“Down I go…

I just can’t take it all alone.

I really should be holding you…

holding you,

loving you, loving you.”

~

“Tragedy”

by The Bee Gees

ANYA: “I hate today. Doing my best to get through it.”

ME: “Me too.”

She visited me the other day to let me know she first promised her son, who didn’t know the reasons for her threats to divorce, the reason for missing his baseball games, the reason two different men had been in her life, the reason for her stress and unhappiness, and the reason she would never leave his father. Then as a parting blow, told me she didn’t want to share custody, even fifty percent, after I walked away from her sixteen months earlier to avoid the spot, I now found myself in. Anya felt she was entitled to my heart, could do whatever she wanted in life, and hurt others any time they didn’t fall in line with her terms. She never told me that If I wanted to be with her, and if I truly loved her, I also had to support her marriage and the dishonesty to all those around her, including those half truths she made to me. Knowing all we’ve shared and knowing all she did, I couldn’t believe she could allow them go to bed blaming themselves for the problems in her marriage. With her only concern being the perfect image, she portrayed to those around her. She wasn’t protecting her kids, she was protecting her perceived perfection. I had to be honest with myself, I felt she betrayed me. That she led me on and used me to serve the purpose of evening the score with a husband who wronged her because the “love” she felt was just a bonus, a luxury but never a need. She even told me one time, “I need love.”, but not one time did she say she needed me, only “love”. I wanted her to have love again, but I never thought it would come at the price of my own happiness. If she believed mothers made sacrifices, then she lied to me from the very beginning of our relationship, and that broke my heart more than anything. She asked me to fight for her, because she knew she would put me through the ringer emotionally, just like she did to Lance, the man who thought the ending of their relationship was “tragic”.

As badly as she made me feel, I still tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. To try and understand she had to keep the golden goose happy for the sake of the kids. At the same time, I couldn’t allow any woman who told me she loved me, who led me to trust her, sleep around with another man, even if it was her husband. She had always told me “it’s not a marriage”, so if that’s true, I had every right to feel the way I did. Anya knew I was in her life because I despised infidelity, and I only agreed to this arrangement if she planned to do the right thing and leave if she loved me. I never would have agreed to this if I knew she wouldn’t even try to know, and place my hopes on just wishes, hopes, and dreams. If she cared so much about her situation and all she faced, then she never should’ve agreed to pursue a relationship with me. I tolerated the dishonest person on a temporary basis, but not when Jackson knew the truth. I now expected her dishonesty to change, to protect me and our love, not to abandon it when it turned into an honest relationship. The only way I could not pressure her is if she were honest. If she remained dishonest to everyone, how could I expect her to be honest with me? Even if she were to leave? Unfortunately, twenty-two months ago she met an honest person—with a plan to turn her into one. I arrived in her life by way of the universe’s plan and with nothing less than all the love in the world for her.

I truly cared about her well-being and I felt the kids could only benefit from the truth. How could it not strengthen their relationships with both their mother and father over time? It would also force Jackson to play a more active role in their lives; I shouldn’t be the man to know Katie better than her own father. Jackson should be rushing home from the office to play catch with his son. Anya allowed me to share nearly every aspect of her children’s lives for a reason, so much so, I dreamt about being their stepfather. I was placed in their lives as part of the universe’s master plan. A situation founded on hopes, wishes and dreams to be reality. I was chosen to be their mother’s hero by a power we all couldn’t see, one much greater than all of us. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. If she wasn’t willing to find a way, then nothing would stop her from breaking my heart more than she already did.

I again sat on her question, “do you sit there and think of ways to hurt me?” She actually engaged in an act that could only hurt me, yet accused me of “sitting here” thinking of ways to hurt her. If she was still amorous enough to have sex with her husband, how could she claim to be numb? How could she do so without any feelings for him? How come women couldn’t understand why guys couldn’t be nice? Why they were dogs and jerks? My experiences seemed to teach me if they weren’t jerks, they would get walked over by them. Even the one who loves me, would hurt me this way? Did I have to be an asshole just to earn their respect? This is what happened to “the nicest” man she knows. It only gave her an excuse to shit all over my loyalty and empathetic heart. She wanted to bring me closer to her yet continue to sleep with her husband? It seemed she didn’t have time to sit there and think of ways to hurt me because she was always doing something to hurt me. I’m in this for real with a ton if feelings—there was no numbness here. I felt everything she did every second of the day. I didn’t give her my heart and soul so she could continue living in a fantasy world. She represented my last shot at love and I had to go all in. She just had to be prepared for a life of truth, because I would settle for nothing less. True love was on the terms of two people—not only on the terms of one.

I didn’t talk with Anya for the rest of that day, as she opted to disappear into a false life instead. When the next day arrived, her silence left me in a bad emotional state of mind as I questioned her intentions to ever leave Jackson.

ANYA: “How r u?”

ME: “Ok. How r u?”

ANYA: “Ok”

ME: “Ok?”

ANYA: “Ok”

ME: “Why? You have everything you want. Your life is right side up. You got to feel love and not lose anything. You got everyone fooled. You should feel good.”

I felt manipulated to feel great feelings for someone who only planned to play the “kid card” from the very start. If she secured my love for her, it provided the perfect excuse to stay. The problem was though she chose to remain intimate with a man she led me to believe she despised enough to not even want to kiss. It not only told me that she not only stayed for the kids, but for him too, and after all the love I gave her—I felt used and played for a fool.

ANYA: “You went too far. It wasn’t enough you said what you said about my kids yesterday. Now this? Really Landyn?”

ME: “The problem is you met an honest man. I thought you hated dishonesty as much as I did. All I said about the kids was that Katie and Andrew needed to see two affectionate parents, not just one. They are going to think the kind of marriage you have is good enough for them too. Do you want Katie to feel any of the pain you do? She won’t tell you if she meets a man who disrespects and dishonors her, either. She’s going to protect him too. I just said I want you to think about it. That’s all. I’m sorry for the way it came out, but it isn’t easy to communicate when you’re hurting inside as much as I am.”

After I read her text, I felt bad for the one I sent her. I wanted her to have a good life. I just didn’t want mine to hurt so bad. She may have felt she lost her hopes, wishes, and dreams, but she took mine away with what she told me after she visited me. I just couldn’t believe she hit me that after what we shared. How could she protect and defend a husband who led her to two other men? She claimed she wasn’t looking the night we met, but she couldn’t deny his infidelities didn’t still led her to approach me and make a date with me. Although it sounded as if I fought for myself but I fought for her too. How could she continue to live a false life? How much longer could she continue to lie to herself? Would her mother honestly support her staying with a man who used her as a vehicle for personal wealth and gain? Sure, her kids gained from it too, but it brought me right back to what she led me to believe—money did not lead to happiness. By staying with Jackson, the backward tradition of staying in god forsaken marriages that led to living false lives would only continue on with her children. Her kids may not understand why she left her husband today, but they would eventually come to understand it, and even benefit from it. An hour later, Anya responded to my text, with a series of her own.

ANYA: “You want details? I had dinner w/a new salesperson yesterday and all she talked about was how she spent a romantic month in Italy and Paris w/her bf.”

ANYA: “All I thought about the whole entire dinner was going to Europe and getting lost with you for a month. Made me so happy dreaming about us.”

ANYA: “After dinner I was depressed. I was so unsure of my life. I so want that with you. I can’t sort anything out in my head when I get blows like this from you. Pressure!”

ANYA: “After your hurtful jab, I don’t have anything to say to you right now.”

Of course, when I read this, it broke me in pieces, especially when it made her so happy. I read her texts and started to dream with her. How badly I wanted to get lost with her for a month in Europe, as I fantasized about my proposal under a Paris landmark. I thought about how much fun it would be to wake up next to her in the morning, and have nothing but a full day of fun ahead of us, whether we left our hotel room or not. It didn’t matter what I was with her, because the place I was with her was always the place I wanted to be. I then regretted my hurtful texts as she took them as jabs because it took away from her happy thoughts. A place I wanted her to be but the truth was, I also couldn’t deny how I felt. It seemed Anya only wanted to live in a fluffy cloud world full of unicorns and rainbows. She only wanted to take the month-long trip to Europe in her head, and not with her hand in mine. All my love for her did was encourage more fantasies, but never reality. The reality was after sixteen months, I trusted that not only would she have this all sorted out in her head, but also a plan to in place to make it a reality. When she continued to live outside of reality, she not only hit me with a painful jab, but also a crushing left hook that knocked me completely off my feet. All I ever tried to do was just answer the bell, so she could consider the message she sent to her kids whenever she gave them everything they wanted to hear, even if they were lies.

