Chapter 6: Let's Spend The Night Together

The next morning came. I had no idea what kind of condition Michelle was going be in. We had a date to study and have dinner and drinks all day that day, but I didn’t know where those plans stood. I barely spoke to Elizabeth the next day. We had little to say to each other before; we had much less to say now. In bed all night, we just slept next to each other, like we had been doing for about the past year. I remember rolling over at some point and kissing the back of her head. In my head, I told her I was sorry. Goddammit. Before I knew it, Elizabeth was off to work and it was time to start the next day and see if I couldn’t figure some things out. I got up early that morning and stood outside of our new place. Snow was everywhere. Stuffing my hands down into the pockets of my long overcoat to keep warm, I found a pack of cigarettes. I had no idea how they got there. Evidence from some drunken night out I spent not too long ago, I’m sure. I just stood there. And thought. And watched the snowflakes fall.

I didn’t want Michelle to think I got myself into these types of situations every day – I guess I knew she didn’t subconsciously because in Bloomington she defended me when people claimed I was doing Heather – in fact, I hadn’t been with another woman other than Elizabeth in years. I was convinced I had fallen in love again or how else could I cheat on my wife? I bought Michelle a card and a stuffed animal that played Christmas music. Once Michelle and I got together for the first time since our affair began, it was awkward.

We didn’t know what to say to each other. I got to her apartment and waited for her dogs to settle down. We didn't hug or kiss or anything like we had done just a few hours before. I didn’t know how much of this was because the alcohol had worn off. I would come to find out that alcohol played a big role in our relationship. We were just friendly and even a little flirty, like we had been ever since Bloomington. Her son was with his real father. We sat across from each other for a long time and just looked at each other. Finally, Michelle spoke up.

“I feel really bad about last night,” Michelle said. She sounded defeated and beaten down. I didn’t know how to feel. I said nothing. This day would be spent in long awkward silences and a general feeling of confusion and guilt. The full guilt would not sink in for me until much later. Oddly enough, we ended up in the same parking lot where we had made love not 12 hours before. We just talked and I tried to cuddle a little. She wasn’t into it. I got a little pissed off. We tried to figure out what to do. I wanted to be with her and I thought she wanted to be with me, but how in the hell could that work?

I didn’t notice any problems at home until Bloomington. I realized later that Elizabeth and I hadn’t been there for each other for some time, but that was hidden by writing and working and shopping and cleaning and cats. I didn’t know what kind of romance and love I had been missing until I shared it with Michelle. I was putting all of my writing aside now to concentrate on figuring things out. Did I want to stay with Elizabeth or move forward with Michelle or were those options even available to me?

As we were walking to the restaurant, I looked over at Michelle. Huge snowflakes were falling all around us. They were in our hair, getting in our mouths, all over my black coat, all over her brown coat. For a brief second, even though the world around us was really falling apart, everything was perfect. Michelle and I had some dinner. My appetite was diminishing. Hers was growing. That was how we dealt with stress. I ate a few bites of the dinner and boxed the rest up. If anything else, I just wanted to know where we stood and where we were going to go. Isn’t that what everyone wants? Neither of us could answer those questions.

As if something suddenly clicked, we started to laugh and we ended that night by making fun of the situation. We laughed and joked around. Maybe this was our way of making ourselves feel better. It seemed to work. We both ended up feeling a little bit better. We didn’t get around to studying, though. We postponed it to the next day.

The next day we met at a coffee shop. The Rolling Stones’ “Let’s Spend the Night Together” appropriately played in the background. After the workshop, we hopped into my car and held hands, kissed a little, and just talked about how we couldn’t believe we had gotten ourselves into this situation. She even saw someone she knew walking by and we had to pull our hands apart quickly. We got used to looking over our shoulders a lot. Michelle later told me that she had to keep telling herself that to everyone else, walking by the car, everyone who didn’t know us, we were just an average couple, “not doing anything wrong.”

