Note to sensitive viewers: Just a warning that this post is chalk full of "The F Word," which some of you may expect merely by my photographic reference to a movie by Quentin Tarantino; a guy not generally known for G rated lingo. Hopefully, the language is not a problem, but if it is, I'm thinking you may want to skip this entry, or pretend that said F bombs spell "Bleep" instead. It'll be just like on TV when they bleep an F word, even though the word is clear and obvious to anyone with functioning eyeballs. Its your choice. Though the flagrant use of F is important because it ended up being a key factor in my coming to terms with some things later on. Its part of what the kids nowadays call a "story arc." I explain why later in my Forgiveness Series.
"I kissed another woman..."
Those were Roman's exact words after he told me that we needed to talk the day he broke the news to me.
He had no friends other than one, but even that friend had been alienated by Roman to the point that they never spoke. When I called that friend to tell him about the funeral, he saw Roman's name pop up on the caller ID. He answered the phone by saying, "Hey dude...are you still alive??" Um, awkward.
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| I wonder what The Bride would have done if Bill was already killed when she woke from her coma... Like say, if she wasn't a stealthy kickass martial artist with lethal ninja sword skills?? |
"I kissed another woman..."
Those were Roman's exact words after he told me that we needed to talk the day he broke the news to me.
Roman's sudden confession of an indiscretion seemed completely random because I had a false sense of security in our marriage. Always very outwardly supportive of my goals, he comforted me on bad days and celebrated with me when times were good. I tended to be a bit anxious and often worried about many of life's "what-ifs" regarding school, landing a job, money, having kids, the soundness of our marriage...you name it. But Roman never worried and he always put my mind at ease if I started to fret. Consistently, he reassured me that things would turn out okay. When it came to our relationship, I knew things were "off" because of our lack meaningful communication - but Roman usually responded with a contradictory smile when I attempted to address it. "Ahhhhhh, you worry too much," he would say. I believed his words, but also, was falsely lured into believing that he was faithful because of his lack of interest in social connections. So when he told me he had cheated, it came as a slap in the face to his years of reassurance. What's more, the details of his tale ran counter to his socially distant character in every way.
Roman dropped his bombshell on a Saturday. He claimed that he had met a "woman" at Borders Bookstore earlier in the week, on Thursday, when I had gone to bed early, sick with a cold.
He usually got home at around 7:30 PM, after stopping by his mom's house to change clothes and go for a run in her neighborhood. She lived just minutes from his work, so it was easy for him to avoid traffic by doing his daily exercise routine in that familiar spot. It also gave him a chance to see his mom, raid her fridge, and catch up with his brother Stu. That Thursday, as I said, I was under the weather, so I called him to let him know I would be hitting the Nyquil for an early night. I told him to eat dinner that night with his mom, since I would be asleep by the time he got home. He agreed and I suspected nothing out of the ordinary.
Roman claimed that after his run on Thursday, he went to Borders so that he would not wake me. He stated that he sat in the cafe looking at art magazines, when he met this "woman," as he called her. According to the story, they hit it off and talked for hours. He made a point to tell me how interested she was in art, running, and debate. "You never care about anything I do..." he said..but she - apparently, she really cared.
In my defense, I shot back pointedly, "Bullshit! I have done nothing but encourage you! Your art...your running...!! I learned to cook because of YOU...because of YOUR interests! How many times have I told you to take more drawing classes? You are so full of shit!" Later, I recalled that I had even recently bought him a few hundred dollars worth of clothes on my credit card, but apparently that did not factor into how much interest I took in him.
He nodded in a trite recognition of my words, then continued flatly..."It was exhilarating...meeting her...connecting with her. When the store closed, I walked her to her car where I kissed her goodbye..." I'll never forget his face as he said the word "exhilarating." And I mean, really, who uses that word in this kind of context? "Exhilarating," really.
Indeed he looked "exhilarated" as he recalled their kiss, but he also was timid and trembled visibly whenever I rebuked his garbage. And as I pressed for details - becoming angrier and angrier at his crap responses - he began to hold his head down as he spoke...like a wimpy, scared child. Hardly the condescending arrogant genius I knew, whom I had tried desperately to communicate with, and had naively tried to build a life with for so long.
