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EVERYTHING WE WERE - BOOK IV
CHAPTER 15 ~ TEATERRING ON THE EDGE

CHAPTER 15 ~ TEATERRING ON THE EDGE

“Wait, can this be a dream

There’s a voice in my head

It belongs to you it says

Don’t cry, no need to be sad

There’s a way to stay with you again.

It’s more than you ever had

And no death brings us apart

Our timeless love always grows

Because you are my other part.”

~ “We’ll Burn the Sky” The Scorpions

As the son I wish were mine stood next to his mother, I had so many questions. “How are you”, “How’s your all-star team doing?”, “Is Mom going to let you play tackle football this year?” “Do you have any big plans for the summer?”, “Do you have any hot stock tips for me?”, but more than anything, I just wanted to be able to simply say “hello”. Knowing I couldn’t acknowledge him killed me inside. Andrew, a small but cute kid looked up at me then shyly away, burying his head into his mother’s hip. Even working for three years at a day care filled with kids between the ages of five to thirteen, could’ve prepared me to be so suddenly graced by his presence. The hardest thing was knowing so much about this little guy, but not being able to talk to him. What made it so cruelly agonizing was the fact in his eyes, I was the villain in this story. That he stood face to face with the man who loved his mother more than his father ever did, yet it would shatter his world if she left for me. The biggest surprise though was not so much Andrew appearing before me, but how comfortable Anya felt about it. In the only way she could, she vouched for me at this moment.

I didn’t even know what to say to her, if anything. Should I ask “Is this your son?” and just pretend to be a business acquaintance? If I stuck around, he surely would remember my face, and if Anya and I were together one day, his photographic memory will set in. I guess there was only one thing I could say without going into full Jack Nicholson mode.

“It was nice seeing you.” I said, then turning to walk away.

“Nice seeing you too.” she responded.

The only thing left to do was flee the scene. When I got inside my car, I texted her before leaving the parking lot.

ME: “Very nice to see u!”

ANYA: “U too! Busted huh?”

This was the Anya I knew—the light-hearted woman who didn’t fear our love. She had no idea how bad I wanted to stay and hang out with them—something I dreamt about. She shared so much about their lives with me, it only became natural to want to meet them one day. My fear was making Anya feel uncomfortable and anxious. I only threatened to tell Jackson that one time because I feared she was being dishonest with me about her wedding anniversary but I’d never dream of telling her kids anything about us, or even about their parents. If I had known Andrew and fled the scene, then that’s a different story. Sure, I’d get upset with her at times and have crazy negative feelings, but not one single time did my thoughts ever stray to “I’ll tell the kids!” to even the score. I’d be a bigger douchebag than Jackson if I ever did something like that. The shock of seeing Andrew was the only thing that subdued the sadness I felt for not being able to say “hello” to him.

ME: “Haha! I don’t think so. I’m sure that happens!”

ANYA: “Ha ha! He asked if I knew you!”

ME: “He did? What did you tell him?”

ANYA: “Nope!”

I don’t know why it disappointed me when she said, “nope”, but it did. I guess that level of quick denial penetrated my heart a little—or maybe I hoped she’d tell him “that’s the greatest man I’ve ever known.” Then again, after my meltdowns, I’m sure I wasn’t the greatest anymore, anyway.

ME: “Haha! Just another weirdo son!”

ANYA: “Ha ha! You were so close to Andrew!”

ME: “I know! Good looking kid! Wish I could have introduced myself.”

ANYA: “Thx! I know I’m sorry.”

Only because I knew so much about him and even seeing my younger self in him, that I wanted to ask him so many questions. Like, if he planned to play tackle football and if he liked his IMACs. How is your wallet business coming along, Andrew? How did it feel winning the baseball championship this year? It just made me feel like the biggest creep on the planet to know so much about someone who hadn’t the slightest idea who I was. Why did she tell me so much about her kids without ever fielding a plan to have me meet them one day? I loved her and I wanted to know her life, but why share so much with me with no plans in place to leave? I know I fucked up at times, but it seemed she understood my struggles. I understood her concerns, but at the same time, it was hard to because of how much I knew that no one else did.

ME: “Oh it’s ok! I know so much about him! Haha!”

ANYA: “You do and he has no idea!”

ME: “Haha!”

I tried to laugh it off—to hide how much it hurt to know so much about him but remaining a stranger to him. I thought Anya handled the situation the right way, she had to, but I couldn’t deny someone who claimed to love me as much as she did could do it so easily. I would’ve never shared the lives of my children with her if I had no plans to be with her one day.

ANYA: “How did you know I was there?”

ME: “I saw you as I was walking out. I went to the movies by your home just to feel close to you, and went to the bookstore afterwards. I hoped to see you but couldn’t have dreamt it possible. Crazy.”

ANYA: “What a coincidence! Yea, Katie wants to visit Harvard and Boston Uni. Not that she’d get in but she wants to know if she should set herself up for local universities or go back east. She said she’d like to maybe do her undergrad in CA and go back east for her post grad. Yea um, let’s see after a couple of years at butt kicking PACE! She may change her mind about going to college!”

ME: “I think that is really awesome you’re doing that for her! Get her goals set early and it gives her a better chance at achieving them if she can see them happening. She’ll figure it out. She’s a really bright girl with a brighter future ahead of her.”

ANYA: “I bet you were surprised to see me hunkered down on the floor reading in mid day!”

ME: “Yes I was! But I was surprised to see you period!”

ANYA: “Did you run?”

ME: “No! I didn’t know what to do though. I wanted to approach then scare you, but it’s near your home and I didn’t know who you were there with.”

ANYA: “Thank you I appreciate that.”

ME: “It was done out of respect.”

ANYA: “Well thank you!”

ME: “I was going to kneel down and put my head on your shoulder like some annoying creep would who wanted to read the same book you’re reading.”

ANYA: “OMG! That would have been creepy! I would have screamed!”

ME: “Good thing I didn’t then! Haha! Andrew would have been in the store thinking “Gee, that sure sounds a lot like my mom!”. Great first impression that would’ve been.”

ANYA: “Uh yea! Not good!”

ME: “It was really nice to see you. Thanks for asking me to come back.”

ANYA: “It was nice to see you too! I’m glad u texted me!”

ME: “Me too!”

Although I felt bummed about not being able to talk to Andrew, it felt good to know how comfortable Anya felt with me being near him. That night I decided to send her another series of text messages—the norm now that we rarely saw each other. Fearing a disconnect, I made an effort to maintain our closeness as much as I could. I started to think since I never told her about my Facebook account that she thought I may have used it to meet other women—why she felt I had met someone new. I tended to forget her own experiences with Jackson led her to believe all guys were like him. She believed Jackson’s behavior was normal for men, even when it was clearly and wholly unacceptable.

