96 comments/ 64644 views/ 11 favorites A Child's Punishment By: thecelt A child will forgive his parents almost anything, and given enough time most will forgive all. Not this child. Edited by LadyCibelle and made better by her suggestions. A Child's Punishment I watched her walk up the four steps to the entrance of the building, stop on the landing and speak into what I suspected was an intercom, then reach for the entrance door. Even from where I was standing, I could hear the buzz releasing the lock. She went inside still carrying the tube, stood in the foyer and pulled out her cell phone. She made a call, surprising me when my own cell didn't ring. She spoke for several minutes, then walked over to the stairway and began to climb. His room was on the second floor. Her step was quick, indicating she knew where she was going. Now, it would finally be over. As I watched her disappear up the stairway, I thought back to that day when everything I thought was good in my life changed. It happened so long ago, and I was surprised that the sight of my wife cheating on me would bring it all back again, so clear that it seemed it had only happened yesterday. But that wasn't true. It happened almost twenty three years ago but the lessons I learned then have guided my life up until this point. As a matter of fact, what I had done up to this point was assured by that event so long ago. I really had no choice and Laurie should understand that. Well, maybe she did and she was just playing out her role in this little drama. Let me tell you about it and then maybe you'll understand. When It Began I was eleven years old, and I lived with my parents Rachael and David Harris in Columbia, South Carolina. My name is Peter after one of the disciples; my grandmother's influence I think. My dad owned a new car dealership and he did well enough that we lived in a nice home in one of the many suburbs around the capital city of South Carolina. Mom was a school teacher and she taught English to junior high kids. It was the summer, mom was not working and I was out of school and playing softball with the pee-wee leagues. We had a game scheduled that afternoon but the team we were to play had to forfeit for some reason. A win was a win so the coach took us all out for milkshakes and then sent us home. I was about two hours early so I decided to go home and maybe find my best buddy Gary Hobbs and see what trouble we could get into. Gary didn't play sports because he had a bad knee but he was my best friend. All I had to do was change out of my uniform and then I would go find him. I went into the house, thinking of what I wanted to do when Gary and I got together and ran up the stairs to my room. As I pounded down the hall, I glanced into mom and dad's room and saw mom on the bed, naked, a man I had never seen before on top of her. I stopped in shock and just stared. Yeah, I knew what sex was. I had seen some porn already and I knew what men and women did and Gary and I had experimented a little with ourselves. I had listened to the sounds that came from my parent's room late at night when I was supposed to be asleep. It was all just stuff kids did but it was enough for me to understand what mom was doing and that she was doing it with someone other than dad. As I stood there, shock just holding me in place, mom must have heard something and raised her head. As she saw me, her eyes widened, her mouth fell open and one hand came up to cover her exposed breasts. Our eyes locked and she could see the surprise and the hurt that came into mine. Somehow, my eleven year old brain understood that our lives were going to change forever. It also understood that this change wasn't going to be a good thing. "Oh God, Petey. Please honey, just wait there till I can come out. Please wait for me OK?" She pushed the man on top of her to the side and scrambled off the bed, trying to cover herself as she flailed around looking for a robe or something to cover her nakedness, never letting go of me with her eyes. The man was yelling at her, not understanding what had happened. He grabbed her and she slapped him with a loud crack, yelling "Let me go! Let me go!" As she turned away from me, the spell was broken and I turned and ran down the stairs and out the door, never pausing or looking back, the sight of my naked mother lying under another man burned into my eleven year old brain. I ran and ran until I had no breath left to run. I found myself walking slowly along a single lane road that led out of town and I stopped, trying to locate where I was. I saw a small gas station and convenience store just ahead and realized I had run for almost five miles before stopping. I went in, bought a coke and a bag of chips and then began the long walk back. I had no idea what I wanted to do but I was sure I didn't want to talk to my mother. She had cheated on my dad and I loved my dad more than life itself. He was my hero, my mentor and my rock. What she did made me mad, madder than I had ever been at either one of my parents. We had the usual little spats that meant nothing but this one was different. Things would never be the same and