My apartment was awful. It was tiny. It smelled old. It had weird carpet. The walls were dingy. There was no light. It was above a store. The parking was crappy. There was no yard worth using. The long dark path to the door was miserable.
Bless my parents. They tried to make it cheery. We added some railing lights. My dad put in some security things because any noise made me spiral into anxiety. They helped me find a small couch and table.
I sat in my apartment so many days and cried.
The worst cry was before Christmas. I sat over a box of Christmas ornaments. I had ornaments from my childhood, I had some that grandparents had gotten Bud and I had the “combined” ornaments. The ones that say “Just Married” or “Family.” I bawled.
What was my family now? Me and Bud? I know I had my parents and such, but I’m talking in my immediate household.
Mr. Homewrecker wanted to come over. All. The. Time.
He was seemingly single at this point. Maybe. There were probably some other sad women flocking to him and his smooth words.
I was pretty solid about not sleeping with him this time. He would get pissed. I would always say, “Once I’m divorced, then we can.” Honestly, I didn’t want to. I didn’t really even want to be with him, but he gave me attention….so.
Christmas went by. The new year came. Spring was supposed to be happy. New life.
I felt like I had no life. I went to work. Went to the gym. Most of the time I would linger at my parents’ house. I loved talking to my mom, plus I could avoid the doom and gloom of my new “home.”
It was now July. Mr. Let’s Have Sex was living above the bar I went to on the weekends. I was drunk on a Saturday night, and how convenient that his bed was right above our heads.
We did it. It was the quickest, stupidest sex of my life, but the deed was done.
Here I was – married, having sex with another man.
I so distinctly remember getting in my car the next morning. It was the only one the parking lot – that whole scene, you know. Whoever’s car was left in the parking lot must’ve been too trashed to drive. My honorable achievements just kept piling up.
He was so proud. Like he’d won some prize. His grin from ear to ear. He took my virginity at 18, and now he’d gotten what he wanted from his now married, once young mistress.
The. Guilt. Was. Insurmountable.
What now? Should I call my husband and be like, “Hey. I know you know I’m screwing around with my old “boyfriend,” but we just had sex. Thought you’d be interested.”
A friend told me about the wife of the Nickel Mines School shooter speaking at a local camp. At this point, I was clinging to any little tiny morsel of hope I could find. Any speck. I signed up.
“Only in the darkness can you see the stars.” -MLK Jr.