ME: “Hey there. You’re probably sleeping away. I know it was a long day for you and a long night too. I was really happy to see you today. I wanted to lean down and kiss you so bad. I love the look in your eyes whenever you see me. It just makes me so alive. I’ve never felt that way before. It was nice to see your son too. I wanted to ask him so many questions because I know so much about him! It was nice to see him in person.”

ME: “If you think I’ve met someone or am even looking that just couldn’t be further from the truth. I shouldn’t have said I’d rather die alone but it’s just the way I feel. You’re the best. There are so many things I love about you, it’s like no other girl has a chance.”

ME: “I only started a Facebook account mostly because of my high school reunion which I didn’t even go to b/c SF came up, and that took priority. So many times, I go into town and people seem to remember me, and I look at them trying to remember their names! I just thought it would be a good way for me to not look like a jerk at the reunion. I feel bad when people remember me but I don’t remember them or can’t at the moment. I just used FB to reconnect that way, not to meet anyone else, and I’ve had the account before we met.”

ME: “Everyone that’s a friend on my FB are my real friends or were at some point in my life. It’s just nice to stay in touch. The girlfriends I have on there are mostly people I used to work with and they are either all happily married or in relationships. I wish I could introduce you to everyone. I know they would love you. Who wouldn’t? Haha!”

ME: “I didn’t mean to confuse you. I just meant considering what you’re going through right now, it’s not fair to you that I go off and start building a life with someone else while your life is in shambles because of me. I’m not interested in meeting anyone else. Period. I just didn’t want you to feel guilty about anything so that’s why I said I would put myself out there. Not because I want to. I love you and you’re my soulmate. It’s not as easy as you think for me to go out there and meet someone now. I just don’t care about being with anyone; unless that anyone is you. I know you want me to be happy, but I’m happiest with you or at least having that hope of being with you.”

ME: “I just wanted to make that clear. I don’t want you to feel guilty about anything, anymore. I want you to have someone because I know you don’t. I feel you need love in your life, more than you think or realize you do, and I want to give that to you as much as I can. You’ve put a lot on the line for me, so much so, things won’t ever be the same ever again for you. They just won’t. You know better than anyone, internal wounds of the heart and mind fester over time and all because we can’t be together, doesn’t make it right that I abandon you when you probably need me and my love more than ever or more than you realize.”

ME: “Just know I’m here and I love you completely. Oh and btw, you aren’t free to love me and I don’t want to meet anyone else!”

After I sent this off, I faded off into the night. When I woke up the next morning, later than I usually did, I checked my phone to see if she responded—she did.

ANYA: “Wow! That was a long one! It was nice to see you too! What a nice surprise! As far as your FB goes, I think it’s wonderful for you to have one! It’s a good way to stay in touch. Good for you! I think I’m just holding back right now b/c Katie wants a Myspace account and I’m trying to prolong that as much as possible. Now I think I’m private in that I don’t share my business with people unless they are in my immediate circle. I’d be a bit sad for a while but I’d understand and be happy for you! You have to focus on yourself, remember? Don’t worry about me. I’m ok. I’m happy when I’m with you too. I’m also happy when my kids are happy that’s why this is so difficult for me. No, I’m not free to love you and you should not be closed to meeting new people.”

After reading her text, all I could see was red. The first thing that irritated me was when she seemingly took a jab at me, telling me she was a private person and only shared her business with people in her immediate circle. This felt like instead of blaming her stalking psychotic husband, she blamed me for him getting in my Facebook account. She likely defended him because he might tell her kids, but she needed to put the blame solely on him—not me. The most unsettling thing in her message was “I’m happy when I’m with you too. I’m also happy when my kids are happy.” It’s not like I didn’t want her to feel happy when her kids are happy, but I could’ve avoided a ton of heartache that led me to a therapist couch and Zoloft if she told me that in the beginning. When I asked her why she was still with Jackson, after she had just got supposedly dumped by another man, she didn’t tell me “Because I’m happy when my kids are happy” but rather “Because no one wants to be with a woman who has baggage”. What made me more upset with her is that if I were to bring this up, she would feel she betrayed her kids—and not feel as if she betrayed the man who trusted she told him the truth in the beginning. This bait and switch method left me beside myself. It was a good thing I did lose my job after reading her text—I would’ve had to call in sick.

To add further insult, she told me “I shouldn’t be closed to meeting new people” seemed to suggest Jackson’s infidelities never mattered to her. The woman took nearly two years of my life and hits me that? Did she honestly think I believed she was in love with me after writing me that after all I texted her about the way I felt? Her response was cruelly cold after telling me she loved me more than ever after San Francisco. I didn’t care if she had ten kids, her selflessness only came after I feel deeply in love with her. So much so, I seriously considered waiting four to six years for her if I had to. If she felt she betrayed her kids by loving me, then she couldn’t have loved me the way she claimed she did. Her feelings for me were dead and she didn’t want to hurt me at this point. How could any woman, that was “in love” with another man, tell that man he should be open to meeting new people? It made me so sick to read her text, I couldn’t help but pace around my apartment with a stomach in knots and an increasingly rapid heartbeat. After all we shared—after losing my career job because of our relationship, after being told “I love you more than ever, after nearly two years of fighting for her and going on a drug to save her from sadness she never truly cared about at all, after seven long heart filled texts, she morphed into Jackson Caiaphas before my very eyes. After all of that, she turned me from her hero to the monster. And why was I ever her hero in the first place? If she ever felt, for even a second, that loving me was betraying her kids, I’d feel betrayed enough to confront Jackson—something I promised never to do.

From her text, she must’ve understood why Jackson had cheated on her—something else she kept from me for nearly two years. Cheating happens and so it was never a big deal because if my kids are happy, then that’s all that truly matters—marriages were unrealistic anyway. My husband could cheat whenever his heart desired as long as my kids are happy! As long as the golden goose kept money coming in, it didn’t matter. For all I knew they could’ve made a pact to date other people but never end their marriage because of the kids. After her text, it should’ve become more evident than ever that she just wanted to fall in love for the sake of feeling again, but I opted to look at myself instead and my past. All those heartfelt texts I spent the night composing, she only used against me. She probably thought there was love behind them but not after what I’ve lost believing her situation was one she just needed someone in her life to change. Trying not to let my emotions get the better of me, I responded to her text. If she was never free to love me, then why did she ever put her heart and soul into us?

ME: “So basically what you’re saying is if he cheated on you again, you would choose to stay anyway because it would make the kids unhappy if you were to leave?”

ANYA: “I think if he did it again I would have to leave.”

