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    Life Long pt 2

    My wife put her brave face on and sat on the sofa next to her new lover. He hadn't said a word yet, obviously a plan the two had worked out. Mary made to say something, twice and stopped. She looked like a fish on the deck of my boat. Then she found her voice.

    "Devon," she quietly began, "how was your trip? I..."

    That was all she got out. "Mary," I cut her off. "Cut the BS! Just get on with it!" I looked angrily at Ron as I said it.

    "Alright," she looked from Ron to me and back. "First, you're wrong, I haven't moved in with him. Well, I suppose technically, but it's only temporary. In about thirty days, Ron will be getting his prostheses and he is getting around better now. Plus, Tina and Nancy are helping more now so I can be here for you. They know we have some... issues."

    Mary had officially lost her mind. I'm sure I just stared at her like she was some sort of freak although too many things were going through my mind just then.

    "Ah, I see, soon he'll be almost like new. He should be able to perform much better for you then." was the best I could do, and still play it somewhat cool. Then another thought; the first one that should have occurred, came to me. I looked at Ron then, a cold hard glare that let him know he was close to losing more than a few limbs.

    "You enjoying yourself?" I cockily asked. "Helping yourself to my wife?"

    My wife was quick to his defense, which upset me more. She was quick to answer for him.

    "It isn't like that... like you're thinking," she softly said. "We couldn't stay here after you left, if for nothing else than..."

    "Please, wife," I used the most disappointing tone I could. "Don't insult or denigrate me. Your lack of respect is astounding as it is. You're over there because you're free to play around and I don't have cameras in his place. Don't try to sugar-coat it. Just be honest for once, but I'm beginning to think that's impossible. Your actions tell me you couldn't give less of a shit about our marriage or me."

    As far as I knew, she'd always been honest with me, like her life depended on it. That was Mary's MO. That was how everyone saw her. Me calling her character out, made her face flush and nostrils flare.

    "By that look on your face," I continued, "it seems to me you don't like the inconvenient truth. So tell me, Mary, how many times have the two of you done the deed since I left to visit our daughter? Were you doing it while you were on the phone giving Lindsey a laundry list of things to do for your stupid husband?"

    Those words stung and Mary looked at the floor but rallied quickly.

    "Yes, we've... it has happened." At least she sounded guilty. "But it's not what you're thinking. There's no love behind it."

    "Great, Mary," I sadly responded. "You've just confirmed my worst fears." I had to take a deep breath. The whole thing, including her admission, was just so utterly painful.

    "Go on then," I sat up tall, resigned to my fate. "You're with him now. Make some arrangements with your girlfriends to pick up the rest of your stuff. I want you out of here. This is no longer your home because you abandoned it and me to be with your newfound lover."

    "It didn't mean anything," She pleaded. "It wasn't even sex."

    "I suppose not," I deadpanned. "Since he's not even half the man I am." Murder was in Ron's eyes then. I'm sure he would have rushed me if he'd had the means.

    Mary followed my eyes over to where I was looking - at Ron's missing limbs. Then the oddest thing happened.

    She just stared at Ron's arm and leg, or where they'd once been, like she was seeing him for the very first time.

    "What are you doing?" I asked her, in a worried tone. For that brief moment, I was so concerned I forgot the dire place we were all in. I didn't ask what she was thinking because it was what she was doing that seemed so strange. Something so out of place for a person I'd known most of my life.

    Mary looked back at me blankly. "What was I saying?" she seemed to be asking herself.

    "You were making a bunch of excuses and offering your prepared speech," I said.

    "Devon, stop it," Ron found his voice. "She's trying to explain - we both are. It just sort of happened, organically."

    "Yeah, it just happened," I spat back. "More than once. And if I want your comments, I'll ask. Until then, shut the fuck up!"

    Ron looked at the floor, mostly defeated. He knew that was the crux of things, all three of us did. It was also a dagger in many ways, especially to their half-hearted explanations.

    "Come on, Mary," he exasperatedly told her. "This was a bad idea. He's not ready to listen yet, let alone forgive."

    I didn't bother to get up. I didn't answer Mary when she sobbingly said 'goodbye.' My head hurt badly and my heart even more so. It felt like the energy had been drained from my body even though I'd had weeks to prepare.

    That was because I expected to come home to some guilt, some sorrow, and definitely some remorse; maybe some begging on her part. I'd expected that the two of them would have collaborated on their story better, or that my wife would have at least coached him so he could be the plus-one in helping her reconcile things. But Mary didn't seem interested in any of those things. I wondered as I heard them drive away, if she'd fallen in love with him.

    The house felt empty that afternoon. I'd lived long enough to hear some of these tragic stories and I always found that description to be odd. It hit me that day, that it wasn't just the emptiness. The entire house felt different. There was even an echo, although most everything was just as I'd left it. Maybe it felt like that because it was no longer a home.

    I wasn't going to mope around. At my age, every day was a choice between getting on with living or getting on with dying. After dinner, I got on my laptop and started analyzing our finances. I had no plans to try to cheat or extort Mary's money from her, but I'd be damned if I was going to let Ron get his hands on any of mine.

    I had to stop several times. The realization at that age made it almost unbearable. It would have been one thing earlier in life and I remembered back. The first go round it did feel life-altering at the time, but not like what I was experiencing then.

    After three and a half hours, something dawned on me. We were in much better shape than I knew. I mean, we'd had all these plans, including buying a lodge-like home near the majority of the kids where the entire family could get together. That was shot, like so many other little plans and dreams. I was still working my ass off to prepare for those things but after what had happened, I could easily retire.

    I was in my twenty-ninth year with the company and although I wouldn't max out on social security until sixty-seven, it really wouldn't make much difference to my monthly income. My 401k was solid, as was my pension. I could also sell the house we both had wanted so badly, and we'd both get another hefty nest egg. Split equally, that would be another one-hundred-seventy-five grand for each of us. She could go on Medicare in a few more months and I could ride out my health insurance.

    The more I thought about retirement that night, the more it scared me. I didn't want to slow down and end up in a rocker on some porch. The more I thought about it, the more I considered all the activities that I could suddenly partake in. No rocking chair for me.

    In the morning, the idea appealed even more. So I went to work, explained a few details, left the humiliation parts out, and officially retired. It would take two months if I wanted to wait until the end of the fiscal year and that benefited my retirement payments. The good news there was that my boss, the vice president of sales and marketing, told me to simply get my projects and sales goals in order, and then I could work from home while we all brainstormed on who would end up with each of my responsibilities.

    The hard part was telling the kids and their responses ranged from sadness to hysteria. They all had a lot of questions I couldn't answer. Lindsey was dumbfounded. She told me to please wait on the paperwork until she talked to Mom.

    Three days after returning home, I felt that everything had been accomplished. It was time to relax and begin the process of putting things behind me. No, putting things together was more right-thinking. Being mature did have its advantages when it came to self-correction. I was moving forward.

    I was getting settled on the plane when Lindsey called me. My daughter in California had asked me to come visit. I knew she was worried about me. As my oldest, she'd always been a little suspect of Mary. I chalked it up to her thinking Mary was taking me away from her. She'd gotten me tickets to a Dodger game and wanted me to join her and the grandkids for a day at Disney.

    "Have you talked to Mom?" Lindsey started.

    "No, I haven't, why?"

    "I don't like how she's acting, Dad," she sounded genuine. "Can't you go get her and bring her home?"

    "No, sweetie," I said with conviction. "I'm on a plane to Cali. Going to visit April and the kids. I need a getaway."

