“Doug picked me up. I wanted to surprise you.” The lies I told made a sickness rush through my veins once again.
“You shits. I thought something was fishy. Come here, baby, I’ve missed you.” Patty rotated the computer chair in my direction and opened her arms for me. We hugged and kissed as I fell into her warm, comforting embrace where I lingered longer than I deserved. It was a shameful place for me to want to be.
Once the hug finished, she was a little over the top with excitement from a festival she and Douglas attended with two other women; one of which was Doug’s current girlfriend. This excitement actually got her out of the chair so she could encourage me to see pictures they snapped. Doug seemed to have put up a wall because he relaxed and cracked a few jokes during my review of each photo. His ability to shut down emotionally amazed me. I envied his gift and secretly wished I could do the same.
Patty remained in this ring of happiness as she explained the outstanding concerts and the debauchery they experienced together. Doug participated in the exaggerated storytelling, complete with high-pitched laughs and fond explanations of memories. Perhaps, I thought, he doesn’t think I’m serious about being a lesbian. While mulling over a thousand little crazies in my head as my husband and girlfriend hovered over me, a fascinating fact became clear. Patty’s “friend” in the photos was her mistress. The saying, “a picture is worth a thousand words,” is an understatement. I was totally shocked that she would cheat on me, but considering the circumstances, my mouth was sealed. Despite my own infidelities and conflicted opinions about the stability of our relationship, it really hurt my fucking feelings.
Touché, my darling freckle-faced lover. You got me.
During a pause in awkward conversation I said, “Oh, guys, I’m going to write a book. I’ve already started. Do you want to read what I wrote so far?” I began digging in my luggage for the storage drive that held my rough draft.
“What!” Patty exclaimed as if she actually cared. It was a good theatrical effort though.
“You are?” Douglas crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head. I was unsure how to read that gesture, considering the previous chain of unfortunate events.
“What’s it about?” she asked with a minute level of interest as she continued to click through a few more photos on the computer.
“My life.” I handed her the device. She pushed it into her computer’s USB port as the three of us stood around waiting for it to load. When it did, she read the first few lines out loud. That’s when she finally took it seriously and with more interest.
“Ode to the mighty dry hump! What the fuck, you’re a dork. The godsend to any little girl’s clitoral repertoire. Ha! That’s funny!” Her genuine excitement finally expelled, which made me smile.
Patty and Doug laughed loudly. They always understood my humor. After a few pages, Douglas excused himself to retire, claiming he didn’t want to read any more until it was finished. Patty read the first few pages and closed the program because she, too, would wait until it was done. “I want to read…you.” She grabbed me and tried to get frisky.
“I can’t. I’m going to sleep with Doug tonight.” My arms gently pushed her away.
“What the fuck, why?”
“Because, I just came out of the closet and he is fucked up right now.” I tried to whisper and be heard at the same time.
Patty’s hands immediately went to her mouth, muffling her words as she spoke. “What? When, in the car? Oh my God, is he okay?”
“Hell no, he isn’t okay.” I tried to hush my tone. “I just flipped his entire world upside down, so I’m going to sleep with him tonight, all right?”
“Fine. I love you, baby. Everything is going to be okay.” She gave me a genuine hug, releasing some of the tension trapped in my body.
“I love you, too and, no, it really isn’t. I just ended nine years of marriage in the most fucked-up way possible. Give us some time.” We kissed each other before I walked out into the cold and uninviting hallway. I took a breath before opening his door.
In my husband’s clean and perfectly organized room, I shamefully undressed and climbed into bed without saying a word. It was painfully awkward. For a while, we lay together uncomfortably numb. My eyes swirled as I looked into the darkness. For the first time in our lives we were at a loss for words. I’m sure each of us opened our mouths in an attempt to speak but hesitated and decided against it. I know I did. Finally, when hiding the way we felt about the situation couldn’t be buried any longer, we lost all composure and cried.
I faced my wall and he faced his, our backs inches from the comforting warmth of the one another. We remained in this position, trying desperately to stop weeping; futile in our attempts. If one calmed for a moment, it only took the other’s irregular breathing to reset the vicious cycle of heartbreak. Each of us tried desperately not to hyperventilate. We flooded ourselves in rivers of tears, frozen with the question of what to do next.
He was the first to make a move, as I was too afraid to. He rolled over, grabbed me, and pulled me tightly into his arms. I twisted around to return his squeeze. As we wrapped ourselves in the other’s embrace, our pain rekindled and the tears once again flowed uncontrollably.
All we could do was sob until our eyes began to burn. The top portion of our expensive comforter was saturated with mucus and tears. This was absolutely the most deeply connected, emotional moment of our entire marriage. We cried ourselves into a pit of exhaustion and fell to sleep intertwined in one another’s embrace.
The next two nights we were only able to manage a few words to each other, but bedtime always ended in the same way. Words expressed nothing the way tears did.
For those of us who have truly loved, the hardest thing to do is walk away.
CHAPTER 15
After you tell your spouse that you are gay, what is the next step? Where are the how-to books on this subject? We were both confused and depressed, but we were managing the best we could. We were coping in our own ways and collectively when possible. Couples handle things very differently and, despite everything, Doug and I were maturely and responsibly dealing with the process together. The day we decided to go through our assets felt like we were being proactive in our separation, and it oddly helped us push forward. Had we continued at our own pace, things would have been much easier, but Patty changed that. She thought I was leaving Doug to be with her. Au contraire.
When I revealed the fact that I wanted to be alone, she exploded in anger. She let it be known that I was making the biggest mistake of my life with an excess of loud screams and over-the-top hand gestures. She would not stand for my rejection the way Doug had and even shamed me for the treatment I gave him over the past few years. She said anything she could think of to hurt me the way I was hurting her. When I wouldn’t bend on my decision to leave both of them, she immediately expected me out of the house by the fifteenth of the month, a specific date that she yelled several times so it would be crystal clear.
The fifteenth of the month was a whopping two weeks from the berating conversation. It was also a rotten time to explain that it would take longer than two weeks to find a place, but it had to be said.
Believe me, she let me know that she didn’t give a shit by screaming at the top of her lungs, “THE FIFTEENTH!”
I respectfully turned from her room, tucked my tail in, and slept on the couch.
Coming out of the closet is the biggest suck-tastic adventure a person can know. Everyone reacts differently to the news. Some reactions you expect and some you don’t. The consequences thereafter are also a hot, shitty mess that no one prepares you for, like living in the most awkward arrangement with an ex-husband and ex-girlfriend while searching for a rental of your own.