I was literally nauseated by his preposterous story. In my effort to continue pressing for the truth, I paraphrased his lies through my angry filter, "So YOU, met a random girl...that you never met before...at Borders???? And YOU, who talks down to EVERYONE...suddenly connected with some RANDOM person, when you can't be bothered to be friendly to anyone... not ever...because you are too fucking superior. You kissed this person...and now are risking ruining your marriage by telling me...over a fucking kiss???"
Adamantly, he reitterated that he had never met her before that day and did not exchange phone numbers with her after their "exhilarating" kiss.
"Bull!!! Shit!!! You met her at work, didn't you?!?" I pressed...
"No," he repeated calmly.
"You are such a fucking liar...You are such a fucking shill. You act like you are so much better than all the rest of us, but you are fucked up. You are worse! You are a void...You-are-a-fucking-liar!!!"
Roman conceded, "I am a shill...you're right. I am an emotionless void.." His hands trembled as he spoke. His tone of voice was flat. In that moment, the sight of him repulsed me.
I got up from my place on the couch and approached Roman as he shook. Through my tightly gritting teeth I snapped "FUCK-YOU!!!," then stormed off into the bedroom where I began to cry. I had never said that to him before.
He waited a few minutes, then followed me. His ongoing support and reassurance that everything was "fine" was next on my attack. "I knew you were keeping things from me...you always told me it was okay...why-would-you-do-that? The car...Why would you tell me to buy the car???" He had recently encouraged me to buy a brand new car, just three weeks before his confession; knowing that he was being unfaithful - and knowing that I could not afford it by myself.
"You're never happy...its always just been easier to appease you" he said, as a simple matter-of-fact. "I didn't want to hear you complain if you didn't get the car you wanted...You are never happy...its just easier."
His words stung. I wanted to smack him, though I held back. Instead, I yelled, paced, and threw my wedding ring at him. For the rest of the night we talked in circles like that and Roman continuously presented me with his ridiculous scenario about the kiss. He continually justified his actions by my "unhappiness" and my "lack of interest" in him. And for reasons not completely understood by me even to this day, he held to his story and refused to concede that it was so obviously transparent, even after I calmed down. Even during our rare heart to heart conversation on the last day that I saw him.
As I said previously, I recognized that it was useless to browbeat him further for the truth. His intent to hold onto his fabrication only angered me further and I came to the conclusion that - affair aside, I didn't want to be married to Roman anymore. He was difficult and I didn't want to deal with him. I was tired of feeling like his shortcomings were in my head or were mine to overcome. And I was tired of trying to get him to let me in. Granted, I was not perfect, but I gave as much as I could. And I did it faithfully. Now that he had confirmed himself to be mean and capable of such blatant deception, I had no interest in continuing my investment with him. So, I filed for divorce on Halloween, about a week before he died.
We agreed to move forward amicably and worked out a simple separation agreement. Roman agreed to help me pay off the car and agreed to help me with any vet expenses for the cats. Other than that, we did not have any assets, so there was little to dispute. Since things were not contentious, I did not formally serve him with divorce papers. Instead, I opted simply to mail them for him to review and sign. At no point did he attempt to stop me from filing. Roman never received the divorce papers though.; he died before they ever came. He also died, clinging to his illusions - leaving me to find the truth for myself and question the validity of our entire relationship.
*****
After he died, my focus shifted from preparing for divorce, to dealing with widowhood responsibilities. As much as possible, that required me to put his affair and my latent anger aside. Things needed to get done and I couldn't do it if I was bitter. Though, his lack of social connections made it hard to orchestrate his funeral and made grieving complicated, because I did not have others to reminisce with who knew him like I did. Everyone in his life was placed into their own little isolated compartments. And while this made grieving for him difficult, it made finding the truth about his Borders story even worse.
As I searched for answers after his funeral, my efforts focused primarily on getting into his email account. I did not know the password and could not answer his password recovery question, "Who was your childhood best friend?" Oh come on! Of all questions for him to pick...he had no friends! His mom tried to help me by suggesting names, but no dice. I even went so far as to contact Hotmail and explain my situation. A representative responded, stating that I could get a CD of the contents of his account, once I provided them with a copy of his death certificate. I had planned on doing just that, until the cell phone bill arrived. Once I digested the contents of the bill, I no longer sought access to his email. I didn't need to. I knew as soon as I opened the envelope and saw calls lasting five hours, that I was about to get what I was searching for.
