Perhaps she was right. I didn’t know. What I did know was that I needed to leave – Gallaudet, home, and him.
Chapter 34
April 1987
I sat in the car, waiting. He was supposed to meet me at 4:00 p.m., and it was a few minutes past. Our time together was always short, and I wanted him to hurry so that we could have as much time as possible together. As soon as I saw his car approaching, my heart quickened. When he pulled into a parking spot, I jumped out of the car and waited for him to walk over. We each took a quick glance around our surroundings to ensure that nobody was watching before getting into the backseat of my car.
Like always, we shut the door and fell into each other’s arms – each of us holding on for dear life. In his arms, I felt so safe and loved. And then, my head resting on his shoulder, I looked up to him and said: “I want you to make love to me.”
He looked at me in surprise. “Are you sure?” he asked. We had talked about it in the past but had never crossed the line. I was a virgin and had every intention of remaining one until I was married. But, today, I had a different plan.
“Yes, I’d like for you to make love to me,” I repeated.
“There’s nothing more I’d want in this world than to make love to you. I’d be honored.”
“Then, let’s do it,” I said.
He cupped my face in his hand and kissed me tenderly. He then looked into my eyes and shook his head. “Not in the car. You deserve better than that,” he said.
Unbeknownst to him, I had made plans.
I was going to leave him this time, for good. I knew, I thought, that I would never find anyone else, or get married, for that matter. So, because I was leaving him, I wanted my virginity to be taken by someone I loved; a sweet memory I would hold dearly in my heart.
I was also hoping against all odds that I would get pregnant. I would then remain in Texas after the internship to raise our child alone. He needn’t know. He had a family of his own. With our child, I would have a part of him with me always.
The thought of leaving him was so very difficult; when I thought about it, I wept. But I knew one thing for certain, I just couldn’t go on living this way. The hiding and sneaking had taken its toll on me. Knowing he had a wife to go home to every time we departed confused me. I understood his need to keep his family together for the sake of his children who were a few years younger than me. But if he really loved me, how could a few extra minutes spent with me hurt his children? If he would rather be with me than with his wife, why couldn’t he find the excuses necessary to stay a bit longer?
My eyes swelled with tears, as always, as the time approached for him to go home. Our last few minutes together were spent in each other’s arms. I cried, and he tried to comfort me, telling me not to cry, and that he would try to stay a bit longer the next time we saw each other. Then, it was time for him to leave.
But not before we made plans to meet – at his home.
Chapter 35
August 1989
Our two-tier wedding cake was not supposed to look the way it did.
I couldn’t remember when we had checked on the cake. Was it the night before, or a few hours before our wedding? But when we did, I was horrified. “This is not what I ordered,” I said. Had Peter misunderstood me when we placed an order? He was the one who voiced for me, after all.
The Italian baker, who was also the owner, had added his own touches without my permission – blue frosted flowers on the top of the cake. I wanted to tell him to scrape off the frosting and do the job all over again.
“Let’s just forget it,” Peter said. “It isn’t that bad, really.” I thought the baker’s touches ruined everything but decided to let it go.
On the top we had placed a wedding figurine that Mom and Dad had used on their wedding cake. People commented on the antique when they saw it. As people gathered around the cake to witness its cutting, I immediately noticed something was missing.
“K-n-i-f-e,” I fingerspelled, low enough so no one except Peter could see. Peter was clueless. “Knife,” I repeated. “Where is it?”
Peter whispered to a wedding attendee in the reception room and a knife was brought in. A plain standard piece of silverware from the same set with which everyone had eaten during our reception. That was not the knife I was referring to. The wedding knife that I had purchased was nowhere to be found.
We had no choice but to proceed with our agenda. We cut the cake in two slices and placed them on two napkins that read: This is the day I will marry my friend.
Holding the cake on a napkin in my left hand, I looked at Peter mischievously. “Ready?” I asked. Peter glanced at me, not trusting me. How I loved to tease.
In a slow motion, we brought cake toward each other, not trusting what one would do to the other. As soon as Peter opened his mouth to receive the cake, I smeared it all over his mouth. He returned the gesture.
And we laughed so hard.
Everyone raved about the cake after they were served. Inside was a rum filling the baker had promised would delight everyone.
“Rum?” I had asked when we discussed our order. I didn’t drink and didn’t want alcohol served during our wedding.
“You can’t taste it,” the baker had assured me.
“The alcohol will evaporate when it is being baked,” Peter explained.
“Trust me, everyone raves about this filling,” the baker added. “You won’t be disappointed.”
But I was.
Oddly, when it came to the cake, misfortunes continued. First, it was the extra touches to the icing. Then, the wedding knife was missing. And despite the ravings, I didn’t like the rum filling. Finally, several weeks later, the professional photographer regretfully informed us that the pictures of our cake exchange didn’t come through. Go figure.
Disappointments happen. Misfortunes occur. Life has its share of adversity, but, as long as we have true joy, they cannot dampen our spirit.
Chapter 36
May 1987
My car slowed down as I turned onto his street. I knew where he lived. I knew what his house looked like. Directions were not needed. I had driven by his house once secretly just to get a glimpse.
