I haven’t seen my husband in five years. Clive left me after I got involved in another tasteless practical joke with my brothers. My family have been jokers as long as I can remember and for some dumb reason, I’ve always let them drag into their madness.

Growing up my brothers were all I had. We lived in a rural area so there were few people to interact with. Even our school had less than a hundred people in it. So most human interaction had to be with my family. Because of this, we were very close.

Then I met Clive. Yeah, I know, his name is unusual, but so is Clive. I met him shortly after I left home. I’m the first one of my family to go to college and that’s only because I got an academic scholarship. Clive knocked me down when we first met, literally.

He was talking to someone not pay attention to where he was walking and ran right into me. He must’ve apologized a dozen times as he helped me up and somewhere along the way he talked me into a lunch date. We were a couple after that getting married after graduation.

We rarely argued. The only issue that ever caused any friction were my brothers and their practical jokes. My brothers actually liked Clive. So much so they wanted him to join in on the jokes but he always refused. Of course that was like waiving a red flag in front of bull. Next thing I knew they made Clive the butt of all their jokes.

I couldn’t understand why he would get upset. The jokes were harmless. I even joined in on the jokes occasionally getting a big laugh out of it. Looking back, I had rarely stood up for my husband, telling him that my brothers didn’t mean anything personal and he should just smile and forget it even happened.

Eventually my brothers started to take things too far and I had to step in to stop them. They agreed and we all sailed along smoothly until they pulled the worst joke they could have. Telling a son their mother was killed in car wreck was absolutely cruel and mean. If I had known what they were up to I would’ve stopped them.

For the first time in my life I was ashamed of my family and their jokes. It took over a year just to get Clive and them to talk again. But Clive issued a warning to us all. None of us thought he was actually serious but agreed to his demands just so we could be a family again.

It took time for wounds to heal, but eventually it was like old times, except no jokes. Then we all got stupid. I didn’t care for the nature of the joke but I wanted the feel of the old days so I agreed to play along. Since everyone knew I would never cheat on Clive, we figured he wouldn’t believe the video and would just laugh it off.

Never in my life would I have thought Clive would leave me. It was just a joke! It wasn’t until I begged his mother to talk to me and she did she reminded me of his promise. How could I forget that when Clive made a promise, he meant it?

I ripped into my family that night after the full realization of my actions sunk in. They were unrepentant telling me if Clive couldn’t take a joke, then fuck him. I walked away from them at that moment and haven’t spoken to them since.

Clive was my husband and when I needed to, I didn’t put him first in my thoughts or my actions. After cutting ties with my family, I looked back at how I had treated the man I claimed to love and came up with on conclusion, he was right to flee.

I fell into a depression of epic proportions. I had driven my husband away and between therapy and medication I was able to function, but just barely. All I’ve done since he disappeared was go to work and go home. I felt I deserved nothing else because I was a terrible person. Sure, therapy helped me to realize I wasn’t a bad person, just someone who made a bad decision and suffered the consequences.

Not a day went by that I didn’t think of Clive. Was he healthy? Was he happy? The worst, was he involved with another woman? Part of me hoped he wasn’t, but if that woman made him happy, how could I be upset? He couldn’t be happy with me, so why not with someone else?

As far as I know I’m still married to Clive. I’ve never received divorce papers and I have no intention to ever file for abandonment. As long as I still wear his ring, I have hope that he’ll forgive me and come home. But still, five years is a long time without a word from my husband and the few friends I have keep trying to get me to move on. They says I’m too young to hold on to a dream.

But I can’t move on. I failed in my vows once by not cherishing my husband and it has cost me dearly. I will not fail again. For better or for worse for as long as I live. If I never get him back, then so be it.

Money has been tight since Clive left, but so far I’ve been able to hold onto our home. If it ever gets to the point I can’t afford the mortgage, I’ll sell and put Clive’s portion in an account for him.

I can’t afford a private detective so I use online searches and social media sites instead. I have posted his picture on all the sites I can hoping someone will see him and let me know where he is.

Since I had no home life, I usually put in a lot of hours at work. I’ve received a few promotions and began traveling for the company. It’s usually short trips to various hot spots when they need a fixer to go straighten out their books.

While I’m away from home I always keep my eyes open in the hope I’ll find my husband. I know he promised that I will never see him again, but that doesn’t mean God won’t answer my prayers and let my eyes gaze upon him just once more.

I took five years of tireless searching, but I finally received an email from someone who says they think found my husband. The included a picture of Clive sitting at a bar. If the photo was a true representation of the current state of my husband, then he was handling our separation much better than I. But, what did I expect? I’m the one who ruined a wonderful marriage, so why shouldn’t I be the one suffering?

I made contact with the sender and asked for details and if they knew Clive personally. They were hesitant to answer all my questions but eventually gave me a little information. Whomever I was communicating with were stead fast about remaining anonymous. They were afraid I meant Clive harm since he abandoned me and worried all I was out for was revenge. It took some convincing but I finally got the name of the bar where the photo was located.

The trip would be a long one but I made plans, took vacation time from work and hit the road. Two days later I drove into a small town in South Dakota. Even after such a long drive I was too hyped up to crash in the small motel I made reservations for. I drove straight to the bar Clive frequented.

The parking lot only had a few cars but considering the time of day, I wasn’t surprised. I didn’t see Clive’s car but that didn’t mean anything because he could have bought a new one. One thing for sure, if he was in the bar, I knew I couldn’t walk up to him and say, “Hi.” That would most likely piss him off and ruin any chance I had at a peaceful encounter.