She “thinks” if he ever did it again she would have to leave? But what about the unhappiness of her children? Isn’t she happy when her kids are happy? Just a few days ago, this woman told me she loved me more than ever, and now she tried to convince herself that she was never free to love me after allowing and encouraging me to feel the greatest love I’ve ever known for nearly the last two years? She told me I broke heart when I left her after we first met, and now she hits me with this? I didn’t want to give her a hard time, I loved her to death, but her text was one I expected to read from a woman who didn’t love me—not from the one who claimed she loved me more than ever.

ME: “Ok.”

ANYA: “Ok?”

Her “ok” seemed to say “wouldn’t you want me to leave” but I thought she had more reasons than ever to leave him, including one big reason—me. Now it seemed there were two things she should’ve told me the night we decided to pursue our love. One—I would need my kids’ permission in order for us to be together, and two—my husband would have to cheat on me again. How could she feel guilt about her children, but not feel an ounce of guilt for the things she failed to tell me in the beginning? I didn’t want to make her feel bad, but this is why I’d “make my own conclusions” and it was disrespectful and insulting. Stopping from pacing my apartment, I fell down on my bed and began to type away on my phone knowing I’d be too depressed on this day to look for work.

ME: “I would hope that you would if he did it again.”

ANYA: “R u going to hire a sexy girl to lure him? JK!”

ME: “That’s not a bad idea!”

ANYA: “Ha ha!”

ME: “I think that would have to happen on its own. I think if there’s a God, He’s an advocate for people who are in love. I really think He would work in ways to bring them together.”

ANYA: “You’re right.”

ME: “I’m not much of a believer but if he’s there, he is working on it. Just the way I feel about it. Yesterday was a good example. It’s weird b/c I don’t understand how everything can feel so right and natural. And it shouldn’t if people were to be hurt.”

ANYA: “I know.”

If there was a God, who I was starting to believe in, how could he allow the people around the people who truly loved each other to get hurt? If Anya and I were having sex in the bathroom stalls of restaurants, I could easily understand the universe working against us, but in our situation? I just couldn’t believe for a second, the lives of her children ever being destroyed by the love we found in each other—and any unhappiness they felt would only be temporary. I really didn’t believe a loving God would allow us to feel the love we have if it would hurt her children. If we weren’t allowed to feel the goodness of a love such as ours without it bringing pain to children, then He could have my soul—it was worthless.

ME: “Have you spoken to each other yet?”

ANYA: “A little.”

ME: “I see.”

After her text, I figured she was back on speaking terms with him. After all, they are flying out to Boston with the kids and I imagined they would have to. I knew they lived in a rather large home but the silence couldn’t last forever—especially during the Sunday night dinners. Later that evening, after winding down a pretty unproductive day with my job search, Anya sent me a text.

ANYA: “How is it going? Did you have your get together?”

ME: “Going ok. My friends got caught working late so we didn’t have it.”

ANYA: “Awww. I’m sorry.”

ME: “It’s ok. I have time to have another one.”

Not one of the best days for me, as Anya’s morning text left me feeling hopeless throughout the day. Her response to my texts crushed me when she seemingly defended Jackson and left me doubting once again her honesty from the beginning about her situation. When I started dwelling on the planned family trip to Boston without telling me about it until I ran into her at the bookstore, it left me unable to move out of bed.

When I didn’t hear from her the next morning, I deducted that she only sent me texts in the morning if I sent her texts the previous night. Being a Saturday, I reached out to her to see what she was up to.

ANYA: “Hanging then a friend’s B-party later. U?”

ME: “I’m just hanging. No plans. Have a good one.”

ANYA: “Ok u too!”

No wonder why Anya asked me to come back inside the bookstore—she knew the only time I’d get to see her is if I ran into her somewhere. After I told her of my new agreement, I thought she would at least try to see me when she could, but after Jackson stalked me on Facebook, she had to be more careful. I just had to be understanding of that.

My plan for the day involved going to the gym then continuing my job search but pulling my back out at the gym again wasn’t on the day’s agenda. Just like my Friday, it seemed the promise of tomorrow wouldn’t be any better, but to my surprise, Anya sent me a text just before noon.

ANYA: “R u going to the movies today?”

ME: “Haha! Sorry, I just got back from the gym. I wasn’t planning on it because the theaters get packed on the weekends. I love the weekday matinee or the late night shows. Were you planning on trying to go?”

ANYA: “No was just asking. I was hoping to get away for tea but now I’m kinda out of time.”

I guess in Anya’s mind, if I planned to go out that way, then she wouldn’t feel guilty about asking to see me. I found it really sweet of her to even ask me.

ME: “I would’ve loved to have met you. Thanks for thinking of that. I miss u, u know. That was a really sweet thought.”

ANYA: “Sorry. I miss u too.”

ME: “It’s ok. You made my day anyway.”

Her sweet thought truly got me through the rest of the day. As the Sunday unmercifully dragged on, I decided to read a book after talking myself into picking back up the job search on Monday. At about a little after four, Anya texted me once more.

ANYA: “What r u up to?”

ME: “Nothing at all! Just bumming around.”

In case there was any chance I could see her, I made it known to her I was available.

ANYA: “Ha ha! You’re getting good at that!”

ME: “Too good! Monday or Tuesday I’ll get back on track. Next week for sure I’ll work on things.”

ANYA: “Too funny! Or Wednesday?”

ME: “Wednesday sounds more realistic!”

ANYA: “Haha!”

ME: “I’ve been in public accounting for 8 years. I need a small break.”

ANYA: “Don’t blame u.”

ME: “R u at the party?”

ANYA: “No not till 5. Andrew has friends over. I might go back to the bookstore to look at Boston books again if I can get everything done here. I’m making appetizers for the party. I bought 3 books on Boston and they all recommend different places to eat and see! I went to the bookstore the other day to see if the other books had the same recommendations just to find out that those other books had other recommendations!!! One thing they all had in common was the Harvard Yard and the Holocaust Memorial so that’s a start. It’s going to scare the kids but I think it would be a good educational experience for them.”

ME: “Oh wow! That’s funny! I think it would be a good educational experience for them too.”

ANYA: “I want to do it right. My main goal is to have it be an encouraging experience for Katie. She asked if she could see Boston and the college town just to get a feel for back east. I’m hoping that the trip would motivate her when she starts high school and not blow it. After all u kinda only have once chance in each grade. I just don’t want to miss anything and have her have a “so so” experience.”

The way Anya planned her daughter’s trip was a great testament to her the love she had for her kids. All bases had to be covered if Katie was considering a move back east to go to school and I loved the extra care Anya put into making sure her daughter would have all the information she needed to make a sound decision. Anya always had the best interest of her kids in mind in all she did for them—always wanting to give them the best future she possibly could. Her kids were first, and I loved her for it. I just wish she’d show that being loved was a need in life, and not a luxury. That the true source of happiness was derived from love and not just from earthy desires.