More secret meetings took place over the weeks to come. We met in alleys, parking lots, coffee shops, literally wherever we could, whenever we could spare a few minutes. Paul and Elizabeth were even starting to become suspicious.

Michelle and I found ourselves back again in the same parking lot that we made our fantasy a reality – The Back Door parking lot. She told me some hard news this time, though. She said she had been doing some thinking and that the best thing for her to do was to stay where she was at, to stay with her boyfriend, to stay with her son, to stay in their apartment, to stay a family. “And I don’t see how you can fit into that,” she said.

We agreed to continue seeing each other as close friends and to ignore our feelings for each other. We agreed to rebuild things at home to the best of our abilities. I had no idea it would be so painful. After a lot of awkwardness, we hugged each other and I cried harder than I had cried so far. She cried, too. Humor remained our only line of defense. “Seen any good movies lately?” I asked, wiping my eyes.

“Who needs movies?” she replied.

The humor didn’t last long, though. I was now a 25-year-old married man who had broken up with his girlfriend. All of the stability I had worked so hard to achieve in my life I had thrown away. The only thing I really had going for me was the book and I didn’t really care about that anymore. If only I had listened to myself. I guess I should have canceled those lunches.

We had best case and worst case scenarios laid out before we broke up. Best case was having the best of both worlds somehow. We both knew that was impossible, although I didn’t want to believe it. Worst case scenario was that we lost everything and everyone, even ourselves. Somehow, things with Elizabeth got a little better. The day Michelle and I broke up I went home and cried to Elizabeth. She thought I was losing my mind, especially since I couldn’t tell her why I was crying. I told her that I had “lost a really good friend” and that Michelle was helping me through it. She asked why she couldn’t help and I told her she could – by just being there – and I would be there for her.

One of the things Michelle and I were really nervous about was Michelle’s upcoming Christmas party. It had all the makings for a disaster – my wife would be there and Michelle’s boyfriend would be there. We would have to see each other be intimate – or at least be – with the significant others. We also knew we would have to control ourselves around each other that night even in the midst of excess alcohol.

Everybody decided to look extra sexy for this party, which was a costume party of sorts. Haunted Holidays was the theme. Elizabeth decided to wear a skirt and looked better than I had seen her look in a long time. I wore a suit and pretended to be an accountant or something. It was an excuse – I wanted to look good for Michelle. When she and I were together, I felt like the sexiest man alive. I knew I made her feel sexy too.

Jordan met up at my place and wore a Death costume – very scary for someone to be walking around like that in December. We went to the liquor store, as if to make the whole evening bearable. I was in and out quickly and then we went to pick up Taylor, who didn’t wear much of a costume. We arrived at the party and Michelle’s costume was torture. She was a French Maid with bare shoulders.

As soon as I got there, Michelle and I were giving each other stares. Some strange things would happen at this party. The strangest thing happened near the very beginning. Michelle's son ran up to me and gave me a big hug. I had only been around him a few other times, most notably the time I sang Kenny Rogers, and I don't think I made that big of an impression on the kid. I took the hug well and hugged him back. I didn't know how to feel about it, though, with the things going on between Michelle and I. Shawn asked me once if I was ready to have an eight-year-old son if things turned out a certain way. How do you answer something like that?

Elizabeth and I decided a long time ago that when we have kids, we're not having them the natural way. We're going to adopt. There are too many kids out there already who do not have homes. I'm not all caught up in "flesh and blood" shit. Maybe the kid I adopt someday will be eight or nine years old, like Michelle's son. I honestly thought about that a lot back then, as those things were going on, but I never told anyone. Not my best friends. Not Michelle. Not anyone. Because how do you answer something like that?

