Deception Ebook EPUB 3-17-2014 (17 page)

Chapter 67

October 2008

A
week after our meeting, I emailed him again.

Good morning.

Our week flew by and before I knew it, it’s Friday. I had spent some time thinking and debating whether I should write. I wanted to thank you for your willingness to meet me last week. The hour and half went by quickly, and I wouldn’t have minded staying a bit longer, but that was okay. I was basically happy to know you seem to be doing well.

I have a favor to ask; I’m not sure if you are comfortable with the idea, but here it is. I would like to meet you again. This time, I would like for us to talk about what happened twenty-plus years ago. Over the years, I have always wondered about several things, and I would like to have answers.

Don’t get me wrong; I have a good marriage, and Peter treats me very well. It’s just that from time to time, I would go down memory lane, and those same questions would come back. Only you can answer those questions, and I need to have those answers in order to better understand what happened and why it happened.

Take your time this weekend and think it over. If you prefer that we discuss over email rather than in person, that will be OK. If you feel uncomfortable with the idea of bringing up our past, then I’ll just have to honor your wish. If you are in the same situation as I am and have some questions you would like to have answered, then great.

Hope your day is going well. Have a blessed weekend.

Deb

* * *

Deb,

Thank you for your email, and I agree it was nice to sit and chat. Memory lane, well, that is a place I often live in. I have questions also. Yes, I would be willing to chat again. Hopefully, it will be better than it was twenty years ago at Wendy’s on Florida Ave. What day/time would be best? We can try to work something out. Maybe, the 5
th
? I could meet you at Peter’s office around 1:00 p.m. If that is not good we can pick another day.

* * *

The 5
th
will not work. We won’t be able to meet in Peter’s office. Let me check my calendar and get back to you. In the meantime, could you refresh my memory as to what happened at Wendy’s? Just a brief explanation will do. Thanks.

Deb

After a few messages back and forth regarding a date to meet, we decided on the 15
th
. I was nervous about the whole thing and didn’t want to wait until Peter got home to let him know of my plans. So, I emailed him:

He is willing to talk, and said he also has questions for me. We are going to meet on the 15
th
(time not determined and more likely, in your office). Please continue to pray for him. I hope I’m doing the right thing. I love you, and as I think back on what happened, I feel blessed that God had put you in my path.

* * *

Hi Love,

I trust you to do what is right. If you believe there is value in talking about all that, then I support it. I don’t feel threatened; I am just protective of who God has given me to love and care for (you!). Thanks for sharing, and while I have expressed discomfort in the past about all that, I always want to know what is on your heart and mind. I love you.

* * *

Thanks. You’re the besterest.

Chapter 68

October 2008

W
anting to make most of our meeting, I scribbled down several questions:

What was missing in your marriage?

Was I the only one?

Was waiting until the kids had left the house an excuse, or did you plan on leaving her?

You’re still married. Have things gotten better?

Does she know?

I was seventeen. What were you thinking? Why did you take the risk?

God has forgiven me. Have you asked for His forgiveness?

I stole glances at the paper as I drove to the church, hoping I’d remember them all. I didn’t want to place the list on the table while we talked.

“How could you have fallen out of love so quickly?” he asked me, referring to the summer I’d left him. “You had just arrived in Texas when you wrote me the letter.”

My feelings hadn’t disappeared. “I used Peter as an excuse to leave you,” I said defensively.

I found myself adding: “Remember when we made love? I was hoping I’d get pregnant.”

“That makes me feel good,” he said. “Thank you for telling me that.”

I wanted to kick myself. Why had I told him that? I knew why. I felt he was questioning my character. He had made me feel guilty for leaving him so abruptly.

“When you left, I had made a decision. I was going to leave her in July and ask you to marry me when you returned from Texas,” he said.

I looked at him dumbstruck. He was going to leave her.

“But you are still married to her,” I said.

“I love her,” he said. All of a sudden, a sickening feeling built inside me. I was hoping he’d say this, but actually hearing it was a different story. What did all our relationship mean then? Before I could think further, he looked at me and said: “But, I’m not in love with
her
. I’m in love with
you.”

“I’m a different person from who you knew,” I said. “I was a total mess back then.”

“You were so mature,” he said, “unlike other girls in your class, how you behaved and talked set you apart.”

“But I was only seventeen,” I reminded him.

“We would have made it work,” he said. He named a friend of his who had left his wife for a younger woman. “You should see them. They are very happy.”

I then realized that we both were living in completely different worlds. He was not able to recognize the sin we had engaged in.

God was mentioned in our conversation, but I couldn’t remember how we got to the subject. He said he attended church sometimes. I had asked why and he said, “Because it makes me feel good.”