ME: “Just remember Hun, the most valuable things Katie will ever learn in life won’t come from out of a textbook. She’ll do great in school, you watch!”

ANYA: “Awww thanks. Hope so.”

ME: “She’s too smart to fail, babe. You’ve done a great job.”

ANYA: “Ah yes, but she has a party girl side!”

ME: “Who doesn’t want to ditch school work and have fun though? She’s lucky she’s female! I’m sure there will be a rich guy somewhere she can meet who will take care of her one day.”

ANYA: “What? No way! I would never encourage that!”

When I texted this to Anya—it was a jab I shouldn’t have taken. My frustration from her responses started to take a toll on me. After putting my heart and soul into her, it felt like she was turning her back on me. I wasn’t a feminist, but supported women being dependent on themselves for income rather than a man. Anya’s response was in line with how she ended up in her current situation with Jackson—relying on a man for income rather herself. I didn’t think it was wrong for a woman desiring to be taken care of by a man, but they should be independent. For the most part, Anya had become independent but there was no way she could convince me at nineteen she was into a broke thirty-one-year-old. Jackson was always well off and he sucked in a starry-eyed impressionable teenager like a Hoover.

ANYA: “You know guys can go for the sugar mommas of the world!”

Anya’s response seemed to suggest I had struck a nerve. There were some guys that did go for the Sugar Mommas of the world—I just wasn’t one of them, unlike herself who went for the Sugar Daddy.

ME: “Women r vicious and more judgmental about it though. Trust me, I know.”

ANYA: “How do you know?”

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ME: “I had a dating profile a few years ago and it got very little attention until I decided to change my income figure upwards. All of a sudden, I got emails and winks. I learned the hard way.”

ANYA: “You’re really bothered by that, aren’t you?”

ME: “I just feel it’s wrong.”

ANYA: “Yea it is, but people are judged everyday by their looks, color, race, height, income figure, weight, etc. They are all wrong but it’s just the way it is. Could you marry a sugar mama if you fell in love with her? Sugar mama sounds so ugly! Who came up with that anyway?”

She was right about this—we’re all judged every single day for something. I didn’t necessarily think all of it was wrong either—beauty is in the eye of the beholder and we all had our preferences. I found women to be more vicious because they judged men for things they couldn’t change about themselves, such as their height. When a man judged a woman for her size, she could at least change that about herself. My experiences with women have left a very bad taste in my mouth, and they mostly existed because of my height and my financial status. I’m sure if Anya had to face the things I did, she’d completely understand where I was coming from. I couldn’t penalize her for it, but be proud of the way she raised Katie not to be dependent on a man for anything. Maybe even realizing the mistake she made out of convenience.

ME: “If you marry and fall in love with a sugar mama for her money then I don’t think you’re marrying for love. You’re in love with the wrong thing.”

ANYA: “Well let’s say you didn’t know she had money. You fall in love with her then you find out she is loaded. You marry her b/c you’re in love with her who just so happens to have money you didn’t know of. After the honeymoon she asks if you could stay home and take care of the household while she brings home the figure. Could you do it?”

ME: “I wouldn’t feel comfortable about that though because I like to work and would like to contribute. I got in a debate with this girl one time who told me she loves funny guys but they also have to make a 6 figure salary. So that’s what makes him funny and worthy of your laughter? Give me a break.”

ANYA: “What? Who said it was funny?”

ME: “This was a girl on a dating website years ago. I’m sure she picked a winner!”

ANYA: “Women! Can’t live with them and can’t live without them! Well, I guess you could but they can drive you crazy!”

ME: “That’s for sure! It seems like money is all that truly matters to them no matter what they say. It’s not about love.”

This is why it upset me when Anya discounted my love for her—I knew what awaited me and wanted no part of the games they played. Anya was the only woman I had ever met who accepted me for wearing my heart on my sleeve—appreciative of my openness. Now, it seemed she only accepted that part of myself all because she had no intentions of leaving her marriage and actually being together.

ANYA: “I don’t know if that’s entirely true. Can’t speak for all.”

ME: “I know you love me. I know that much.”

ANYA: “I do! Going to the bookstore now. Dip is finished!”

ME: “You didn’t want me to go to the movies and then to the bookstore? Just kidding!”

ANYA: “Ha! I don’t care as long as you don’t post it on your FB!”

Still struggling with Anya’s responses to my heartfelt texts, this day was not shaping up to be one of my better days. Beyond sensitive to everything she did, when she joked about not posting it to “my Facebook”, it rubbed me the wrong way. I tried not to let it bother me—it really punished her when I blundered by posting about San Francisco and Las Vegas. She was sensitive to it too because it caused her some discomfort at home. To me, this is when staying for the sake of the kids made zero sense. Jackson confronted Anya about us several months ago and it didn’t stop her. Shouldn’t she be telling Jackson the things she told me in San Francisco during dinner? Why are you staying with someone who you can’t trust and who has no respect for you? The entire Facebook ordeal at her home, and all it caused, made even less sense to me. Why continue living such a lie? Anya told me “There is no marriage”. Jackson should be punished about Facebook, not me. It’s amazing I kept all this love for her under wraps for nearly two years. She needed to tell her husband he didn’t have the freedom to stalk me on the internet and he had no right to invade my right to privacy the way he did. Why did she hold me responsible for Jackson rummaging through the profile of my friends, to read what I posted on Facebook? It seemed she believed what he did was perfectly within his right to curiosity and I was out of line for posting such things. This all circled back to my issue with women and their love for money—if Jackson wasn’t wealthy, would she even try to defend him? I didn’t think so.

ME: “It’s ok. Have a good time.”

ANYA: “Did I say something wrong?”

ME: “Nothing wrong.”

Did she want to drag it out of me? How her joke made me feel? I couldn’t respond, afraid it would only cause her to pull more away from me.

ANYA: “I only have a small window and I would hate to ask you to drive all the way up here just to say hi in the bookstore. Not fair for you. I was kidding about the FB.”

For nearly the last two years, we only operated within her small windows of time. Why did she care so much now? This guilt trip should’ve been given to me when we first met, not now. All I could do was continue to hide my negative emotions from her.

ME: “No worries!”

ANYA: “You know I’d love to see you!

ME: “I know you would.”

ANYA: “I tried this morn!”

ME: “I know you did! I appreciated that!”

As the hour passed, I hoped that she would text me, but her silence reminded me that I was never a true need, but a luxury. She didn’t have to stress about money, Jackson gave that to her. The more I dwelled on that—the more it ate me alive. She never needed me as long as she had Jackson—something she never really risked to lose if he only gave her the silent treatment over divorce papers. Maybe I was wrong for being so sensitive to it, but I couldn’t take it anymore.

