I think it was her smile. Or maybe it was the come-hither look reserved for me. Now I remember clearly, it was the way she called my name-like it was the best name ever. That was what drew me to her; I was pulled by an invisible string.
She was smart, beautiful with killer curves; but I had no business admiring her, bound by the band on my finger. A band that forever tied me to another. The ring shone even brighter when I slipped it on my finger as I left her hotel before dawn. It was a dalliance that formed a pleasurable part of my day; the unpleasurable part was the look on my wife’s face when I walked into the house. I pushed the guilt away.
I am a Christian, I knew in my heart I wanted to keep my vows; but the flesh ruled against my principles with all its might. It was my only guilty pleasure; a way to forget the sham of marriage I had. Even with that thought in mind, I struggled trying to replace my secretary’s image with that of my wife.
She was hot while my wife was ice-cold. Her stare was glorious while my wife’s was blank-dead. There was always something to talk about with her while my wife and I had silence for company. And the sex was… Stop the comparison, my mind begged, she was not always that cold! At least, be true to yourself!
What was I doing? Right there, the truth hit me right in the face.
In that moment I knew, I didn’t think again. It was the way I talked with her, the overly friendly glance at the newest member of the company. It was in the way I forgot to put on my ring; sometimes on purpose because I loved the attention. It was in the way I did not mention the new appointment of my female secretary to my wife; which birth the lies.
It was the late nights kept; for the sake of work, I told myself. Thinking back, I remembered the birthdays of my wife forgotten without apologies. Some would say my marriage was one made in heaven- beautiful wife and adorable children. A boy and a girl, perfect combination! And they were right, we were a perfect family. The picture frame on my work desk, which I held in my hands portrayed that-the Paris trip with happy memories- and I was about losing them.
I remember the tears she cried when she pleaded that work took me away from her. She needed me when her mother died but I was working to put food on our table. I was too busy to offer a hug. She begged me to try just a little. I should have listened, I should have; even when she bought a cake on her birthday and addressed it to herself telling my kids it was their father’s gift to her, which made me a super-hero that day. I later got her an expensive watch which produced a robotic “thank-you”, leading to another war episode with me shouting about her ingratitude.
Walking back home from work, I asked for strength to begin anew. I had killed her love by my actions and the little things I ignored that mattered the most. All that was going to change! I wanted to be the man that she smiled at with a heart filled with happiness. Most of all, I wanted to be that man she said “I do!” eight years ago. The man who would never break his vow.
The sun shun brighter today. This calming peace settled within me. In my heart, I knew I never wanted to be any where else but home. But then, burning at the back of my mind was the question; was I too late?
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