It was mid-morning. His wife was at work. His children were at school. He would be going to work later that day. We didn’t have much time.
As I pulled into his driveway, I looked around to make sure nobody was outside. I didn’t want his neighbors to see me walk into the house. Turning the engine off, I paused for several seconds. It was now or never. After I got out of the car, I walked up to the front of his house and rang the doorbell.
He opened the door immediately.
“Are you sure you want to?” he asked the moment I stepped into his house.
“Yes.” I was determined to follow through.
Holding my hand, he led me through the hall toward his bedroom. I took in all the sights: Pictures of his children. The color of the painting on the wall. The bed where he slept with her every night. His personal belongings alongside hers on the dresser. And just about everything else I could lay my eyes on.
What I had envisioned as a beautiful, memorable moment was shattered. Our lovemaking had barely begun when it ended abruptly.
“I’m so sorry,” he apologized afterward. “I couldn’t contain myself. I was just too excited. I hope it was worth it.”
“It’s okay,” I reassured him. “I enjoyed it.” I lied. What else could I have said?
As I drove away, I thought, So that was it? Why do people have such a preoccupation with sex?
Chapter 37
June 1987
My return ticket was for August. There was no turning back.
Our plane flew out of Baltimore Washington International airport. My head rested against the window pane as I looked down, my eyes glued to the beautiful design of the land
that came into view as we ascended, multiple shades of green laid out in a quilt-pattern slowly disappearing the higher we flew.
We had a four-hour layover in Atlanta because of heavy rainstorms. I was tired and hungry when we finally landed in San Antonio around midnight. Not many people were around because of the hour, and I easily spotted a stranger holding a sign that spelled out s.c.h.i. in large letters. As we proceeded to the baggage claim, I was told my suitcase had been misplaced. The following morning, I awoke groggily in the same clothes in which I had traveled. What a great way to begin my summer, I thought.
I had business to take care of, and it wasn’t long before I found the front office. The Southwest Center for the Hearing Impaired (SCHI) was a nonprofit organization providing life-adjustment and employment skills training for Deaf adults. I was hired to coordinate recreational activities within its residential program. When I stepped inside the office, I was greeted warmly by a handsome man. He was tanned and athletic looking. A tail of hair ran down back of his neck, about two inches long, and he wore a silver earring in his left ear. Around his neck was a silver necklace, which matched a smaller version around his wrist – not a style I was used to seeing.
“Good morning,” he said with a smile. “I’m Peter. You must be Deb.” After asking how my flight was, he rambled on: “I was so disappointed I had to leave the airport at eleven last night before you arrived. I had to get back for my night shift.”
I returned his smile. “We had a long delay, but I’m glad to be here finally. Actually, I’m here to see if I could borrow the phone. I need to call Southwest to see if they have located my suitcase,” I said, self-conscious of how rumpled my clothes looked.
“I can call for you,” he offered. We made small talk. I learned that he had recently been accepted into Gallaudet’s graduate program and would be going in the fall.
“I’d love to get together with you sometime soon. I have so many questions about Gallaudet, if you don’t mind.” He smiled.
I had determined to leave Gallaudet behind for the summer but found myself saying, “Sure.”
Chapter 38
June 1987
True to his word, Peter asked me out several days later. We went to Maggie’s café and spent the next two hours eating and talking about Gallaudet.
After our first “date,” he asked me out again. We sampled goat-milk fudge at a Mexican market, went window shopping at North Star Mall, ate chicken fried steak at the I-10 Diner, and finished with cookies at Fuddrucker’s. Our five-hour outing was pleasant; I found him easy to talk to, and I had a good time. After that we visited the San Antonio Zoo. We strolled along the River Walk. We dined at a variety of restaurants. We sunbathed in Port Aransas.
Peter was the perfect excuse for my break up with him. Two weeks after I set foot in Texas, I wrote him a letter and told him that I had met someone else. And that it was over between the two of us. There was some truth to it. I had met Peter, but he did not need to know we were not romantically involved.
Soon the clients and staff at SCHI took notice and teased me about Peter and I liking each other. I brushed them off, saying Peter just wanted to show me around San Antonio. In truth, we were spending more and more time together during our after-work hours. Unknown to most, I also spent many nights keeping Peter company when he worked third shift. After the clients went to bed, we often played pool and talked late into early morning hours.
We talked about a lot of things, including my affair.
Six weeks into the summer, Peter wrote me a letter.
Deb,
Just wanted to let you know that I was thinking about you. You seem to be on my mind constantly lately – gee, I wonder why!?
Since you walked into my life, things have been so bright. I was really having a hard time with work, dealing with leaving Texas, and my attitude and feelings in general. Suddenly, you show up and everything begins to change. Thanks!
It’s been so long since I could trust someone to talk about anything, without fear of their reaction. I feel so comfortable with you. I don’t think there is anything I wouldn’t tell you. That’s strange and new for me. Exciting too.
My history with relationships has not been that great. I don’t want sympathy, but I feel as though I was mistreated. I gave and gave and got nothing in return. With you, I feel a genuine concern from you with regard to my feelings, emotions, and thoughts. Thank you for making me feel so wonderful!!!