ME: “I’m sensitive to the FB thing because he went into a friend’s personal profile, looked through only God knows how many of my friends to find me, then looked at private info which I thought was only being shared with my friends. I don’t think he should be given the benefit of the doubt for that. He should be told to stay out and not to be told “it’s ok, you were curious”. I feel anyway.”

ANYA: “I never told him it was ok! I yelled at him!”

It was hard not to question her willingness to be with me. If there was ever a time she should’ve threatened divorce, this was the time. If she yelled at him, then why was he still with her? In his eyes, his wife was in Las Vegas and San Francisco with another man—what leverage did she have to yell at him? I didn’t want to argue with her, but if she had defended me, wouldn’t he have threatened to divorce her at the very least? To see how money could be the only explanation, because of what it provided her kids with, was maddening. Regardless of the way I felt, I had to drop it.

ME: “Ok. Thank you. I appreciate that you went to bat for me. I didn’t know you did that.”

I thought I might hear back from her later that evening, but when I didn’t it left me in deep despair. As her silence grew louder by the minute, likely because she was having a great time at a birthday party while I suffered another exhausting night full of mental anguish, I texted her.

ME: “I hope you’re having a good time at the party. Seems like you’re having a good time. I’m glad. Have a goodnight.”

ANYA: “Goodnight.”

While lying on my back in my bed, staring into a plain white ceiling, I contemplated the meaning of my life for the first time since I met her. She accused me of forming my own conclusions and truth, but knowing how she tried to make her life easier at home, she only told me she yelled at him so I wouldn’t question her love. I understood Jackson’s curiosity, but he had no right to go through the FB profiles of my friends to stalk me. If she couldn’t see the wrong in that, or defend me, then how could she have ever seen the wrong in his infidelities? It just seemed like she had forgiven him for all he ever did to her—without telling me she did. If he wouldn’t divorce her because he didn’t want to lose half of his wealth, then did she ever really risk losing anything? She should’ve defended him twenty months ago. By defending him in any way was beyond disrespectful. I didn’t ask her to be in a relationship with me, she pursued the entire relationship and I trusted her reasons for doing so. For her to defend him would be a betrayal after all she told me about him that led me here. After walking away from her initially, then telling me “You broke my heart”, she knew why I trusted her to leave him. As these negative emotions threatened to wreck me, I sent her a series of texts—messages I knew that could make it another long day for me.

ME: “I know you didn’t mean anything by the FB comment. I had such a great time with you in SF and I miss you every second and then he does that and it affected the things you were telling me after SF. Then I don’t get to see you and it just bummed me out. Hope you are or had a good time at the party. You deserve it. Goodnight again.”

ME: “I hurt my back yesterday working out. I think it put me in a foul mood and made me ultra sensitive on top of everything. I didn’t want to tell you about it. Working out was the one thing I was going to really get back into regularly after I lost my job. Bummed me out.”

ME: “I know you really wanted to see me yesterday. You didn’t have to ask me if I was going to the movies. I would’ve met up with you for even 10 minutes at the bookstore I miss u so much. Don’t ever feel bad about asking. I want to see you just as bad. Sorry I didn’t pick up on it.”

ME: “You’re seriously the only good thing in my life right now.”

ME: “I know you were making a joke. I promise I won’t take that any other way again. I’m sorry.

Although every joke contained a hint of truth, I didn’t want to be at odds with her. No one ever plans to yell when they’re struck by a bullet—it’s only natural to react when it happens. What I faced now though was something as powerful and foreboding as the death of the sun.

I didn’t know how Anya would respond, but I would learn early the next morning.

ANYA: “It’s ok.”

ME: “Ok. Thank u. How was the party?”

ANYA: “It was good thanks.”

ME: “Did you pick up any more books on Boston?”

ANYA: “No”

ME: “How come? They didn’t offer any additional info?”

ANYA: “So confusing plus wasn’t really in the mood yesterday.”

When I noticed there was no period after the word “no”, I broke down in tears, unable to stop their fall imagining how hurt she must have felt when she read my scolding text. I felt even worse when I realized she only went to the bookstore again hoping to see me, or at least wanting to get away from home to feel close to me. It just killed me inside that the negative emotions overwhelmed me—that the Zoloft wasn’t really working at all.

ME: “I see. My fault. I understand. Well, if you can go today and you’re up for it, I can go see a movie.”

ANYA: “I have to go to my parents all day.”

When I read this, all I could do was leave her alone. Anya was right about a lot of things about myself. Yes, I had the right to be upset with her but I had become so absorbed with my feelings that I ignored hers completely. If I made it “tit for tat” then we had no chance of working it out, and it really was all on me. My negative emotions were threatening to destroy us forever, having to rely on her actions and inactions, words and silence, to hold them off. It was grossly unfair to her, but my thoughts were pressure building upon the dam that was my mind. Thoughts that should’ve only been felt in the heart had caused a rush of blood to the head. Now that I lost my job, and struggled to find work, my confidence was fading away. It wasn’t Anya’s job to give me confidence, and heaping that responsibility on her shoulders on top of everything else she dealt with was selfish, if not cruel. For the first time, I put a woman on a pedestal and tried to knock her off of it before she could spit down on me. With women in the past, that treatment was warranted, but doing that to Anya was not.

ME: “I hope your mom and dad are doing well. Thinking of you.”

ANYA: “They are thank you.”

She responded an hour later which led me to believe Jackson may have visited along with her. Remembering the conversation, she had with her father when she visited with her parents the last time, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out Jackson mentioned something to him about Anya’s behavior over the last year. I put nothing past Jackson—even a hit against me. Since I feared a life without Anya more than death, I could care less about watching my back. We seemed to be like two galaxies destined to collide—construction by destruction, the natural circle.

At six that same evening, I texted her again.

ME: “R u still at your parents?”

ANYA: “Yes”

ME: “Sorry. Thought you might have been home.”

When I didn’t hear back from her for the rest of the night, my depreciating self-worth left me feeling more depressed than ever, even on Zoloft. When not even a powerful anti-depressant could stop my spiraling negative emotions, I felt true hopelessness on a scale never experienced before. There were two sides of me, and maybe even more. One side felt all the love in the world and beyond for her—was willing to do anything, even die for her. I only wanted to listen to the part of me ruled by my heart. I wanted to understand how she was torn between me and losing her kids. The second part of me however, ruled by a mind obliterated by lies and deceit in the past was starting to take over. I tried to fend it off with Vicodin and Zoloft, but it carried the truth of my past with it—something I was made certain of before that kept me from trusting the unknown variable. The mind ruled part of me only knew disappointment and instinctively knew what it felt like—no woman has ever been honest with me before.