    Lindsey was silent for a moment. "So, you're just giving up on my Mom?" she sounded so hurt. "Just like that?"

    It was my turn to be reflective before answering. "That wasn't my intent, honey. From the moment I got home, she and Ron made things very clear. She's living with him. They've been... intimate. Maybe they're in love, I don't know. I didn't ask. She's doing what she wants, with whom, but if she wants both of us, well, I think you know me."

    "This feels all wrong," she almost yelled at me like a plea. "She loves you, Dad. I know that for a fact. I'm not there so I can't see her face, or get the answers I'm looking for."

    "It IS all wrong! Maybe it's the questions you're asking sweetheart," I didn't know quite what to say. "I did see her face. She had no problem telling me what she was doing and why. She admitted to... well you know. When I called her on some things, she and Ron just got up and left - rather than continue to try to face the truth and the consequences of their actions. They ran, not me."

    "This is all bullshit, Dad," she was desperate and furious then. "Something isn't right. I think you missed something. Can't you go back?"

    "And do what, Lindsey?" It was a legit question. "She's doing what she wants to do, both of them are. Your Mom is almost sixty-five years old. I can't stop her and if I could, I wouldn't. She has to deal with the consequences. Besides, I'm already on the plane. I'm going, because I know when I'm no longer wanted. Keep calling her if you want. She'll talk to you, maybe. See if you can get some answers because I'd love to understand."

    I spent a week with April and the grandkids. It was wonderful and it reminded me of the times I'd begged off, too much to do, a big workload, not enough money, and all that. I wouldn't make that mistake again. April quizzed me about Mary. She was sincerely reticent.

    "I never in a million years," she said with bated breath, "would have pegged her for something like this. Do old people just lose their minds like that, all of a sudden?"

    "I guess so, baby," I shrugged. "She, not me...I think I'm still lucid and I have my values intact."

    At the airport waiting to board my flight home, I got a wild hair. I pulled out my phone and went to my contacts. What was her name again? Mary? No, definitely not Mary. Maridee? Melonie? No. Melody! There she was.

    "Hello," her voice said.

    "Hey, Melody?" I asked like an idiot. I'd need to work on that after all these years. "It's me, Devon. I called to see how you were." Damn, that was stupid too. I admonished myself to get it together.

    Things were pretty quiet, and the pause was deafening. "Oh, Devon!" it sounded a bit fake. "How are you? How did things go with... with your wife?"

    Well, this wasn't exactly starting like a romance movie. More like a comedy.

    "I was wondering how you'd like to spend a weekend in Sedona?" I responded, undeterred. "Things didn't work out like I'd hoped and I did sort of promise you a pampered weekend. The spas there are to die for."

    "I'm well aware," she replied a little too quickly, then silence. "When were you thinking? I've got plans for the next three weekends after this one. I'm off early Friday and have the weekend off as well. I could drive up?"

    She didn't waste any time and it was slightly offputting. Still, it was a different generation. Who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth? I could change my flight, spend two days by the pool relaxing, and see Melonie... Melody on Friday.

    "That's perfect," I told her trying to sound happy. "Book the works for me at Blue Sage Day Spa. Make sure you book a massage with Richard. They know what kind."

    We talked about a few things to do, places to go really, and dinner. I had to admit I was flustered when we hung up, feeling over my head. It didn't take a genius to realize why she'd been so quick to take me up on my offer. Still, I was hurting. I didn't need revenge, I needed to salve my man card and ego. I thought maybe I should call her back. No, I thought. She knew far better what she was doing than I did.

    Mel picked me up at the airport and she could sense my apprehension. On the hour-and-a-half drive up, she kept the conversation light and to a minimum.

    After checking into our hotel, I started to look for somewhere to eat, but she saw me and said, "I've got that covered," softly but with determination. I put my phone in my pocket and was rewarded with a half-smile.

    Of all the cuisine types and creative menus in town, we ended up at a Brazilian steakhouse. Not the kind where they keep coming to your table with giant skewers trying to put you into a meat coma, just oversized steaks at outrageous prices. I was blown away at how much Melody could put into that tiny body of hers. When the server came by with the dessert choices, I gave Mel a bloated expression and shook my head. After offering a frown, she partook of a South American crème brulee.

    Melody was quite a talker. She told me all about her life, even the parts that seemingly no one would be interested in. I asked a few questions but overall nodded a lot and gave her several 'um-hums,' in return. I had plenty to say, but she was so animated and took my mind off my troubles. The biggest problem was how much she reminded me of my daughter.

    By the time we were back in the room, I was feeling... I wasn't exactly sure. Old, maybe even a bit creepy. Certainly not sexy. Things hadn't gone at all like I'd imagined. Mel had gone into the bathroom and considering her bold, confident attitude, I knew she was preparing herself for me. She emerged in a delicate, white pantie and bra set looking like a lingerie model. My heart wasn't into it, but my other parts were driving.

    Melody did a pirouette and jumped onto the bed next to me. That's when she noticed and her seductive smile disappeared.

    "What's wrong?" she asked, studying my face. As the forlornness increased, Melody came to a realization and sat straight up.

    "Oh, Devon," she exclaimed getting up, and stepped halfway into the bathroom to retrieve her top. She quickly pulled it on and sat next to me.

    "Too much?" she asked coyly running her fingers through my hair. "Or too fast?"

    "Maybe a little of both," I said in despair. "Maybe none of the above. I'm having... You're beautiful, honestly, maybe just second thoughts."

    "Oh my," she replied, seeming as though a light bulb had gone off. "I did it again. Me and my big mouth." She reached for my hand. "Call down to the desk and get us some wine. I will get comfortable and we can relax and talk awhile."

    I was glad she could even get comfortable, as she put it. My stomach felt like I'd swallowed a Volkswagen. The hotel was short-handed that night, so I had to go down for the wine, which meant I had to get redressed.

    When I returned Melody was dressed casually in shorts and a T-shirt, sitting up on the bed propped up on the pillows. I gave her a quizzical glance as I opened the wine.

    "You seemed like you needed a friend more than a lover," she said with empathy. "Let's start there unless I read you wrong." She was very observant.

    The young vixen was easy to talk to and a good listener for her age. She sipped her wine and maintained eye contact occasionally interjecting or asking a clarifying question as I detailed what had happened when I'd returned home. I couldn't keep the anger out of my voice.

    "Is there anything in your past that would suggest to her that these actions would be okay?"

    I told her there was nothing yet admitted to her compassionate heart towards others - even animals. I also said that Mary knew how I felt about infidelity, and we'd both had the same opinion over the years.

    "Is there a chance that something's changed in her thinking?" Mel asked. "or something that might require a diagnosis?" The last bit made me wonder, actually, hopeful.

    "Either way, Devon," she said sincerely, "are you sure you want to piss away a long-term marriage over a few handjobs?"

    That statement refueled my anger. I lashed out, finding it hard to maintain my composure.

    "So because we've been together and we're old," my volume elevated, "I'm supposed to look the other way. I'm supposed to forgive and forget because, well, what else is the ancient fucker going to do with his life?"

    "No, that's not what I mean," she squeezed my hand. "I'm saying that the two of you are acting like twenty-year-olds. You haven't sufficiently talked about it. You've taken off, twice now, based on what you said and she's moved in with him. Did she do that because you have security cameras in the house, or did she leave your home to care for him out of respect? Whose idea was it - his or hers? It seems to me there are a lot of unanswered questions that need to be answered is all."

