Chapter 6: Closing Shop

Our relationship had changed though somehow intangibly. It never was the same again. Every time I tried to seek out that close intimacy we had before, it was like a fata morgana, always there but always out of reach.

A few weeks after the visit to doctor's office, Andrea enrolled in realtor's classes. We hadn't discussed this, but we had discussed a few times about Andrea now looking for work. It did come as a surprise to me that she decided to try real estate. But, if it made her happy and she enjoyed it, it made me happy.

It did seem unusual to come home and find her not there. She had passed her exams easily and found employment, almost without looking. Her hours always varied. Sometimes, she would have little to do and other days she wouldn't get home until some time after seven in the evening. Saturdays were also no longer our time alone. At times, when her customers couldn't get off during the week, she was forced into showing them houses on Saturdays.

Her business ventures also pushed us into socializing more with people we normally would not be socializing with. This involved a lot more invitations to parties and also dining out in the evenings.

Andrea also spent a considerable amount more on her wardrobe than she had before. Her side of the closet was in months overflowing into the guestroom closet and dresser drawers.

Slowly, and because of Andrea's newfound independence, our relationship was again and continually changing.

At first, Andrea would tell me in detail every little bit of what was going on in her days. She met (naturally) quite a few people and I found it interesting to hear about them and what Andrea thought of them.

This did not stay that way, and after Andrea had been working for around a quarter of a year, I heard little of what was going on. It was getting to the point, where I had to finally express concern over not knowing her whereabouts one evening, as it was close to ten o'clock before she got home. I told her that I was worried about something happening to her.

I was beginning to feel that her odd hours were driving a wedge between us and it didn't seem as though Andrea was concerned about this, or wanting to make amends for it.

About four months after Andrea started working as a real estate agent, Aunt Madge moved into a senior community residence apartment in her hometown. Since Andrea was new to her job she could not take time off, but I took a week off and drove to her to see what was going on.

I was surprised at how much Aunt Madge seemed to have aged since the last time I had seen her. There was a certain aura of transparency about her. As if she were there, but not there. Her mind seemed clear and she was not senile, but she seemed to be distant, as if her thoughts were in a distant time. She was getting very frail and having now a hard time walking. It was obvious why her friends at her church had persuaded her into finally closing down the farm and moving into town. There was no way that she could continue living out there in the country and drive into town for her needs.

While I was there, her lawyer filled me in on some of the details. The farmhouse had been shut down and left. It was so old and in disrepair that it wasn't worth the time and trouble to fix up. All her furniture and her car had either been sold or given away. She had only taken with her into the new apartment what she needed and her personal items. The land had been leased out to a neighboring ranch. So it was taken care of.

He also told me not to worry, that no matter how Aunt Madge's health continued, she would be taken care of. Money was not a problem and there were more than enough town's people willing to take care of her.

Maybe it was my being away from Andrea for a full week that I noticed so easily the changes in her. It seemed to strike me as if her job had now reached a point where it entirely dominated her every waking minute.

The next month saw her coming home evenings later and later, more and more often. There were nights when I was asleep when she came home. She was gone so much that by that time I had seemingly taken over all of the household chores. It seemed like only on Sundays that she was in the house for more than just sleeping, showering and changing her clothes.

At the first Saturday that she came home from showing people houses, showered and changed clothes then left, we had a big argument that lasted beyond the next Saturday. There she was also dressed obviously to go to another social dinner party, alone without me. The atmosphere between us had now taken on a frosty tone.

Our sex life during these months was still there, but it too was different.

I naturally felt insecure about how the doctor's visit and Andrea's job had changed us. Yet, our sex life had been wonderful before and I was seemingly dependent on having sex with Andrea. It was an integral part of our shared intimacy.

What caused me though considerable trepidation was the change in Andrea's attitude towards sex with me. At times, she seemed to passively accept the sex. She enjoyed it but did not take any active role in it. At other times, she became aggressive and dominating, almost masculine in her behavior, forcing me into a completely feminine and passive role. It was always one extreme or the other. Intimacy and shared lovemaking seemed not to exist for her anymore. Because of the lack of intimacy and lack of tenderness involved, it was frustrating, and demeaning for me. Even though I cannot remember a strong decrease in the frequency, our sex life seemed minimal. It was there, but without emotion.

My college estimate of three months had been wrong by about two years and three months. I'll never know the exact date of when she first disregarded her marriage vow of fidelity. All I'll ever know is how I found out.

I will always remember that day clearly. It was a Wednesday. I had returned from work and found Andrea already come and gone again.

She had been in a hurry, showered and changed, then left in an obvious rush. Her clothes she left strewn around the bedroom floor.

She must have also changed purses because the one she normally uses was sitting perched open on the dresser.