Anya believed she would lose fifty percent of her time spent with the kids. She must’ve also believed Katie and Andrew’s grades would fall, therefore affecting their future if she left Jackson for me. Maybe that was the part of her that felt she betrayed her kids, but to love me and not be with me even down the road, holding to the belief being with me would destroy their futures wasn’t right either. It just felt like Anya knew what she was going to do from day one—hit me with a love bomb hard enough I’d be crazy to ever question her intentions and love when the time came to hit me with what she planned to do all along—then accuse me of breaking her heart. The truth was she would not only break my heart, but hers as well—a sacrifice she was willing to make since she stood to not lose much of anything.

The cold hard truth I started to learn was simply this—she stayed for the kids because she believed they would not have the best things in life if she were with me. This is why the part of me I didn’t want to listen to, the one I fought off, was winning the battle over my heart. By opening my heart to her, she did the one thing I trusted her never to do—pass judgment on me. She loved me but feared telling me the one thing that she had to know would end us—I wasn’t good enough for her to be with—I was best kept as the eternal secret. The possibility that I had been gaslighted was hard to believe. I didn’t want to admit I was that much of a fool, but I was. Katie would not be able to fulfill her dream of Harvard if she was with me. She wouldn’t have the finer things in life if she was with me, so she makes the sacrifice to stay in her marriage because if it hurts my kids, they don’t get the best things in life money can buy, then I’m staying with the monster I told you that betrayed me. And if I ever dared to disagree with Anya’s perception of me? She’d let me go that easily. It was a super fucked up thing to do to someone—to encourage and allow them to fall in love with you only to be judged and discarded by them in the end. To have the same woman, who once told me I broke her heart after I walked away from her only because she was married, then tell me I shouldn’t be closed to meeting other people after she had broken me was wrong. I couldn’t believe someone who I shared all those beautiful moments that meant everything to me would not see how cruel those texts were, and those words she told me at dinner in San Francisco—she had no grounds to do what she did to me. Anxiety gripped me to know I’d have to see her as the monster she may have been all along, if I had any chance at having a life again. I believed she loved me, but she gave me false hope leading me to trust her love for me was so great, she couldn’t live without me. I was learning she sat on the fence way too much for her love to be as strong as she led me to believe. She may not have been in love with her husband, but she wasn’t ambivalent to her marriage for a reason too. She played a game of semantics with my heart—she had forgiven the philanderer before she met me. She may have not been in love with Jackson but she still loved him if she still had sex with him. When I remembered when she told me there was no joy in her life before she met me, yet now she tells me she is happy when her kids are happy? If that’s the case, she couldn’t have ever had any real intentions to leave her marriage for me no matter what I did. If the kids were happy and she was happy when her kids were, then she was never sad enough to leave the world of comfort he provided her. As all these negative thoughts started to slowly turn into bits of likely truths, if she couldn’t understand the reasons why I became so sensitive to everything she did, she never would and she never cared anyway.

I believed in a mother’s sacrifice, but not after nearly two years after a serious relationship with another man. A mother’s sacrifice should’ve been made after the man before me had left her, not after the second man came into her life. Her marriage of entitlement started to rub me in the most horrific of ways. I don’t doubt her love for me. Her love for me only existed because she didn’t need me for money, she had a sucker already for that. Her love for me only existed in fantasy—in the world of secrecy. When her secret world was threatened, her love was so strong for me that her only impulse was to let me go. I don’t believe Anya was looking for a Sugar Daddy, she already had one of those, but money for her kids was what mattered to her the most now. It made me feel my heart was just fun and games to her, but when it came down to reality compromising the fantasy, she ran.

Not one time had Anya ever told me over the course of the last twenty months that she would “love for you to meet my kids one day”. Not one single time yet shared enough intimate details about their lives with me that it made me feel l knew them as well as anyone. She even told me I knew Katie better than any other man—including Jackson. A profound statement that left me so proud, had actually served an entirely different purpose—to only make me feel better after she let me go. She told me she shared the lives of her kids with me because she wanted to share the most important thing in her life with the man she loved. I believed it for twenty months without question. Now it seemed she shared their lives with me because she wanted me to feel the same fears she did for them. So, when the time came to leave me, like she always planned to do, I’d have a hard time believing she had planned to stay a long time before she found Katie’s essay. If she had said she wanted me to know them one day, I’d feel differently about this but she never did—the man she claimed to love. To know after all the love we shared, in the eyes of the woman who loved me, I was never good enough to meet her kids, just good enough to tell me about them, stung beyond words. Even as these thoughts scorched my mind for the first time, it was still too hard to give up on the dream of meeting her kids one day. What made it impossible, was that I knew if this relationship didn’t work out, I would never have kids—that what I felt in my heart for Anya would never feel right with anyone else. What made it even more agonizing was that no matter how much I explained this to her, which I never would, the woman who loved me would only refuse to understand.

After Jackson got into my Facebook account, Anya no longer saw me as the man who came into her life to save her, but as the man who wrecked her life. In her mind, by posting about Las Vegas and San Francisco on my Facebook account to my small circle of friends, I had effectively wrecked her life and her kids would hate her when Jackson divorced her for it. After twenty months together, in a relationship she entirely initiated and controlled, she still refused to own up to her own reasons for needing to feel loved in life. Jackson’s money covered up all his wrongs—how could I compete against that any longer? With each dollar she accepted from him, the more I felt betrayed by it. She never cared about having a love story—she didn’t even dream about love as a child. She had always placed more value on having money and things and it was beginning to shine through how little love mattered to her. It was all unrealistic to her even after all we shared. She wanted me to be thankful for feeling love? She essentially had taken the last life boat, leaving me on a sinking ship. In her eyes, Jackson was a normal man, and I was crazy to believe in love enough to feel all I did.

I even began to contemplate the only reason Debbie and Carolyn adored me was because Anya told them “If it didn’t work out, Landyn would be a big boy” and that “he would rather be hurt than to hurt her kids”. Here I thought she would tell them the truth—she wanted to be with a man who loved her, and not with one who didn’t. Instead, she built up Jackson and made it seem if I pushed back, that I was a liar and wanted to hurt her kids. She basically took away all of my leverage and all I got into this relationship for. Instead of making Jackson out to be the snake, she found a way to make me a King Cobra. It wouldn’t surprise me to know that Carolyn and Debbie both believed Anya’s current relationship carried no consequences for her—the reason why a woman would suddenly have respect for a “nice guy”. What bothered me the most about what she likely told Carolyn and Debbi was what made her think I had ever gotten involved with her if she told me the reason she was still there was because of the kids? Did they really believe I’d have been in a relationship with her for this long knowing going in that she was there because she was afraid, she would hurt the kids if she left? I hated to disappoint the girls, but Anya had been dishonest with them about me—another reason I started to feel betrayed.