ME: “As much as you don’t want me to pressure you, babe, I don’t want to pressure you. It’s really hard for me to see you be dishonest or deceptive your kids b/c that’s not the girl I fell in love with. I know it’s not who you are. I’m here because I know you’re not like your husband. I know you’re better than him because I know you have more character and integrity than he does.”

ANYA: “Do you think I enjoy being dishonest with my kids? Do you think it’s easy for me? “Have everything I want”?

ME: “I don’t think that at all. That’s why I’m asking you to think about the message you’re sending them. It’s why I think you should be honest with them because what if they find out you’re not? What if?”

ANYA: “Stop”

How could you contain a brush fire with wind? It was the same way with my emotions. I always fought hard to state my case, and I usually didn’t stop for anyone, but for Anya I had to. Regardless of how upset I was with her, I couldn’t deny I loved her, and it’s why this hurt so much. I had to stop because I wanted to be wrong in order to not pressure her any further.

ANYA: “Just know I love you and it’s not easy.”

ME: “Ok.”

Her “you want details?” text was told through a dream but done with love. To let me know how she truly felt regardless of the promise she made to Andrew. I didn’t want her to break her promise to Andrew, I just trusted her not to make such a promise with me in her life. After all we shared. I trusted her to be honest with him about us. About the love she found, if she wanted Katie and Andrew both to have it too someday. Was my love not worth fighting for? Was the goodness we found in eachother not worth believing in? Or did Anya see our love as a god awful thing? Anya couldn’t control the love I had for her especially when I knew she still slept with her abusive husband. As strange as it sounded, what if maybe she still had sex with him for me? To keep him off my scent so she could continue to believe? Unfortunately, my heart wasn’t built on a pillar of such high self-esteem for me to believe that.

ANYA: “Goodnight. Hope you’re ok.”

No matter how I felt, or how mad I was, after Anya and I argued, I always felt bad afterwards. I wanted to be okay for her, more than for myself. When she texted me, she also seemed to say “I understand your frustration.”, and it only reminded me why I hung in there for so long without a promise.

ME: “I’m ok. I hope you are too. Goodnight.”

Although I was a the “nicest man” in her eyes, if she had no respect for my heart and emotions, I could never take it as a compliment. She had to come to the realization that her marriage was no longer the same before she met me. That I never made myself available for her to fill a void or in support of her marriage for any reason. That I never came into her life to be dishonored or disrespected like she was by her husband, or to be demonized for wanting to be honest with her kids or looked upon as wanting to break up a family after she allowed me to feel so much for her. She had to remember I initially walked away for those very reasons, and unlike her children, I deserved the truth even if it hurts me. That I always expected her to be an honest person, and to no longer choose to live a false life for anyone’s sake. That she understood true love was on the terms of both people in the relationship, and never just one the terms of one without their approval.

At a late hour on the morning that followed, Anya texted me.

ANYA: “I miss you.”

ME: “I miss you, too.”

Three hours later, as the clock neared three, she reached out again.

ANYA: “Was in Irvine office today. On my way home, I went to Wholefoods to feel close to you. I traced out path. It was a happy feeling. Got a coconut to drink – native.”

On a day new assignments rained down upon me at work, I appreciated Anya’s text so much a tear streamlined down my face. I just loved that moment we met at Wholefoods. We found each other near the wine section as everything around me ceased to exist. I left the store that day thinking this has to work out, or my life is over because I missed her so much after she departed; like she had just taken a year off my life when she did.

ME: “That was such a fun day. I can still your smiling as we talked by the wine area. You just lit up the whole store. I’ll never forget it. I love you.”

ANYA: “Just how I felt. Wanted to share with you. I love you.”

Even if she never visited me again, how do I part with the beauty of a text like that too? If I never heard from her again, how could I possibly continue to live life without her? I didn’t know how to perceive her text after she told me of her promise to Andrew other than one of continued hope we would be together one day. Otherwise, why would she ever text me such a thing?

The next day however, her inconsistency reared its dreadful head once again, and threatened everything we ever shared together. The whole day, in and of itself, didn’t start well when Clyde came into my office first thing that morning. He usually walked in my office, closed the door behind me with a smile or a grin, but this time I saw no teeth from him, as if he came in to admonish and revoke the partnership offer from me.

“Good morning, Landyn.” he said as he walked into my office and quickly closed the door.

“Good morning.” I said. “How are you?”

“I’m well, Landyn. How are you?” he asked as he sat down on the chair in front of me and crossed his legs.

“I’m good. We’ve made it through another busy season.”

“How many busy seasons have you been with us for now?”

“This was my seventh.” I said. “and the most challenging.”

“Ah…why was that?”

“All the new engagements I had on my plate along with implementing the new internal control standards this year.” I said. “I’m sure Jerry can attest to that in some way.”

“Oh yes, Jerry. Did he get what he needed from you? Are you guys ok now?”

“I think so. I apologized to him too. I got him what he needed and I already set up all the files we need for next year. It should help streamline the process and take the team less time for planning. He’ll notice it next year and I’m sure we won’t have any of the same issues.”

“Landyn, we decided to push your promotion back one month until August first.” He shot.

“Sure. Ok.” I said as I tried to hide my disappointment.

“Until then, the non-disclosure agreement remains valid.” he said. “As I am certain you have honored.”

“It sure hasn’t been easy because of all the excitement I feel, but I’ve certainly honored it.”

“Excellent.” He said.

“Can I ask why it’s been pushed back a month?” I asked. “I understand if you can’t tell me.”

“It was an internal decision we made in the best interest of the firm.” He said tersely.

“Oh Ok. Thank you.” I said as I worried about its ambiguous nature.

“Thank you, Landyn.” He said as he walked out without even the courtesy of a handshake. “Should I keep your door open?”

“Yes, please. Thanks for the info.” I said.

Although disappointed, I reasoned my promotion was only pushed back a month. He didn’t rescind the firm’s promotion, and they were within their right to do that. He mentioned nothing about my poor performance this busy season so I had no reason to suspect anything was out of place. I was only bummed out because it tacked on an extra month before I could tell Anya about my promotion to partner. I hoped its announcement would help turn the tide and convince Anya to leave Jackson. If she went to Wholefoods just so she could feel close to me, I trusted she still believed in our love, I felt we still had a chance, but now I risked another month of mixed emotions that spurred pressure that might ruin it.

Although the day didn’t get off to the best of starts for me, I never feared it would continue down the path of disappointment, so I texted Anya to see how she was since I haven’t heard from her.

ME: “Good morning beautiful! Still feeling bad about the other day. I hope you’re doing ok.”

ANYA: “Thx for that. The thing is you can’t take back the hurtful words. Everytime you get mad at me and tell me things in a hurtful way you chip a little bit of me away.”

My day was about to get even worse as her text caught me completely off guard. I couldn’t take back the hurtful words? Why did she penalize me when the same thing be said about her hurtful actions everytime she slept with her husband? She knew that hurt me, yet she still did it as if my feelings didn’t matter at all. If the roles were reversed, would she not question my love for her if I slept with my wife? To tell me I “chip” a little bit of her away was void of all empathy. She told me after sixteen months of the greatest love I’ve ever known, she didn’t want to lose fifty percent of her kids and that she promised her son she would never leave as if I didn’t exist in her life. Yet I chipped her away? To say that to me immediately after a show of affection, carried not only a humiliation but a violation on par with how a victim of rape must have felt. If I chipped any of her love away from me for standing up for sixteen months of my life I’d never have back because I trusted her so much, her love was a manipulation to serve her best interest, and never mine. She told me she felt “tremendous guilt” for the things she did to me, so how could she accuse me of hurting her when I said “ouch” after she, in essence, shot me? Before I could respond to defend myself, she jabbed me again.

ANYA: “I’m not out to get you. I didn’t stay to see how much I can get out of you to make me feel good. I never tried to “fool” anyone. I fell in love with you.”

When I read her “I fell in love with you”, it sounded like she phrased it in the past tense; that I had not only chipped her away, but completely away. If she never tried to “fool” me, then she certainly misled me – she never told me the real reason why she was still married. I honestly didn’t believe she did these things; but that didn’t mean it didn’t feel that way. When I read these texts, I noticed Jackson in her for the first time as she seemed to return to the woman who would choose to marry a vile person for all the wrong reasons; the last thing I ever expected from her.

Once she jabbed me once more, I now had to defend my thoughts.