I had actually thought we’d have a discussion like two mature adults. Perhaps he would share how his wife had nagged him, driving him into my arms. How he had desperately needed admiration and respect. How his wife had invested her time and energy in their children rather than finding time for him. How the attention I gave him through my letters and poems had made him feel on the top of the world; anything that would justify his adultery. But none of this came up.

“What happened at Wendy’s? You didn’t say in the email,” I asked.

“You scared the hell out of me when you threatened to never speak to me ever again if I said or did something. I can’t remember what, exactly,” he said. “I can’t describe the feeling, but I was so scared. That was why I gave you a lot of room over the years.”

“I don’t remember our conversation,” I said. “In fact, I remember almost nothing about my first two years at Gallaudet.”

Driving home, I pondered our conversation. I was hoping I’d have a better understanding of what had taken place years ago. But that wasn’t the case. It was so difficult for me to see his way of thinking. If we had married, we might have made it work, but that did not make our relationship right. And, the fact that he was still in love with me couldn’t escape me.

If he had admitted the sin of our adultery, I’d have felt a bit more settled. But since he didn’t and he still had feelings for me, Satan pulled the guilt I had nailed to the cross down and threw it back in my face.

I was hoping we could move past our history and finally be friends. But it couldn’t be done, not with his thinking and feelings. He had kept our meeting a secret from his wife, which seemed unnecessary. But now, I’d understood why.

He is still in bondage.

And I am free.

Two completely different worlds.

Chapter 69

Same day

H
ow did the meeting go? Are you okay?” Peter was concerned. I had met
him
earlier that day.

“You won’t like what he said.” I looked at Peter, unsure of his reaction. “He is still in love with me. After all those years, he is still in love with me. Can you believe it?”

“I don’t blame him. It’s impossible not to love you.” He reached out for my hand. “How did that make you feel?”

“Awkward. I didn’t expect that. It has been over twenty years,” I said. “How could he still be in love with me? I told him I am a different person now. But I have to be honest: I was a bit relieved when he said that.”

“Relieved? What do you mean?”

I paused before I answered. “That means I was the only one. He did not take advantage of me. Am I making sense?”

“I disagree. I still think he took advantage of you. You know how I feel about this,” Peter said. That was something we had talked about in the past. It was difficult for me to accept that, perhaps, he was right. “But I think I can see your point of view.”

Peter then asked: “If he had asked you to marry him the summer you were in Texas, would you have?”

“I don’t know. It’s you I love. It’s hard to imagine what my life would have been like if I did,” I said, being careful with my words. The last thing I wanted was to hurt Peter, yet we’d always cherished honesty in our relationship. “If he had asked that summer, I am not sure. It’s scary because I think I might have said yes. I don’t know. It’s hard to say now.”

“I don’t remember if you told me before, but had you two ever talked about getting married?”

I nodded. “He had talked about leaving her. We’d have to wait a few years, he’d said. Whenever we talked about our future, he would remind me of our age differences.”

“I’d be so old and you’d still be young. I won’t be able to keep up with you,” he’d teased me.

“You are not that old! Who knows, I may die before you anyway,” I said.

“When I’m bedridden, you’ll be stuck by my bedside taking care of me,” he’d cautioned.

“I’ll gladly do that.”

“People would stare at us, you know,” he’d remind me.

“I don’t care. That’s their problem, not mine.”

“Our friends may sidestep us,” he reasoned.

“We could move so far away to where no one knows us. What’s more, we’ll have each other,” I said.

“You deserve a wedding. It would be your first.”

“Weddings cost money. We can just elope and I’ll be happy as long as I have you,” I’d assured him.

Back then, I couldn’t see beyond the deception of our relationship. I may have considered consequences of marriage, but I was naïve to think that they wouldn’t have mattered. Now, I shuddered to think of what I would have caused: Divorce. Broken home. Fractured relationships with his children. Hurt that would take years to heal. Financial loss. A jeopardized career.

I also shuddered to think of what I would have missed: My personal growth through therapy. A normal life. My beautiful marriage. The joy of raising our children. My church family. And, most important of all, my personal relationship with Jesus Christ.

Chapter 70

November 2008

I
have always been known as a calm and stable person – regardless of the circumstances – but this time, I had cried out to the Lord in despair.

“Why? Why me?” I asked.

After I left
him,
I had been angry. Because of him, I had missed out on my college life. I had fallen into depression. I did not develop lasting friendships. I had also lived with guilt for many years.

But I was not angry with God. How could I be? God had nothing to do with my misery. It was my confession when I was seventeen that had gotten me into this mess.