My feelings toward you continue to grow. I never thought I’d feel this way about any person again. I must admit that I’m somewhat scared about it all. (Don’t worry, you could never scare me away.) I guess it’s the newness. Anyway, I do worry about you and your situation (past) and hope you know I’m here whenever you need me. Thank you for being in my life.
Love, Peter
Unlike my experience at Gallaudet where I was alone, I was now having the time of my life. I was well-liked by both the clients and staff, and my schedule was never dull. As a recreation coordinator intern, I implemented activities for our clients. A pool tournament was set up. I taught female clients how to crotchet. I participated in the male baseball team as a manager. I was one of the chaperones, taking clients to Laredo, Mexico.
The staff included me in their activities after work hours as well: shopping, cookouts, horseback riding, movies at a drive-in, sightseeing, and tubing.
No one knew about my past. No one would have guessed. My pain was swept aside – for the time being.
Chapter 39
August 1987 – Junior Year
Instead of flying back home, I decided to hitch a ride back to Gallaudet with Peter. With all the stuff he had to bring to school in his small Volkswagen Rabbit, I just managed to fit into the front seat. We traveled east through Louisiana, sightseeing in New Orleans and sunbathing at Panama City Beach, Florida, before traveling north.
A week before our departure from SCHI, Peter had given me a card, in which he wrote: “Maybe it’s my imagination, but I’ve felt strange ‘vibrations’ or feelings between us. I hope everything is alright – if not, I’d love to talk about it.” He had read me correctly. As my internship came to an end, I began to feel uneasy. I didn’t want to return home. I didn’t want to go back to Gallaudet. It was difficult for me to accept that my summer had come to an end. And to know what was waiting for me – a return to lifelessness at Gallaudet – was unbearable. To make matters worse, I wasn’t even sure where my relationship with Peter was going.
After six days on the road, the Welcome to Maryland sign came into view. I started to feel nauseated, and as soon as I saw the sign for my hometown, Williamsport, I broke down into tears. “I don’t want to go home,” I said. My summer had been surreal and I was not ready to face reality. So we delayed our arrival by checking into a motel room. After Peter and I went to a nearby convenience store for chocolate chip cookies and milk, we spent the rest of the night talking.
Peter spent the first two days visiting my family before he left for Gallaudet to attend the New Student Orientation. The following day, I met him at a restaurant near my home. We sat in the booth and talked. He cried the whole time. We parted, and I lingered in Dad’s car long after he drove off. I don’t remember how I felt. He called later, leaving a message, asking if he could see me. So we met again, five days later. I have no recollection of what took place that day.
When I returned to Gallaudet, for my junior year, I began to feel angry.
For two and a half years, I had been faithful to him. I had gone out a few times my first semester at Gallaudet, just for the sake of appearances, but did nothing beyond a good night hug. But he was still married.
During my second year at Gallaudet, I grew to distrust my roommate. She was a basketball teammate of mine from my freshman year. How we ended up being roommates, I couldn’t remember. From time to time, she would say something like: “Another letter from your secret boyfriend
, huh?” Or she would smile knowingly and ask, “What are you reading? A love letter?” I was fearful of jeopardizing his name or career at MSD, so after reading his letters, I would destroy them immediately. The Deaf world was so small that with just a glimpse of his name, the entire Deaf community, from East to West, would know about us. Because of my fear, I avoided being in my own bedroom as much as possible. This was another reason why I quit keeping a journal.
I could not develop friendships with anyone. Not even one. And now, after two years alone, it was too late to form new ones. But, what about him? Everything about him had remained the same. Home. Family. Friends. Career. All was well.
Yes, I was angry.
Chapter 40
August 1989
Gifts of various sizes piled up on the floor in Grandma’s living room. Peter and I sat on the floor, taking turns opening the gifts as our family members watched.
Halfway through opening, his gift landed in my lap. I carefully peeled the tape off the wrapping paper and lifted the item out of a cardboard box. I then held it in the air for everyone to see. It was a small Quartz clock, maybe six inches tall and plated in gold. It was a standard gift, nothing special. Did he pick it out? I doubt it. His wife probably did.
He had given me a present once earlier – a 14-karat gold necklace. Hanging on the necklace was a cursive-letter D with a diamond chip on it. The necklace was presented to me during my senior year of high school, several weeks after our first kiss.
Gifts were not given with joy or excitement in our house. I always felt they were a burden, something that Mom and Dad had to give because everyone else was doing it. My siblings and I were reminded constantly that Mom grew up with no gifts; not even for a birthday or Christmas. In fact, she was twenty-one when she received her first birthday present.
Mom had wanted us to know that her life was more difficult, so we had no room to be ungrateful. When I was fourteen, I did not get a birthday present, and I knew better than to say anything. Mom had promised she would get me a belated gift as soon as she had extra money. But that never happened. I heard the same promise the next several birthdays. Though she made sure my siblings received their gifts, I never complained when I was overlooked. And, if I was given gift money from relatives, I would put it aside knowing Mom and Dad would ask for it later. So to receive a gold necklace from him, an unexpected gift for no special occasion, was something I had cherished.
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