I knew that. And it was her fault! It was dark when I finally walked up the walk to my home. I stopped at the door, hesitating to go in, not knowing what I would find. I opened the door and walked in to find my mother and father sitting in the living room, waiting for me. I stopped in the entranceway and looked first at her, than him. He was the first to speak. "Where have you been young man? You've had both of us worried sick about you. You know you're to be in before dark. Do you have an excuse?" He was angry but only at me. I made the connection in my young mind that mom hadn't said anything to him. I looked at her, my eyes accusing but silent. She looked back with eyes that pleaded with me to keep her secret. I went cold at her look, but told myself that I would not say anything that could hurt my father. I just loved him too much to do that. "I'm sorry dad. I was just walking and found myself pretty far away before I realized how late it was. I've been walking home." "Well, consider yourself grounded for the next two days young man. Maybe that will help you remember not to worry us. Understand?" He looked at me and the disappointment on his face hurt. "I understand, and I'm sorry." I walked away and up the stairs to my room. I went in and locked the door behind me, something I hardly ever did. Only when I wanted to be alone to do something embarrassing. I sat down on the edge of my bed and did something else I hadn't done for a long time: I cried. I cried because I was a kid and I didn't know how to handle this secret I had. I cried because I knew someone was going to be hurt and I couldn't stop it. It must have been an hour or more when I heard a tapping on my door. I didn't respond and I heard my mother's voice. "Petey? Petey please open the door and let me in. I have some dinner for you. You missed supper." Nothing more for a moment, then "Please? Peter, please let me talk to you." I had no choice. She was my mother and she said please. What could I do? I turned the lock and than moved quickly back to sit on my bed. She opened the door and stood there, a tray in her hands and a smile on her face. The tray was welcome; the smile seemed forced and insincere. Even as a kid, I could tell that. She seemed nervous as she came in, put the tray on my desk and then moved over to sit beside me on the bed. As she did, I got up and moved to the desk chair and sat down. She let out a gasp as I did, and I saw the tears begin. She wiped her eyes and then seemed to come to a decision. She looked at me, her face closed and blank. "I have to ask you to not say anything to your father. This is something he should not have to know. The pain of my actions would hurt him terribly. It was a mistake Petey, and one I made without thinking. It will never happen again. You have my word." Keeping my voice low so dad wouldn't hear me I said "I don't believe you. You cheated on dad and you did it right here in our house. Why shouldn't I tell him? Why should you be allowed to do something like that and not have to pay? I was just a little late and I'm being punished. Who's punishing you?" Then she put her face in her hands and started to cry. I watched her shoulders as they moved with her sobbing. I sat there, unmoved even at the age of eleven. I wonder, now that a great deal of time has passed, if I believed even then that she was acting for my benefit. The art of betrayal demands superb acting skills and apparently my mother had learned well. "I'm sorry Petey. I'm truly sorry and I promise you that I will never betray your father again. I'm being punished by my own guilt. I have to pay for it that way. I love your father so much and I've done something that would hurt him if he knew. It's tearing me apart inside. So please, don't say anything. OK?" I made the decision at that instant that I would not say anything to my father. She was right: it would only hurt him and he didn't deserve that. So, I raised my eyes to meet those of my mother and told her "I promise. I won't say anything to him ever." She stood, came over to me and kissed the top of my head. "Thank you Peter. And I promise you, never again." She waited for me to say something but I remained silent. She seemed uncertain of what more to say and I said nothing so she finally made some noises about eating some dinner and walked out, closing the door behind her. One thing I didn't tell her then that she would come to understand later: I promised to stay quiet but I never promised to forgive her. And I never did. Life went on for us. I had no idea what my mother did when I wasn't around, but from that day forward, I treated her as a cook, a maid, a companion for my father but never again as my mother. She came to understand and it slowly took its toll on her. She became quiet, she began to go to bed earlier and earlier and sometimes she failed to get up until late morning. She resigned her teaching job and stayed home. The only time she seemed active and alert was when dad was home. I watched as she treated my dad as a king, always asking what she could do for him, trying to please him as often as she could, in general working to keep the