At the party, the boyfriend and I didn’t have much to say to each other, but that wasn’t unusual – we never did. Elizabeth and Michelle actually got along great. They talked more that night than they had ever talked before and later Michelle would feel weird about it, for obvious reasons. As expected, it was tough to see each other with Elizabeth and Paul. I even left a few times to stand out on the front porch. There was a tension in the air between Elizabeth and I whenever Michelle was around me it seemed. Elizabeth was drinking heavily that night and she never drinks at all. I knew she suspected.

I smoked three cigarettes and I hadn’t smoked in over five years. I stepped out on the porch and Dennis, a veteran smoker, offered me a cigarette, thinking I smoked regularly for some reason, even though we had spent so much time together on the Bloomington trip. “Sure,” I said, playing along. I lit up one of his Camels. Elizabeth caught me outside smoking and chewed me out in front of everyone. A huge argument ensued.

“If I want to smoke a goddamned cigarette every now and again,” I shouted, “I’m going to smoke one!” She made some comment about how I shouldn’t kill myself with carbon monoxide. There was a time when I would have agreed with her. “You should talk,” I said, “you’re here getting drunk!” I’m not sure where I was going with that, but it seemed to have some retaliatory effect. We went back to the party, obviously pissed off. Everyone kept drinking and more surprises were coming.

I snuck off to Michelle's son's bedroom to talk with all of my closest friends about the way things were going. Shawn, Jordan, and Taylor had all offered good advice before that night. Shawn was the first to know. Jordan was the second. Taylor was the third. They all found out along the way and in their own ways. The only person I didn’t get in that room alone was Michelle and I would eventually, only not that night.

We made a couple of dangerous moves on each other that night, in front of the significant others. Inside jokes mostly. She winked at me from across the room. And I’m almost certain Elizabeth saw. She couldn’t have seen me wink back though. Michelle fed me a cherry out on her front porch. This cherry had been in her mouth earlier. I marked on Michelle and Elizabeth’s shoulders with magic marker. Then I wet my thumb and took it off of them both in sensual ways at the same time. I was a bit messed up, I guess. Near the end of the night, Michelle reminded me it had been just over a week since “that night.” I was glad she reminded me. It held a special place in both of our hearts. She did this, however, in the living room in front of a lot of people, including Elizabeth.

She noticed my cologne – the cologne I was notorious for wearing whenever I wanted to turn Michelle on – I agreed to get rid of it as to prevent memories. I couldn’t part with it, though, and even wore it to the party that night. At the end of the party, Michelle and I were drunk and being surprisingly dangerous under the circumstances. I rounded up the group and we left. We both said sexy goodbyes after Paul had passed out in their bedroom. I told her to call me the next day so we could set a meeting up. She text-messaged me on my phone that night instead.

Elizabeth and I had our biggest argument at home that night. She wanted to know what was going on with me. Why I had been out drinking every night, why I was being mean, why I had been spending so much time with “other people.” After a few minutes of saying nothing was wrong, I finally exploded and told her everything I thought was wrong about our relationship.

“We don’t have any fun anymore, we’re boring, we’re old, and we’re not the same people that got married! Those people got lost in taking care of cats, working all the time, paying the bills, grocery shopping–” I told her she didn’t care about my work anymore, not the way she used to. She said something sarcastic about the book and about how much time it consumes in our relationship, and I retaliated by telling her that I had found someone who did care about it – and me. She knew exactly who I was talking about. More arguing. More tears – hers – I had cried so much that week that I had dried up.

We went to bed mad at each other that night, but about four hours later, in the early hours of the morning, we would be fucking harder than we had ever fucked before. It was like we were fucking for us. Fucking to get our lives back, fucking to get our life together back. I don’t think we fucked hard enough because in less than 24 hours, in drunken confusion, Michelle and I would find ourselves intimately together again. This time, after it was over, we lied down next to each other, like we lied down next to each other in Bloomington, and Michelle asked me a question: “Do you love me, George?”

I looked over at her and thought for just a second before answering.

“Yes,” I said, looking into her eyes. “I do love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said, looking back at me. Then we kissed.