But the fun continued. Except for J. and S. They were having problems. They had been married less than a year, in fact, they had just come back from a delayed honeymoon right before we started hanging out. Hedonism II. P. knew of it, but the significance was lost on me. But now, less than two years into their entire relationship, S. was dissatisfied. I remember us hiding out in her closet while she told me she wasn’t sure if she loved J. She lost that ‘fairy tale feeling’ and missed it. I assured her it comes and goes. Hold on, it will come back. Marriage is full of hills and valleys. Why, look at P. and myself. We just got over a deep valley. Now, I loved him more than ever before. S. just needed to share her feelings with J. Communication was a must. She replied, “I just want what you have.” I sighed. She didn’t get it. What I was having now wouldn’t last forever. It comes and goes.
Soon after though, I noticed her giving P. looks. She expected him to react to her the same way he reacted to me. She’d dress in clothes that showed her to advantage, then point it out. For instance, once after I confided in her that I was self conscious about my upper arms and so avoided sleeveless shirts and dresses, she wore a white tank top the next time we met. It showed off her tan skin to advantage. She also asked if she should follow J.’s request and put her crochet white sweater over it, as without her bra her nipples were almost visible.
As for P., he was pulling away from me.
We’d go out and I’d think P.’s friendliness was too close to flirting. I’d get upset, S. would comfort and support me. Soon, P. and I began fighting about all sorts of things. S. would support me, tell me I wasn’t blowing things out of proportion. One night, P. decided to spend the night at S. and J.’s house. I wanted to beg him to stay but S. told me if I accepted his treatment of me, she’d tell him off herself.
One night she called us, freaking out that she heard a noise. Apparently the gun she had, the phone that could have called 911 instead of us, the Rottwieler…that wasn’t enough protection. She insisted my husband come to check it out. I came with, staying on the phone until we were out of range. P. went into the house alone and came out after about 15 minutes. It was nothing.
During all of this, we would still go out, with one exception. We’d go while J. was on his shift. S. didn’t seem to mind being a third wheel. We played tennis together, S. pouting in the backseat of my car as the Bryan Adams song “Run to You” played on the radio. I thought she was crying over her marriage. I felt sorry for her and hoped we’d have fun. When it came time to play, I became disgruntled because S. kept mocking my tennis playing skills. I was there to have fun and it was not fun for me at all. At least she had her high spirits back though.
One ridiculous moment happened at Olive Garden. P. said something about how he liked the olives in the salad although he always picked the soup instead. I was teasing him and said, “You can’t have mine, you want one, eat some salad.” S. jumped in, “He can have mine!” I kind of looked at her and said, “No, I’m his wife, if he wants an olive, he can have mine.” She insisted and gave him her olive. Weird and stupid I know, but that’s the kind of thing that even in the moment you think, “What’s going on here?”
One night we went to the local sandwich-brew joint, S. was pouting in the backseat the whole way. When we got home, P. pulled out his telescope. He was showing S. the stars. I asked to see them too and he backed away. I tried to look but was too short. I moved away as he guided S. to the telescope. I sat on the curb, trying not to look at my husband standing behind my friend, looking at the stars together. I couldn’t even tell you how long it was, just that they didn’t notice when I went inside. I told myself it was nothing. Even if my friend had a crush on my husband, I could trust him.
Soon after that, P. picked another fight. Again, he went to spend the night at S. and J.’s house. This time though, J. was at work. I sat at home crying. I finally decided to fight. I went to their house. I pounded on the door and insisted on seeing P. right away. She led me to the upstairs guest room. I scanned the room, relieved to only see P. cleaning his gear for the next day’s shift. I got on my knees, clinging to his. I begged him to come home and talk. He coldly refused. I reluctantly left, S. shutting the door firmly behind me.