house perfect for us. When we were home alone, there was no communication between us other than what was absolutely necessary. She tried: she tried very hard to get me to open up to her and talk to her and treat her as a mother but I refused. I never mentioned why but she knew. She knew! I didn't know then whether it was my attitude that finally pushed her over the edge but I came home one day to find dad sitting in the living room, alone. I walked in, sat down beside him and asked him what was wrong. He had been crying; that I knew by his face. That bothered me because my dad never cried. He was strong! He didn't say anything for some time but finally he seemed to notice me sitting there. He pulled himself together then and told me. "Your mother has left me. She packed a few bags and most of her things and left. She didn't say anything before so I had no idea there was any problem. She left a letter and in it she said to tell you she loved you and she was so sorry. Do you know what she meant?" I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of leaving me to do her dirty work. I thought very hard and finally said "I have no idea either dad. She never said anything to me about leaving or being sad or anything. I don't know why she would do this to you. No idea at all." "Are you very sure? Nothing you want to tell me?" "Nothing dad. Honest! I didn't know she was going to leave us." My father looked back at me, an expression on his face that I never would understand. He seemed sad, but there was also a deep seated anger that burned just below the surface. I assumed it was for mom's actions and I felt I understood. How wrong I was. We never talked about mom after that. Dad put her out of his mind at least around me, but I watched him and saw the toll it took on him. He began to run down, as if he had nothing left to live for. Her cheating was one thing, but to leave him the way she did showed me she was a coward and a cold-hearted bitch. Nothing I didn't already know about her. I thought to myself that it was better for him that she was gone. I believed that. I just wished dad could see it for himself. It was almost eight years later when I was in college and dad got very sick that I found out what mom said in her letter to dad. I was cleaning his room one day while he was in the hospital and I found the letter. It was worn; folded and unfolded so many times that it was almost in pieces. There were bleached spots on it that indicated water stains, probably tears I guessed. I took it and carefully unfolded it and laid it on the table to read. My darling husband David, I can't go on this way any more. I have to tell you something and it breaks my heart to do it. I was unfaithful to you with Walter Hodges. It was only once but that was one too many times and I must pay for my sin. The only time was here in our home in our bed and to make my shame so hard to bear, our son saw me. He came home and saw his mother betraying his father. It was the same night he came home so very late and you were so angry with him and I was so ashamed that I allowed you to be angry with him and to punish him. I know he was torn by what I did and that's why he was away. He ran away my dear David, because I compound my sin by asking our son to lie for me; to say nothing to you. And he promised because I told him that to tell you would cause you pain. I never considered the pain he was in by having to lie to his father. For that also, I must pay. Our son hates me to this day and his hate has made my life a living hell. Every day he looks at me with eyes filled with accusation and contempt. He never speaks to me as his mother, and when you are not there, he speaks to me not at all. His hate is justified but it is also more than I can bear. For that you must forgive him as I have since my actions made him do this. But his hate pales in comparison to the hate I have for myself. I betrayed both of you David and that is more than I can stand. Please know that nothing you did caused me to be unfaithful to you. It was my own weakness and base desires. You were always my love and I needed nothing more. My sin was curiosity. I simply wanted to know what else was out there in the world. Walter had tried over many years to tempt me and he constantly gave me compliments. When he came to our house that day and made his suggestions and plied me with his flattery, I was weak and finally gave in to his urgings. Know that I found nothing that day that equaled what I already had, and that is so sad. I destroyed our home for nothing. I set you free. I set Peter free as well. Please give him my love and please don't look for me. With all my love, Your wife always, Rachael I read it again and carefully refolded it and placed it back where I found it. I had mixed emotions about what she said. I wasn't sure how I felt. It was clear that she paid a terrible price for her cheating, but her weakness allowed it to become so much worse that it finally destroyed all of us. Why she never admitted what she did to my father continued to bother me. It would have made the whole difference. If dad had forgiven her I would have as