“What’s wrong, David?”
It’s a phone call I had anticipated, and a question I dreaded.
I knew I would have to eventually come clean, but I didn’t want to do it over the phone.
“A lot’s wrong, Mom. Did you talk to Laura?”
“Yes, Sweetie, I did – although she didn’t tell me much. Just that her and the kids were staying at her parent’s house, and we could reach them there. When I asked ‘what was wrong,’ she just told me I needed to talk to you. So I’m asking you, what’s going on, Baby?”
I could hear concern and hurt in her voice. It’s the horrible sound of a mother’s worry. She knew Laura and I weren’t together, which is devastating enough for a loving grandparent. But she also didn’t know why or the extent of the circumstances. Circumstances that may make this a permanent situation.
“I’d rather talk to you and Dad in person. Is it OK if I come over now?”
“Of course, Baby. I’ll let your father know you’re on your way. You get yourself here so we can talk.”
It was a long drive. Not long in time or as long emotionally as if I were to drive to Laura’s parents to explain how I broke their daughter’s heart – but long enough. Facing my parents was not in my top ten list of what I wanted to do today. But I needed to talk. I needed some wisdom. I needed the advice of someone who had been through the war, lived, and came out the other side like a hero. I needed my parents.
As I made the long, emotional drive to my boyhood home, I stole every ounce of my will I could. I was determined to be strong. I was determined to man up to what I had done and face my parents rationally and logically.
All of that went out the window the minute I opened the door and they both got up from the living room and rushed to wrap their arms around me. My will failed me and I began sobbing the moment my parent’s arms embraced me. They held me as I cried, and they let me cry until I became embarrassed with myself.
Once my shoulders stop heaving, Dad escorts me, in silence, into the living room while Mom goes into the kitchen to get me some water. Once Mom hands me the water, I take a seat in Dad’s chair while Mom and Dad sit on the couch in front of me.
I have no idea how to begin, and they wait patiently until I find the words. I look at them through tear-blurred vision and just say it without any acrimony, which the phrase didn’t deserve anyway.
“I screwed up guys. I cheated on Laura.”
Bomb dropped.
My father lets out a small sigh as his eyes fall to the tattered Asian rug on the floor. Mom just keeps her loving and concerned eyes locked on me. I know this has to be killing her, but she’s here for me.
“Oh, Baby. I’m so sorry.”
I’m waiting for anger and condemnation. Not because I think they will use it to make a bad situation worse, but because I know I deserve it. But neither comes. I’m also waiting for disapproval. But that reaction does not rear its ugly head either.
I just told them that I have devastated my family – a devastation that will have repercussions for them and the time they spend with their grandchildren. That life as we all knew it would never be the same, and it’s all my fault. My parents, God love them, respond with nothing but compassion.
My dad finally looks up and asks me, in a very gentle tone, “Is this affair a long term thing or a one night stand?”
I don’t hesitate to be completely honest.
“Just a drunken, one night stand. I was feeling sorry for myself, and I met this woman after losing another trial. She said all the right things, and I just broke.”
“So it’s over?”
“Yeah. It’s definitely over. I don’t even know her last name – wouldn’t try to contact her if I did. She left without a word before I woke up the next morning.”
My dad knowingly nods his head.
“So you fell through a crack in your marriage. It happens to far too many good people.”
I remember Mom and Dad talking about “the crack” when Laura and I were first married, but I had forgotten the lesson a long time ago. Dad must have sensed it or just felt like he should fill in a little fatherly advice, so he continues without me uttering any acknowledgment.
“You go along in your marriage and, after a few years, it starts becoming routine. Then, a crack starts. Usually it’s something small like a lie or a talk you just don’t get around to having. Could be an argument left unsettled. An issue you left on the shelf to take care of later. When you feel that divide between you and your spouse, well, that’s the crack in the foundation of your marriage that you’re feeling. Once that opens up, then every new unsettled argument, every new lie, every mistake opens that crack even more. Then, one day, the opportunity opens up to fall into that crack and down you go – taking your family and everything you worked for down with you.”
Mom feels the need to jump in and bring me into the conversation.
“Do you know what caused the crack in your relationship, Baby?”
I pause for a minute, like I’m thinking — but it’s a ruse. I had thought about it a thousand times, and knew the answer like I knew my name.
“Yes. Yes I do. I’ve been spending far too much time away from the family with work. That’s been causing arguments with Laura. I was starting to feel distant from her, and I suspected she was cheating on me. But, I was feeling so distant that I didn’t really care.”
“And you never took the time to talk through any of it with Laura?”
“No. No I didn’t.”
Mom looks at me with her loving eyes. I know she’s trying to decide what to say next. She doesn’t want to trample my bleeding heart, but she wants to bind my wounds. She decides to begin with a sermon of the heart.
“Baby, one thing we’ve learned after fifty-two years: You gotta sacrifice for your marriage. A sacrifice of self for the greater good. And most of the time, the greater good is the marriage itself. You know how much better off society would be if marriage wasn’t disposable like it seems to be now-a-days?
