I meet many new people. Lorna, the manager at the salon took me under her wing. She invited me to her home when I needed to get away. She didn't live far from our home. She made sure that I had some thing in my stomach every day, even if it were just a morsel.
When I transferred to the women's department, I met Judy. She was probably in her late forties. She and I would laugh constantly at work. We went to dinner a few times, out to a movie, went to her house and she too, cared about my well being. She lived by herself, but was involved with a married man and had been for years.
I met another woman who worked at Penney's. She was literally a mail order bride from Russia. She had been a teacher in Russia, but in the states her degree meant nothing. She was married to a man who was very controlling and she felt trapped given her circumstances, but her dream was to come to American no matter what the costs were involved, to include giving up her desires.
I met women from all walks of life with their own story and their own set of issues. A neighbor, single, selling gamma knives for a living and living quite well on her salary, had noticed that I was "different" one day as I was in the yard working. She commented on how Chappy and I were not the same as we had been before and wondered if I was OK. She told me that she had been having an affair with a married man for eighteen years and where ever he moved, she moved. They drove the same car in case the wife drove by, she wouldn't know that he was there visiting.
Here was a woman who made a significant amount of money, lived in a very nice house on the outside appeared to have it all, but what she really wanted and that was for the man she loved to leave his wife and marry her.
I came to realize, many women compromised what they truly wanted, to be loved by a man. Was it worth it? Had I compromised what I had dreamed and desired all these years? It had been ten years since I had met Chappy and in those ten years, did I have the marriage or relationship that I wanted?
Would I have married him had I known that we were going to move so much? Would I have married him knowing that he would never be home? Never go with me to visit my family or friends? Would I have said yes, had I known that he had never severed that umbilical cord that attached him so deeply to his mother? What I had as a marriage, is not what I would have described to you as my "dream." I was alone all the time. I had a husband that loved me, but loved and feared his mother more. I had a husband who didn't understand what a relation was between a husband and wife.
Killer had told me shortly after we had married that he had wished that I had been married before. I thought that was so odd, but he followed up with, "it takes a marriage to make a marriage." He explained that your first marriage is an eye opener and you are looking at it through rose tinted glasses, your second marriage, you know what it takes and so you are more selective in your choices for a partner. He agreed, some could stick it out in the first, but were they truly happy? I thought he was off base, but I understood today, just what he meant.
This was my second marriage. I knew it wasn't a cake walk and so I was more willing to work at it. I was willing to allow Min to say the things she did to keep peace in the family. I looked the other way when the first time I would have taken issue with a man who had so many women friends yet wanted me to have no male friends.
Chappy had not been married, so he didn't understand it wasn't always a walk in the park, some days it was a hurricane and you were in the eye of the storm, yet you held on and got through it. I knew he'd never understand this because this was his first, he'd not experienced the pain of divorce to understand you never wanted to go there again. Even though I had discussed this prior to our wedding, he had never felt the heartache that I had experienced.
What happened that one day he just decided to move on? I really was clueless as he never told me what he truly felt inside. I reflected on my marriage to Killer. Did he know? Probably not. He knew I was going to leave him after that first year, but I stayed and he got comfortable. Did he know that I purposely scheduled myself on the road all week so I did not have to come home? It didn't click one day with me, I'd planned my departure for several years, I was waiting for Worm to leave where she'd be safe.
I had asked Killer to consider counselling. He wouldn't. I had even tried to reconcile, but he was who he was and he told me he'd never change. That option of knowing the whys and the possibility of working through it were not available to me in this relationship. What had I done that you could walk away from "this." I hadn't killed his mom, although there were days I could have strangled her. I hadn't cheated on him. What was so terrible? I was attractive. I was funny. I was kind. I didn't bitch. I didn't have rules that had to be adhered to or else. I didn't party with the girls. I didn't spend money foolishly. What was it? I will never know, I can only speculate and draw from my own experiences.
All of my neighbors noticed a change in me and in us. People I had only known for a few short months, but no longer than a year, saw a difference and they were on the outside looking in, imagine what I felt and saw on the inside.
