He reached for her hand, but she quickly withdrew it and linked her fingers together, dipping her head and turning away from him. She could not bring herself to look at him. Not the way she was feeling. Her legs wobbled beneath her and, afraid they might not hold her up a second longer, she clutched onto the cabinet. So, what I witnessed in the restaurant and hoped was an innocent lunch was exactly what I suspected? You do have a girlfriend!
She found herself anchored to the spot—speechless. She had been concerned there was something going on between Randy and Chatalaine. But had it gone this far? No! Please, God. No!
“Say something, Syl. Don’t just stand there. I hate myself for telling you like this—”
“You hate yourself?” She sank onto the kitchen stool and looked up slowly, her shock turning to anger as her heart pounded wildly and her stomach began to lurch. “You can’t begin to imagine the feelings of hurt and resentment welling up inside me! Why, Randy? Why? Has our married life been that bad?”
He stood awkwardly and began pacing about the room, his fingers combing through his distinguished-looking graying temples. “Like I said, Syl. Life changes. We change.”
Sylvia spun around on the seat. Fear, anger, betrayal bit at her heart, and it felt like a wad in her chest. Her fingers clutched the stool’s high back for both support and stability. “Of course, things change! The raising of our three children has taken most of my time, while you’ve been building your career at the newspaper! But our kids are gone now. Out on their own. We finally have the time for ourselves we’ve always talked about! It’s our time now! Yours and mine! Why would you even think about a divorce?” Say it, Randy. Be a big enough man to tell me you’re leaving me for a younger woman!
He stopped pacing and stood directly in front of her. The pale blue eyes she had always loved, now a cold, icy gray—eyes she barely recognized. He hesitated for what seemed an eternity, then turned away as if to avoid the sight of her. “Our marriage died a long time ago. Have you been so blind you haven’t noticed?”
“Have I been so blind? Don’t try to blame this on me, Randy Benson!” Sylvia felt like she had been sucker punched in the stomach as his words assaulted her and threshed away at her brain. “How stupid do you think I am? You’re leaving me for that Chatalaine woman, aren’t you?”
He flinched, and she could see he was startled by her mention of the woman’s name. “Chatalaine? What made you say that?”
“I—I saw the two of you together.” Why couldn’t she cry? She wanted to cry, but the tears would not come. It almost seemed as if she were standing outside her body, watching this dreadful scene happen to someone else. “Yo–you’ve been having an—”
“Me? Having an affair?” He turned and grabbed onto the back of her chair. “I resent that accusation, Syl! How dare you even consider such a thing?”
She leaped to her feet and stood toe-to-toe with him. She wanted him to look at her when he told her his dirty little secrets. “Come on, Randy. Tell me. Admit to your little trysts!”
“Are you crazy? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She felt him cringe as her hands cupped his biceps and her fingers dug into his flesh. “You’re a Christian, Randy! How could you?”
“Look, Syl, I’m sure you don’t want to hear this, but the two of us—you and I alone—are responsible for the breakup of this marriage. I should have put my foot down—”
She felt the hair stand up on her arms. “Put your foot down? Exactly what do you mean by that?”
He stared at the floor. “Perhaps that was a poor choice of words. What I meant was—” He stopped, as if wanting to make sure his words came out right this time. “I—I should have complained more, instead of holding things back. Keeping things inside.”
“Things? What kind of things?”
He gave a defeated shrug. “You were so busy with the kids, you never had time for me. I needed you, Syl, but you shut me out.”
“I didn’t shut you out, Randy. You were never here long enough to be shut out, or have you forgotten all the days, nights, and weekends you spent at the newspaper? What about the times I needed you?” she shot back defensively.
“I’d much rather have been at home like you, but as the breadwinner of this family, I didn’t have that luxury.”
“Oh, and I did have that luxury? Staying home with crying babies, doing a myriad of laundry each week, cooking countless meals, cleaning the house so things would look nice for you when you came home?” She could not remember the last time she had been so angry.