    Melody and I talked late into the night. By midnight I was emotionally and physically drained. There was no sex that night, but she cuddled into me as we slept. Something told me she needed the closeness as much as I did.

    Her strategy for the rest of the week seemed centered around keeping me so busy that I didn't have time to focus on my troubles. By Thursday though, we'd become much closer and I could tell that she was wrestling all day with how to progress that night in our room.

    As it turned out, that decision was taken from her. I'd become much more comfortable with Mel and my little head was thinking on its own - even without the help of modern medicine.

    Melody was wise beyond her years. Who knows, maybe people her age were just smarter to begin with. She felt the mood and, like the first night, she spent time in the bathroom, preparing herself. Unlike that first night, I was more than ready for her.

    By the time we finished round one, I felt thirty years younger. I found Mel to be both passive and aggressive at all the right times. We'd discovered three different positions in that first go. She was nothing short of savage. I hoped I'd held up my end.

    "Damn, Devon," she said, ending my curiosity. "That was amazing! I'm gonna need a little break. Then, can we do it again?"

    I felt no shame and didn't let any thoughts of Mary linger in my mind. I remained focused and it wasn't hard to do because Mel was... extremely skilled. The second time lasted longer and it was other-worldly. Felling thirty years younger vanished right afterward when I fell into a deep and restful sleep. If only that damned alarm would have quit ringing.

    "Devon," it was Melody gently shaking me awake. "It's your phone, Devon. Won't stop."

    "Hello," I answered exacerbated.

    "Where the hell are you right now?" Lindsey shouted at me. "Mom needs you. That guy Ron called me. Said he got the number from mom's phone."

    "I'm on vacation," I half-shouted back, hearing the name of my former friend and wife's paramour.

    "Your wife is in the hospital!" Lindsey yelled so loudly that Mel heard her. "Get your ass home, now!"

    That got my attention and I panicked. I looked at Mel and she steered me quickly out of bed. Mary was still my wife and I loved her.

    "What... what happened?" I asked Lindsey.

    "I don't know," she responded. Except that she fell. It must have been pretty bad if she's been admitted. Where are you right now?"

    I suddenly felt guilty and didn't want to say. Mel leaned into my field of vision and mouthed, 'Tell her.'

    "I'm in Sedona," I admitted.

    "Geez-us, Dad," she sounded disappointed. "Please just get home. I'm heading to the airport in a few hours. Do you want to come here or fly out from there to Vegas?"

    I told her I would text her once I could figure out flight info. My senses were overwhelmed so Melody helped me pack while I tried to change my travel itinerary. After getting a midnight flight out with a long one-stop layover, I'd be back home at six in the morning.

    "Melody, I'm sorry," I was talking frantically. "About the room, I..."

    "Don't sweat the room," she wryly replied. "I'll keep it. It's paid for, yes?"

    I knew what she was trying to say and she wasn't being a swindler. "It will be on the way out," I told her. "Sorry to leave you hanging."

    "Don't be," she consoled. "Go be with your wife where you belong. "I'll enjoy my time and who knows, maybe I'll meet someone like I always do," She jiggled that marvelous chest. "Maybe even get laid for my efforts."

    I was too distracted to comment or even to laugh. I needed to get to Mary. I bid my traveling companion goodbye and took the rental to the small local airport. While waiting for my flight I spoke to my daughter and when pressed about Sedona, I admitted why I was there.

    After consulting with the attending overnight physician, they allowed me into Mary's room even though visiting hours didn't begin until eight. Daylight was breaking through the heavy curtains as I sat and watched her peacefully sleep.

    I found it amazing that I had so much love and care for her, despite the deep feelings of betrayal. I hated what she'd done, yet I couldn't imagine losing her. The overnight guy hadn't shed any light on her condition except to say she was stable and not in any danger. Her doctor would be on shift in an hour or two and would come to see us once she was awake. I texted Lindsey to see if she'd landed yet.

    Something startled me. I must have dozed off for a minute, and when I looked at Mary she was awake and watching me. I immediately stood and went to her side.

    "Oh, Devon," she began, in a raspy voice, "I'm so sorry. I..."

    "Shhh," I put my finger to her lips. "Let's not do that now. I'm here and your health is the most important thing right now. Your doctor will be here shortly to talk to us. Do you know what happened? I was told you fell."

    Mary was crying with a panicked look on her face. I didn't want her upset so I held her hand. A nurse walked in to attend to her and asked in a kind soft voice if I could excuse myself for just a few minutes. I squeezed Mary's hand, telling her I'd be right back.

    Heading to the vending machines, I walked past the emergency room waiting area. There, I saw Tina sleeping uncomfortably in a chair with Ron in a similar state leaning against her. I didn't want to make a scene so I kept moving. After getting a soda, though, I decided I needed to find out what had happened to my wife.

    Both friends - one former, now - awakened as I moved towards them. Ron gave me a stare; not defensive, as I expected. It wasn't apologetic either, just sorrowful, I supposed.

    "What happened to Mary?" I asked, pretending to be calm although I was anything but. Tina recoiled and seemed to put herself between Ron and me.

    "She fell," he stuttered, "maybe passed out first, while she was helping me up the front steps of my house. I felt her legs give way, and tried my best to position myself between her and the ground, but..."

    He seemed embarrassed. I guess I would be too, if unable to do the simplest of tasks. He took a moment to get control of himself.

    "I couldn't and we both fell," he continued. "She hit her head on the concrete walkway pretty hard. I think that actually woke her up. A neighbor saw it and called 911 before attending to us. We're waiting for the tests to come back regarding a concussion."

    I looked at him, burned holes through his eyes with my rage. "I appreciate you waiting around, but I've got it from here. You can go home."

    "I'm sorry, Devon," his voice pleading. "Sorry for everything. But I'm staying to make sure she's alright. Tina can tell m... "

    I spoke quietly but viciously through gritted teeth. "Listen to me you half-a-piece of shit. I said I've got it from here. You're not welcome. Sit here if you want, but do not try to come into her room, or you're going to the morgue and me to prison, understand?"

    Tina hadn't said a word. She was frozen, looking unsure if she should stay between the two of us or run for security. I looked at her then and said, "Stay here with him or take him home, I don't care. I can text you updates once I hear from her doctor."

    Dr. Liftschultz had a delicate yet formidable bedside manner. He reminded me of what doctors used to be before our healthcare system fell apart.

    "Mary," he began, holding her chart, "you do not have a concussion. Possibly a mild one, but nothing that shows up on our scans." He paused so we could take that in. "We need to determine what caused you to pass out in the first place. Have you had any head trauma in the past twelve months?"

    Mary began to tell him she hadn't but I interrupted. "She slipped on the ice doing her Uber Eats job," I told him. "She didn't want to go to the urgent care because she didn't have any symptoms. Not right away, that is."

    "And what symptoms, later?" the Doctor asked.

    "Dizziness," Mary said quietly from her bed. Liftschultz looked at her, then back to me.

    "Anything else?" he asked. "Even the slightest thing?"

    "Ah... Confusion, sometimes," Mary said even quieter like she was ashamed.

    I was the one looking confused then. Mary gave me an apologetic look, then glanced at the doctor with hopeful anticipation. He could read the surprise on my face but kept quiet about it.

    "How often are you dizzy," he asked, "or confused?"

