotions would scramble. I understood his curiosity, but I felt he crossed the line by going through the profile of my Facebook friends. I didn’t know if Anya was ignoring him or not, but I really hoped this was the final straw for her in their marriage. I hope she realized what she should—that what he did exhibited outrageous behavior.
ME: “I’m ok too. Sorry for being rough on you there. I’ll let it go. No big deal. I have nothing to hide. It was just the principle of it. I’m not mad. I just hate to see you go through such BS. You’re a good person. It bothers me.”
ANYA: “Ok”
I spent the rest of the day looking for job openings and firing off my resume online to firms that seemed like a good fit for me. I also made plans to host a Friday night meeting with friends to discuss potential business ventures at my apartment. Later that evening, Anya sent me a text about Andrew.
ANYA: “My son wants to play tackle football this year. I’m thinking about it.”
ME: “Has he played tackle football before?”
ANYA: “He’s played flag but never tackle. Have you played tackle football before?”
ME: “Disorganized tackle football. I used to play with friends all the time.”
ANYA: “You wanna teach him? JK!”
Although I loved her text, it dawned on me who would have to teach Andrew how to play tackle football—the father of the year wouldn’t be around enough to.
ME: “I would! Ha ha! Tackling is easy. You just have to be crazy enough to take down the bigger boys. Just go for the legs and down they go.”
ANYA: “Ha ha! I think he’s crazy enough!”
ME: “He’d be good at it then!”
ANYA: “Kinda sick of emergency rooms though.”
ME: “If he tackles right, babe…he won’t end up there. It’s usually the person getting tackled that gets hurt and it doesn’t happen a lot.”
ANYA: “Uh trust me, he’ll find a way!”
I would’ve given up the rest of my life for a chance to teach Andrew how to play tackle football. After our text exchange, I felt bad about the grief I hurled at her about Jackson being in my Facebook account—I just wanted her to penalize him for it, and not me. For two years I never uttered a word about who I was in a relationship with, despite the inconsistencies from her that occurred from time to time. Having to file for unemployment, and losing my partnership promotion because of what he did gave me the right to be ultra-sensitive about it. If she defended him and felt guilty in any way, then she played me for a fool—something that I never believed, but when times were hard like they were now, it was hard to discount. His stalking behind the scenes were starting to take its toll on me, especially after I lost my career believing in someone’s pain that he caused.
After not hearing from her the next day, I reached out late the following afternoon.
ANYA: “Just made it to facial. Ttyl!”
ME: “Oh, I thought you had it already! Ttyl!”
I forgot she had told me she had a facial, but I thought it was in the morning.
ANYA: “No had to pick up Andrew.”
ME: “Sorry babe! Going to Whole Foods store. I’ll be thinking of you by the wine bottles. Enjoy your facial!”
ANYA: “Our Whole Foods store? Ha ha enjoy!”
When I didn’t hear back from her for the rest of the day, her absence hit me harder than usual—I didn’t have work to keep me busy. At least mentally when I was gainfully employed, it was easy to convince myself she didn’t want to distract me from working. Now, it felt like she just didn’t have time for me as “ttyl” felt distant—or maybe my loneliness made it feel that way. Knowing she was busy with her kids; it wouldn’t be fair to penalize her for doing what she needed to do for them. Notwithstanding, Jackson was putting more pressure on her than ever. That evening, when I knew her phone was off and she wouldn’t contact me, I sent her a series of texts.
ME: “I can’t imagine what you’re going though over there right now. I’m sure you’re really tired, but I’m sure you just want to go to sleep to just get through another day. I’m really worried about you babe.”
ME: “You told me the other day in your message that you love me more than ever. When you take into consideration all that you’ve been through the last 6 months with me, that was just the most powerful, most moving thing you’ve ever said to me. I was blown away when I read that.”
ME: “I remember you told me in Vegas after our disagreement that “I ruined your life”. Especially after the Facebook fiasco, and what you’re going through and what may be more to come from him, I feel I have.”
ME: “You told me I could be building my life with someone else by waiting but I equally don’t think it’s right or fair that I’ve imploded your life just to go on and build it with someone else leaving you behind with your life in shambles. After Friday, I refuse to do that whether we are together or not. Love catches the ones who fall.”
ME: “I happened to meet my soulmate when I was available. I truly believe you’re the one for me. You just are. To be honest, I’d rather just die alone. The reason I can face anything in life, the layoff, is because of the way you make me feel about myself. To have someone believe in you when you don’t believe in yourself most of the time is special. All the love you’ve shown me even with my emotional transgressions is a miracle. Not one time have you passed judgment on me, not for one moment even at times I’m sure you wanted me to get lost. You’ve been there for me in every way and you’ve even loved me when I wasn’t deserving of it, and I appreciate you and am grateful.”