ME: “I just can’t believe after all we’ve shared; you’re still sleeping with him. You told me, in the beginning, you don’t kiss the man and you had no feelings for him, yet you’re engaging in the most intimate of acts with him? That’s hard to understand. You don’t think that hurts me and that’s what prompts my texts? How would it make you feel if I was that contradictive? You’ve loved me with your “heart and soul” and it’s beyond unfair you allowed me to feel that and then tell me you don’t know or you don’t want to lose fifty percent of your kids. Wouldn’t that drive you a little crazy and make you say hurtful things? I don’t want to say hurtful things but it’s like trying to contain a brush fire without you giving me any water. I’m not setting out here to hurt you. I’m overwhelmed by emotions I’ve never felt before. I trust you to help me with them.”

It seemed the only reason she “fell in love” was because I let her stay this long for the sake of the kids without much of an argument. Now it appeared I was the only one who truly loved. It’s easy to feel betrayed in this situation, whether true or not, it gets you to consider things; thing that she could hide from me and seemed willing to. It seemed to me she felt people fell in love all the time for just the sake of it, and it would be abnormal if they were to feel jaded at all if things didn’t work out. It was not better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all; not in this situation. That statement was reserved for people who loved as if it were an everyday occurrence; predicated on lust, not love. Anya was the only one I loved, and quite frankly the only one I wanted to ever love. If I lost her, especially over an issue of trust, how would I be able to trust anyone who said “I love you” ever again?

ANYA: “I don’t kiss him! I told u that! You knew my situation from the beginning! You told me you were a “big boy”. If you don’t want to know stop asking me!”

Anya was the wife of a politician, as I saw what moved her to marry Jackson; to be held in reverence of others. I asked for “brutal honesty” in the very beginning so I could make the best decision for both of us. The only thing I knew in the beginning was she was married, but not what she married into. She made it seem like she could leave if she fell in love, and never told me the truth why she was still there. Why wouldn’t she tell me she was having sex with him from the very beginning if “kissing” was such a big deal to make known to me? I knew the answer to that; she wanted me to fall for her. Again, she took my “big boy” comment out of context. I meant it. I would be a “big boy” if she didn’t fall in love with me, but she did and she inspired me to put my heart and soul into her so she would because that’s the only reason why she would leave. I made good on my side of the deal, and now I wanted her to make good on hers. I trusted her to never do anything that would hurt me if she claimed to love me. She knew what my motto was the first night we met. If someone cheats on you, they don’t love you, now, she put my mettle to the ultimate test. She couldn’t engage in sex with Jackson and love me at the same time, not after sixteen months. Not after where her lips were in San Diego. Letting me go now would not make this any better – I couldn’t turn my love off and on for her like a water faucet. All because her husband did it with ease, didn’t mean I could, I actually loved her.

ME: “The pain I feel belongs with him, not me. I opened my heart to you thinking you wouldn’t bring me closer if you couldn’t be with me, or better yet, if you didn’t want to share custody with him. I trusted you whether you could promise me anything or nothing. Actions speak louder than words, babe. I also assumed you were a “big girl” when I said I would be a “big boy”, as again, I promised to be if you didn’t fall in love me, but you did.”

When I texted these feelings to Anya, I thought she would meet me halfway. That those feelings of “tremendous guilt” she claimed to feel about ruining my life would somehow shine through that sweet heart of hers, but I only received the furthest thing from empathy and understanding.

ANYA: “You know you are always the “victim”! I need you to be a man and make a decision! If you hate it then tell me to fuck off!”

The thing she asked me to do was easy to—if I wasn’t in love with her. I saw a lot of myself in Anya, and I would go as far to say she was the version of myself I strived to be. If I lost her, I lost more than just her, I lost myself too. I had to understand she was used to a man who truly only wanted one thing from her, that became two when he married her. Just take care of the kids, so I could pursue my dreams. I’d bet my last dollar he never got behind a dream she ever had unless he had something to gain from it. I could never tell her to “fuck off”. If I could, I would’ve never texted her with my feelings. The thing that disturbed me about it was she had no plans to alter her relationship with Jackson. She basically told me to “fuck off” in this text, but made it seem I was the bad guy. I felt like a ‘victim” because I considered myself one. For the last fifteen years, she played the role of “victim” because of Jackson’s cheating ways, and she truly was. I don’t think she intended to make me a “victim”, but it happened. It was ironic that I chose to be in her life because she was a “victim” but now I turned into one. For sixteen months I sided with her on virtually everything she did, but now I felt she misled me, and because of that, I felt like a victim to her marriage, just like Lance was. The only thing I hated was she still lived a lie. I hated how she lied to everyone, but the most hurtful thing was she even lied to herself. That she lied so much, she even believed them. The last thing she wanted me to be was a “man” in this situation, because if I chose to be, this deep in the relationship after all we shared, I wouldn’t be able to tiptoe quietly. I wanted to avoid it for her sake, but I would be a “man” and confront Jackson. I refused to be silenced like all the others people before me who feared him. If I ever decided to respond to her question of my “manhood”, and make a decision, I would tell her to “fuck off” with the truth. I sacrificed my manhood every day, not being able to talk to him like any lover of hers should be able to. She told two men of his emotional abuse towards a woman, allowed and encouraged those men to fall deeply for her, and then tied their hands behind their back when it came time for them to defend her honor. If I made the decision to be a “man”, there would be nothing left to lose other than to be the man and go for it all. To see what my love truly meant to her. To see if she would defend me, the man who honored her, or would she defend the man who dishonored her. I understood her struggle, but she shouldn’t find it any easier to hurt someone simply because that person didn’t know she hurt them. Her actions should be guided as if I knew, not as if I didn’t, and if she loved me, she wouldn’t show love to any other man, but me regardless of the circumstances.

ANYA: “It’s always “what about me?” I need you to be a strong man and deal with it. You know my situation and if you’re willing to see where it goes then stay, and if not just go!”

For sixteen months, I trusted everything she ever told me. Especially when she texted me “I’d rather die than never have you in my life” and “Kids are resilient. Nothing is impossible”, “I want to wear your ring”, and “I wish I belong to you”. If I didn’t put trust in her, I would’ve told her to “fuck off” a long time ago. Again, for the last fifteen years Anya lived with a man who she made kiss her ass for all the turmoil he put her through. A man who had to make amends to her, and for fifteen years, she felt she deserved that. It appeared she couldn’t distinguish between a man who had to make amends and the one who didn’t have to, as this relationship unlike her marriage, was now on the terms of two people, not one. Jackson could never turn to her and say “what about me”? He no longer had a leg to stand on, but I did. I wasn’t the one who damaged her, and now she had to adjust to the opposite role in our relationship; something she didn’t thinks he had to. She treated me as if I had cheated on her while she was pregnant with her son, and Jackson, since he had to make up for his infidelities, as the “man”. I never did her wrong, not one single time, but she did me wrong each time she slept with that sleezeball she chose to wed if she truly loved me; if what we shared meant anything to her.

If our relationship ended on this note, I would take the truth with me, so she really had two choices if she forced my hand – to stay where she was under an umbrella of truth or to be with me. That’s what a man would do, but I didn’t want to blow up the world. I wanted a diplomatic solution. I didn’t want to give up on her, as cold as her texts were, the anger in her texts also told me she felt helpless. I didn’t want to make this about me, but Anya didn’t understand all that was at stake for me, only what was at stake for her. I couldn’t tell her that not only was my career in jeopardy, but my whole life would be if I ever told her to “fuck off”. I would have no choice but to hate her in order to purge the love in my heart for her if I had any chance at survival. Yes, I wasn’t happy with how she discounted my situation, solely concerned with hers, but she basically asked a paraplegic to walk with her messages. I loved her so much, I tried to empathize with her. Maybe this was my fault? Maybe my low self-esteem punished her and she really was the true victim? I’ve never been more confused and desperate.

I tried to weigh everything before I responded. At the same time though, I had to dig a little deeper in the meaning behind her texts. It wasn’t “what about me”, it was always “what about my situation?” and “you know about my situation!” and “My situation!” For the last fifteen years, Jackson had to make it about Anya as it was a marriage on her terms, but little did she know, she didn’t want to lose that kind of arrangement. This anger she exhibited was her realization that with Landyn, the relationship wouldn’t center around her, but also on both of us. I began to see how she feared to lose control, and through manipulation, she planned to continue the same kind of “me” type relationship. After fifteen years of it being about her, she didn’t want to lose that power. If I had any plans to save her, the truth would have to come Jackson’s way because it would put their relationship, if she stayed, back on the terms of two people, and not center around her. If she lost that power, then she would have an incentive to leave. The problem was, if I confronted Jackson, she would never be with me, as it would not be looked upon as an act of love to fight in her honor, but an act of betrayal because of the grip she lost over him, and other men.