    "I was dizzy starting a few days after I fell," she replied. "It was fairly often at first, and I told my husband. We decided to see if it went away. He was worried and encouraged me to see our doctor but it started to lessen after a week or so. I decided against a check-up. After about a month the dizziness subsided. Then another month later, I found myself daydreaming, almost like when you nod off from being tired, and then wake up quickly or suddenly. I'd have to get my bearings, the same as waking up in a chair, but then I'd realize looking at my phone, that I hadn't been asleep for any time at all."

    Liftschultz looked at me and I was suddenly embarrassed, not having ever noticed what was happening.

    "Did this ever occur while you were active?" he asked with more concern in his voice. "While you were at work, or driving?"

    "Not at first," my wife admitted. "But lately, it's... ah... progressed."

    I wasn't sure what to think. I was angry for sure, and I felt humiliated for some reason. That was stupid because it wasn't happening to me, but her statement opened other possibilities that made me wonder. I looked at Mary then the doctor and walked out of the room, heading straight back to the emergency room waiting area.

    "I have some questions," I said sternly to Ron, finding him still there, "and you damned well better tell me everything honestly."

    Ron looked weary and frightened. If I hadn't lost all respect for him before, I did then.

    "Has my wife ever exhibited any abnormal behavior?" I asked, standing right in front of him. Then I realized the question wasn't specific enough. "Have you ever seen her 'zone out'? Lose her train of thought or composure?"

    Ron took time to consider and formulate an answer. "Every so often," he began. "She seems like she's somewhere else. I'd say something and she wouldn't respond. I thought it might be her hearing because then I'd say her name at a higher volume and she'd engage."

    "That ever happen," I knew it was petty even as the words left my lips, "while she was bathing you?"

    Ron took even longer to respond. "I don't... I don't think so." His voice barely squeaked.

    Things moved quickly from there. The doctor ran several tests on Mary. The next afternoon, he explained his findings to Mary and me.

    "Mary, I believe we've discovered the cause of your symptoms," he began. "Benign paroxysmal positional vertigo, or BPPV. In layman's terms, tiny calcium crystals in the utricle, a sensory organ in your inner ear, likely became displaced when you slipped on the ice and are still out of place." He took a few moments to allow us to absorb what he said.

    "The good news is that your condition is treatable," he told us with a disarming smile. "Then we can monitor you for any confusion or disorientation to determine if anything else is going on."

    After we discussed Mary's tests a bit more, Liftschultz asked to speak with me privately.

    "There are certainly qualified specialists in the area," he said, "or in Seattle and California, however, if you can afford it, one of the very best recently moved to Acapulco, Mexico. His name is Dr. Burns and due to monetary exchange rates, I believe you could provide your wife with the best care at an excellent cost."

    After many more questions, I asked him to call his colleague and find out the man's availability. I also felt like I may have discovered an answer to Mary's outrageous behavior. If that proved out, I would also end up feeling like a jackass.

    "Dr. Liftschultz," I started pensively. "There's... some things I need to know. Some things that happened recently. You met the man who brought her here, Ron?" He nodded, wondering where I was going.

    "That man was in my wife's care after his accident." I paused there, considering the embarrassing nature of my next words but I had to. "Some things took pl... happened. Intimate things. Is it possible or consistent with her injury that she could be coerced or manipulated to do things she normally wouldn't?"

    I really liked Liftshultz. He was tender, patient, and kind as he gently made me elaborate. After explaining what had transpired, he thought for at least a minute before answering.

    "What you described," he was running my words through his mind even as he spoke, "could happen, but not without certain character traits that were long present in your wife. I also doubt she would continue on her own or could be repeatedly tricked or coerced over time. That only means that at some point, Mary made a conscious decision that what she was doing was justified. I'm sorry if that doesn't answer all of your concerns but I think you still have to deal with one thing at a time. So, get those crystals realigned, then monitor for dizziness, confusion, and daydreaming. Do you have the ability to take some time away from work and perhaps remain in Acapulco for a while? That might allow an opportunity to get Mary's unabridged version of things."

    Dr. Daniel Burns was all business and as far as I could tell, just like Liftschultz. He even offered us one of his Air BnBs to stay at free of charge while Mary was recuperating. I spoke to Lindsey to get her take on things, it was all courtesy. When Dr. Liftschultz and I spoke to Mary she seemed apprehensive. When the doctor left the room I asked what was going on in her head.

    "It's just that," she paused. "I'm pretty sure you were ready to leave me. Now, you're being kind. I'm worried about the two of us hashing out our problems so far away from home."

    I supposed I could understand that. "Mary," I replied as tenderly as I could, "there's still a chance we'll divorce. I won't lie about that. But I'm not going to leave you in Mexico. In sickness and in health, remember? I take my vows very seriously. All the rest, we'll just have to see how it goes."

    Three days later we were off to Mexico. Mary tried like crazy to engage me about our troubles. I rebuked her telling her that we both needed to focus on her condition and there was plenty of time later, our problem wasn't going away on its own. Mary worried that something could go wrong with her inner ear surgery and she'd go to her grave with our conflict unresolved, but I wouldn't relent.

    Mary's mood turned noticeably bleak in the four days it took us to meet Dr. Burns for the first time. Burns addressed it after the medical stuff was discussed.

    "I perceive some... coldness," he paused. "Perhaps tensions are high. Can either of you tell me about that?"

    Mary cleared her throat and began, surprising me by taking the lead. "We've had... I've caused some marriage-altering circumstances lately. I'd hoped to discuss at least what's at the core of our issues before the surgery so we can at least clear the air, in case... in case something happens."

    Dr. Burns smiled at her and then at me. "The surgery is non-invasive," he said, "and quite safe, I assure you. That doesn't mean that either of you should put off important conversations. Even if you can't resolve your problems before the surgery, it's my experience that patients who are less stressed and have things to look forward to have a high rate of rapid and fuller recovery."

    The doctor scribbled something on a Post-it note and handed it to me. "The name and street for a nice restaurant near your lodging. I suggest only one glass of wine for Mary."

    Mary wasn't much of a wine drinker but nodded. "In forty-eight hours we're going to correct your situation and increase your quality of life. I suggest you both continue along that vane starting tonight."

    I'd never had a doctor with that type of outstanding bedside manner in the States. When we returned to our room, I called for a reservation while she changed and freshened up a bit. She looked beautiful as always, although very apprehensive.

    Very little of Mary and my tragedy had been discussed since her illness was discovered. That didn't mean I wasn't spending hours thinking about it. I'd spent a fair amount of time thinking about me, too. Ever since that night with Melody - or more specifically - the morning after, when I got the call about Mary.

    It's hard to admit the kind of failures I'd had this late in life. I knew fundamentally, I'd had plenty of successes but at the two biggest junctures in my life, I'd failed miserably. The worst part was how I did it because it ran contrary to my normal everyday personality.

    If one can believe those romance novels, where the well-dressed, ridiculously handsome, wealthy predator is an alpha male, then I'd have to describe myself as a beta, and that was hard to take. I wasn't that way in other aspects of my life, but at those two critical junctures, first with my ex-wife, and then after discovering Mary's deception and betrayal, I'd behaved exactly like a whiny wimpy husband, and I didn't understand why.

    With my first marriage being over for so long, I didn't dwell on it. With Mary, though, I suspected at least a little before viewing those security recordings.

    I should have confronted her right away. Even if it had done no good, knowing Mary's penchant for all things injured I'd have been proactive and felt better about my future decisions. When I ran, and being honest with myself, that's what I'd done, I knew in my heart Mary would continue to look after his needs. I certainly wasn't going to take responsibility for her actions, but my leaving only paved a big 'ole luscious driveway, for the two of them to depart from.

