Leave the Field Barren

 
                                             Leave the Field Barren

At first he would drop by unannounced at my office and at the house. He used his charm on the other realtors and on the front desk girls.  They all talked about how handsome he was and how lucky I was. I did not correct them. I had no energy for it. They could believe whatever they liked. As much as he tried to keep me in that past I pushed on to a new future. One where I was not playing mother to a man older than I. I had always been his conscience. I kept him out of trouble and covered up his mistakes. I was unwilling to continue this sick dance of ours. He would turn my world around and around until I could not catch my breath or keep  it from tipping sideways. I had fallen into his arms, taking steps closer to him and then moving away. He could always draw me to him,  to bring me back to this waltz of disfunction. To match my step with one of his own. If I got a job, he quit his. If I paid a bill he created another. My feet hurt and my heart was sore. I pulled away from him and found haven in a new career. I was starting a new life. And he was not on the dance card.

  My children got used to me working and the perks it brought. Better clothes, new computers, a car for
Amber. They did not like that I was gone, but they learned to accept the trade offs. I had meals prepared and brought to the house. Once a week they came. Tinfoil masterpieces that only needed reheating. I missed cooking for them and all the other things. They were growing up so fast and I felt I was missing so much. I bought a journal and I filled it up. I had things to say and puzzles to figure out. I was the biggest riddle of all. Why did I do the things I did? I trusted the untrustworthy and shied away from the safe. It was a pattern and I wrote it all down. I had to find a way to let it all die on the page. I did not want to do this again. To be HERE again. And I was the only one who could keep that from happening. I had to learn to protect me from me. My husband did not accept our seperation. He thought it was like the first time. That I would change my mind. We had grown up together by then. There was a history between us. Twenty years of fights and making up. Of anger and shared joys. It was not easy. I felt lonely at times. I missed the fun husband, the kind one who loved me. I missed the funny one who could shake any blue day. The one who thought I was beautiful when I first woke up. Who always made me feel wanted. But I did not miss the other one. The mean one. The bully, the liar. And I had to remind myself when he called or dropped by, that no matter how good he looked or how infectious his smile, the other one was waiting, just under the surface. The one who did not love me. Who was cruel and mean. I reminded myself constantly lest I be tempted. I could not let myself be trapped.

  Just before I found that man in the paper who saved my life by dying. I needed a surgery. I had been having problems of a female kind. I went to one doctor and then another, until finally someone had an answer. I had fibroid tumors and I needed an operation immediately. I did not want to do it. I had more than my share of Doctors and that world that they occupied. But what this doctor said scared me. She used words I did not like. She talked about surgery and cancer and longterm treatments. I was scared. It was a new kind of fear. One I had never experienced before. I had faced physical threats and emotional abuse, but never anything like this and I was not prepared. I did not tell the children. Why say anything to worry them. I did not know anything to tell. I did talk to my husband about it. I laid it all out, my fears and concerns. He had just one question, "would it feel the same?" at first I did not know what he meant. I could not grasp his thought process. I was looking for comfort. A shoulder. Strong arms. But instead he clarified his question. "would sex feel the same (for him) after I had a hysterectomy.?" I walked out. I got in my car and drove as tears blurred my vision. with his words he had put a life time between us, I put miles. I was too embarrassed to tell anyone what he had asked. Too shame filled to reach out to anyone else. Just as I had done all my life I handled this new demon alone.

  I had surgery the next day. I came home and collapsed into a drug induced sleep. I had no news yet. It would have to wait on test. I was too far into a medicated haze to care. It was the pressure that woke me. It was dark. It must be late. I had a searing pain and he was on top of me. I tried to move and could not. He was big and I was weak. After a moment it was done. he rolled off me then and patted my thigh. With a  "yep, feels just the same" and then he passed out, sound asleep. The haze was gone. My body hurt. I thought I might be bleeding. But that was nothing. That could wait. It was my mind that needed tending to. I was in shock. I could not process this. This new assault on my body and mind. The complete humiliation and the feelings of anguish. I promised myself, as soon as I healed I would get out . I would find away. Part of me wanted to report it. To call the police. But I knew I could not. My children. My children kept me from real justice this time. I could not do that to them. To have them stigmatized by their father's actions.

  So I planned and I plotted. I took pills to keep my despair from overtaking me. I never went to the doctors for the check up after that procedure. I could not. She would have known. And I simply could not endure a lecture about how I was supposed to be recuperating and not playing footsies. I waited three weeks. That seemed safe. The test came back, I did not have cancer. I was safe. I wanted to celebrate. I wanted to feel joy. But I did not. I felt raw and painful and alone. He never asked. About those results. It was like nothing had happened. It was his death nail. That last bit of betrayal. I was done and so was our marriage. I plowed it all over, the good times. I turned over the field in my heart and let it stay barren. I had my children and I had myself and that was going to be enough. I looked at the numbers and tried to figure away to come up with the money I needed to make it work. And on a rainy winter day, with a latte'  on the table beside me, a man I did not know. Would never meet, owing to his own death, spoke to me. He showed me the way out. And I gladly escaped.