Just like her marriage was for the last fifteen years, our relationship was centered on her, and if that changed, I’d lose her and her love. For the last sixteen months, each day I lived without her as I trusted in a promise, I showed how I cared about her happiness more than my own. My reward in the end, because she still slept with her husband, was “it’s all about you.”. All those nights I suffered in bed, paralyzed, unable to move while she threw parties and attended them, even during the week, yet this relationship was “all about me”. She at least knew I didn’t do things to hurt her, I however couldn’t say the same thing. By being in a relationship with me, in essence she told me, I don’t care about my situation. So why was it my job to care especially when it has brought me nothing but heartache now? Why did she ever allow me to be in your life if her situation, with kids and those seventy five percent of friends she stood to lose, was so important? She knew about her situation the entire time yet chose to let me learn about it on the fly as I trusted she told me all there was to know. I wasn’t going to give up because of the situation now. I existed in her life because of the unhappiness her situation gave her. If the situation puts her in this new situation with me, she should not be in the old situation anymore. Period. Her situation was the reason I came to be in her life. I came to change it for the better, not to leave it as is and untouched for another poor soul to stumble into it. I came in her life to get her out of the situation, even without me, especially now that it caused me this much pain.

ME: “How do you tell someone to “fuck off” if you love them to death? My decision is the same decision I made almost seventeen months ago. To be with the one I love.”

ANYA: “Then stop complaining! Wtf! I can only take so much!”

ME: “So I guess your love for me is conditional after all. At least it sounds like you don’t want me to leave. I guess it’s safe to say u get mad and hurt b/c u don’t want me to go. R u done yelling at me?”

ANYA: “I can only take so much.”

Through her texts, I could feel she was exasperated and emotionally exhausted, and so was I. If I complained, then she felt she should let me go, and if I didn’t complain, she would only continue to sleep with her husband. I tried to calm the storm, but I didn’t feel love in her texts at all, but a love for herself. There was no understanding at all, but I guess she felt the same way after she told me she promised her son she wouldn’t leave – that I should have been understanding after what she shared with me. There was a huge difference in leaving her marriage and leaving her son, though. She had to understand her role in my complaints. They didn’t fly out of the sky for no reason, they did when she didn’t communicate with consistency. I shouldn’t have to tell her at all, she should know better not to pretend I didn’t exist whenever she had mixed feelings. I had to ignore my low sense of self and remember, each time we’ve “broken up”, she always came back because she struggled, and as much as I felt wronged at times by her love, I didn’t want her to go through that because her kids would worry about her. I had to factor them in each time I struggled and I had to look at myself in that regards. If I couldn’t handle it, I had to walk away. I felt at this point I let her down, and was no longer the man she needed me to be around her kids. I still wanted to try and make things right for her even when I felt wronged.

ME: “Ok I’ll try and be a stronger man for you and stop whining. I don’t hate it, just wish things were different. I’ll put my trust in if you truly love me, you’ll find a way to be with me. I want to make your dreams come true and if that has a chance to happen, I need to do my part. It’s my dream too.”

ANYA: “Ok”

I didn’t know how to communicate to her how badly she torched me when she slept with her husband. A part of her prepared for this not to work out because of her kids, but I never had that luxury of disbelief. I trusted her love was true, and made a promise as if she did nothing to shake my trust. I received no promises to change her sleeping arrangements yet I made her a promise as if I did. I made promises I had the desire to keep, but not the strength to. If I broke this promise one and she let me back in, it would feel like I played a game with her. I never intended to not fulfill the promise but my emotions were dependent on her actions and inactions. As these low self-esteem issues crept in, I didn’t know if I could keep my promise, but I had to fight through this. The day I could tell her of my promotion, is the day I could fight for her, but until then I had to be positive. I would much rather keep this between us, and not be inspired to be a “man” and confront Jackson with the truth. I never wanted to blow up the world with truth, but my whole world stood on the verge of destruction, and the truth was all I had. After she allowed and encouraged me to be in her life, I didn’t feel protected by her not even vouched for, the man she claimed to love; her soulmate. If her protection for me was to sleep with her husband, my life was over. It was that simple. I would never trust another woman who said “I love you” again, and if I couldn’t do that, what’s the purpose of life anyway? Misery? People in love with themselves more than the ones they claim to love? People who chose money and image over goodness and character? I would be too disgusted with life if this love didn’t work out. I would go off the rails in a train of mistrust.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

ME: “How are you holding up over there?”

ANYA: “Keeping positive. Have kids open house tonight. Just wanted you to know.”

In order for me to keep my emotions in check, I needed Anya to not have mixed feelings about us. She couldn’t let me know she traced our path in Wholefoods on Monday, and then on Tuesday hit me with I couldn’t take back my hurtful words. This seemed to present a microcosm of the whole relationship, love me one day like no other, then treat me like I didn’t exist the next day. What about the hurtful things she did to me at home? When she went and partied at the houses of neighbors as if I didn’t exist? How could she not know she paraded around as a proud married couple when she did? I felt if she loved me, and had any intentions to leave Jackson, she would not do such a thing? If she respected me, she would never do such a thing. How could she think showing me respect was by letting me go? I didn’t want to pressure her or to give her any grief, but she also had to respect my heart. What I struggled with more than anything, is she seemed to be as twisted as Jackson at times. The only reason I agreed to be in her life because I trusted she was nothing like him.

ME: “Ok. I guess I’ll say goodnight now.”

ANYA: “I don’t want u to analyze, criticize, judge and dream up things just b/c I can’t contact u sometimes.”

When I read her text, I could she how she wanted control. The same control she had for the last fifteen years of her marriage to her husband. Her text sounded like the same kind of thing she told Jackson when we first started to see each other, and maybe something he told her when she suspected he was cheating. I began to see how Anya seemed to be an expert at manipulation. She tried to even control things she had no control over, and this text only made me lose even more trust in her. This text was not from the Anya I fell in love with, but from the man she married who I could never side with. Her lack of empathy, her inability to see where I stood, and only saw where she stood, as she claimed it was “all about me”, seemed not only loveless but even sinister.

ME: “I would only want you to text me if you truly want to. If it feels like a chore to you, then I’d rather not hear from you. Sometimes I can’t tell if it’s done out of obligation or not.”

ANYA: “Can’t sometimes and don’t want sometimes b/c I can’t handle the pressure! You won’t hear from me if I feel pressure.”

ME: “So I won’t hear from you even when you claim you want to be with me?”

ANYA: “Victim?”

When Anya talked of pressure, she meant stress. She was already under enough stress at home. If she felt stress, or sadness, or guilt, then she wouldn’t respond. She didn’t feel like I pressured her—but she felt bad about herself. What if it meant that? After fifteen years, she had to relinquish her victim role, and she couldn’t face that I was now a victim to her form of love, she led me to believe was true. I wasn’t arguing with her for the sake of it, she claimed this was true love and I planned to hold her to that. She knew from day one, I was nothing like the man she married, and I’d be damned if she was going to treat me like him in any way. I even recalled the time she told me she felt like I was the one paying for her husband’s mistakes so in essence, she even said I was a victim in this, and I had to remind her.

ME: “You’ve told me before it seemed like I was paying for your husband’s mistakes. That doesn’t sound like a “victim” to you in some way? Why are you giving me a hard time?”

ANYA: “” If it’s a chore I’d rather not hear from you.” You know how I feel about you. Why do you keep doing that? I don’t get it.”

I empathized with Anya on her last text as she was punished at times for what other women did to me in the past, even my relationship with my father. I didn’t want her playing politics with my heart. She told me this was “true love” and I planned to hold her to it. People could give me tough love and I had to take it, and I was sick of it. Sick of having my heart stomped on and discarded. If the woman who told me I was her true love would do that to me, the buck stopped right there. If she wanted to text me because she missed me. then text me, but I didn’t want her to contact me if she felt guilty or out of fear, because then I’d know she was doing something to hurt me behind my back.

After she sent me these texts, I’d never have the strength to initiate another text to her. If I never heard from her, she’d never hear from me because if she feared pressure, then she would rather I not exist if her silence hurt me. There were two parts to me now; the part that wanted to be patient and the man she needed me to be, and that felt she betrayed me. If she couldn’t find the strength to do the right thing and be with the man she gave these feelings to, then the one part of me we both didn’t want, would be the only part of me left. She couldn’t even give me a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer on Saturday. If she truly wanted me to tell her to “fuck off”, why wouldn’t she tell me?