ME: “You’re very special. I’m worried about you. I miss you very much. I love you more than ever. I hope you’re sleeping well.”
When the morning came, Anya sent me a text to acknowledge she received them.
ANYA: “Good morning. I’ll have to get back to you later. I have KB and a funeral this morning.”
ME: “Good morning. Oh, great a funeral. Sorry to hear that. Ttyl!”
While Anya paid her respects, I tried to exorcise the ghost of a lost career—firing off more resumes hoping to hear my phone ring soon. I initially planned to reach out to my friend’s father, but grew hesitant about getting back into public accounting—the industry had a high turnover rate for a reason and I was burnt out on it. I hoped after my Friday meeting I organized from my network of friends; I’d have a better idea of what my next step would be. Just before I made myself a sandwich for lunch, Anya sent me a text.
ANYA: “Just left. Sad.”
ME: “I bet.”
ANYA: “What r u up to?”
When I received her text, I got a bit excited hoping she may want to grab tea since I had all this free time now.
ME: “Nothing! Haha!”
ANYA: “Good!”
ME: “I sent some resumes out. Trying to figure out if I want to get back in public accounting or not. Looking forward to my gathering tomorrow. It will give me a better idea of what I want to do.”
ANYA: “Sounds like you got it all figured out. Ready for your gathering?”
ME: “As ready as I’m going to be! I’m going to go pick up some drinks and some snacks for the group. What r u up to?”
ANYA: “Ha ha! Going home to change out of my dress then I’ll figure it out! Lots to do!”
There was a time Anya would’ve wanted me to see what the dress looked like on her—but maybe it was just my depression talking. When she didn’t acknowledge my late night texts at all, I decided it best not to bug her about them—she didn’t have to respond to them anyway.
Without anything really to do, I decided to go to the movie theater near her home to feel closer to her, and less alone. I decided to see a movie called “The Ugly Truth” with Katherine Heigl and Gerard Butler who plays a male chauvinist. In the middle of the movie, my phone began to vibrate, and when I looked at my screen, Anya had responded to my texts.
ANYA: “In response to your texts, I’m confused. I don’t understand what you want. You said you were going to put yourself out there just in case and now you’re saying you’d rather die alone. I don’t understand your thoughts. Yes, it’s been hard the last 6 months but I’m still in love with you. I can’t just stop loving you. I just don’t know what to do. I understand what you’re going through and then I worry about my kids. So many thoughts go through my head. It’s crazy! If you can look into my brain it’s just a big giant mess! One day at a time is all I can do.”
She made a lot of sense—my texts were contradicting. It was hard for me to understand myself sometimes as the depression began to kick in without me being aware of it. I had just lost a career job causing my fear of losing Anya to grow. It wasn’t my intention to confuse her at all and it was one of the times I was inconsistent with her—but unknown to me, I was falling into the darkest depression of my life. More than anything, I just wanted her to feel secure in my love for her and it just didn’t come out that way. It wouldn't have been fair for me to go out and have a great life with someone else while she was stuck in a loveless marriage that was even worse now because of me. To abandon her like that—I loved her too much and I’d rather die alone. Unfortunately, I met my soulmate before I committed to someone else. I would become dust before finding love again.
I left the theater before the movie finished, so I could answer Anya. Walking into a book store that was adjacent to the theater, I sat in a comfy sofa chair and began texting her.
ME: “I’m worried about you, that’s all.”
ANYA: “Thank you. I’m worried too! Ha!”
ME: “I know, Sweetheart. I don’t think it’s fair just to leave you with a ton of feelings and a mess. Just let’s take it one day at a time. I love you, you know. It’s embedded to care.”
ANYA: “Oh, if you’re feeling guilt because you met someone, it’s ok. Really. I want you to be happy, Honest.”
When I read her text, it shocked me. I then ran through my past texts to her to see the way they were worded—how could she possibly think that? After all our struggles, did she really think I could just go out and date someone else that easily? I fought with her only because I loved her so much. I wanted to be with her every single day, and if I was lucky enough, for the rest of my life. As much as I held Anya responsible for encouraging and allowing me to develop deep feelings for her, I held myself responsible for doing the same thing as well. I understood she wanted to take it one day at a time and found it to be a great idea. Her heart was my responsibility to take care of, and I respected her feelings and emotions too much to just go out and find someone new. After all those arguments, she really thought I’d go out and meet someone else all because she wanted to take it one day at a time? No one could ever just step in and replace her in my heart. She had not only had a hold on it but a huge stake in it. Being loyal to her was easy because it was innate for me to be. I didn’t even check other women out after I met her—I loved her that deeply. She was in my head, my eyes and my heart every single second of the day for the last twenty months. It broke my heart she could ever think I found someone new. Did she really think I’d be happy with anyone else but her? I’d rather be alone and miserable, than be with someone else. Those four to six years she thought I’d waste away waiting for her were already gone—I already felt married to her. The bond and pull towards her was too strong to go on if I lost her. I felt if I dated someone else, after all we’ve shared, I’d betray her now—and even betray myself simply because any girl I dated had no chance. We’ve shared too much. I’d hear those cries in my head as if she were lovesick all over again. She meant the universe to me, and everyone else was non-existent. With no uncertainty, I knew I had only one soulmate, and I met mine—these strong feelings told me that every single day. I didn’t care what anyone told me—I lived what I felt.
