CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

 

"Daddy!" The twins woke us with their ear-splitting cries. No, it wasn't a dream. Mike was really here. In bed. Next to me. Yay. Woo hoo.

"Hey kids!" Mike reached out his arms, and two five year-old missiles launched into his lap. Two seconds later, they were back on their bed, playing with the various toys we'd bought. Mike didn't seem to notice that they had lost interest in him so quickly.

"Daddy," Clara said without looking up from her princess doll, "we have new friends…"

Mike cut her off, "That's nice, sweetie." He didn't seem to have any interest in the fact that his kids had been spending all their time with two other kids. Clara shrugged and went back to playing. A small part of me felt bad that he had no interest in what his own children had experienced so far. But that was overrun by the other part of me that realized they wouldn't mention Alan or his kids to him again. Clara and Rory had spent five years learning that their dad wasn't interested in what they thought.

The morning consisted of a frantic run around as we all tried to get ready to go. I was grateful to hear a noise next door. Pulling back the curtain, I watched as Alan and the kids walked down the hall and disappeared. I took my time getting ready so that we wouldn't run into them on the bus. Eventually, we made it to the bus and then to the park with no uncomfortable run-ins. I had no idea where Alan was going but knew he would steer clear if he saw us.

I made sure we kept busy so the kids wouldn't babble to Mike about the trip so far. Try to relax, I thought. Focusing only on my family, I almost began to enjoy myself. Well, except for the flashing neon sign over my head screaming, "CHEATER!"

"You know," I told Mike as we waited in line at a ride, "this is how the trip should've been from the start." I wanted him to feel guilty and get mad. Give me something to work with so I didn't feel so guilty.

Mike responded by pulling me close and kissing me lightly on the lips. "I know. I plan to make it up to you."

Clara and Rory squealed with glee on the ride, encouraged by Mike. This really was how the trip was supposed to be. If that had been the case, I would be relaxed, having fun with my family. Instead, the trip had turned out much differently. Beginning with sorrow, then nervousness, followed by all-out lust, then love, then fear, now…now what?

Is that what happened? If it was true, then I couldn't possibly have had a good time. Or was it the spinning teacups? There was no doubt that if Mike had joined us in the beginning, things would have been different. Now I thought I would've enjoyed it. How could that be? Until Mike showed up, I thought I'd been deliriously happy. I felt more alive than I had in years. What in hell did I really want?

"You've been quiet," Mike observed at lunch. The kids were eating their macaroni and cheese, engrossed in refueling.

"I'm just tired, that's all." I took another bite of my pork chop. The restaurant in the center of the park was my favorite place to eat. They had this whole Colonial American thing down, and while it didn't necessarily scream of costumed rodents, the food was not deep fat fried, nor were pirates stamped in the potatoes. So why did my lunch taste like a plate of sand?

"Well, I hope you won't be too tired for dinner tonight," he grinned.

"No, I won't be. I'm looking forward to it," I lied.

The afternoon went as quickly as the morning had. We rode the same rides over and over. Rory crossed swords with pirates. Clara got to meet the princesses. It was a good day. Anyone observing us would have seen a close, loving family. And a week ago, we might have been.

As we returned to the room, I sent Alan a text message on my phone, asking him to meet me in the Food Court in ten minutes. Once Mike was busy bathing the kids and wrestling them into their jammies, I left under the excuse of getting them dinner.

Alan and his children were standing in the middle of the food court. Alice and Jack threw their arms around me when they saw me, and my heart sank.

"How are we going to do this?" Alan said solemnly.

I explained my idea to him. We couldn't have him and Mike meet. Not yet. Hopefully, not ever on this trip. At exactly 6:30pm, I would open the adjoining door. Alan would be in the bathroom, and I would "speak" to him, or her as Mike saw it, through the door, and Mike and I would leave. When we left the restaurant, I would text message Alan again, and he would place the (hopefully) sleeping kids in our room with the door slightly ajar and his lights out. It would be my job to close and lock the door, and when he heard that, he would lock it from his side. Maybe I missed my calling as a secret agent.