When I went to bed that night, I prepared myself to not hear from Anya for days. Each time I contacted her, it seemed I wrecked her life in some way, so I decided to wait. If she viewed me as a burden now, I would choose silence.

As I chose silence, she chose to end it.

ANYA: “Sorry I couldn’t talk yesterday. Lots of family drama.”

It startled me to hear my phone text tone—I didn’t expect to hear from her, let alone this early.

ME: “It’s ok. Not related to you, right?”

ANYA: “My dad is grumpy.”

ME: “Was he giving u a hard time about not visiting again?”

ANYA: “Kinda. I haven’t been around for 2 years and it’s my fault. All my fault and I know it.”

After I read her text, it was clear—Jackson whined to Anya’s parents. It was no coincidence her father brought up the same time frame Anya and I had been seeing each other.

ME: “It’s not your fault. You’re really busy with the kids. How would you even find the time to visit? It’s not like you live down the street. It’s not your fault. Please remember that.”

ANYA: “Thanks.”

I didn’t want to disagree with her father—he was the man who raised her and put a roof over her head. What he felt was much more significant than my feelings about it. Generally, how often did parents visit their parents? I could easily visit my mother—I had no kids and was basically single. On the flip side of things, Anya was always busy running her kids around. From Andrew’s baseball games to Katies’ recitals, there was not a single time Anya mentioned her parents came to see them unless she decided not to share that with me. In Jackson’s sick mind, he was the victim in all of this. The man who instigated the abuse and spurred the indiscretions was the one who need to be consoled and recognized as the hero trying to save his marriage for the kids. Jackson knew Anya has grown more over the last two years than she did in twenty years with him. Little did I know, Jackson was seething behind the scenes conspiring to destroy us, by first destroying me. That somehow Anya was just under some kind of spell by a monster who wanted to take her away from him and the kids for no good reason at all. He painted himself as the loving father and husband to Anya’s father and it disgusted me. Jackson respected her parents so much that he had no problem lying to them.

ME: “If you need to let off some steam, I’m here for you.”

ANYA: “Thank you. I’m ok. What r u doing today?”

When I read her text, it got my hopes up she may be up for a bookstore run.

ME: “No plans other than firing out my resume. What r u doing today?”

ANYA: “I just got home w/Andrew. Have to work today. You guessed it, playing catch up.”

ME: “Well if you can find time to get away for tea or some good Boston literature, let me know.”

ANYA: “Thx but today is not a good day.”

Her coarse response came off as a rebuke more than disappointment. Whatever her father told her yesterday, she believed and respected every word of it.

ME: “No problem. I just thought I’d mention it just in case there was a chance.”

ANYA: “Thank u I appreciate that.”

After our text exchange, it left me too depressed to look for work. It seemed my drive to succeed was dying along with my sense of self-worth. If I couldn’t get a woman who called herself my soulmate to see the good in me, then what hope was there? Being buried alive in the present, the dirt thrown upon me blinded my future. After losing my job after eight wasted years busting my tail in the public accounting profession, it took my ambition along with it. With the way things seemed to be headed with Anya, I don’t know when I’d be mentally prepared to work for someone again. To help deal with the anguish from losing my job and seemingly Anya, I took more Vicodin when visiting my mother, on top of the Zoloft. Feeling too depressed to look for work, my car drove me to the same movie theater again near Anya’s home. In the middle of the movie, “Funny People”, she sent me a text, and I immediately left the theater to respond—hiding the fact I was close by once again.

ANYA: “How r u feeling?”

ME: “My back feels a lot better thanks. I’ve been resting it quite a bit. R u having a birthday party for Katie? Her B-day is coming up isn’t it?”

ANYA: “Good memory! No, she wanted to go see Boston and that’s her gift. I know it’s premature but I hope it will inspire her.”

ME: “Never premature to start preparing for college when she has a bright future ahead of her.”

ANYA: “We’ll see!”

After our brief exchange I ran back into the theater to finish the movie. Comical actors Seth Rogen and Adam Sandler both had roles in “Funny People”, but the movie was far from funny to me. Adam Sandler’s character dated a married woman and Seth Rogen ripped into him about breaking up a family. Adam Sandler’s response was “The guy’s an asshole.” Jackson was more than an “asshole”, he was a sociopath and an abusive husband in my eyes. Also, Anya initiated the relationship and yes I willingly participated but it was based on my trust in her that she wouldn’t have allowed me to fall in love if this hurt the kids. It was hard for me not to believe she didn’t judge me for living in a one-bedroom apartment and that Carolyn and Debbie made that known to her. I knew women changed their minds, but changing her mind in this situation was beyond deceitful and cowardly. Especially after I lost my job because of our relationship. If I had ever believed for a second that falling in love with Anya would be looked upon as “breaking up a family” rather than saving someone from an emotional and mental abusive marriage, I would’ve never been involved. It took me years to get past Denise—I simply would’ve never considered her heart—I couldn’t afford to be burned by another woman. I didn’t have a hard time understanding the “kid” thing, I loved her kids, but I didn’t understand how she could play the “kid” card after allowing me to fall so madly in love with her. I wanted to see the love in her not being able to stop herself from falling for me, but it brought me a great deal of anguish and loss. Whenever I couldn’t help being hurt by her inconsistent behavior, her only resolution was to let me go. She called it loving me, but it was punishment because she knew damn well I couldn’t just turn off these feelings like a faucet—she knew it would only hurt me more.

Maybe subconsciously, her goal was to always drive me crazy—at least make me mad enough for her to fear me so she had an excuse to walk away. Now, instead of being her hero, because I wanted her to leave her marriage and live an honest life—I was now a monster, unworthy of a promise, always the dirty secret. For her to be unwilling to at least make a promise to leave, was vicious at this point. To tell me her kids would be hurt, knowing full well kids are always somewhat affected by a divorce, was the most disrespectful thing a woman had ever done to me—especially after all we shared and giving her more than everything I had to give. I couldn’t deny the romance between us was dying because of how her perception of our relationship had changed. I just didn’t feel the love from her anymore. I knew she loved me in the form that suited her best, but that was all I knew. It’s not like I wanted her to found out, but why continue to live a lie? What kind of example is that setting? These negative feelings were torn against the fact I needed her. I could criticize her all day long, but at the end of the day—she was everything to me. I didn’t want to accept the negative feelings—it’s why I took Vicodin and Zoloft. In essence, it was beginning to look like I fought the truth. If that was the case, how could I ask Anya to be true to herself if I wasn’t accepting the truth about my predicament?