well. If she were stronger and told the truth, we would still be a family. Now? Dad and I lived alone and we had no idea where she was. Our family was fractured by her actions and finally broken by her selfish weakness. There was only one thing that bothered me. I was confused by her asking dad to forgive me. What did I do? It was her! Dad died that summer and I buried him in the cemetery where he had plots for the three of us. Mom's hadn't been used of course and I doubted I would ever use the third. The ceremony was short and attended by a very few of his friends. Dad had withdrawn after mom left and the many friends he once enjoyed had slowly dwindled. As the last mourner left, I stood there over the hole that would soon hide his earthly remains. I said a silent goodbye and moved back as I glanced up at the horizon. I saw a lone woman standing there, the sun to her back blocking any view of her face. I watched her for a few seconds before the knowledge exploded in my head. That was my mother! She had come to his funeral! I was uncertain of what to do. Should I go to her, ask her if she would like to pay her respects? I started forward, then stopped. What could I say to her? How would she respond? I began walking towards her again only to see her turn and walk rapidly toward a waiting taxi. Before I could say anything, she had entered the back and the cab pulled away. The tinted windows blocked any view of her as the cab passed by me, heading out of the cemetery. I never expected to see her again and I was not sure how I felt about that. But after dad died, I put it all behind me, sold the dealership, sold the old house and moved all my stuff into a small duplex that I bought. I was still in college on a full ride and I had a year to go before graduation. I went back to campus and finished out my senior year. I graduated with a degree in business and I felt somewhat alone as I milled around with my fellow graduates. I was introduced to several of my friends' families and tried to be charming and engaging but the loneliness was painful. Dad was gone and I had no siblings: it was just me. I stayed as long as was polite than started back to my room to finish packing. I was paying no attention when I heard a voice say "Congratulations." I turned and searched the milling people before noticing her. She was standing aside, out of the crowd, dressed in a dark suit with sunglasses. I almost didn't recognize her but then she stepped forward to face me. It was her! Rachael! My mother! "Congratulations Peter. You must be very proud." She held out her hand. Without thinking, I took it and held it for several seconds as my mind processed the fact that she was here. She had changed a lot. She was still as I remembered her but her face was more mature, more lines around the mouth and eyes but still a beautiful woman. I noticed that I still held her hand and released it. She seemed almost sad at that. "Thank you. I didn't know you were here. I had no idea how to contact you to send you an invitation." That last was said with a trace of sarcasm. It was out before I knew it. "I've tried to be aware of the important times in your life since I left Peter. I was there at the funeral and I know you saw me. I've always known what you were doing." "Why didn't you call or write to tell us you were OK? Dad worried about you until the day he died. He never forgot you, and I know he forgave you so why didn't you come back?" "Because of you Peter. He forgave me but you never did. Never once did you think to give me a chance or ask your father to ask me to come home. He knew how to reach me Peter. He always knew but because of you, he let me go." That was news to me and something I never heard from dad. Could it be true? I didn't want to believe that so I pushed it out of my mind and changed the subject. "What about you? What are you doing now? And where are you living?" Just polite talk, no real interest. Right? "I've remarried. My husband Steve is a very sweet man and we have two children now. They are your half brother and sister Peter. Maybe some day you can meet them. Would you like my number? You could call anytime and I would be delighted to see you." I was stunned to hear I had two half siblings. The information was too much for me to take in on this day of days. I stumbled through an excuse that I had to rush to pack and catch a ride home. I turned and ran toward my apartment without waiting for her number. I knew it was cowardly but I had no control then. Now, I realized that I should have done more to heal the wounds that still hurt me. But I didn't. A Child's Punishment After graduation, I went back home to go to work for Harold Slasser. He had an investment counseling business and he handled several of the larger local business's financial affairs. Many people would be surprised to find how much money is invested by large companies for tax purposes and for long term growth. In addition, he had hundreds of individual accounts that his staff managed and that's where he started me. I managed ten of the middle sized accounts with oversight from Harold and other senior accountants. I learned and