ME: “Haha! I didn’t meet anyone, babe. R u kidding?”
ANYA: “No!”
ME: “What would make you think that?”
ANYA: “I don’t think it’s right to leave u w/a ton of feelings and a mess”?
ME: “Right! It doesn’t mean I’ve met someone else!”
ANYA: “Hmmm”
ME: “I said that in reference to you mentioning “building a life w/someone else”! I didn’t meet anyone else. I would be honest with you if I did.”
ANYA: “I’m half joking with you!”
ME: “I would tell you. I promise.”
ANYA: “I know you would and I would get mad at you.”
ME: “You would! I knew it!”
ANYA: “*woundn’t”
ME: “Not even an asterisk is going to save you now! I knew you would be mad at me!”
ANYA: “No!”
ME: “Sure sure sure! Ha ha!”
Although I knew she meant to type “wouldn’t”, my heart wanted to believe she didn’t. She then sent me a text that melted my heart as much as anyone she had ever sent me.
ANYA: “If we were free to love, I would love you so much that you wouldn’t want to meet anyone else. I’d love you so much and I’d selfishly want you all to myself! I’d let my guard down and love you freely in bed.”
If she considered her love for me as it stood, a freedom less love, I already didn’t want to meet anyone else. Her text was super sweet and brought a huge smile to my face, but part of the problem was she loved me as if she were free to love already—why I felt so much pain and so much love for her. She loved me so freely, I never wanted to be with anyone else ever again. In desperate need of a “feel good” moment, she delivered.
ME: “I know this. Why do I think you’re so great! That was a very sweet text.”
ANYA: “It’s true!”
ME: “I know it is! Thank you for that. This is why there could be no one else.”
ANYA: “I love you.”
ME: “I love you!”
I sat there in that chair and looked around the book store with a huge grin—I really needed to feel some positive energy. When I rose from the comfort of my chair at the bookstore to head on out before the evening traffic started, I felt a strange source of energy around me. I don’t know what it was but it was the closest thing to “feeling like a million bucks”. Feeling something different about my surroundings, like being in a dream, I continued to head toward the bookstore’s exit. As I walked by the travel section, there she was, Anya—sitting on the floor absorbed in a travel guide. I wanted to get down on my knees and wrap my arms around her, but we were in a public place near her home. Afraid she may not be open to seeing me in public so close to home, I texted her when I got outside.
ME: “I just walked past you sitting down reading a book. I wanted to say hi but didn’t know if anyone was there. I went to the AMC theater next door to see “The Ugly Truth”. Pretty good movie.”
ANYA: “I’m here with Andrew! Where r u?”
ME: “Haha! I thought you might be! I’m in my car now.”
Fearing I’d make her feel uncomfortable, especially with her son, I decided to jump in my car and head out. Suddenly, she sent me a text.
ANYA: “What? Come back so I can see u!”
Was she serious? Andrew was with her—wasn’t she worried? Did she really want to see me and risk everything? Or did she think I was on a date and that’s why I went to the movies? I had to reread it again before I responded.
ME: “R u serious? I look like crap!”
ANYA: “So do I!”
ME: “No you don’t! I saw you already! You always look great! Be right there!”
It all felt surreal walking back into the bookstore knowing I’d see her in seconds. Approaching her slowly and with caution, she was standing up when I reached her. Her beautiful dark soulful eyes peered up at me with a smile that could make the books around us fall off the shelves.
“Well, well, well. What have we here?” I smiled back.
“I’m taking Katie to Boston at the end of August—trying to plan the trip,” she told me. “She is interested in going to Harvard.”
“She’s Harvard material all the way.” I boasted. “Boston is a great city.”
“That’s right. You told me you’ve been there before.”
“It was almost twenty years ago.”
Lost in the dream before me, a woman who told me she looked like crap but looked as beautiful as ever, a young boy suddenly appeared at her side with a look of curiosity in his eyes.