“I didn’t want things to turn out like this. I—”
“Don’t tell me the devil made you do it!” she shot out at him, suddenly wanting to hurt him as he was hurting her. He tried to back away, but she clung tightly to his arms and would not allow it.
“Syl, don’t. You’re only making this harder for both of us.”
“Don’t what? Cry? Scream? Get mad? You don’t think you deserve to be screamed at? After what you’ve just said?” She continued to hold onto him, wanting him to feel her anger and frustration, to see it on her face. She wanted him to sense her fury. To feel her angst. What do you say to a man who just asked you for a divorce, when all this time you’ve had no idea he’s been cheating on you?
He gave her a disgruntled snort. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous, but I don’t think you care enough to be jealous.”
She jammed her hand onto her hip. “Oh? Does that question mean I have a reason to be jealous?”
“Of course not. I was referring to your attitude.”
She continued to hold tightly to his arms, sure that if she ever let him go, it would be for good. She could not bear the idea of life without him. She inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly, begging God to give her the right words to say and the right way to react, to make her beloved husband come to his senses. Why didn’t he come right out and tell her about Chatalaine? That she was the real reason he wanted out?
After an interminable silence, she willed herself to calm down and said, trying to mask her disillusionment, “We can’t do this, Randy. Divorce is not an option. We’ve both invested way too much in this marriage to give up on it now. Please, don’t do anything you’ll regret later. Have you prayed about this?”
He gently pried her fingers from his arm and walked away, turning when he reached the door to the hallway. “My mind is made up, Syl. For weeks, I have been trying to muster up the courage to do this. Now that I have finally said it, I am going to go through with it. You’ll survive. I will continue to provide for you. I—I just want out.”
“Would you pray with me about it?” she asked in desperation.
He shook his head. “No.”
“Is Chatalaine married?”
“What’s she got to do with this?”
His puzzled look infuriated her.
“You thought I didn’t know your dirty little secret, didn’t you?” she spat back, glowering at him.
“What secret?”
She felt her nostrils flare and her heart palpitate. “Come on, Randy, tell me about your lunch with your client! The one with the bleached blond hair and long, shapely legs that go up to her armpits. Did you make a sale? Is your social columnist going to purchase advertising with your precious newspaper because of your charms and your flawless sales pitch?”
He crossed the room quickly and grabbed onto her wrist, his nose close to hers. “Look, Syl. I have no idea what you’re talking about. Yes, I had lunch with Chatalaine. A perfectly innocent lunch. The client called on my cell phone just before I reached the restaurant and said he couldn’t make it. Since her column runs on the front page of that section and I was planning to pitch a succession of ads in the Dallas Life Section, I thought it would be helpful to have Chatalaine there.” He turned loose and stepped back with a shake of his head. “You’re barking up the wrong tree if you’re trying to accuse me of being unfaithful.”
Like she always did when she was upset, Sylvia gnawed ner
vously on her lower lip, biting back words she knew she would be sorry for later if they escaped. Is it possible I could have been wrong? Was it an innocent lunch like he said?
“Face it, Syl. Another woman didn’t break up our marriage. It’s been dying for years, and we’ve both contributed to its death by ignoring it. I’ve realized it for some time. Maybe, if you were honest with yourself, you’d admit it, too. All we’ve been doing is marking time.”
Divorce? That meant Randy would be leaving. She gasped at the paralyzing thought. “You’re—you’re not moving out, are you? Christmas is coming and the whole family will be—”
“There’ll never be a good time. If there was, I’d have left months ago.” He backed toward the hall again, as if wanting to put distance between the two of them, to pull away from her and all she represented.
This may be your only chance to try to save your marriage, she cautioned herself as she stared at the only man she’d ever loved. Be careful what you say. Words, once said, can never be taken back. “Please, Randy,” she began, trying to add a softness to her voice when, inside, a storm was raging. “Give our marriage another chance. Just tell me what I’m doing wrong, and I’ll change. I don’t want you to leave. I—I love you!”