my accounts increased. With each account, my base salary increased until soon I was making acceptable money. I worked during the days and began to look for excitement at several of the clubs in downtown Columbia. I was a pretty good dancer and I drank moderately, never getting drunk and losing control. I rarely drank past midnight and by the time I headed home, I was sober enough to avoid trouble with the cops. I restricted my late nights to Friday and Saturday and rarely did much during the week. I still went out but it was usually locally. I met Laurie Saunders at one of the clubs I frequented. I had seen her several times before, usually in the company of a man and she seemed to love to dance. She was one of those girls who looked perfect on the dance floor: long legs, perfect calves, short skirts that showed them off to their best advantage. Her waist was small and her breasts were large, usually displayed with a lot of cleavage. She was blond, of course, and wore her hair long and straight. Her face was pretty; well, more than pretty; almost beautiful. What I could see of her eyes told me they were green. She seemed so sure of herself, always in control and always laughing. I watched her with pleasure. It was one Saturday night when she came in alone. She looked around, saw me sitting at the bar and walked over. I watched her approach with curiosity. I had never spoken to her nor she to me. So, what was she doing now? I looked at her as she approached, my eyes holding hers. She came directly over to me, slid onto a stool beside me and spoke. "Buy me a drink?" She met my look with a smile and what seemed to be a knowing look. "Of course. My name is Peter. What'll you have?" "Just a beer please, and my name is Laurie. I've seen you here lots of times. I thought it was time we met." Well that was the beginning. We stayed and danced that night until time to leave. I asked her if I could give her a ride and she accepted. We went to her place, talked until the small hours and I left happy. We simply talked and I wanted nothing more than to do just that. She was fascinating and I loved to watch her mouth as she spoke of her self. I learned that she was the same age as I and she worked in a gallery in town that sold paintings, art of all kinds and took work from artists on commission. She had a degree in fine arts and got into this work by accident. She loved it. I told her about myself, my work, my life in general and she listened so intently, I felt she really wanted to know. She certainly knew how to win my attention. We talked about all kinds of things and were completely unaware of the passage of time. It was almost four in the morning before I looked at my watch. When I discovered how long I had been there, I apologized profusely but she just smiled and said she had the best time. She walked me to the door. I kissed her once, very softly and asked her if I could see her again. We made plans to go out to dinner next week. As I drove home, I couldn't get Laurie out of my head. I told myself it was silly since I barely knew her but my heart didn't agree. It was already lost. The next few days were torture and I wondered why I hadn't thought to get her phone number. I finally looked her up in the book and found it. I called Tuesday and talked to her again. It was almost a continuation of Saturday night. I never wanted to hang up. Neither did she. I couldn't wait till tomorrow night and dinner. Laurie and I began to date and soon it became exclusive. After being with her for less than six months, I proposed and she accepted. We decided to get married as soon as possible since she had no family to speak of and neither did I. We flew to Vegas and got married in a small ceremony, neither of us knowing who stood for us or who performed the ceremony. We spent a week there as our honeymoon. We rarely got out of the room for the first four days. Our sex life was one of the things that made us want to get married. She was insatiable in the bedroom and she was up for almost anything. She loved to give and receive oral and she was comfortable with sex in any position. She would do anything I asked except anal and I had no problem with that. She was so tight I needed nothing else to help me get off. As we began our married life, we talked long and hard about what we each expected from the other. Neither of us wanted children, at least not for the foreseeable future. Maybe some time later. I spent one rainy afternoon telling Laurie about my mother and what she did. I let her know that infidelity was a non starter for me. If she wanted to consider an affair, I told her to let me know and I would free her of her marriage commitments immediately. She would then be free and I would let her go. I told her that the pain of losing her would be infinitely less than the pain of her betraying me. She listened, told me she understood perfectly and she assured me she felt the same way. We promised each other again that we would remain faithful unless, God forbid, we decided to end our marriage. Then we would do so first before a betrayal could occur. Our marriage was strong and Laurie and I did many