I despised and loathed her marriage and all it stood for; a false union kept together for the sake of money and friends that affected the lives of decent people it should’ve never reached. Her marriage had to be godforsaken. It ended a previous engagement and hurt that man so badly it sent him to another state. It then went on to ruin another man’s marriage. Years later, it hurt another man’s life as its end was referred to as “tragic”, and now it threatened to ruin my life as I got caught up in the vortex of Anya’s heart and mind. All this pain her marriage brought to others, it left me to only wonder who else it infected over the last sixteen years. If there was anything else better left unsaid it should be the family name, which Katie stated in her “essay”, her mom fought hard to protect—an absolute lie. She even defended Jackson by keeping her closest friends completely in the dark about his gross transgressions so why did she tell Lance and myself if she didn’t want something from us? The amazing thing about it all? She still had sex with her philandering husband and if I didn’t like it when she hurt me by doing so, she would rather have me tell her to “fuck off” than to stop. Yet, she wondered why I had the audacity to question her love for me? She told me he chipped her heart away so why would she still engage in sex with him for any reason if she had me? Because I restrained myself out of respect for her after our pregnancy scare? If Jackson had that much control she couldn’t say no to his sexual advances, then why would she encourage and allow me to fall in love with her? If he had the final say and she was under his control, then why allow another man to feel so deeply for her? How was that not an act of betrayal and a false misrepresentation? It’s almost like she gave me no choice but to confront Jackson by the way she handled things.

If she truly betrayed me, I would turn both her and Jackson into honest people before I’d allow their unholy union to affect someone else’s life. It would be my social responsibility to make sure they didn’t manipulate and lie their way into the hearts of others. It’s crazy to think, I’m the one who showed my love the most to her, went through tremendous amount of mental anguish, yet it would be another man, even the one who dishonored her, who she would choose in the end. How was that even possible? How could she love someone, someone out to save her, only to leave them in complete and utter ruin? I never agreed to be in her life to strengthen her marriage, and if she used me for that purpose, she would feel pressure from me beyond the word itself. The only way my love helped her to grow as a person is if she left, and I could live with that, even if she fell in love with another man, which she probably would because of the part of me that felt betrayed.

Unable to reconcile these feelings, I went back and forth from compassion to disbelief. I’d put the blame on myself then heaped it back on to her. I didn’t like she felt I played the “victim” card when I considered she told me she felt “tremendous guilt” about what she had done to me. Yes, it took two to tango, but I walked away from her to avoid all of this, and if she stayed at this point, after everything, how could I not feel betrayed? I’d feel not only used but humiliated once again. I would then feel the need to make it right for me even if I had to exercise the truth to defend myself. If she defended Jackson in any way, or for any reason, it would be the ultimate betrayal because she knew full well it was his abuse of her heart and mind that brought me into her life. To defend him in anyway would not only be a vicious act towards me but it would feel she had the right to steal my life from me. That she gave me a false sense of purpose for no reason other than to destroy my life.

In the same breath, I never wanted to be completely bat shit crazy wrong about anything more in my life. I loved her dearly and would always look inwards first if I had to. I’d even consider some help from a counselor to deal with all the emotions I felt, and even be willing to delve into my past. After her texts left me to consider things, I never dreamed were possible, I took even more Vicodin to help internalize my analyses so it never reached her. If she decided to get nasty with me, after all I gave of myself and took such a leap of faith to trust her only to suffer with these thoughts and loneliness, I couldn’t be noble enough to not respond accordingly. If she refused to respect my situation, the one she put me in, then I couldn’t respect hers as well.

I’ve had long weeks in my life made even longer by the busy season, but this week proved to be the longest for me as I hoped to make it through. I felt more confused than ever about all I felt. One second, I felt betrayed, and the next I felt responsible as Anya reflected her mixed feelings upon me. I tried to see things in her eyes, and prayed that I was wrong about everything, but because her love for me no longer felt the same, it was hard to do. For some reason, she felt my feelings should always remain the same, like Jackson’s, but the longer this relationship continued, the more I fell and the more I needed her. I even began to feel she felt Jackson’s love for her represented the norm, and mine wasn’t; that she trusted his love more than mine and even passed that judgment knowing the situations were completely different. That she preferred being in an unfaithful marriage than be with me. I began to sense she felt that way when she told me I should be a “man” and make a decision about us. It was like asking a man confined to a wheelchair, one she put him in, to get up and walk. She made it an impossible decision now—I’d be hurt just like someone confined to a wheelchair who tried to walk from it. I hated to admit this, but her love crippled me mentally, to the point I felt victimized by it, and even as I sat in my wheelchair, I had to find a way to believe in her love, so I had a chance to walk again. The entire rest of my life weighed in the balance now, and I had to find out why she took it from me.

Anya texted me the next morning, a surprise.

ANYA: “Hope u had a good night.”

ME: “Hope u did too. Hope you have a good day.”

ANYA: “U have a good day too. I miss you and I love you.”

ME: “I miss you and I love you too.”

This was the Anya I needed her to be if she wanted me to be a “strong” man, and not the one who vanished on me without warning that led me to wonder if she did truly love me. Even the nature of her “I miss you” and “I love you” now seemed to serve a purpose; not one solely intended to make me feel loved and missed, but also meant to hold me off from questioning her. Her “I love you” and “I miss you” texts, after she told me she didn’t want to lose fifty percent of her kids, lost their power as the good feelings they gave me were lost now. If she truly wanted me to leave, then all she had to do was tell me about all the things “better left unsaid”. Tell me all the things she did, things she knew would hurt me if she wanted me to leave. If she wanted me to leave, why not be a “woman” and text me to let me know she’s going to have sex with her abuser before she goes to bed instead of wishing me a goodnight. Why not? Because it would be confirmation that she played a vicious game with my heart. If she truly wanted me to leave why not tell me the details of the sex with Jackson? The truth was, she didn’t want me to go unless I left with the thought, she was the greatest woman on the planet, and she knew that would never happen if she did tell me what I sought…the truth. Or maybe she still hoped, wished and dreamed—that if she told me the things that would hurt me, we would die ingloriously.

Later that morning, she texted me again.

ANYA: “Miss u.”

It was texts like these that made me believe what I only truly wanted to believe; that I was wrong about the betrayed part of me.

ME: “Miss u too.”

ANYA: “Maybe we can talk next week. I know you said you’re off but idk if we should “get together”. Maybe go somewhere or just sit in your living room and talk?”

ME: “Sure. I’m open to that.”

ANYA: “K.”

A relationship mostly over text, sixteen months in, was no longer conducive to building a bridge of trust, love and understanding. Heavy ideas and feelings got lost in translation now and really needed to be discussed in person. She could no longer hide behind her phone and then hit me with thoughts I never expected nor could she question my manhood based on my reactions to them. I appreciated the fact she wanted to come over and talk, but she should have asked me this before our last visit. I had no idea she planned to “talk” after we “got together”. The relationship had to always be on her terms, and never mine yet she got upset at me when I made it “about me”. How could she take someone’s heart, give someone so many feelings for her then suddenly decide she couldn’t lose fifty percent of her kids? Or needed time to figure things out? To take my heart should have been just as decisive for her as the decision to stay. I just couldn’t see this as an act of love for anyone but herself anymore. Then I considered her two kids–two innocent parties caught in the crossfire, and that wasn’t right either. Then I’d visit Lance’s website and see the word “tragic” and get lost again about the right way to feel about what she did. She honestly left me unsure of if I should love her or hate her, when she had a history of leaving hearts in her wake before while she claimed each time that it was her heart they broke. It all felt too familiar when I thought of what she told me, after I walked away because she was married before we reconnected, “you broke my heart.”. I know I’d be advised by most people to leave just to find myself again. Not to fall in love with anyone else, but to see if I could recover any part of me that existed before I met her. I think that’s what upset me more than anything though, was how her “love” took away that part of me and I wasn’t the same person before I met her. Because of all she went through with Jackson, when she told me this was “true love”, I trusted she knew what true love was completely. Now, her interpretation of “true love” was one a love on terms she could dictate and control, as she only truly loved herself. I didn’t want to take that away from her after all she went through. She should love herself, it’s imperative in being able to love someone else, but in my case, she didn’t truly love me, and her form of true love was only one where she truly loved herself more than anyone. Anya was entitled to love as she pleased, I just felt she needed to be more aware of how her love affected the lives of others who trusted she knew what true love was supposed to mean. Not only did I believe I was misled, but I became aware of how she misrepresented her pain to me, just like she did to the other men before me. I then pondered reasons why Anya would even marry a man like Jackson let alone be drawn to him. I always trusted she was the “victim”, but I began to sense he stood behind her the whole time with a wicked smile, laughing at me from the distance—two narcissists who were part of one huge ego that set out to manipulate the good and kind hearted for their own gain for those things they lost in themselves.