I found another note to his high school teacher. She had long been a sore point for me. Always the “What If” woman. I held back though. I had been jealous for too long. I was taking a psych class and my project was to change my behavior for two weeks. I did it. I kept calm. I was proud of myself. I wanted to make myself better for our marriage. I wanted a husband that wanted to be with me. After all, less than two months ago we were in love like newlyweds, right? It could happen again. If I was just good enough. If I just held my temper.
That Moment the World Drops from Under your Feet
As usual, Denny’s was taking forever. I suddenly couldn’t take it anymore. I was still in denial. My mind was retreating. So my body did too. I got up and fled from the truth. I ran to the fast food joint next door. I saw P. looking for me, so I tried to run in there. Closed for renovation. I ran to a nearby hotel, tried to hide in there. I waited. I came out. P. was waiting in the parking lot, S. in the car. I tried to run across the field, tried to get anywhere. P. caught me. He held me in his arms. He kissed me and cradled me and told me that yes, he loved me. Yes, we would work on our marriage. I nestled in his arms and looked past him. S. was standing with her arms crossed. A scowl on her face. Even then, the truth, the words would not form in my head. It was all her I thought. P. wouldn’t go there. Not and still hold me like this.
We drove home. P. dropped me off first and was supposed to drop S. off. I waited. And waited. Those words still were banned from my mind. I did gather all the pills in the apartment. I sat in my car. I contemplated how to do it. A country road I thought. P. and I always talked about going down a long country road. It was a joke and a promise. We had done it one starlit night. Well, today it would be a different country road for a different purpose. I got in my car with the pills, cloth to stuff in the tailpipe and a drink. I drove down the road, heading away from town. Vaguely I remembered two girls had been found killed somewhere near this area. I wondered if I would be drawn to that place. As I drove past the community college, my mind clicked in. The unthinkable wasn’t happening to me. I had to take a chance I was mistaken. I could do it later if it wasn’t true. I turned around in the parking lot of the community college and headed home.
Soon after, P. came home. He sat on the couch, his eyes sad. He told me, “We have to talk.” I remembered the last time he told me that. I thought it would be bad news but it turned out to be the best news- he loved me. Surely it would be the same this time. Nothing awful could happen after he held me like that earlier.
“I’m in love with someone else.”
I gulped. I denied still. “Who?” the word barely croaked out.
“S.”
The world fell.
I hit him, I pummeled him as much as I possibly could. I wanted to cause him pain like I was feeling. He just put his arms over his head and took it. There was no way my 5′3 frame could cause his 6′3 frame the pain that was destroying me at that moment.
At some point I stopped and just started sobbing. I went to the bathroom, got the pills. Got into my car where my drink was waiting. P. came out, saw me sitting there, dazed.
“What did you do? WHAT DID YOU DO?”
I limply waved my hand to the empty bag, “Took some pills.”
“Which ones?”
“All of them.”
P. called the ER. They told him to give me syrup of ipecac and monitor me. He rushed to the store and got some. He stayed with me until I threw up for the first time. Then he left. I think for two days. It’s all a blur. He was gone. I was alone.
I lay on the couch, dazed, out of it. Some of the pills had had a chance to get into my system. My body was heavy. I kept drifting in and out of consciousness. I got up to throw up. I cursed the fact all my pills were gone. I looked for his gun and couldn’t find it. I went back to the bathroom. I looked into the mirror, trying to determine if my pupils were dilating. What I saw freaked me out. Someone else was looking back from behind my eyes. There was me. Then there was someone else. Someone who felt wrong.
I stumbled my way to the other end of our apartment building and walked into the open door of my neighbors and friends, B. and O. They were in the process of moving. B. had a friend helping while O. was at work. He was clueless, didn’t get my slurred ramblings. He called O. and put me on the phone with her. She talked to me then firmly said, “Put B. on the phone.” I did. I could hear her tell him what I had done and to take care of me. B. sat me in the living room as they loaded the truck. When the first load was ready, they loaded me in like another piece of furniture. When the got to their new home, I was put on the floor of the living room like yet another box. I just sat there. They dragged me back and forth until O. came home. I don’t remember anything after that.