"I hate this." Alan looked deeply into my eyes.

I reached out and squeezed his hand in mine. "I do too. Hopefully, by tomorrow this will be all over."

I turned away. I still had to get the kids some dinner.

"Laura?"

I returned to him, "What?"

"Don't sleep with him." Alan turned and left.

Fortunately, our trick worked. Mike didn't suspect a thing as I explained to him that "Susan" was in the bathroom and we could leave our kids there safely. As we walked down the hall, I was glad Alan hadn't seen me. Mike found the Betsey Johnson dress and insisted I wear it. I felt like a traitor. A traitor to the man I was cheating on my husband with. No irony there.

We made small talk on the bus. We'd always been good at that. As we walked to the restaurant, Mike held my hand, and I tried to be happy about it. I was perspiring and shaking. I convinced Mike that it was because I was hungry. He didn't know what I planned to tell him over dinner.

"To us!" Mike lifted his glass of wine, clinking it off of mine.

"How original," I teased, my heart in my throat. What a terrible toast.

 "Honey, thanks for making sure the kids had a good time," he added. He might as well have plunged his steak knife into my gut and twisted. In fact, I would've felt better if he had.

"You should have been here in the first place," I responded carefully. I didn't want to start a fight, but I needed to remember why I was leaving him.

Mike shook his head, "I know. I won't abandon you on another vacation again."

The steak knife twisted in my heart. "Do you mean it? Or are you just saying that because it's convenient?"

"I mean it." Mike's eyes glittered, and he reached across the table to hold my hand, "I need to rearrange my priorities. You and the kids should've come first."

"Who are you, and what've you done with my husband?" I asked.

Mike nodded, "I know, I know. I probably deserve that somewhat."

I narrowed my gaze. "Somewhat? How do you figure?"

"Well, I did have to work…" He waved his hands around. "Especially to pay for all of this. And I don't think I'm a bad guy because I couldn't go at the last minute."

"Actually, you are the bad guy for that very reason. We are your family. We should have come first." I picked up my wine glass and drained it. It felt good, it's dark warmth giving me a little boost to do what I had to do. "Unfortunately, we haven't come first in a long time."

Mike looked angry. "Now wait just a minute! This is my job. By supporting you and the kids on frivolous trips like this, I am putting my family first." He slapped the table with his hand. The noise caught him off guard, and he looked carefully to his right and left.

"Look Laura," he began quietly, "I said I was sorry. I don't want to fight with you." Once again he grabbed my hand across the table.

I pulled it away. "We fight all the time now, Mike. Let's face it. This isn't any good. We've changed."

"What...what are you talking about?" he sputtered.

I shook my head, was it going to be this easy? "Our individual priorities have changed. We aren't the same people we were all those years ago. We don't understand each other anymore."

Mike sat straight up, "Laura! What are you saying?"

I took a deep breath. "There's something I need to tell you."

All color drained from his face. "You're leaving me?"

I nodded. There, it had all been said. Well, not really spoken, but said nonetheless. I should've felt relieved, but I didn't.

"You can't be serious!" Mike cried out. "Why would you leave me?" Several people turned from their conversations to stare at us.

"Mike," I hissed, "do you want everyone to hear you?"

With his hands, he rubbed the expression of shock off of his face then looked at me earnestly, "Is this about those women? What if I changed?"

Shaking my head, I answered, "You don't want to change. And I don't think you could." The knife in my heart began stabbing my liver. I'd always brushed off his affairs—folded them away neatly into the back of my head. The wounds were dull. And I blamed myself for never being angrier about them. But the mousy, forgiving Laura was gone.

"I could change. I could put you and the kids first!"

"Mike, it's too late for that. You've done too much already."

"No, it isn't too late," he violently tossed his head back and forth. "I made a mistake and you've made me realize that."

"You don't really believe you were wrong, do you?" I asked him quietly.

"What do you mean by that?" His face raged with anger and confusion.