    Regardless of Mary's condition or previous decisions she'd made, actions must have consequences. I'd raised my children under that tenant and I'd need to stick to my own doctrine in this case. I also knew that if I was going to make rational and reasonable decisions for myself, I'd need to wait until after Mary's procedure so I had all of the relevant information.

    I knew that night was more than a dinner and would be absolutely paramount to our future - no matter how things went. I was nervous and by the time Mary transitioned from trying to refresh her appearance to leaving our rental, she was also tense.

    In the car, Mary leaned over towards me and said, "Devon, I know tonight is a night for healing wounds but can we hold off until we get our meal out of the way? I'm famished."

    I thought Mary certainly had a different idea about how the night and our conversation would go but that didn't mean I was going to ruin her over some spicy food. In fact, my goal was to put her at ease, even if the worst outcome between us was about to unfold so that she could be at peace going into her procedure.

    After dinner, the server went through a litany of dessert options but we settled for a small dish of ice cream. Mary seemed apprehensive about beginning the dreaded conversation.

    "Mary, relax," I told her. "There's a lot we need to discuss, but we aren't going to solve all our problems in one night. Just remember that the problem didn't occur all at once.

    "I know," she admitted a bit skittishly. "I just feel a strong need to explain myself. If something happens to... if something happens, during my surgery, I don't want you going to your grave without knowing how I felt or why I did what I did."

    "Okay," I replied. "That's fair. Please, Mary, whatever you do, don't lie to me. That would be worse than anything else. Besides, we're going to have several of these talks after your procedure, so just be honest from the beginning." She nodded knowingly.

    "Since you were with that woman," she started, her face immediately reddening, "Lindsey told me, you know. Since that happened I suppose it was to get even or it was some pride thing..."

    "Hold it, Mary," I stopped her. "I don't plan to interrupt your speech every other sentence, but right off the bat, you're starting on a bad note. What I did with her was one night. I needed to restore something inside of me. It's something a woman wouldn't understand. She was there and she was willing and that's it. The fact you began with that tells me how much it impacted you. Now you know how I felt, except what you did was far worse." My facial skin tone now matched hers if the heat on my ears and cheeks were any indication.

    Mary broke eye contact and looked at the tablecloth. Then she sighed and continued.

    "Alright," she admitted, "I was hurt. As I'm sure you were. And we didn't come here for that. You have to understand, I didn't set out to hurt you..."

    She saw me about ready to explode and she stopped and held up her hand. "I know, I know," she said in exacerbation. "You don't see it that way. Let me talk for a minute, please. I knew, from that first time that if you found out, and I had no reason to think you wouldn't, that I'd hurt you, badly. I did it anyway, knowing that." She paused again gauging me.

    "That first time," she restarted, "the look on his face drove my actions. He looked so desperate. Ron never said a word, he just gave me that "I'm so sorry, but I need this" look. He knew it was wrong, that was in his eyes too, just behind the desperation." She couldn't hold my gaze any longer.

    "We both knew how wrong it was," she sighed again. "But I did it anyway."

    "Again and again," I said in a despicable tone. "Why did you do that?"

    "I want to say it's who I am," she said after collecting her thoughts. "But I know that's a lie. The truth is... I made it your fault."

    "What?!" I announced instead of responding.

    "It wasn't your fault," she said quickly, "it was me taking your love for granted." She reached for my hand but I pulled it off the table and tears formed in her eyes.

    "You've loved me your whole life," she pronounced it as Gospel. "I took that for granted. I foolishly thought if I could explain my actions in a way that I could make you understand, then you'd allow it. If you didn't allow it, at least you'd forgive me. But it never occurred to me that you would leave me because you loved me so much. I was woefully ignorant about that as well."

    Mary stopped talking, waiting for my response or needing a break. I didn't plan to let her off the hook.

    "I can't buy that," I told her. "You claim to love me and then, use my love against me. To sabotage my love and trust. That makes no sense."

    "I know that," she left the word "now" hanging like an anvil. "After the first time, it got exponentially easier until you left. Actually, it was after I went with Ron to his house. He was getting better, stronger. I still had to help him get up and move, but he no longer needed me for... that. At least I didn't feel like he did. His first two prostheses were in place but he was still hounding me about sex. When he said the word, sex, that is, for the first time, something hit me like a ton of bricks.

    "He'd tell me," she continued, "how much he enjoyed being with me, how connected we were. I told him my only connection was with my husband, and it sounded about as stupid when I said it as it probably sounds to you now. At least you have the same look on your face as Ron did."

    Another pause and I waved my hand for her to keep on. "For the first time and to my eternal shame, in that moment, I figured out what he was doing... what I'd allowed him to do."

    "Yeah, I'm gonna stop you right there," I said with a certain venom. "You knew well before that. At least you know me as well as I know you. Now I wonder about that. Anyway, we had this fight or discussion or whatever before I left. You knew what you'd done to me, to us."

    "I didn't," she replied vehemently. "I only knew that I'd hurt you deeply. I excused that as me not getting to you first, so I could explain. I'd made all these excuses in my head. He was my friend, as Barb had been. He was your friend too. He needed me, needed us. I could tell you what was happening and you'd see my logic. It could be something we did together out of our love for him. You left and I knew that I'd hurt you because of how you found out."

    Looking at my wife, it was easy to discern that she truly believed the crap coming out of her mouth. I briefly wondered if she might have some permanent brain damage. Suddenly, I looked at the time on my phone.

    "We'll need to continue this later," I said. "We need to get back so you can call the kids." She frowned, knowing that I meant 'just in case'.

    You'll need to have them network with each other, because the international call rate is going to be crazy, and you'll be on the phone with them until well past the time you need to get some rest."

    Mary put up no argument. I knew on top of everything else, she was scared shitless. Her head always went to the worst possible outcome.

    On the drive back, Mary was uncharacteristically quiet. Finally, she asked me, "Why are you here with me?" I found the question fascinating.

    "Because," I stated. "My vows said better or worse, sickness and in health. I do not have it in me, no matter how cruelly you treated me, to leave you here when you needed me...or someone the most."

    I slept restlessly but not over the procedure. I had a lot to think about for our trip home. There were going to be changes and demands and consequences. Mary wouldn't like most of them but if she wanted any chance at a future friendship, let alone a reconciliation, she'd have to abide or get the hell out.

    Not precluding the procedure and what the doctor found, Mary would find herself in a situation that she either embraced or that broke her. Broke us.

    Mary's procedure took only ninety minutes. She was mildly sedated and told me she loved me before going under. She also apologized profusely. I kept the kids notified by text.

    Dr. Burns came to find me while Mary was in recovery.

    "Devon," he said, sitting next to me, "Mary came through the procedure splendidly. You'll be able to see her soon. I wanted to let you know, that we found other damage - older damage - maybe from an earlier fall. Most likely when she was an adolescent and up to and including her early twenties." He paused to let that sink in.

    "I'm a doctor, Devon," he continued, "not a soothsayer, so I can't say for sure if Mary has had certain confused behavior in the past... but you would, since you've known her so long. I have no interest in influencing you regarding your relationship, however, I do have some advice. I'd think hard about what you know to be true about Mary's personality and consider any past behavior to the contrary. It may help explain her recent lapses in judgment or it might open many new cans of worms. What to do with that information is entirely up to you, of course."