things together. We traveled the world, went sky diving, deep sea diving and fishing, and learned to ski and snowboard. We went camping and spent many nights out under the stars in our sleeping bags and a tent. Our life was filled with each other and many adventures. We matured together and learned each other's desires and secrets. We shared everything. We had friends by the dozen and we did things with them when our common interests matched. We had no special friends however, always keeping those we liked close but not intimate. It seemed safer to both of us that way. We had been married seven years when the first problems occurred. Laurie had been running the gallery for the past two years and the owner wanted to sell. Laurie talked to me about buying the gallery herself and I listened to her proposal. We had the money and she seemed so sure that I of course agreed. She made the offer and the owner accepted. Three months later, we owned the gallery. Laurie began working there more and more hours and I began to see a change in her. She was more intense now and she seemed to be more and more involved with buying and selling. I was pleased that she was so happy running the place but I was not as happy with the amount of time she was spending there. It continued for the next eighteen months before I finally had to say something. We talked one Sunday when Laurie was home. I told her of my concerns and she listened but told me that she felt I was overreacting. She agreed that she had been spending a lot of time there, but she promised to slow down and begin to delegate some of the work to Paula, the woman who worked with her. She also promised to hire another sales girl to free up more time. I was happy with these plans and told her so. We spent the rest of the day in bed, something we hadn't done for a while. Laurie was her old self and I welcomed her home. I felt things would return to normal soon. My job was less stressful. I was now a full partner in the business and I had fifteen people working under my direction. Unlike Laurie, I spent less and less time at the office since my job was mentoring and monitoring which I did while I was there. With good training, my people were able to work without my constant direction leaving me free to make cold calls and deal with specific problems, all things done during working hours. Money was no object to Laurie and I and we had made all the arrangements for our retirement and funding for the things we planned to do. We had now been married for nine years. Laurie had cut back on the Gallery hours and I was spending more time at home. We settled into a routine that included going out to dinner several nights a week, spending weekends at our cabin up in the mountains where we had four wheelers and snowmobiles, depending on the season, sometimes with friends, sometimes alone. The only thing I began to notice was that our lovemaking began to change. At first, it was very subtle: Laurie would sometimes claim to be too tired to do anything. Sometimes it would be a headache that seemed to occur more often now than before. At other times, when she was willing, her involvement in love making was less than enthusiastic. Before she had been very vocal and very active; now, much less so. Except on weekends when she seemed to be more like her old self. At first I chalked it up to fatigue from working too much. I decided to mention it one night when she claimed fatigue. "Laurie honey, what's going on? You've changed over the past few months. You're tired a lot, you have headaches way too often and you seem to be so distracted during the week. And you've been spending more and more time at the gallery again." "You're imagining things again Peter. I'm tired, yes, but only because we have been trying to get more artists to show their works. And the headaches are from stress and tension. I'm OK, really. Please don't worry so much." "I have to worry when you seem so distracted and distant. It makes we wonder Laurie. It makes me afraid that you seem to be drifting away. I don't know what to do except worry." "Please don't Peter. I'm OK. I promise you. And I'm not drifting away. I love you Peter and only you. There's never been anyone else for me." To make her point, she changed her mind and we made love. It was more like old times and I began to relax and accept her assurance. That was a mistake. I told myself later that her actions were more from guilt than from any attempt to try to get back to where we were. I began to think back to the actions of my mother. She tried to make up for her indiscretion by treating my father like a king, doing what she could for him and always being there for him. Much like Laurie was beginning to do. Since our lives had become so predictable, Laurie and I both did the same things we had been doing with one exception. I began to work less and less and spend more time watching my Laurie. I would drive downtown to the gallery and sit across the street at a small café. I would watch the front door for a while, knowing that the back door led to a dead end alley and only the garbage trucks used it. It was not safe for cars or people