The number was from out of state. It was the same area code as my mom's in Washington. It did not make sense. My family moved to Washington when we were away on our honeymoon in 2002. We had been there for visits, but Roman did not like it there. He was always resistant when my mom brought up the idea of us moving there. Who could he be talking to in Washington? I assumed it was the somehow connected to the "woman" from Borders, so I called the number.
She did not answer, but I heard her voice and her name for the first time. She had the same name as one of Roman's sisters.
When she did not answer, my urgency for answers increased to a frenzy. But I did not know what to do...Roman was dead and did not have friends, so I called his mom and pleaded with her to tell me what she knew. She apologized and assured me that she understood my need to know, but she did not know who he had been talking to in Washington. She suggested that I call Stu...maybe he would know more. So on her advice, I called him next.
I explained to Stu that I found the bill and the number. I asked if he knew that Roman was on the phone for five hours, until 3:00 AM with her...I told him I was going crazy not knowing. Again, I pleaded with him to tell me what he knew. But Stu denied knowing anything...
And then, just as we were about to hang up - he called me her name, "Erica."
"What?" I said...
Stu covered for his gaffe, "Oh, I thought Erica was here.." Erica is also the name of their sister.
But his slip of the tongue sent chills down my spine. I derived no comfort what-so-ever by his explanation. I hung up quickly thereafter and have not spoken to Stu since. Later I found out that he spoke to her on the phone at least once...who knows, maybe more. Either way, I do not think he called me Erica on accident.
Not knowing who else to ask next, I called her number again. This time, she answered.
"Uhhhhh, hello?"
"Yeah, hi, this is Sunny..."
"Roman's wife." She knew my name. She didn't say it as a question...like "Is this Sunny?" No, she knew exactly who I was.
"Yeah...how the fuck do you know my husband?" My heart was pounding so hard that I could hear it beating in my eardrums.
"I knew him from work.."
"Okay? Well would you mind filling me in here, because I think I have a right to know who the fuck I'm grieving for..."
"He said he told you about me a long time ago...I figured you'd eventually connect the dots..." Her tone was unapologetic. She was cavalier and condescending, just like Roman.
"NO...he never told me about you...he made up some bullshit story about a girl he met at Borders..thats all he said." Later, I remembered that he had mentioned her once, but not by name. He told me that the office was having a going away party for a coworker who was, and I quote, "tolerable." Tolerable. Now, I know coming from Roman, with his propensity for outright insults in describing others, I should have realized that his use of such a moderate adjective meant she was a coworker he actually "loved," but dumbass me, I just did not draw that conclusion.
"Wellllllll, I'm the girl from Borders" she said with confidence. Her words drawn out like a snotty, entitled teenager. "I moved to Washington recently for a job. We met after work at Borders because you were asleep. It was my last night in town. We realized that night that we wanted to be together. We were going to spend Thanksgiving together with my family." Oh, so nice of Roman to suddenly give a shit about family.
She continued to tell me that they had "fallen in love" while working together. Apparently, she started there a few months earlier and she had "no interest" in him at first. She spoke with such tremendous arrogance, like she had defeated me in a competition that I was unaware I was a part of. She continued, "Roman and I connected...We just clicked once we started talking...It just happennnnnnned. You know, I'm not a people person eitherrrrrrrr." She boasted as though this was an asset. Like it was something to be proud of. I wanted to tell her to go fuck herself, but I maintained my composure so that I could keep her talking. And talk she did. She proceeded to tell me about her recent divorce and her surprise that "Roman decided to file for divorce."
"Roman was a fucking liar...he didn't file for divorce. I did."
"Welllllll, thats not what he said." She believed his words like they were gospel. "I know how hard divorce is...I couldn't believe that he was willing to go through with it...You know, he never talked about you...I didn't even know he was marrrrrrrried at first.." Again, stated with condescension, as though his failure to talk about me at work suggested that I was unworthy of his love. And the way she spoke made my blood boil. I wanted to reach through the phone and rip out her larynx with my bare hands.