    I had to process what he was saying in layman's terms. Initially, I considered whether I could have been one of Mary's confused, bad decisions.

    "That aside," Dr Burns finished, "the procedure was completely successful. Mary is permanently cured unless she has another hard fall."

    That last part was great news. I'd grown tired. I worried about Mary's health, constantly contemplating what my future would be like, and what the kids would think if my plans worked against their mother. She would come out smelling like a rose to the kids, even if I gave them the full chapter and verse on what Mary had done.

    One thing that didn't happen in our tropical paradise was any sort of rest and relaxation. I brought my wife back to our room later that day, and she slept like the dead from early evening until the following morning. The kids were, as expected, very relieved.

    Mary could feel my relief too, but she also felt my newfound resolve. The conversation we were to have after her procedure didn't happen because I'd lost the desire to have it.

    Mary gave me space, but she was also reluctant to start or to push it. Dr. Burns told us Mary couldn't travel by plane for seventy-two hours after the surgery. With very little conversation as we remained in Mexico and almost none on our travel back home, Mary seemed a combination of nervous and forlorn. I'd come back to rescue her in her hour of need just like other times in our lives, but she knew this time was different. I could see the worry about our collective futures play across her face.

    I wasted little time when we arrived back at our house, after all, I'd had more than enough time to think about what I would do. Mary busied herself doing all the things she and, I suppose other women do, when returning home from a trip. Even with the size of our small home, she didn't notice me clearing out the spare room closet that had been used for storage and then some of Ron's belongings. Any remnants of him were tossed in a trash bag and I moved the storage items to the garage.

    "What are you doing?" she asked about forty-five minutes after I'd started.

    "Rearranging," I stated without emotion. When I turned with the last of the storage items, she wore a sad puppy look. That wouldn't work, that day or any others to come.

    "This is your room now," as I spoke the words, it was easy to see that Mary understood that I hadn't said 'FOR now'. Surprisingly, when I'd finished organizing and shelving all the crap in the garage, I found Mary moving most of her clothes and other things from our bedroom to her new one. I didn't say a word.

    Later, Mary cooked a nice meal and offered me a coffee as I sat in the living room channel surfing.

    "Devon," she asked meekly. "Can you please skip the boob tube tonight so we can talk?"

    I didn't expect her to have herself together enough at that point but nodded and turned the TV off.

    She sat in her favorite chair across from me and fluffed up some pillows behind her back. "Devon, first, I want to thank you for taking me to Mexico," she began sincerely, "for caring for me and about me, after what I did... what I've done to you. I love you and I think you know that. I know I've got a lot to make up for..."

    "Hold it right there," I put my hand out in a 'full stop' motion. She'd made her first major mistake and only a few sentences in.

    "All of my life," I continued, "I've been there for you. Always. I do the rescuing and then you do the making up for things." I paused for that to sink in and as it did shock registered on her face as though she'd never considered such a thing.

    "I do the loving husband thing, something you've already said you took for granted." I began again. I do it because I've always loved you. I'm not sure that making up for the things you've done wrong can be categorized the same. One thing I know is that in order for me to stay... here, to stay married, things need to change."

    Mary isn't a stupid woman, ear condition that caused confusion, or not. She isn't the type to have a 'fish out of water' look. Still, I'd never seen her that shocked. I pulled some papers out of my back-pants pocket and unfolded them.

    "I'm going to explain these conditions, Mary," I sternly said. "Just stop me when you hear one you can't or won't abide by."

    Most of what I read off to her that night was standard for any betrayed man. Sleeping separately until or if I felt like having sex with her. I made it clear that I wasn't sure that feeling would ever come back. No pouting, crying, or trying to seduce me. No moping around or overtly trying to please me to get back in my good graces.

    I made sure she understood that GRACE is exactly what it would take for us to have a future. I'd have to forgive, if I could, but not forget. Then finally I made it clear that she was the one who'd changed the terms of our relationship.

    I continued talking about splitting our money, or in our case, not doing it. I wanted her to fully appreciate that if it weren't for our age and state laws regarding Medicare or divorce, we probably wouldn't be having the conversation at all.

    In return for her cooperation, I promised to live with her as friends - actually as friendly as I could bring myself to be - was how I'd phrased it. I told her that I expected both of us to be fully transparent with the children, without necessarily covering the specific, gory details.

    To her credit, Mary sat stoically, as salty tears ran down her cheeks. She only looked away when she needed to blow her nose. After I'd finished, she stayed quiet even though it was evident she'd wanted to interrupt several times. Eventually, she squared herself to speak.

    "Devon, I don't know what to say," she started. "I know I love you and always will. I know abiding by your demands will be painfully difficult. I know I'm willing to play by your rules - pay my penance - as it stands. I can only hope you can forgive me at some point, especially now that I'm cured of..."

    "Let's talk about that," I cut her off. "You need to understand that I don't see things the way you do regarding your condition. If we have any chance at all, you're going to have to grasp that what you did to me with Ron, even what happened in high school, I don't see them as having anything to do with your ear issue or any confusion you may have had as a result."

    Mary's shocked look had turned sad. She got up and almost ran down the hallway.

    I heard her in the bathroom and the water running, presumably washing her face. To her credit, she came right back and sat back in her chair just looking at me.

    "You're not saying anything," I announced more than stated. "So, I guess you're wondering what I mean. Mary, your confusion may have contributed to Ron getting in your head, but then again, maybe not. What I do know is that you've always been impulsive, impetuous, if you will. Your desire to help others, even stray animals, could be considered a fine quality, except not so much combined with those other two."

    Mary was crying again. Except then, they were the tears of cold, hard truth.

    "You brought that giant mutt home, you remember?" I went on. "The one you didn't bother to ask me about until the kids had spent several hours swooning over it. I had to be the bad guy, getting rid of it, remember? Then there was that cat. You're allergic to cats, and still, here's this black, long-haired cat that you just needed to rescue.

    "The year Lindsey moved out," I was on a roll. "We started talking about getting a boat. Nothing fancy, we agreed. So what happens? You come home from garage-saling and there's an inflatable canoe with a couple of paddles in the trunk."

    Mary had had enough. "We had great times in that silly little canoe!" she shrieked. "You loved our time on the lake in that thing and it only cost me fifteen dollars."

    "You're right," I agreed. "We did... I did. But that's not the point. God, it's difficult to realize that I could think I knew someone so well, all my life, I might add, and still have gotten it so wrong. Tell me one time you've ever even considered consulting me about decisions that we were both supposed to make together.

    "Better yet," I went another direction, "tell me how you went off and got pregnant so fast after we went our separate ways way back when?

    Clearly, Mary hadn't expected the conversation she found herself in. "What are you asking?" she asked incredulously. "We've talked that to death, even before we got back together. What are you insinuating?" The wide range of emotions swept across her tear-stained face like a high-definition jumbotron.

    "You don't know how to say 'no'," I disappointedly stated. "All these years and I'm just now realizing that sad fact. At the same time, you're hoping to restore my trust and respect in you. I hope you're starting to get a clear picture of just how tough that's going to be."

    Mary couldn't hold my gaze and instead inspected a random spot on the hardwood floor. She knew just as surely as if it had been tattooed onto her forehead.

    "Yes, I'm starting to," she said as she got up and left the room.

    The first two weeks in our once-loving home were frigid at best. Thank goodness we had the little 300-square-foot building out back. I used it as an office from time to time and during that period, I did so again. There was a small coffee maker, an under-counter fridge, a toilet, and a hand sink, which allowed me to stay out there and work without having to go into the house.