As I was picking up the clothes that she had left on the floor in her hast, I bumped into her purse and knocked it over. Everything fell out of it.

When I went to pick up the stuff and put it back in her purse, I found a packet of partially used birth control pills and a package of condoms, four of which were missing.

I stayed up that night until after two o'clock in the morning. Andrea had still not come home, so I left the packet of pills and the condoms on the kitchen table, where she had to see them when she came in. I slept, but I did not sleep well.

The next morning when I got up they were gone. Andrea was in bed sleeping. I called in sick at work. I sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee. Later I heard the shower run and Andrea getting dressed. I still sat and waited.

A few minutes later Andrea came rushing into the kitchen apparently in a hurry, "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at work?"

All I could say was, "Don't you think we need to talk?"

She gave me an impatient and angry look, "I don't have time for that right now. I'm late for an appointment."

She turned and walked to the front door. There she stopped for a moment, before turning back to me. Staring somewhere over my shoulder and off into the distance, she sighed, "Anyway, I haven't decided yet what I want to do, so there's no need to talk." With that she walked out the door.

Ever since I had found the birth control pills and the partially used package of condoms I felt numb. I kept thinking that I should feel something more, maybe rage, anger or hurt, but I was only numb.

I knew now that she was cheating on me. Why wasn't I reacting? Maybe it was because I could not seem to conclude a thought. Whenever I tried to think about what I had found out, one thought seemed to lead to another thought, then to another though, and so on. I could never come to a conclusion. It was also like this was happening to me, and not to me, but rather to some other person.

I sat there drinking coffee until my cup was finished. Then I got up and called my office saying that I would not be in on Friday either. The only person that I was close enough to, to be able to talk with, about something like this, was Aunt Madge. I packed some clothes in a bag. I left a note on the table saying where I was going then left.

I never got to talk to Aunt Madge. On the way down, I started to think about how she would react. I could not do this to her. Better I keep what I knew, what was going on, to myself. I stopped, and spent an almost sleepless night at a motel, in a small town off highway 287.

That Friday morning, after finally getting a couple of hours sleep, I decided to force Andrea into talking with me. Maybe we needed consoling. Maybe we needed to just talk and clear the air. Maybe, it wasn't as bad, as I thought it was. Maybe, she did love me but had some reason why she was cheating on me. Maybe, there was something we could do, to get things back in line. I didn't want to lose Andrea. I loved her too deeply. I needed her. I depended on her. She was my one and only, the love of my life. Without her... I could not think.

I spent my time traveling very slowly and trying to think clearly. I stopped off a couple of times to breathe some fresh air or to get a cup of coffee.

I arrived home at around six o'clock in the evening. I dropped my bag at the front door and went looking for Andrea. Andrea was not there.

I realized that I had not eaten anything that day. So thinking Andrea would not be home early; I decided to go eat at a café not far from us.

I returned at about half past nine and there were lights on in the living room and in the bedroom. Andrea was home.

When I opened the door, I almost stumbled over my own bag I had left there. Lying on the living room floor were two pair of women's heels and two pair of men's shoes. Draped over the couch were various clothing articles from obviously multiple persons of both sexes. On the living room table and on the kitchen table were four empty glasses and a half full wine bottle. No one was in the living room or in the kitchen. Down the hallway, I could see that the bedroom door was open and I walked towards it.

Standing at the bedroom door, I could see Andrea and another woman, locked in a 69 position with Andrea on top. Behind each of the women, was a man fucking her. The men were not wearing condoms. I could see the mixture of cum and Andrea's juices squelching out from between the man's cock and Andrea's sex lips as he fucked into her.

No one had noticed me. I stumbled back into the living room and out the door. I got into my car and started driving. I had no idea where.

They say that when someone is injured badly, that one goes into shock and cannot feel pain at first. I don't think that is true. I think one feels pain, only can't fathom the pain or the extent of the pain.

I made it maybe two blocks before I abruptly vomited all over the car dash, the windshield, and myself. The last few days had finally caught up to me. My head was throbbing it ached so badly. I was crying and had been crying for some time but only then realized, that I was doing so.

I don't know how long I sat there, but I was driving again. I didn't know where.

I stopped at a park-and-ride parking area on the I-25 north of town. I felt the need to vomit again. I got out of the car and made it over to a grassy area before I emptied my stomach again, and again.

After there was nothing left in my stomach but bile, I got up and walked to the top of a bridge crossing the freeway. I stood there watching the semis zooming underneath me in the darkness. Watching those big truck come screaming out of the darkness then under me and back into the darkness, I though of how easy it would be for me to step out beyond the guardrail of the bridge and into the front of one of those massive trucks. Death would be painful but short in coming.