Chapter 15

“So I say to you, who here is so perfect that they can cast the first stone?” Pastor Monroe asked. “That’s right. None of you. Do you want to know what most Christians’ hang-up is? They get so caught up in religion, in being ‘Christians,’ that they forget the purpose is to be Christlike. No one is perfect, not even Christians. We just accept God’s perfect love of our imperfect selves. So if we ask God, who is omnipotent, to accept us, then who are we to not be loving and accepting of others? How dare we, with our imperfect selves, claim self-righteousness? Are we to be examples? Yes. But we have to remember that we are examples of Christlike behavior, not a replacement for Christ.”

Michael zoned out as he listened to the words of his pastor. His message resonated so clearly with him. Here he was, mistreating his wife and judging her when she’d never mistreated or judged him. Last weekend had been a sexual disaster, and it seemed that this week they had only gotten worse. Ever since this weekend had started, Karli seemed to be avoiding him altogether. He knew it was his fault, and he had to find a way to make it right. She wasn’t even at church with him again today. She’d claimed she was tired, but he knew better. She didn’t want to be around him. How could he blame her? It was time to let it go and get his wife back. When he knelt at the altar, he received prayer, because God knows he was going to need it.

When Michael arrived home from church, he found Karli sitting on the bed in some leggings and a long T-shirt, watching television. She looked up at him, shocked that he was standing in their bedroom, since he still had not moved back into it.

Not knowing what to do, she quickly dismissed his presence by focusing back on the program she was watching. Michael stood there, flabbergasted that she’d truly dismissed him. He pulled off his suit jacket and tie, threw them on the foot of the bed, and stood in front of the television.

Karli threw up her hands. “Seriously, are we getting this petty now?” Rolling her eyes, she reached over to the nightstand and picked up a poetry book entitled Timeless Ink, which she’d been reading lately. Before she delved into the book, she looked up at him, unable to resist giving him the third degree. “What are you even doing in here, Michael? Your room is down the hall.”

Calmly, he held his hands out to her. “I don’t want to argue, Karli—”

“Or talk,” she snapped, then refocused on the book.

He nodded. “I deserved that.”

Karli placed the book down on the bed and massaged her temples. “Why are you here, Michael?”

He took Karli in and realized that in a few short months, he didn’t even know his wife anymore. Sure, she was the same person, but the closeness, the warmth, the love, none of it was there. Her eyes were so cold to him. It was like looking at ice.

Knowing what he had done to them, he allowed uncontrollable tears to well up in his eyes, and he began to sob profusely. He fell to his knees and wailed out in pain.

Instinctively, Karli hopped off the bed, unsure of what was going on. She ran over to him and knelt down beside him on the floor. “Michael, what’s wrong? Oh God. What happened?”

“I . . . I . . . am . . . so . . . sor . . . sorry,” he struggled to get out. He reached up and hugged her tightly. “I miss you. I love you, and I’m sorry about what I did to us. I’m sorry. We can talk. Whatever you want. I just want you to forgive me. Please forgive me. Please take me back, Karli. I can’t. I can’t.”

Karli held him as he sobbed in her chest. The sincerity in his voice filled her with guilt. True, his actions had driven the wedge between them, but her actions had kept it there. How could she not forgive him when she definitely had done something she needed forgiveness for? Just two days ago, she’d been in another man’s bed.

She lifted his face to hers, and all the hurt and pain just seemed to flow from him. Her heart melted as she palmed his face.

“Please, Karli. I was wrong. I need you back. I need my old thing back.”

She nodded. “Okay, it’s okay, Michael. I forgive you for that. We don’t have to talk about it. We’ll let it go. All of it.”

Those words were music to his ears as he leaned on her and poured all his tears into her. She held him in her arms as they sat on the floor, rocking back and forth. When his tears subsided, they got up, he changed into his sweats, and they lay in their bed and held each other for the rest of the day, in silence.