Most of her words revolved around exonerating herself from any wrong doing in their falling in love, "I kept telling him...divorce is realllllly hard...I couldn't believe that he was willing to leave...," talking about how solid their bond was "We had a reallllll connection...I love to debate too," and reminding me that I should have figured it out sooner, "I just thought you would eventually connect the dotssssssss."
It didn't seem to bother her that he lied to her about telling me about her or that he reduced her down to a one time encounter at Borders. It also didn't bother her that he lied about filing for divorce or that he was cheating on me. Her arrogance seemed to entitle her to him. She won. She was quite the star. Never once did she utter any concern or remorse for the way things turned out. She spoke as if he were still alive. It struck me so much, that I asked if she knew he was dead.
"I called the night he died and Stu answered...Stu told me what happened." So there was the truth about that. Stu lied to me.
I asked her if anyone at work knew they were involved. She said Scott, the coworker who spoke at Roman's funeral, had figured it out and confronted Roman about it. She said she did not know who else knew and then started to cycle back into her diatribe about how he never talked about me. I listened to about as much as I could tolerate but hung on a little longer. Although once she started in again about their "amazing connection." My blood reached its boiling point...
"You know, its nice that you had such a good fucking connection, but guess what?? Roman and I had a connection once too. And he cheated on me. He would have cheated on you too...And if you had such a great fucking connection, then how about YOU pay for his fucking funeral. How about you do it...plan it...YOU pay for it. Because guess what, he's DEAD. He's fucking dead and he's never going to be with you...Thats all I have to say...THANKS for your candor!!!!!!!"
I hung up the phone having escalated into a rage. Her cavalier tone ricocheted through my head on infinite loop. "He never talked about you," especially stung - especially after I had just given so much of myself at his funeral....after I made his favorite sandwiches and I wrote his eulogy. After I paid for his funeral and I paid extra to have him cremated in nice clothes. All for someone who not only cheated on me, but blatantly betrayed me. He betrayed me in the coldest way, with someone who was an entitled fucking bitch. Not once did she apologize for her actions. I can not imagine any circumstance where I would behave so cruelly to another person. She was cruel. Roman was cruel...She deserved him.
I was livid that I could not bring him back to life so that I could smack his lying face and then kill him myself. I wanted to hurt him. I needed to hurt him so that he would know what he had done to me. But I couldn't. He was dead...Forever. Nothing I did could hurt him or bring him back. Nothing I did could bring me restitution. There was nothing to do but sit with my fury, but I couldn't even do that. I could not sit still. I paced...I had to escape. I wanted out of my own skin. So I did all I could...I grabbed my cell phone and went for a brisk nighttime walk.
The cool air brought relief as it whisked away the acrimony seething from my skin. I needed to keep moving. As I raced in circles around the block, I again called my mom. She calmly encouraged me to "let it all out," while I ranted and I cussed; though I don't recall specifically what I said to her. My anger engulfed me. Roman's actions left me so bitter because he was gone, and I was stuck holding his bag of lies...all by myself...with no explanation or accountability from him. What's more, there was no one to turn to for insight as to why he betrayed me - when for so long, he claimed to love me.
The cool air brought relief as it whisked away the acrimony seething from my skin. I needed to keep moving. As I raced in circles around the block, I again called my mom. She calmly encouraged me to "let it all out," while I ranted and I cussed; though I don't recall specifically what I said to her. My anger engulfed me. Roman's actions left me so bitter because he was gone, and I was stuck holding his bag of lies...all by myself...with no explanation or accountability from him. What's more, there was no one to turn to for insight as to why he betrayed me - when for so long, he claimed to love me.
He had no friends other than one, but even that friend had been alienated by Roman to the point that they never spoke. When I called that friend to tell him about the funeral, he saw Roman's name pop up on the caller ID. He answered the phone by saying, "Hey dude...are you still alive??" Um, awkward.
He wouldn't have any input for me. And Stuart was not trustworthy.
But then, once I calmed down, I remembered Scott. Scott knew about it. So in a humiliating low point, I called him to talk.
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