The next day Anya sent me a text that morning, as she started to do things she used to do, a consistency I appreciated in line with our sixteen months together that quieted my tortured mind.

ANYA: “Good morning. Hope u have a good day. Not working out today. Home today playing catch up.”

ME: “Good morning. Thanks, I hope u do too. I hope you can get caught up on things.”

I wanted to be so wrong about the negativity I felt. I wanted her to show me enough love that I felt like the biggest jerk on the planet to consider her and Jackson, one and the same. My heart beat only for her, and I wanted to give her all the chances in the world and every benefit of the doubt possible. I wanted her to shut me up for good so I could commit my thoughts to more productive activities and not pressure her. I wanted her to prove me so wrong, I’d never question her love again, and apologize to her for the rest of my life for it ever being a question in my mind at all. When she texted me like she used to, when she texted me no matter who was around or where she was. When she used to walk out of a party with friends so she could say “hi” just to feel close to me. That was the Anya I needed to have again. The one who feared to lose me as much as I feared to lose her. Without that Anya, I turned to the part of me I didn’t want to turn to nor ever wanted to create. The Anya I needed, then texted me later that same afternoon to let me know Katie was accepted to the magnet school program in the bad neighborhood, and she decided to go to there.

ANYA: “It’s not going to be easy. Everybody I talk to just shake their heads when I say the program’s name because it’s so demanding. Scary.”

ME: “I think she’s going to do great. I’ve read her work and she’s ahead of the curve. She has a really bright future. You’re a huge part of her success too. I miss you.”

ANYA: “I’ve missed you too. I’m here.”

The next day, a Friday, I heard from her just three times, but I expected it since the kids had a carnival at their school that evening. When she sent an uninitiated “I miss u” text during the time she had to be at the carnival with them, it felt more like love than an obligation. As much pain as I was in, I couldn’t stop loving her. I could cry my heart out and be angry, but at the end of the day, I still loved her more than life itself. The difference was in the love we were willing to accept. We both needed to feel love, but I needed the person I love, and not just the feeling. If the person didn’t come with the feeling, I didn’t want to feel anything. It’s why I felt misled. Anya was right, I knew her situation from the beginning, but I had no idea, after she asked me if I would fight for her and fell in love with me, that she would fight me to stay with Jackson, and not to leave. I suspected she lived well and lived a life or relative comfort, but it seemed she felt entitled to ruin other people’s lives. I was the second man in her life, and not the first; our relationship was no mistake. If any sacrifices were to be made for the kids, it should have been made after the first man, not the second; something else the part of me that felt betrayed tussled with.

The next morning, she sent me a text to inform me of some future plans.

ANYA: “I might be going to Cabo in 2 weeks. A runner friend of mine has a time share and she decided not to go this year so offered it to our running group.”

ME: “Sounds like a lot of fun! Do you know when you’re heading down?”

ANYA: “Not sure yet. It’s booked for a week but I think we’re only going for 4 days.”

ME: “I think 4 days is enough time in Cabo.”

ANYA: “Been there? I’ve been once.”

ME: “I went there on a cruise but only spent a few hours there. I went with some friends and we docked at 9 a.m. so we didn’t get to do much since we had to be back on the boat by noon. It’s a fun place though. We made the most of it.”

ANYA: “Party town.”

ME: “I was there 10 years ago. I’m not much of a partier anymore.”

ANYA: “Yea not totally thrilled cuz not looking for a place to “party”. The girls are excited to go so I’d be the party pooper if I backed out. I’ve hinted though.”

ME: “I know. I’m more of a Splashes type of person now. I’d rather hang out at Splashes than go to Cabo.”

ANYA: “Ha! Splashes! One of my favorite places!”

I couldn’t remember a tougher period of my life than the last six weeks had been. Katie’s essay and Anya’s letter. My mother’s cancer. Two significant disagreements with Anya. All my doubts and heart aches, and I could count the number of times I’ve seen Anya on one hand the last six weeks. My life seemed to fall apart, little by little and piece by piece, as I tried to keep myself together for her. After our morning conversation about her potential trip to Cabo, it left me to feel bittersweet. On one hand I was happy for her because she needed a break from the stress at home. On the other hand, I feared if she didn’t stay in touch with me when she went to Cabo, which was really likely after our fallout, I’d begin to pressure her again, and then further lose trust in her love for me. I believed Anya loved me, I just believed it wasn’t the same kind of love I had for her. Especially when she told me I chipped her heart away because I wanted her love to be real. If she were to add up all the times she was away from her kids, times she spent with neighbors, friends, work events and trips, it came close to sharing fifty percent custody or close to. As again, I didn’t know what to think about her love for me as she seemed to show that her love would never catch me, but instead only prop me up after I had enough strength to support myself. I felt she nearly left my heart for dead, and I feared it was only a matter of time before she would discard it completely. All I truly had was the hope she would come around to understand my situation as much as she wanted me to understand hers.

Saturdays were the hardest days for me, and when I didn’t hear from her for the rest of the day after our morning exchanges, it put me in a tailspin. Nights like this made me hate her marriage, and all similar marriages with a dishonest nature, and false sanctity. I wasn’t a dishonest person, and I wanted it to end so it could never hurt another person, the way it hurt me on nights like this as I went to bed early to sleep it off, unable to move at a time I needed to.

When I woke up the next morning, I texted Anya to see how her night went.

ANYA: “Good! Sunday morning stuff! Kids had friends spend the night. How r u?”

ME: “Do you have a busy day with the kids today?”

ANYA: “Yes but I have a jewelry party I have to go to after Sunday school. It’s a fake jewelry party full of Jewish women eating and talking too much! I’ll get sucked into buying big ugly costume jewelry that I’ll never wear. Then u compliment the jewelry artist about how creative and amazing her work is. Ugh!”

ME: “Oh well, I’m sure they will have some good food there!”

ANYA: “When do u want to get together to talk? Where? I can do either Wed or Thur.”

When she asked me what day we could get together to talk, of the blue, it helped calm the storm within about her silence from the previous evening.

ME: “If you don’t mind, I’d like to meet at my place so we can have privacy. I can meet either day. Whatever works best for you.”

ANYA: “I don’t want to hold you up if you go somewhere.”

ME: “You won’t. Just hope you don’t chew me out!”

ANYA: “I’m not going to “chew” you out.”

ME: “I know it’s hard for you when I break down. You have your hands tied there and you have me bitching about things with your kids around. I know you’re upset with me and I know you’re frustrated as well. If I didn’t love you, I would never try to see your side.”

ANYA: “I know babe. I don’t want to argue either.”

As much as I struggled, I genuinely meant what I texted her. It broke my heart every time I broke down on her. She was the only person that could ease my pain, and I had to go to the source if I was wrong to feel it. It irritated me that if she didn’t want to lose fifty percent of her kids, that she told me sixteen months later. That’s my frustration because if I knew that from the very beginning, I would’ve never allowed myself to fall in love. As much as I feared she wronged me, I loved her and came too far to give up. I tried to chalk it up as a moment in time she felt that way. She gave me a chance to talk to her and I think we really needed to get to the bottom of this. The craziest thing was I could be upset with her for twenty-four hours, so upset I wanted to confront her husband, and then one sweet thoughtful gesture and a second later I felt awful and back in love with her. It seemed I had no choice but to let her drive ride shotgun with the hope she took me to the place I wanted to go.

Later that day, I decided to take a drive along the Palos Verdes coast to escape my dismal apartment. As my car moved swiftly along its newly paved roads, the surreal, blue sky and rugged green cliffs that held beautiful mansions, made me wish Anya’s hand was in mine and seated to my right. As I drove straight into beauty’s own heart, and made a pit stop at “Our Beach”, I thought of all the things I wanted to say to her. To genuinely present to her how I felt, but with cognizance of her feelings too. I never wanted to hold onto bad thoughts of her, and wanted to get them out of my head so she wouldn’t feel any pressure from me. I never wanted to argue with her and I appreciated the chance she gave me to clear the air with her.

When I got home, I texted Anya to see how her day went.

ANYA: “My day was good. U did? Where did u go?”

ME: “Palos Verdes Cliffs. I stopped off for a minute at Abalone Cove to feel close to you.”

ANYA: “Awww I bet it was beautiful.”