    Mary seemed to spend our nights together in self-reflection. During the day, she'd go shopping, or look for knick-knacks at garage sales. She never did go back to her retail job. I came home one afternoon from a sales call and found an old-fashioned metal sign that said 'office' hanging outside the door to the outbuilding. She'd dusted and tidied up the space for me.

    I gave her all the space she needed. Some nights she'd be staring at the TV but I knew she was paying zero attention. I was doing the same. Yeah, that was a tough half-month.

    But things began to improve. I found myself talking more over dinner, sharing things about my day like we used to. She'd go on about the kids, or something our little rebel Lindsey had done. The children seemed very happy that we were still together.

    It was obvious that Mary was intent on winning back what had been lost and as the frost began to melt she seemed happier and maybe even resigned to her fate. We started to garden after I put in some raised beds. For the hot summer, she'd found an online deal for a small pool, just big enough for us to float around in and do some water calisthenics. We began to follow some of our old routines, before the issues with Ron, like going to the movies on Friday or Saturday night.

    As for Ron well, neither of us ever spoke to him again. That was one of my conditions that Mary readily agreed to. The condition that we never associate with the others in the group was something she put up a fight for until she saw me coming into the living room with our large suitcase packed.

    Mary had an unspoken way about her, making sure I knew she was available - sexually - to her without trying to be seductive. We'd known each other for so long that nothing verbal was needed.

    It happened almost a year after we came back from Mexico. I had just retired myself and we'd had a nice dinner at one of our favorite swank restaurants on the lake. The atmosphere was more electric that night. Mary wasn't swooning, but it was apparent that she was proud of me. There wasn't any contribution from alcohol either, since I didn't drink and the Bailey's and coffee she had after dinner, usually made her sleepy.

    We walked in our front door laughing about who knows what, and it just happened.

    Mary could see... what? Desire in my eyes? She was on me before the front door closed. I hadn't planned it so no little blue helper for me, but to my astonishment, I didn't need it. Clothes were flying as we clumsily made it to our... my room. I'm surprised neither of us broke a hip!

    Sufficient time had passed, so there wasn't any rough stuff on my part. I made love to Mary like the old days and she returned it in spades. After we caught our breath, my wife coaxed me back to attention, pleasantly surprising me. Then we took our time and did a few positions that were nearly long forgotten.

    As I lay there looking at the ceiling afterward, Mary scooted up and nestled her head against my chest. Just the way she breathed told me she was content.

    "Am I forgiven?" she asked gently. She felt me stiffen slightly and immediately looked up at my face. "I'm sorry," she said, her tone alarmed. "It just came out. I..."

    Smartly, she stopped before going any further. I found that my pleasure in her constant atonement had abated.

    "We should talk about that," I said with a slight smile. "If you're up to it."

    She was and we talked for nearly two hours with a few breaks for water and the bathroom. It was amazing that so much had been left unsaid over the year. She sat up at one point and held my hand as sat there cross-legged, looking at me.

    "I've been an incredibly selfish wife and partner," she began. "I can only hope I've earned back some of what I lost because of my stupidity." I slowly nodded in agreement.

    "Devon," she went on. "For a long time, I've felt an overwhelming sense of trying to help people." She saw I was about to revert to our circular argument and put her hand up while continuing to talk.

    "I never took stock of it, beyond what it did for those being helped, or me. Never until this past year. I just couldn't see how being there for someone in real need could be anything but good. But Dr. Evans helped me to see." Before she could continue, she saw the questioning look on my face.

    "Oh, yes," she said. "Dr. Evans is a therapist I saw for the first three months after we got home last year. I didn't say anything because things were so tumultuous between us, I didn't want to rock the boat. Stupidly, I went there hoping to get some advice on how to get you to see I never intended hurt or pain. Boy, I certainly got an education. I never considered past my own selfish desires how my actions would affect others - people I loved and cared about."

    I wasn't happy she kept another thing from me, but she had a full head of steam so, I just remained quiet.

    "And I learned something else," she squeezed my hand. "I learned that you were right. Right about everything you said that day we got home from Mexico. I've been that way all my life and seeing myself in that mirror - in that light - sickened me and told me that I had a long way to go, beyond simply telling you I was wrong before I could ever fully make it up to you. I've been trying and hopefully, you've seen improvement from me in that regard."

    "I have," I said cautiously. "But I've also seen you walking on eggshells, being uptight, and some of the joy within that makes you who you are seems to be gone. If that's because of how I've treated you, well then, I'm sorry. If it's just because you're trying to be someone you're not for my benefit, then I think we have a bigger problem."

    Physical intimacy returned regularly after that night but our problems weren't solved by any means. We continued to talk and work through them, though, and just the deep heartfelt conversation was refreshing for me. It reminded me of our early days when we were just getting to know one another.

    For eight years, Mary and I sort of fell in love all over again. I'd laugh when she'd say it was our 'third' time. I want to say it was like the other two times, but that would be a lie. Something we had was definitely lost and it didn't seem like it would ever return. I had a damned good idea what it was. I know my wife felt it too, but like me, she never said anything. We just enjoyed each other. We traveled a lot and spent time with Lindsey and our other kids and grandkids.

    I got the call while sitting on my garage floor putting a new blade on the lawnmower. I almost let it go to voicemail but for some reason, I didn't.

    "Is this..." the unfamiliar voice asked, and then as though talking to someone in the background, "What's your name, sweetie? Is this Mary's husband?"

    My heart was beating out of my chest as I responded. "Yes, what's happened?"

    "Your wife is here at the mall," the voice hesitated. "She's disoriented and unsure where she is or even why she's here. I think you better come right away."

    And that was the moment that I knew one thousand percent that I loved Mary, unlike any other person on Earth. I didn't think about it; didn't dwell on it. I was too focused on getting to her as quickly as possible, breaking, I'm sure several traffic laws.

    Later, though, I remember thinking how easy it is to forget when someone who means everything to you falls short of your expectations. When that person wrongs or fails you.

    Mary's ear situation had long been corrected but now her brain was on the fritz. I got her home and she was fine the rest of the day, if fine meant she was only worried sick about what had happened to her. Another tendency of Mary was to assume the worst. I held and cuddled her in bed that night until she finally fell asleep. During her sleep, she held onto me for dear life.

    At the doctor the next morning, my wife went through a battery of tests. Then it was off to the lab for a brain scan. Two days later, we received the news we'd been dreading. Mary had early-onset Dementia.

    We called the children and were met with varying results. It's amazing how they can all be raised the same and still have such different personality traits as adults. Lindsey, as I expected, was sad and wanted to come visit her mother right away. The others ranged from supportive to wanting to take charge of Mary's situation. One by one, they all made their way to see and spend time with Mary in what felt like a twisted pilgrimage.

    A few months later, we had a full house for Christmas and most of the kid's families staying at a hotel just two minutes down the road. Mary had a few minor episodes during the holidays and I think it had to do with all the external input. We were just so used to it being the two of us in our little home. Mary realized it when it happened or shortly afterward. I played it off so we could get on with happier moments.

    All in all, my wife and I had a very good year before things started to rapidly change. It's a truly rotten disease that I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy. As those changes began to recur with more frequency, Mary became withdrawn. She was always staring off as though contemplating something important.

    One night as she sat cuddled next to me on the couch watching TV, Mary hit the mute button on the remote and looked up into my eyes.