"You don't think you did anything wrong every time you missed one of the kids' games, events, birthdays, vacations. You just think those three women were a foolish mistake. And unless I miss my guess, you still don't think you're wrong." I leaned back in my chair and emptied the wine bottle into my glass. So there! Take that!

Mike said nothing for a moment. Clearly, he wasn't expecting anything more than a nice dinner out with me. I looked at him carefully, searching for a spark, some chemistry, love, even affection. Nothing flared. It was over. My marriage was over. And suddenly the question that had nagged me all day had an answer. Yes, if he had come with us in the first place, we would've had fun. But the minute we crossed the threshold of our home, we'd be right back where we started.

"You're right," he began slowly, "I don't see anything wrong with my behavior. So why are you really leaving me?"

"Because you're wrong and don't know it," I said evenly, trying to keep anger from my voice. "Because you and I are different people now, and because I don't like who I've become—a whimpering, lonely wife."

Mike softened as he said, "I don't think of you as whimpering and lonely."

"I am tired of begging you to pay attention to us. I never want to have to beg you again! It's over, Mike. You and I are through."

He sat there so quietly for so long I was afraid he'd had an aneurysm. Did I handle this too quickly? Leave out too much information? I didn't want to bring Alan into it. It was important to me that the breakup was about our failed marriage, not the other man.

"Wow. I certainly didn't see this coming," was all Mike said.

We stared at each other as they delivered our food then ate in complete silence. The food tasted like cardboard. Part of me wanted to cry, the other part of me wanted to call Alan and tell him it was over. For twenty minutes, no words passed between Mike and me.

"So," he said slowly, "what does this mean?"

"It means that tonight, you catch the red-eye home. We've paid for the room through Saturday. When the kids and I get home, the three of us start packing." I sounded so calm. So in control. For once, I wasn't begging him to pay attention to me. It made me feel like Wonder Woman. She wouldn't have been a pansy like Anna or Hester! She would have put on her high-heeled boots and hot little costume and walked out.

"You're moving out of the house? Damn, Laura, I'm not that cold that I would make you and the kids look for another place to live. You can have the house." His voice was weak, and I knew he was hurting. I really had loved him once. Loved waking up next to him, being with him. Was I making a mistake?

"We'll go visit my mom for a while. I need some time away." Is that what I was going to do? I didn't know that! Where did a trip to Mom's come from?

"I'll do what you want," he said with resignation in his voice, "if you promise me you'll think about it before you get home so we can discuss this."

I shook my head. "I've done all the thinking I ever want to on this, Mike."

"Does this mean that you don't love me anymore?" He sounded so pathetic. So wounded. Tears stung the back of my throat, and I fought them down. I hated hurting him. How weird was that? He hurt me every time he cheated. He hurt the kids every time he failed to show up for something important, but I was worried about his feelings now.

"Not in the way a woman should love her husband," I said with a sigh. "I don't like the way you've treated us. I can't respect that. I'm sorry."

It seemed lame to apologize, but that's how I felt. It wasn't completely honest to say this was why I was leaving him. I was guilty of the death of our marriage too. But I wasn't about to bring that up.

To his credit, Mike didn't cry or yell. He simply paid for our dinner then led me out of the restaurant. All the way back to the hotel I kept thinking, It's over! In a few minutes, I can leap into Alan's arms forever!

Mike walked me to the door, standing stiffly while I unlocked it. Clara and Rory were sleeping on the bed, and I pulled the adjoining door closed and locked it. It was a few moments before I realized he hadn't crossed the threshold.

"Well, I guess I'd better go."

He looked so sad and lonely. I bit back the urge to let him stay the night because for once, he was feeling what I had felt so many times. I argued with myself that such behavior was beneath me, but I had to prove my point. I was so involved with my own head I didn't realize he was talking on his cell phone.

"I appreciate that. Thanks for letting me spend the night, Terry." He clicked off his phone, waved, then closed the door behind him. I remained frozen to the floor. Terry?