I didn’t want to hurt Clive anymore than I had already. All I wanted to do was see him one more time and if given the chance, apologize and tell him I love him. If I couldn’t do it in person, I’d written a letter telling him everything that had happen since he left, and all about my disowning my family and going into therapy. I had made it especially clear that I had not filed for divorce nor would I and that I had no intention to ever date another man. All I want is his happiness.

I stepped inside and waited for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. I found a booth toward the back and ordered a drink. I rarely drank, but decided a little alcohol would help calm my nerves. I was worried that one of two things would happen. One, Clive would show up, see me and become enraged or two, he would show up and freak out and run away again.

It was pretty slow and the waitress had time to relax so me being a stranger and acting very nervous, she came over and struck up a conversation with me. Her name was Martha and she told me that she and her husband had owned the bar for the past twenty years and had seen pretty much all there was to see so I could feel free to tell her anything. For some reason, I did not hesitate telling her Clive’s and my story and why I came to town and her bar.

After I finished spilling my guts I had a short crying jag. Martha let me gather myself together before she asked me what my intentions were. I told her I just wanted to see my husband one last time. But in saying that out loud, I realized if I did that then I would be responsible for him breaking his promise. If that happened, he would have another reason to hate me and I couldn’t allow it. I had caused him enough pain.

I reached into my purse and pulled out the envelope with the letter I wrote to Clive. Since, according to the stranger Clive did frequent this bar, I took the chance to believe them. I pulled the envelope holding my letter of apology and slid it over to Martha. “Please give this to my husband when he comes. He may not read it but I would be eternally grateful if you would at least tell him I am sorry for all the pain I have caused and that I will love him until my dying day.”

With that I ran out of the bar without another word. I was near hysterical by the time I reached my car and drove away, barely able to see past the falling tears. Exhaustion was setting in so I did the sensible thing and checked into the motel for the night and caught a few hours of sleep before I headed back home.

That night, I had dreams of Clive. That was not uncommon but this time they were different from the usual dreams I had. They were not dreams of past happier times, but were of scenes of Clive and I, both of us much older sitting on our back porch holding hands. All I know is that I woke up filled with even more heartache knowing that the future from my dream was never going to happen. I had been a cruel thoughtless spouse and my actions drove him away.

I wasn’t in the mood for breakfast so I grabbed my bag and hit the road. The drive back may have been the loneliest time I have spent since Clive ran away. My need to see my husband and the drive to South Dakota was another selfish act on my part. At least I was able to leave my apology behind which again selfish, but it was needed I think for both our souls. If God had any mercy left for me, he would make sure Martha delivered the envelope to Clive and he would read it.

Sure I want my husband back and I would spend everyday for the rest of my life devoted to nothing but his happiness, but if all I got was his forgiveness, then I would accept it.

The drive home wasn’t filled with the same anticipation as the drive to South Dakota. The only thing I was filled with was depression. It took an extra couple days to pull into my garage, but I was glad it was over. I still had a few days to recover before I went back to work. My job, and the hope of Clive coming back, was all I had left to live for.

The months went by just like all the others and my life continued in the same fashion. Every night I prayed for forgiveness and to see my husband one last time.

I went back to my therapist and worked to help me keep my depression at a tolerable level but I was finding it more and more difficult to do so. Whatever hope I may have gained with my trip to South Dakota was slipping away with each passing day.

Christmas had come and gone and still nothing. I guess my envelope never made it into Clive’s hands and my prayers for a joyous New Year were not granted. I stopped going to my counselor figuring what good was it doing me. It’s been almost six years since that stupid practical joke that ruined my life. What I wouldn’t do to take back that one event in my life.

Winter changed to spring and that was about the only difference I had in my life. My job performance was slipping because of my depression and I was in danger of not paying the mortgage. If I sold the home while the market was hot, I could at least make enough out of the proceeds to get started someplace else. Clive’s portion would go into an interest bearing account until he claimed it.

There was a little issue with being able to sell it because Clive wasn’t around to sign the paperwork, but with an attorney’s help a judge allowed the sale of the house because of his long disappearance. He also took in consideration that I had been paying the mortgage all by myself for so long.

After talking to human resources I was able to take a couple weeks of personal time. I hopped in my car and drove away. I had no destination in mind and really didn’t care where I ended up. All I know is that at the end of the first day I was totally exhausted. I found some cheap motel right off the highway and was able to get a couple hours of sleep.

The next day I think I drove just as many miles as I did on the first. This time I spent the night in a small park in some small town in Connecticut. Realizing I was in Connecticut was a bit of a shock to me. In two days, I had driven almost eighteen hundred miles. Even exhausted, I had trouble sleeping. What little bit I did get still held dreams. Strangely, it was the same dream I had with Clive and I sitting on on our porch holding hands.

After breakfast at a small diner in town, I hit the road. This time I headed west, stopping after I crossed into Indiana. I swear the roads in Ohio are by far the worst! Indiana wasn’t too bad. I caught a good nights sleep and took the day off to look around. After three days of hard driving I needed a respite. I even spent a few hours in a casino and wasted a few coins on a slot machine. I actually left the place with more in my pocket than what I went in with.

That night I sat on the balcony of my hotel room contemplating my next move. Part of me wanted to give up and give Clive a divorce while the other part wanted to keep hope alive. No matter what happened, I needed to get my head on straight in regards to my job. The next morning I headed back home or at least back to town. I still had to find a place to live.

It didn’t take that long to make it back. Prior to arriving I called a friend and asked if she knew of an apartment for rent. Luckily she lived in a complex that had one available so she made a call to the landlord, vouched for me and I had a place to stay before I parked my car.