He did not look up. “I’ve worked long, hard hours for this family; now it’s time for me. I’m going to get out and enjoy myself. Do some things I’ve put off for way too long.”
His indifference broke her heart. “You could still do those things—”
“No.” Keeping his gaze away from her face, he frowned and pursed his lips. “It’s too late, Syl. I’m moving out. I packed up most of my personal things this morning while you were in the kitchen. I’ll come back for the rest later.”
Heaviness pressed against her heart and made it difficult to speak. “Yo–you’re moving in with that woman?”
He gave her a look of annoyance. “No! Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said?”
She rushed toward him and grabbed onto his arm, her fingernails nearly piercing the flesh. “You can’t go! I won’t let you!”
He pulled her hand away and rubbed at the red marks on his arm. “Hurting you is the last thing I wanted to do, Syl, but I can’t keep living like this. The only fair way was to tell you this so we could both get on with our lives.”
“Get on with our lives? How can I live without you, Randy? You expect me to believe you’re not leaving me for another woman? Not for Chatalaine?”
His doubled up fist hit the palm of his other hand as his face filled with anger. “How many times do I have to tell you, Syl? There is no other woman! My lunch with Chatalaine was a legitimate, business-related luncheon, and I resent the idea that you would even think I’m cheating on you! Whatever happened to trust?”
“Trust? You ask me about trust?” Seeing the strange look in his eyes made her wonder at his words. Was that look guilt? Was he using anger and indignation to cover up his philandering? “Can you look me in the eye, Randy, and tell me this was the first time you and that woman have had lunch together?”
He did not have to answer. His face told it all.
“We’ve had lunch a few times but only to discuss her column—and those were on days you cancelled on me at the last minute because you were called to serve on some committee at the church or had to take a casserole to a sick person. You were always doing something for someone else when I needed you. Don’t try to blame this on Chatalaine and a few business lunches.”
Why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut? “You’re—you’re really going through with this? Couldn’t we maybe just have a separation for a while, so you can make sure you really want this before you take legal action?”
He gave her a flip of his hand. “A separation? Why? We’ve been living separate lives for years. I can’t even remember the last time we—” He stopped midsentence.
His words hurt, and as badly as she hated to admit it, he was right. They’d both been so busy; they’d either been dead tired at the end of the day, she’d had one of her migraine headaches, or one of them had gone to bed early. But weren’t there other ways of expressing your love other than physical? She had always thought taking good care of their children had been an act of love toward Randy. Keeping his house in perfect order and making sure his shirts were starched and ironed the way he liked them, to her, spoke of her love and adoration. Having good, nourishing meals on the table—sometimes having to reheat them because he got home late—all of those things and dozens of others were ways of saying I love you, weren’t they?
“The children will have to be told,” he said so matter-of-factly it only added to her already frazzled nerves.
She stepped back and crossed her arms over her chest, staring at him and seeing a stranger. “This is your party, Randy. Are you going to do the gentlemanly thing and tell them, or are you going to wait and let them find out for themselves? They’ll hate you, you know.”
“I’m hoping they won’t hate me.”
“They will. Our sons have always looked up to you as their role model. You’ve certainly fallen off that pedestal.”
“I’ll tell them,” he murmured softly.
Sylvia pushed past him, rushed into the family room, afraid if she stood on her feet another minute she’d collapse.
Randy followed.
She shrugged and released a hefty sigh. “They say the wife is always the last to know. I guess that’s because loving wives like me trust their husbands.” She sat down quickly on the cushy green leather sofa, the one the two of them had selected together to commemorate their twentieth anniversary, and rubbed her hands over its smooth surface. “You certainly had me fooled. I thought we were getting along fine. I loved our life together.”