If she was happy when her kids were happy, even after she led me to believe I brought joy back into her life, then she had no real plans to ever leave him. She made a promise to her kids to never leave him—without telling me she made that promise when we met, and that’s why she was still there and not because no one would want to be with her because she had “baggage”. She was right about having baggage, but it was not the kids—purely a history of deceiving and hurting others and now I was next in line to wear the crown—King Stupid. The cold reality was she won’t hurt her kids, but she had no problem hurting me—as if choosing to be with me would ruin their lives forever. If she believed that for a second, she couldn’t have truly been in love with me—ever. As these thoughts bounced against and tore through my head, I forced myself to fall asleep as my life fell apart at the seams.

While preparing to face a new harsh and grim reality, she contacted me the next morning.

ANYA: “How r u? I’ve been pressured to open up a FB account by my friends, but I’m not sure if I want to. I’m such a private person. I don’t even like people googling me! Did you know people actually pay to find info out on other people? That just sucks! I don’t think that’s right and it’s such an invasion. It’s so private. What would people do that? I guess I just don’t want people to read anything about me unless I volunteer my info. You know first hand what that’s like. Idk guess I’m just on the fence and not sure.”

I didn’t know what to make of this. Why would she suddenly feel pressure to open up a Facebook account? Even bringing up that “people pay people to find info on other people”? Then she further asks “why do people do that”? I wanted to text her back “why don’t you ask your husband?”. As much as I didn’t understand why her friends pushed her to open a Facebook account, I tried to be supportive.

ME: “You should consider it. I ran into some old friends from way back and current. It might also be a good networking tool for business too. I know people can pay to find out info on other people. It’s so stupid. I don’t like it when you think info is private and it’s not.”

ANYA: “I think all personal info is private unless you tell the person your info. I just don’t know if I should.”

ME: “I agree with you. You don’t have to share—you can just comment on what your friends share. You won’t have to volunteer your private info if you don’t want to.”

After our morning conversation, I felt more inspired to look for work, firing off a few more resumes out to employers seeking help. After several weeks without any invitations for an interview, it seemed the recession made it much more difficult to find work. As I sat there believing the worst was yet to come, Anya texted me again.

ANYA: “What r u doing today?”

Her question forged me out from behind my misery, lifting my spirits hoping there was a possibility to see her.

ME: “I have no plans. What r u doing?”

ANYA: “Andrew has camps so I’m in between camps right now. I feel like crying and idk why.”

I didn’t think it was possible to have my heart broken in two ways—one by her and one for her. I didn’t want to assume, as horrible as this seemed, but I hoped it was because she missed me and struggled, like I did. Then again, I recalled when Denise did the exact same thing just before she dropped the bomb on me. Was this a tactical move?

ME: “Awww babe, why?”

I waited fifteen minutes for a response before I sent her another text.

ME: “Ok, you got me worried about you. How is your dad treating you? Do you need to talk about that? I can be a good listener, you know.”

ANYA: “No, the last thing I want is for you to be worried about me. Just needed to tell someone that’s all. Just take it for what it is. Maybe going through PMS or something. Sorry.”

The last thing, a woman who loved me, wanted was for me to be worried about her? Why was that? Because I’d actually get to love you the way you loved me? If I couldn’t worry about the woman I loved, then who could I ever worry about? Maybe her telling me she was crying was just another one of those nuances I never knew before about women—like them changing their minds all the time. Or maybe she felt alone because both Andrew and Katie were at camps? Realizing what her life would be like without love? She didn’t want me to worry about her for one simple fact, she didn’t want to hear her truth come from me. If she never listened to the man she loved, who loved her, then she’d never listen to anyone.

ME: “I’m here for you in any and every way. I love you, you know.”

ANYA: “I know. Thank you.”

ME: “Maybe you’re missing your daughter?”

ANYA: “No, just emotional that’s all.”

ME: “It’s natural for me to worry about you.”

When she didn’t respond with an “I love you, too”, I knew the reason for her tears—she had given up on us, her hope, wishes and dreams were dead. Sadly, I started to believe they existed under false pretenses.

A few hours later, I texted her to see how she was doing.

ME: “R u feeling better?”

ANYA: “Yes I cried and all better!”

ME: “Good! 😊”

Although I was happy Anya felt better, deep down I was disappointed—hoping her emotions would spark her to leave Jackson or to make me a promise to leave him. If she believed by making me a promise would be an act of betraying her kids—I’d feel beyond betrayed by that. After all she told me about Jackson that led me to the greatest sense of mental anguish I’ve ever felt. As much as I wanted to fight it—I could feel no other way.

Anya and I had been using instant messenger in our Blackberry phones to communicate instead of texting, so I decided to use our old way of communication when I reached out to her later that evening.

ANYA: “Hey you’re back to texting! I’m ok. How r u doing? This is really hard.”

Her response suggested why she refused to tell me about the reasons for her tears—she didn’t want to get into it with me—jeopardizing what little we had left.

ME: “I thought I would throw you a curveball! I was going to email you and really throw you off! It’s really hard for me too. Was thinking about our dinner together. Did you start a FB account?”

ANYA: “No I didn’t. Still on the fence. So, idk what to do about us except one day at a time but that is very hard too. Your thoughts?”

I didn’t know what she asked of me. Why was opening up a Facebook account so hard for her? Would she post pictures of her and Jackson up on it? Or was it the only tool she had left to stay connected with me? Or was she out to destroy us for good? Wouldn’t she have to advertise the façade of her marriage if she did open up a Facebook account? Or did she really miss and love me more than ever? Or was she planning to hurt me with it?

ME: “We are at the height of our love.”

ANYA: “How so? We don’t even see each other?”

Was this by Anya’s design or was she just too busy with the kids? We only saw each other when she was available anyway, but if she refused to make herself available then what could I do? Was this why she was happy with any shape or form?

I decided to throw her a fastball down the middle—to keep the pressure on her to face her truth. To face the reality her tears revealed earlier, and to trust in her love for me so I could hope to catch her.

ME: “Women change their minds all the time. I’m going with that.”

ANYA: “Hahaha! You kill me! Too funny!”

ME: “Isn’t it a woman’s prerogative to change her mind?”

ANYA: “It is! No joke!”

ME: “I know this much. I miss you as much as you miss me. Do you feel he is watching your every move right now?”

ANYA: “Yes and yes.”

When she answered duplicate affirmatives, the real reason behind her tears became clear, and they tasted of sugar, not of salt.

ANYA: “Tea tomorrow?”

ME: “Would love to do tea. What time?”

ANYA: “10:15 or 1:30 pm. Won’t know till about 8:30 am. Ok to let u know then?”

ME: “Yes that’s fine!”

ANYA: “Ok thank u!”

ME: “Thank u!”

Laying my phone upon my chest in bed, I breathed a monster sigh of relief. Upon realizing I was on her side of the bed, I wondered if the next day would bring us closer together or closer to the end. I didn’t want to believe all the accumulating negative emotions my mind fed me every second of the day, at least for another hour just so I could fall asleep in peace—to dream of a miracle.