Chapter 2

I resisted a dozen urges to do something that I knew I’d regret later.

I’d briefly been in the denial stage as I processed what I heard Lisa and Mitch say to each other at the prior week’s gathering of friends. I realized that I’d ignored Lisa’s attitude changes towards me, a significant decline in our frequency of sex – including her always declining my advances on Tuesdays and Thursdays, her work late nights. A few times, she been more occupied with her cellphone in the evenings more than usual. I’d ignored it.

I entered the anger stage in my grief process – grief that my marriage was over, that my wife was an unfaithful slut, that the mother of our children was fucking some other man, that my best friend was stabbing me in the back, and that the life of everyone in my family and circle of friends was about to change in a major way.

I did not immediately confront her. I didn’t hit her with my son’s baseball bat, although I wanted vengeance. I resisted doing the same to Mitch, as well. I needed to do something significant, but didn’t know what that was yet.

Instead, I pretended that things were okay between us and that the family was doing just fine. I made it to Monday morning, but couldn’t pretend as I’d been doing – at least in that state of mind.

I arranged at home for a work trip out of town for the rest of the week. It was sudden, so I wouldn’t have to see Lisa Monday night, but I would miss the kids. The trip was fake. I told Greg how to contact me and about my suspicion about Thursday nights. If there was anything important that he needed me for, he knew how to reach me.

I called Lisa at her office and ended up leaving a voice mail on her phone about my trip. I tried to sound ‘normal’ but my head was anything but. Every organ in my body was physically reacting to her betrayal. I felt sure I was losing weight, since I could barely eat. At least, that might turn out to be a slight benefit.

I got a room at the Motel 6 on the other side of town and wondered whether she and Mitch had fucked on the bed in the room. There was a park nearby and after work each day, I walked and walked and walked, stewing about the changing tide in the family.

Back in the motel room, I started a journal on my laptop about my feelings and emotions, and created a ‘to do’ list. I also cried at the losses in my life: the normalcy of life, my loving wife, maybe time with my children, and more. When I was sure there was no one nearby I screamed out and called Lisa every derogatory name that came to mind, because that was what she had become to me: a slut, whore, cheater, tramp, and colossal bitch. She was a liar, con artist, and a sinner of the worst kind.