ME: “Only as beautiful as it could be without you there.”

It was nice to see an “awww” again from her – I couldn’t remember the last time I did. Although this weekend I hardly heard from her, it still bled positive energy as we planned to meet during the week to have a heart to heart talk to rebuild our trust in each other. When the next morning came around, Anya texted me, and I could tell she was still unsettled, but in a way that made me feel bad for her.

ANYA: “Morning! Made it thru another nite! Seems like I’m living day by day waiting for it to end so I can sleep it off. Just leaving to go run.”

Her text message was hard for me to read, but something I needed to see. It broke my heart to know she denied such a part of herself that the “good” part of anyone’s morning went missing. It seemed she knew exactly how I felt about her promise to Andrew, as it hurt to have “us” taken that away from her. How could I read this, someone who loved and cared for her so much, and not want her to ever live another day just so she could sleep it off? She was a mother and she mattered just as much as her kids did. How could she not feel this and realize how vital our love was to her psyche and well-being? I could never punish her if she hurt this much without me. This was the kind of text from her that made me feel like an absolute fool to doubt her love for me. This was why I couldn’t give up on her. Not when she came clean like this. In fact, her text spoke louder than “I love you forever” as she showed me how much I meant to her rather than said it. This is why I fought for her regardless of my doubt. I didn’t want to have her struggle through another night. Her words reconnected me to her as it described how I lived my life every day without her love too now. Her text even laid to rest my fear, because if she did experience the “things better left unsaid” with her husband, it surely didn’t mean much to her, if she had to sleep off the day so it could end. I wanted more for her than this. I thought the truth would set her free more than it could hurt her, even though she claimed it would hurt her. I loved her so damn much that even if she tried to kill me, I’d eventually come to understand her reasons. For all I knew, I deserved it. Love was life, and this was an example of what happened when it’s lost. If there was a God, how could he not be on her side to have the love she needed?

ME: “Maybe we should go somewhere scenic and talk? To feel some positive energy around us.”

ANYA: “What would you like to do?”

ME: “Maybe we can take a walk and talk on the trails off the cliffs of Palos Verdes?”

ANYA: “Do you think it might be too cold?”

ME: “I guess I should have pulled up the forecast before I mentioned anything. I just did and it’s going to be fifty some odd degrees all week long! Yikes! Uh…scratch that! What day works best for you?”

ANYA: “Can I let you know as soon as I know today? I’m trying to work some stuff out with work and physical therapy and other small appointments.”

ME: “Sounds good!”

I didn’t expect to feel her heart today as I was ecstatic to feel connected to her again. I wanted her to have “good” mornings every day, and not have to ever sleep a day away. If Anya was generally unhappy in her marriage, the kind of unhappiness that occurred over time, I would’ve never chosen to be a part of her life. Her unhappiness was great and different from the general kind, enough to give air to a disease like cancer, and I couldn’t stand idle and just watch my love, my life, lose her hope, wish and dream. I had to challenge her to leave Jackson more than ever, without the pressure she feared from me. If what she texted me was true, then there’s no chance pressure from me could exist. I could no longer watch her choose a false and dishonest life because I saw the toll it took on her. Before she met me, she could live that way, but now, we both were in the same boat, and once you know this kind of love, you’ll never be the same way again. I didn’t get involved to have my own heart sacrificed, let alone hers too, but if it had to be, she would have to live an honest life. I would not allow my heart to be sacrificed so she could continue to live a dishonest one. If she went through all the trouble to not fill me in on things I needed to know, that Lance knew, so I would fall in love with her, then she should have no trouble in making the choice to live a life based on truth. In most instances, I would agree that mothers should stay of the sake of their kids, like Francesca Johnson did in “The Bridges of Madison County”, but in this instance, no way. If Andrew knew her mother could get sick and die if she stayed with his dad, he would’ve never asked her to promise him not to leave. His mother needed my love like she needed air, and I knew this because I felt the same way about her love.

The day brought with it some more positive energy when I told Anya I contacted a real estate agent this week.

ANYA: “Good time to look and buy!”

ME: “I agree! With the market in a recession it brought the house prices down. It’s what I was waiting for.”

ANYA: “Wish we could look together.”

She didn’t have to text me this, but she did, a piece of her she couldn’t deny called the truth within. When you consider how she felt the other day, she couldn’t have made a bigger statement of how greatly she felt. This show of love, her truth I tried desperately to bring forth from her, was what we both needed. It said “I love you” without having to. More importantly, it gave me the confidence and safety to know when we met this week, it would be a positive visit.

ME: “Were you able to get everything done today?”

ANYA: “I did but got frustrated so went to get my nails done. All better!”

Sometimes all it took was life balance, even if it was just to get her nails done, to feel better as Anya sacrificed that part of herself for her kids, which added to her frustrations. A part of her I had to understand better that led her to feel I made it “all about me”. Later that evening though, her frustrations began to resurface, when I texted her.

ME: “Hi babe! What r u up to?”

ANYA: “At batting cages w/Andrew!”

ME: “Alone in an unsafe place again?”

ANYA: “Yup! One female employee!”

ME: “Sorry babe.”

ANYA: “Used to it!”

Her text was an admission; that she was not her husband’s wife, but rather his “female employee” as it seemed her marriage was run much like an LLC. In essence, Jackson basically told his wife, that “if you don’t do this, you don’t love your children”. Anya’s truthful texts brought me back to the side I only wanted to be on; her side. Even if it meant my feelings would be put on hold, I looked upon her well-being as more important than mine because I didn’t have two kids that depended on it to be well adjusted. There were no assigned roles in marriages. Both parties had to pick each other up and be in communication. Since Anya and Jackson were disconnected, much like my father and I were, there could be no equity. Since Jackson already chipped her away, there would never be equity, that would only lead to an unhappy partnership. In a marriage, people had to pitch in to pick one another up, and no husband, unless he was completely disabled, should let his wife, let alone one as attractive as she was, run around the kids to unsafe places, especially at night. Since I’ve known her, Jackson never treated her like a wife or even a partner as evidenced when the corporate office was moved and he didn’t give her an office. I think I was more upset about that than Anya was. It’s why Jackson chose an impressionable nineteen-year-old girl to date—so he could manipulate her for his own purposes. As long as he provided her with a bevy of friends in high places so she had value, he could control and manipulate her. Even get her to stay with him instead of taking him to the cleaners when he cheated on her while she carried his son, and raised a two-year-old. Even though Anya brought me pain when she wasn’t open with me as she should have been when we met, Jackson’s abusive ways made it absolutely impossible for me to give up on her. If I gave up on Anya, I would also give up on myself. In essence, it would prove my father was right about me all those years. To accuse Anya of anything would feel like I did it to myself. That all those opinions my Dad had of me after all the years I tried to prove him wrong, were right. Anya was used to it the structure and roles of her marriage, so much so it all seemed normal, even for those women she knew who did the same, but I awakened her to the possibility it was wrong for a wife to feel like an employee—a person to use and not a person to love. Marriages weren’t easy but when you made the decision to have kids, you made the choice to not only work together, but to protect each other and the kids from harm. To me, it seemed Jackson protected and valued his best interests rather than those of his wife, another reason why I secretly fantasized if he ever decided to confront me. I hoped a confrontation could be avoided, out of respect for Katie and Andrew, however, if Jackson still suspected in any way Anya was still seeing me after the symposium, where it made his awareness of me known, a confrontation with him was inevitable.

When Tuesday, the twenty-eighth day in April, arrived, I sent a text to Anya to see what her plans were for the day.

ANYA: “Well I have a lot to do and I have PT at 12:20 but the girls are trying to get me to meet them at the mall. So, if I go, I’ll go for an hour and leave. U?”

ME: “I’m going to go workout, get a haircut this afternoon and then see how I feel. I miss you.”

ANYA: “Have a good workout! Chat later when ur done!”

About an hour later, after I stepped out of the shower just before my haircut appointment, Anya sent me a text.

ANYA: “I was thinking maybe tomorrow that way you can still do something the latter part of the week.”

ME: “Are you okay with coming over to my place tomorrow?”

ANYA: “Whatever you want to do!”

ME: “My place it is! Thx!”

ANYA: “How long does it take to get a haircut? Can u do tea? I’m leaving the mall around noon. I have a 20-minute window before PT. I was able to change it to 1.”