to be back there since it was home to drug users and alcoholics. All deliveries came in the front door as did visitors or employees. I watched from my seat especially after closing time. Laurie never left until an hour or so later. Several times, I watched Laurie come out accompanied by a young man I had never seen. He was usually carrying a large display satchel, one designed to carry sketches or small painting. He must be an artist. They would walk together, him carrying the satchel, Laurie with her hand on his free arm. I would watch them until they were a short distance down the street, then I exited the café and followed them. They usually stopped, talked intently for a few minutes then she got in her car and drove off. He watched her go, then walked away, heading for what I knew to be his flat. I had followed him twice to the same place. After a few weeks of this behavior, I determined to meet this young man. I left work one afternoon and drove down to the gallery. I went in, just about closing time and greeted those employees I knew. They said their goodbyes as they left, leaving me standing there, alone in the store. Except that Laurie should be there as should the young man. I walked toward the back where I knew there was a large open space sometimes used as a display area for works to be marked for sale. As I entered that area, I saw Laurie and the young man standing closely together looking at something. I walked over slowly, making as little noise as possible until I was very close to them. "This one is exquisite. I love it. Are you sure you want to sell it?" Laurie was standing with one hand on his arm, both looking at whatever was on the easel in front of them. "I do not want to sell it; I had hoped you would accept it as a gift to show my affection for you." He put his hand over hers where she had it on his arm. It was a very tender action for someone who was supposed to be a client. "I couldn't accept this Rafael! It's too precious. You'll get a fine price for it." Rafael, if that was his name, moved his arm to place it around her shoulder. Laurie moved toward him and that was the moment I made a noise. Both of them jumped in surprise and turned around to find me standing immediately behind them. I watched his face as it showed surprise and irritation, while Laurie's surprise turned immediately to shame and embarrassment. Her face flushed red, and then slowly paled. "Peter! I didn't hear you come in. What are you doing here?" I looked at her for a moment as I collected my thoughts. I was angry but not ready to let this young man know that I was. My delay was making her nervous and I decided to speak before she did. "I didn't know I needed a reason to visit my wife. Perhaps I should call ahead? Would that be more appropriate?" "Of course not. This is your place as much as it is mine. Peter, I'd like to introduce you to Rafael Sanchez. He's showing his work with us this month and it's doing very well. We were just discussing his latest work." She pointed to a soft pastel painting of a woman, silks flowing around her body as she stood on a balcony. It appeared she was nude beneath the silks and there were tantalizing glimpses of her pale skin where the silks fluttered out. I looked carefully at the face and what I saw was an amazing likeness to my wife painted by someone who obviously felt more than a passing fancy for her. I felt my own blood rise up my neck and to my face as I slowly turned to face Rafael. "Set your price for this one. I'll buy it from you. I do not want it on display. Do you understand?" I looked directly into his eyes, showing him my displeasure. I only hoped he was smart enough to see it and understand it. He returned my look with his lips beginning to curl in arrogant amusement. He nodded as he acknowledged my intent. "I will allow you to make the offer. I will accept whatever you feel it is worth." That answer was a challenge to me and he expected me to fumble with my reply. I think not. "The work is priceless. We both know that, but I will pay you $100 for your time and effort. That is far less than you would get if you put it out for display and far less than it is worth." I heard a gasp from Laurie but interestingly enough, no reaction from Sanchez. I continued, now raising my voice in anger. "But it is more than you deserve for the disrespect you show me." With that, I lifted the painting from the easel. I walked over to the worktable on the side of the room, picked up a knife designed to slit canvas with no tearing and sliced the painting out of the frame. I threw the frame away then rolled it up, turned to Laurie who was watching me with a look of horror on her face and said "I'll see you at home. Goodnight Mr. Sanchez." With that I walked out of the room and out the door to find my car. The ride home was a blur of confusion. What had I witnessed tonight? I knew what I saw in his painting: his infatuation with Laurie, if that's what it was. But what did I see in her reaction to my appearance? That was more confusing. She reacted in guilt and embarrassment which indicated her thoughts were not those she would want me to know. That