He moved to the matching recliner, the roomier one they had specialty-ordered as his chair. But Sylvia reached out her hand and hollered, “Stop!”
He abruptly stepped to one side, giving her a puzzled look. “Stop what?”
She blinked her tear-filled eyes and pointed her finger at him defiantly. “Don’t you dare sit in that chair! That chair is reserved for the head of this house. That wonderful, godly man I married. That description no longer fits you!”
Randy scooted over to a small, upholstered chair. “How about here?”
She nodded, feeling a bit chagrined, but he had to face reality. The breaking up of their marriage was something he wanted, not her.
Neither spoke for several minutes.
“I do love you, you know,” she said finally, the tears now beginning to flow down her cheeks unashamedly. “I’ve always loved you. There’s never been anyone else. Only you. Even if I haven’t shown it much.”
Randy hung his head and smoothed at the arm cover on the club chair. “I loved you, too, but—”
“But you no longer love me? Is that it?”
“I guess.”
She glared at him, his answers not at all what she wanted to hear. “For a man who just asked his wife of twenty-five years for a divorce, you sure do a lot of guessing! Tell me outright, Randy. Do you or do you not love me?”
“I love you as the mother of my children,” he said weakly, “and I care about you.”
She bit at her lip until it hurt. “But you no longer love me as your wife? Your soul mate? Your lover? Is that the reason you never hug me anymore? Or touch me like you used to? Is that what you’re saying?”
“I gu—yes.”
“When did you make this amazing discovery? Before or after that woman came into your life?” She rose slowly, crossed the room, and knelt beside him. She had to find a way to make him change his mind. “Look into my eyes, Randy. See the pain I’m feeling. Think about the times we’ve shared together over the past twenty-five years—times both good and bad. Think about the struggles we’ve gone through together. And, yes, think about the times we’ve expressed our love for one another, though they may have been few lately. Then tell me. Tell me you don’t love me anymore. Say the words. Convince me.”
H
is gaze went to his lap, and for long moments, he stared at his hands, methodically checking one fingernail at a time before he looked up at her. “I think whatever love I felt for you is gone, Syl, and has been for some time.”
Those words cut so deeply, Sylvia was sure they had actually punctured her flesh and her blood was pouring from the cuts they had inflicted. Slowly, she stood and pulled herself up tall. She had to be strong even though her heart was breaking. Strong for herself and strong for her family, what there was left of it.
“If you’re sure that’s the way you feel and you’re not willing to give our marriage another chance, then go, Randy. Go now. Give up the life the two of us made together. Give up your children, your home. Just remember, it was you who broke up this family. I have God to turn to, but I doubt very seriously He’ll want to hear from you, unless it’s to ask His forgiveness for what you’re doing.” She moved quickly to the double glass doors leading onto the patio, sliding one side open before she turned to face him again, her lips trembling. “It’s your decision.”
Without a word, Randy stood, started to say something but didn’t, then hesitantly moved through the door and onto the porch.
Sylvia slid the door closed behind him and twisted the lock, shutting it on twenty-five years of marriage.
Three
Sylvia rushed to the narrow window beside the front door and pulled back the drapery just far enough to be able to watch Randy as he walked to his car, climbed in, started the engine, and drove away without even a backward glance. It was as though her very life ended with his departure. She wanted to pray, to ask God to bring her husband back to her, but the words would not come. It seemed even God had walked out on her. How could He have let this happen to their marriage?
Now what? Should she cry? No, she was too mad to cry. Throw things? Call the pastor? Go to bed and pull the covers over her head?
In robotic fashion, too numb to do anything, she moved to his recliner where the holiday edition of the Dallas Times still lay unrolled. How many times had she actually read the society column in the “Dallas Life” section? Probably not more than a dozen in all the years Randy had worked for the newspaper. Although her husband was constantly involved with community activities since he had been appointed managing editor, they rarely attended social functions together.
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