Now, a mother of five, happily married, and a mature Christian, I was able to see the whole picture in a different light. I recognized that the blame was not entirely mine. Our feelings were mutual. I was reminded that he had fantasized about kissing me three months before I had made my fantasy known. Our affair probably would have happened sooner or later despite my confession.

As I pondered all of this, I began to question God. I understood my role as a sinner. But, what about everything I had learned regarding God and His Sovereignty? How could our mighty God have allowed the affair to happen? He was the one who had placed me into a home without verbal or physical affection and affirmation. He had burdened me with the responsibility of helping Mom and Dad. Wasn’t that enough for a child to carry? Why didn’t God intervene? He could have sent the right person to help me work through my grief when David left me. Why did He allow
him
to cross my path?

God had said through Jeremiah: “For I know the plans I have for you – plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future” (29:11).

All of this didn’t make sense as I shouted to Him: “How could you?” “Why didn’t you?” “Why me?” “Why?”

I had no definite answers. My emotional turmoil only lasted a short while though; probably because I believe and trust that God’s ways surpass my understanding.

I had moved on with my life after I’d nailed his name to the cross. But there were days like today, when Satan unexpectedly caught me off guard with questions to which I had no answers.

Chapter 71

Several Days Later

I
did not want to admit it, but perhaps Peter was right. He had said he didn’t like the idea of my seeing
him,
but he trusted my judgment. Was I a fool to think we could have an honest conversation about what had taken place? Was I a fool to think we could finally be friends? Was I a fool to think I could share God’s Word with him?

How could he still be in love with me? It had been over twenty years.

How could he still not think that what had happened was wrong?

As soon as I had the house to myself, I knew what I needed to do. I walked to the basement and opened the door to what had become our storage, the space under our stairs. What I was looking for was somewhere in the midst of all the stuff I had stored: Christmas decorations, wrapping paper, surplus school supplies, snow pants and gloves, along with the vacuum, and several Rubbermaid boxes.

I created a path, crawled into the tiny space toward the back, and pulled out a green Rubbermaid box. Dragging it across the floor to our family room, I opened the box to make sure it was the right one. It was.

I carried it upstairs, sat down on the floor, and opened the top lid, removing all the contents from my high school years – pictures, essays I had written, medals I had won, and notes my friends had secretly passed to me. I was looking for any memorabilia I may have saved associated with
him
. After ten minutes, I realized that I had thrown away all of it except for his letters from the first summer we had corresponded. After digging some more, I came across my journals, my printed TTY conversations, and a stack of papers, which were bound with a paper clip. I looked at the cover page: “What can I say!!!”

I paused, trying to remember. What was this? Then, turning the page, I realized it was from him. When did he give them to me? I looked at the dates; they were written up to a year after I had left him. Slowly, the memories came as I began reading them one by one. I could no longer hold back my emotions.

Shady places, without traces

Lonely trails, without tales

Sharing time, yours and mine

Country lanes, time change

Girl dreams, lady in jeans

Lady. All of your letters were addressed to me in that special name. Growing up, I never had a nickname. How I had cherished that name.

We meet, with kisses sweet

Holding hands, making plans

Clouds above, serious love

Life’s fine yours not mine

Girl dreams, Lady in jeans

What an irony! In the beginning, your life was fine, not mine. And, my life was not fine – not at all – for a very long time.

Dying is easy, I would be gone

Living is hard the pain goes on

Why can’t my life follow a plan?

Why am I just a man?

I’ve been there, if you remember. I’ve spoken of my desire to die.

Being together

You and I

I saw the feelings

Watched you cry

How could you watch me cry and not do anything about it?

Good times together

Is what we had

Made me happy

Made you sad

If you had recognized my sadness, why didn’t you just let me go?

So much pleasure

Being with you then

Will it return

I wonder when

Do not count on my returning to you. It’ll never happen. It was all so wrong to begin with.

I would change things if only I could

Kiss the bruises and heal the wounds

Has been a long time since June

Only days, but ages it seems

All too clear, wishing for a dream

Mistakes, I made so many because

You spoke so little but listened a lot

I talked so much and listened not

Change the past to make new feelings

Looking back to change the ways

Living the memories day by day

Being alone and going home

Is not the same as going home alone

Problems you had more than a few

You spoke so little but listened a lot

I talked so much and listened not

Problems, you said. Thanks a lot. Yes, I spoke so little. So little. If you had listened to everything I had written the first year, you would have seen that I needed help. Instead, you had become a problem of mine.

I have no future, dreams of my own

I live in the past, I live alone

I never knew the price I’d pay

You said

I love you and went away.

I never knew the price I’d pay, either. I’m so sorry for the pain I’ve caused. I’m truly so very sorry. I wept, trying to make sense of the whole thing.