    "Devon," she had that tone and look that said she wasn't going to be dissuaded. "I want you to promise me something." She paused and I held her gaze. "When the time comes, I don't want you trying to hold on. I've been a burden to you my whole life and..."

    My mind went berserk with rage and I couldn't help my outburst. "Don't you ever say that! Never again, Mary, do you hear me?!"

    My wife recoiled as I yelled. I took a deep breath and held her to my chest as I spoke calmer. "Sweetheart, please don't say that or even think it, okay? Yes, you've been a pain in my ass at times, like I'm sure I've been as well, but never have you been a burden."

    I felt her tense and then relax. "But I did hurt you," she said. "I've done that more than once and you're the one who pointed it out."

    "That's true," I wasn't about to lie. "You did, but you also promised to make up for those times, and you have. You've proven yourself and your love. I only hope I haven't hurt you too badly during those times."

    "No, you haven't," she acknowledged. "Okay, only a little, but I deserved it. What I'm telling you is that we both know what's to come, and I don't want you feeling obligated out of love or vows. I don't want to do that to you and I don't want you remembering me like that."

    I don't like to talk about or even think about the days and months that followed. I did, in fact, hang on too long as I just couldn't bring myself to put her in a facility. Finally, though, it was out of my control. Mary passed quietly with me by her side. It was nearly two years after our big Christmas with the family.

    A month later we were at a reading by our estate attorney, a formality since Mary knew and approved of our assets and agreed to their division. Most of the kids didn't come because they knew too. As we were leaving my lawyer handed me an envelope which had my name on the front in Mary's handwriting. I gave him a quizzical look.

    "Mary sent that to me," he said, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder. "As soon as she was diagnosed. She wanted you to know everything that she did to you and your marriage. Her words, not mine."

    I spent the better part of the day deciding if I was simply going to toss the letter in the trash or not. It took another three days to build up the courage to read it. I'm glad that I did.

    Dearest Devon,

    For reasons I'll never understand, we've never discussed the details that almost led to our demise. I'm not sure if you kept me from a full confession because of your feelings for me, or if you did it for yourself. Either way, I made up my mind to make sure you know.

    Yes, you already know I'm very impulsive by nature. That's pretty evident, going back to my getting pregnant that summer. The thing is, most of my impulsiveness, my idiosyncrasies, and just plain being bat shit crazy, I'm not sorry for nor do I feel any remorse at all. You, in fact, are and were a big part of that, coming into my life, and then coming back into it.

    I love you with every fiber of my being and yet I've also failed you. Everything you already know about our early years is true and exactly as you're aware. That leaves my ear injury and Ron. I know you hate even having to read his name, so I'll refer to him as 'him'.

    I've tried to account for myself. To wrestle and reckon why I did what I did, but more so, why I turned away from the man I love so completely. Of course, I could blame it on my condition and confusion, but we both know that isn't all of it.

    I need you to know and believe that in the beginning, I was only thinking about his well-being, after the horrific accident. With you at work most days though, he began telling me intimate little details of his and Barb's relationship. I listened with empathy and eventually, I began thinking of other ways I could help him. I knew he'd be more likely to recover from his injuries if he was in a better frame of mind.

    During all of that time, I never once talked to you - the most important person in my life - about anything he told me or anything I was thinking. For that, I am eternally sorry. Somehow, you eventually forgave me - I know you've never forgotten - but for that I am eternally grateful.

    I won't rehash anything you already know, except to reiterate that the first time, it was unplanned, and no words were spoken by either of us. It continued that way, only during the times I helped him bathe. I received no pleasure from the act except knowing that I was giving him some relief. The problem was, I knew it was wrong, or I would have told you. That weighed heavily on me until you found us out. By then, I was too ashamed of myself to talk about it. I was also scared to death that you'd leave me.

    Ron, sorry, 'he', consoled me and after you left told me that if I had any chance of reconciling with you, that we needed to move him back to his house. I agreed but didn't consider he'd ask me to stay with him. By that time, I couldn't even look our other friends in the eye, due to my guilt.

    This is the worst and also the fuzziest part. Fuzzy only in the sense that I knew the act - having intercourse with him - was wrong. I can't blame it on my condition either. But I didn't realize that he was playing on my sensibilities and my personality all of the time I was there. By the night we were supposed to go out to dinner, when you called me out, he had me convinced that I should tell you we were going to have sex. I felt like I was fully cognitive but looking at it all this time later with a clear head, there's no way I would expect you to be okay with that, let alone me ask it.

    I had sex with him twice at his house. It started just like the manual stimulation, except I got astride him and let him inside me. Again, I never climaxed. It was all quite clinical, truth be told. I'm sure it was a different story for him. After the second time, he told me he loved me, and for some reason, that finally sent up red flags in my head.

    Still, had we not fallen, I don't think you and I would have survived. I was already zoning out more often and he was beginning to pick up on those times, and he began manipulating me. Not to have more sex with him but laying the bait for me to leave you. I didn't find that out until a year after we had my procedure done in Mexico.

    Anyway, the fall got you to come back. I was surprised that you did, honestly. Then Lindsey told me about that woman you were with. After my initial anger subsided, it dawned on me that you were probably feeling the same way, except even worse for what I'd done.

    I know you told me never to contact him and I'm sorry to say that I didn't follow your directions. About a year after we got home, things were still not going well. I began wondering all the time if you'd ever let go of what I'd done, or if we would eventually split up.

    I called him one morning while you were golfing to yell and berate him. He was cocky and unapologetic, saying that I obviously loved our time together and the things we did. I was shocked and hysterically angry. I told him off, made fun of him, and let him know he did nothing for me sexually. Finally, I asked him why. Why would he do that to me and his friend? The answer sickened me and will until my dying day.

    He told me he didn't want to spend the rest of his life alone. He said he'd always had a thing for me, and that he decided to try to get me to fall in love with him, not just feel sorry for him, although he admitted he used that to get to me. His other plan was to get you to lose your love for me. He said either way was a win for him and his plan. That was the only time I ever talked to him.

    Devon, I knew what I was doing. I have to admit that to you now. I didn't do it to hurt you - I know how idiotically cliché that sounds - but I didn't. I had no love for him, only pity. You taking me to Mexico, you caring enough for me after all I'd done to you, made me realize many of my shortcomings. Hopefully, I've been a good wife and loving partner for you over the subsequent years. I will always love you, and if there's a Heaven, I'll be right here waiting for you.

    With undying love and regret, Mary

    Mary's confession surprisingly, did little for me. Most of it, I either knew or assumed.

    Despite the kids' loud protests that I should come to live with one of them, I moved into a senior community six months later. We all hear the stories of an elderly spouse who passes shortly after their loving spouse but that didn't happen for me. It's been ten years since I physically held my dear Mary and I'm still healthy and active. Thank God I'm still fit enough to travel, and I do see all the kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids now.

    Otherwise, I play a little golf, lots of checkers, and I take a bunch of these old bastards' money during our Texas hold-em tourneys. I've even done a bit of dating. On those very rare occasions when I've taken an older woman to bed, it's all about the moment. I haven't found someone who could measure up to a lifetime with my Mary past that momentary release and I'm equally sure I didn't measure up either.

    The loneliest times are at night. Whether sitting on my patio or lying in bed, that's when Mary visits my memory. She might not have been a perfect wife, but all that is long forgotten. She was my wife, I loved her, and that was more than enough. Maybe if I get a chance to see her again, we'll be in a place where perfect is the norm.

     
      Posted on : Apr 14, 2025
     

     
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