After I read her text, I realized Anya planned to go to the mall near my place with the girls hoping to see me. She said she had a lot to do when I asked her what she had planned, that it never occurred to me she may have time to see me, even if she went to the mall near my place. I just didn’t suspect she would find the time to with so much to do as I feared to pull her in another direction. Now, she planned to ditch Carolyn and Debbie completely just to meet me for tea? Something that just didn’t happen anymore filled me with a hope I hadn’t felt in what seemed like years. When Debbie and Carolyn used to always say hello to me and understood the depth of what we felt for each other. I had to reread her text again just to make sure I understood it correctly.

ME: “It only takes about 20 minutes, babe. I can meet you at a coffee shop nearby my place since you’re close to the mall.”

ANYA: “I can meet you at the Starbucks on McAdams if you can. If not, no worries!”

ME: “I know where that is. I can meet you there at noon, but I’m worried about you having enough time to make it to PT.”

ANYA: “I should be fine but if you can’t get out of there, no worries. Do u want to just text me around noon to let me know?”

ME: “My appointment is at 11:20. I promise I’ll be there. R u sure u can be there at noon?”

ANYA: “Yes! C u there!”

Her text was not a “K” but a resounding “Yes”, a genuine excitement I hadn’t felt from her in months. How could I ever give up on this special happiness even if she asked me to?

I arrived ten minutes before noon so I went in and got her a Grande sized unsweetened iced green tea then waited for her at an outside table, one separated from most of the other tables for optimal privacy. I feared she might want to move since we were out in public and there seemed to be no private areas. As I sat there though, a wide smile broke upon my face as I got caught up in her act of unexpected kindness. I just really needed to see and be around her. I decided to remain at my table for a couple of reasons. One, I didn’t want to lose it to anyone, and two, I feared Anya might not appreciate us together in public view as we were in an area where people knew her. Sometimes being a gentleman had a fine line to it, as I could very much not be one if I left her exposed for judgment. Jackson didn’t protect her, but I wanted to make sure her reputation stayed in good standing, as much as that hurt me at times. At those times I felt abandoned, it really was just a lot of fear and frustration having a deep conversation inside of me. I never wanted to compromise Anya’s integrity as that would be up to her, even as she hurt me at times. I tried to keep a short memory when it came to Anya for those times her love showed me I was wrong to question her, like her love did on this day. As much as I wanted her to scream my name from the rooftops, and I deserved to be announced by her with love and pride, I didn’t want to give people any power over her. Especially those blind to societal falsehoods about the institution of marriage in today’s loveless world. Just as the clock hit the noon hour and as I gazed down at my phone, I heard a familiar voice behind me.

“Is this seat taken?”

I looked up at her and just smiled, so ecstatic to see her, I could barely even speak. As she stood near me, I could smell her scent as I badly wanted to hold her and put my face next to hers.

“I’m saving it for the most beautiful woman I know.” I said as I rose from my chair to pull hers out before she sat. “Thank you for meeting me. You look so beautiful today, babe.”

“Thank you.” she replied, flushed.

As she sat, she then grabbed my hand before I could walk back to my seat across from her. I held her hand in mine for five seconds before I made my way to my seat. When I sat down to face her, she got lost in my eyes just before I got lost in hers, as if we never argued about a thing the other day. For the first time, Anya was adorned in lavish and bold golden jewelry in my presence. It didn’t seem like the kind of costume jewelry she purchased from the Jewish jewelry makers – this was too exquisite to be the kind of jewelry she wouldn’t wear. She had on a few gold bracelets on each wrist, and then two gold earrings that were so lavish, she could easily be robbed at gunpoint for. I always found Anya to be sophisticated by the way she carried herself, as she was always proper and classy, but this was the first time I’ve seen this level of sophistication from her as the wealth she wore penetrated my eyes and heart.

I wasn’t sure if this was done to make a statement of some kind and to whom. It made me question if she really did have physical therapy after our meeting. It seemed like a lot of work to put this all on and to look so nice, just to take it off in the next half hour or so. Did she meet up with an entirely different group of friends at the mall and not Carolyn and Debbie? Friends who spoke of their husband’s wealth, and she felt the need to compete? To show how much their husbands loved them? I knew Anya talked of big, ugly costume jewelry but what she wore didn’t match that description. I honestly didn’t know what to think or how to feel about her ensemble. She looked absolutely magnificent and divine, but was this a message to me? That this was what I had to compete against? I’ve already seen enough beauty each time I saw her to last me a lifetime. Among the gold though, laid across her neck was my necklace, the “thingie”, and when I saw that, I realized the message was meant to defy the group she met with, and a bigger message sent to me my past never allowed me to consider. When I saw my necklace near her heart, all the gold in the world couldn’t measure up to what sparkled from the sun more than the gold she wore. Although it hurt to remain a secret, I never wanted her to compromise her integrity and character, especially to a group that likely had none to begin with. Who couldn’t tell the difference between a husband who loved them and one who bought them? When I saw the thingie as it sparkled in the sun and the smile on her face when she put her fingers on it to show me what piece of jewelry had the most meaning. It brought her inner beauty into focus like a telescope on a newly discovered planet.

“Are you okay with this spot?” I asked.

“Yes! This can be our new spot!” she exclaimed excitedly. “I love your haircut! You look very handsome!”

“Thanks!” I said. “I’m really looking forward to tomorrow.”

“I am too.” she said. “I love you, Landyn. I hope you know that.”

“I’m sorry I ever question it, but I know you do. I love you, too.” I said. “I hope you know that.”

“I know you do.”

She then touched her necklace and looked at me with the widest smile—the kind of smile that inspired tears of joy and sadness I fought back hard on.

“I love my thingie.” she told me.

Whenever I saw the thingie against her neckline, it made my world right side up—a simple gesture but with great meaning. When she wore it around me, I felt my life had a true purpose and meaning—that I had a real identity. A purpose and identity that couldn’t exist to wreck lives but to make sense of them. As her necklace sparkled in the sun, I felt the Universe told me, this is why you’re here, Landyn. This is why I put you here and why you were never aborted. My purpose, my being, why I walked the earth was why I had to fight harder for her. Without my experiences in life, that shaped me into being open to Anya’s heart, this love we felt, never could exist. Without her, my birth would never make sense. This had to be true love for so many reasons. If it wasn’t, I could no longer justify, let alone rationalize, why and what my place was in this world. How could I belong to a world where I served no other purpose? After my many heartbreaks, I poured all I had left into her, so much so, afterwards there would be none of me left to give anyone else. If I lost her, it would take a minimum of a decade to get over her, if I ever could. Her love meant that much to me. It’s why I had to trust it, even when I had good reason to question it. I had to believe she wouldn’t take me to the place she did for nothing; when she knew how much it meant to me. When she knew how much I believed in not only love, but our love. I wouldn’t know what life was for anymore if I lost her.

Twenty minutes later, Anya had to leave. I walked her back to her car, but there were too many people around to give her a hug or a kiss, so I just told her “goodbye” until the next day. Roughly a half hour later, she texted to let me know she made it to her physical therapy appointment on time and she finished her tea. Then, I didn’t hear from her for the rest of the night as I tried to sleep off the day and waited for it to end like she did. Her plan to meet with me though was very thoughtful after we had the roughest week of our relationship. She seemed to recognize how she ended our last time together was unfair to me. I held out hope this could springboard us in the right direction again. The true spirit of our meeting was to let me know she really did love me as she feared the same disconnect now through texts. The truth was though, other than the fact I didn’t want her to be compromised in front of her children, I couldn’t root for her to make it through another day and night. I couldn’t root for her to be able to sleep it away either because if she was continuously successful, we would never be together. Not to mention, like she told me before when I told her about taking my own life, we were meant to live life to the fullest here, and anything less was a sin. Based on her own words, if she lived her life without me, without her purpose as much as mine, she truly sinned. I believed the stars sent her to me to give me the purpose and meaning in life I always sought an answer for. In the end, love conquered all, so she could spend her days wide awake, days she would never want to sleep off again.

When the next morning arrived, with my heart was steeped in anticipation, Anya texted me. A text I thought would notify me of the time she planned to be at my place for a visit I couldn’t wait for like any other before it.

ANYA: “Good morning! I kinda have to let u know about our meeting time a little later this a.m. He decided to work out of the home office for the morning. I think he suspects…”

When I read her text, a few things were clear. The first being, Anya couldn’t hide her love for me from him. The girl who I questioned days earlier, showed me without saying “I love you” and “I miss you”, the things I criticized her for, and how she understood my position. In what had to be her most loving gesture, she made adjustments to accommodate my fears although she didn’t want to lose fifty percent of her kids; the reason she still gave into him. Second, I knew what Anya was unsure of, he stayed home because he did indeed “suspect”. And lastly, I had complete and total confirmation he planned to confront me.