“The key is never forgetting what started the love to grow in the first place. What was it you were doing together that helped you to fall in love? Whatever the answer is, then that’s what you keep doing. When you were dating, if you loved going out for ice cream and shopping for antiques, keep doing that. If you love getting dressed up and going to dinner – then taking walks on a nearby beach and talking till you could see the first light of the morning sun – keep doing that. If you loved going out to speakeasies and dancing until 2 a.m. and making friends out of total strangers – well, keep doing that.”
Dad continues the sermon. To be honest, right now, I actually welcome the wisdom of experience. It feels like sanity in the midst of anarchy.
“Look son. The truth is – kids, work, stress, schedules, and finances will rob your marriage of the love that put it together in the first place. You make time for each other and keep the romance alive by doing what you love doing together, and you will know how beautiful a marriage can be. I have known too many couples who were so busy raising kids and working that they let the love die. Once the kids growed up and were out the house, they ended up getting a divorce because they felt like they were married to a stranger. The kids were the only thing holding them together.”
Although I came here to seek my parent’s input, I’m realizing that it’s too much for me to process right now. Their words, although they ring true to me, are starting to feel like a noose around my neck. I’m beginning to feel trapped even though I know the bars around me are forged from my own guilt. I’m desperate to take the focus off of me so I can breathe – even if for only a few minutes.
“I know this is personal, and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But did you guys ever fall through a crack?”
“Almost.”
My father doesn’t even blink. It was like he and Mom had rehearsed the answer. I, on the other hand, was wondering if I could now even handle the answer to my question.
“There was this secretary down at the plant where I worked. Your momma and I had only been married about six years. And at the time, we weren’t getting along so good. You know, kids, money being tight, the usual stuff. Well, this secretary’s husband up and leaves her, so she was on the rebound and she was looking for somebody to help mend her broken heart. We started having lunch every day. She would tell me her sad tales, and I would comfort her.
“Then one day, she starts bringing the subject around to sex. Now, this was a nice-looking woman. Not as beautiful as your momma, no woman could ever be. But really nice-looking with what we called a brick-house body back then. She made it obvious that she wanted sex from me. Even hinted around at me coming over to her place after work.”
“So what did you do?”
“Oh, I thought about it. I thought about it long and hard for about a week. I even started some arguments with your momma just to ease my guilt – should I decide to jump in, you know? I remember going to work that day all excited. I had been pushing the crack in our marriage to make it grow, so that I could feel better about getting what I wanted – which was this secretary. As usual, the secretary and I had lunch in the plant lunchroom, and I was planning on giving her the go-ahead for that afternoon. “
Dad pauses and pats Momma’s hand as he looks at her with a smile.
“Then I open my lunch pail, and there is a note in it from your Momma. A love note. Here I am being a horse’s ass to her and damn near about to cheat on her. And out of nowhere, she writes me a beautiful love note. I almost started to cry right there in front of the secretary.
“Right then and there I decided that ‘till death do we part’ was going to mean just that. I told the secretary ‘no thank you.’ Then I got your Gramma to take you kids for the weekend, and I booked a room at a hotel on the beach in Gulfport. We really didn’t have the money, but I realized right-then-and-there that our marriage was more important than the money.
“We spent the entire weekend just talking. Everything came out. Every frustration, every fear we had was put on the table. Even my temptation with that secretary. Turns out, your momma was being hit on by the mailman. Ha!” Dad laughs. “See, she was going through the same temptations. We talked everything out and resolved every issue. Nothing was held back. Then we made a battle plan. A plan to make our marriage what we wanted it to be.”
Mom jumps in to continue Dad’s thoughts.
“That’s how we came up with all the advice we’ve been giving you; like never stop dating and talk about everything. We had to go through the same things you and Laura are going through. Fortunately, we did it before either of us fell through the crack.”
“Do you think it’s too late for Laura and I?”
Mom produces a pained but still sweet little smile as Dad shrugs.
“Oh, we don’t have no crystal ball. That question can only be answered by Laura. When you fell through the crack, you handed her the reigns of your marriage. You don’t get to say nothing but ‘I’m sorry’ and pray to God that she gives you a second chance.”
Mom continues.
“You messed up, Baby. You messed up big. But it’s now up to Laura to decide what your marriage looks like tomorrow. You just gave her the hardest decision she will ever have to make.”
The rest of the afternoon they tried to lift my spirits with small talk and funny stories from their past. Mom even made one of my favorite meals: chicken-fried steak with mashed potatoes and gravy. The distraction and comfort food was enough to lift my spirits for a little while. It was definitely a welcome relief.
I went home that night and poured myself a Scotch, sat on the couch, and prayed. Prayed for my family, prayed for Laura, and prayed for the right thing to do. I don’t know if it was the right thing or the Scotch talking, but an idea did come to me just as I fell asleep on the couch.