I never considered myself a cheater. I never thought I would be the one to have an affair. But then, there are lots of things I never thought I would do.
Dan had been gone for eleven years. I had thought about him often. Where had he gone? What was he doing now? Did he think about me?
The answer was yes. Or, at least that’s what he said when we spotted each other at the coffee shop. I was enjoying a few minutes peace from my life at home with three noisy children. He was just stopping in for a cup before meeting his next client. He was back home. He wasn’t sure for how long.
As we said goodbye, he gathered me into a hug. He smelled of swagger and his suit was crisp beneath my hands. He held me for just a moment longer than I expected. It was all the time I needed to be reminded.
It didn’t take long for things to escalate. But, that’s what anyone who has defiled their marriage says. They also say it wasn’t supposed to happen. They never planned to hurt anyone. But that’s not true. I knew the second I saw his face, older with a few lines, but still familiar and beautiful, that I would give up anything to be with him.
The first time we slept together, my hands shook the entire time. Would he find me beautiful? Would he only see the stretch marks, the wrinkles, the effects of time? Would he love me this time? Would he leave me again?
My husband never once asked where I had been. He never once questioned the phone calls. He didn’t seem to notice how I checked my e-mail every few minutes. I took it as proof that our marriage had faded. No one could blame me for straying. They would see that I only did what I had to do.
I saw Dan every few days at first. We didn’t talk much. He would only have an hour. Maybe two. I took every minute I could get. Each time I left his apartment, I replayed in my mind his touch, his lips, his breath. My heart spun inside me. I was finally awake. Alive.
I started to imagine a life. He would love me, care for me. He would accept my children unquestioningly. A house. Vacations. Eventually a wedding.
The calls didn’t dwindle. The emails didn’t start coming only sporadically. I just stopped hearing from him all together. I called once. Twice. No answer. I didn’t want to seem desperate. I sent an email. It was lighthearted. It implied nothing. Nothing was what I got in response.
Excuses: He was busy. He had left town. He was working up the nerve to ask me to leave my husband.
I stopped checking my email. I stop expecting him to call. My heart sat heavy in my chest.
Regret. Sorrow. Anger.
My husband didn’t notice any of it. He came home each day. He held our children on his lap. He held my hand as we walked. He loves me.
My husband will never know, but now I do.