Chappy refused to discuss any thing. He was unhappy and he wasn't sure he wanted to be married. Period. I was waiting for him to decide what he was going to do. But I was not going to be left hanging there if he decided he was moving on without me. I contacted a real estate agent in Indianapolis and had them gather information on housing. I wasn't going to stay in Atlanta if he moved on. I needed to know what I was looking at in costs to move, housing, job market. I was merely gathering information for my future as he was processing information on his future.
In late May, he was out mowing the lawn. I was inside. My mind, filled with questions, wanting answers and having no where to turn. I wasn't into cell phones. I hate phones. I had one, never used it, probably didn't even know my own phone number, but on the counter laid Jack's company cell phone. I had no idea what I was looking for or what I could find, I just started playing with it. My insides churning, wondering what I might find, if I wanted to find anything and scared that he'd walk in and find me snooping.
I found the "address book." Hmm. What is this? He had every name of every employee listed in this address book. I recognized every name. He had them organized alphabetically by first name and by source. The name was in there two to three times, Tom - Cell, Tom - Home, Tom - Office. His mom was in there, his sister but I came across some thing that I did not recognize.
There were three entries, not grouped together and not familiar. Courtney - cell. I knew who Courtney was, she reported to him, was in Denver, moved to Tampa and had dinner with him in his room. But there was no entry for Courtney - office or Courtney home. Hmm. As I scrolled I found Dewey - Home. Who is Dewey? I had never heard him speak of a Dewey and then I found CD - office. Who was CD? It didn't click because I didn't know Courtney's last name.
It was a Saturday, 1:30 in the afternoon. How do I remember? My finger accidentally slipped from the scroll key to I'm guessing the "please dial, I'm curious as to who you are" key. I was dialing Dewey! I quick hung the phone up. Whew! That was a close call. I sure hope Dewey didn't reach for the phone to discover a dial tone. I needed to stop playing with the contraption that I had no idea how it worked and move on with life. I placed the phone back, just as I had found it and it rang! Courtney was calling! Why would Courtney be calling on a Saturday? And then it clicked, Courtney was Dewey, Courtney Dewey aka CD. That is how I discovered who was my husband's mistress.
All the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. The planes he missed on Friday night, were always from Tampa. She lived north of Tampa. The hotel, where they were served room service, in Tampa. The distinction of her name in his address book, revealed an intimacy between them. He didn't have her listed like every one else, first name, source, he had variations of her name, perhaps nicknames.
She left a message. What did she say? What if she asked him if he called? Why would she return his call within seconds? For cripes sake if my boss called me on a Saturday, I wouldn't call him back in nano seconds. I had to figure out how to get that message off the phone. She didn't call back once, she called back twice. I didn't know his "password." I worked all night trying to figure this out. He of course didn't check his phone, it was a business phone, who was going to call him, his mistress, she wouldn't do that!
Monday, he called me from work. "Did you happen to knock my phone off the counter on Saturday about 1:30?"
"No." I was getting pretty good at this game of denial. "Why? You know I don't like phones. I don't even know how to use yours."
"Courtney just called. She called me on Saturday at home and she wondered if I was pissed off with her because I didn't call her back. I told her I didn't call her, but she said the called ID said I called. I thought maybe you knocked the phone on the floor."
"Wait, Courtney, the one you work with?"
"Yeah, why?"
"She called you, her boss and wanted to know if you were upset with her because you didn't call her right back on a SATURDAY? Don't you find that odd?"
"No."
"Chappy? This woman reports to you. You allegedly call her on a Saturday and she calls you back. You don't call her right back and first thing Monday she is calling you at the office to see if you are "upset with her?"
"Yeah.'
"Are you fucking her? Because I can't imagine a woman calling her boss and asking if he was pissed off at her because he didn't return a call." My voice was dripping sarcastic bitch, topped with "you really must think I'm an idiot."
'That's just her. She cares."
Oh my Goodness. I bet she does!
The thoughts that wander through my mind. Some have suggested I write a book. I think I'll blog first
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