was a concern. I pulled into my driveway with no clear indication of what was happening. Inside, I unrolled the painting and looked again at its subject. It took no imagination to see Laurie's face in the girl. The tilt of her head and the way her eyes looked back at whoever was behind her showed a coy awareness of her beauty, and the way she was dressed and the way the wind moved her garments cried seduction. But in Sanchez's mind, who was being seduced? It was clear to me. I took the painting into the living room and, using some tape, secured it to the painting over the mantle. I stood back to admire my work. Once again, it was clear to me that Rafael Sanchez was in love with my wife and saw her returning his love. I was sitting in the same place when I heard the door open and Laurie's voice calling for me. I didn't bother to answer, my mind still trying to cope with the new directions open with my revelations tonight. I could hear her moving through the house, still calling my name until she walked into the room where I was sitting. She stopped, a small gasp indicating she had seen the painting. She walked slowly in to stand next to me where I sat in a straight backed chair facing the mantle and the painting. "It's not what you think Peter. It isn't! It is just a work of art and one that I wanted him to hang in the gallery. That's all it was. I don't know what you thought when you said those terrible things to Rafael." I looked up at her, to see if she really believed the words she was saying. She met my eyes only briefly before looking away. So! She was not telling me the truth and she knew I was aware of it. What else was she not telling me? "Look at the painting! Look at the face! If you don't see it, you have no business owning an art gallery! The man is obsessed with you! He is in love with you! And you were aware of it and you were not discouraging him! Tell me I'm wrong!" "You're wrong! You're wrong! He is an excellent artist and that's all. So it looks like me, so what? That doesn't mean anything. You're taking this out of all context!" She spun around and almost ran from the room. I remained where I was, my heart beginning to accept the hurt I knew was coming. Hadn't I lived through this once before? Hadn't I seen the betrayal? Hadn't my mother asked me to lie for her just as Laurie was asking me to accept her lies? Where was the difference? As I walked into the kitchen to find a drink and something to eat, I felt the depression begin to take over. Again, I had experienced this before so it was all much like déjà vu'. I was sitting at the table, holding an open bottle of beer and a cold sandwich of some mystery meat I had found in a tray in the refrigerator when Laurie came in. She had changed into jeans and a sweatshirt and her face showed determination. She apparently was determined to try to force the lie down my throat. Well, my mother tried that before and she was only partly successful. I would accept the lie but I would not accept the liar. We would live as I had lived before with my mother: she comfortable in her lies, and me comfortable in my shell. So be it! So began three weeks of hell. I was firm in my commitment to accept her lies, but I was also firm in my commitment to not accept her. If she chose to live a lie, then I would live with her lies, but my way. She knew how I felt. We had this discussion before we were married and she had agreed that living with a lie was not acceptable in a marriage based on trust. She agreed! Now, she had betrayed me with her support of young Rafael Sanchez and his obsession with her as borne out in his painting! I knew the inevitable outcome of this and I simply waited for proof of her breaking her vows, just like my mother. She fell just as Laurie was heading for a fall. A Child's Punishment I was sitting at the table one morning, drinking a cup of coffee before heading in to the office to pretend to be working. I had been doing this now for the past three weeks, staying as late as possible before coming home. I knew Laurie was doing the same and spending long hours with her young artist. I wondered where they were meeting to consummate their lust. Maybe it was time to follow her again to end this charade. I decided tonight to do just that. I felt a little better at the thought of finally doing something. I was smiling to myself when Laurie came down. She saw the smile and mistook it for something other than what it was. "Well, it seems you are in a better mood finally. It's been a while since you've done anything except grunt at me. Do you feel like talking to me this morning?" She sat down across from me with a cup of her own. "What is it you want me to say? It seems to me you made it very clear that I was mistaken and that you want me to believe your story rather than the truth." I sipped my coffee, looking up at her. As usual she wouldn't hold my gaze. She lowered her eyes to the table before answering. "Why is it that you are so convinced that something is going on? Can't you trust me? Don't you believe that Rafael is simply a talented artist and that he used me as a model for his last painting? Honestly Peter, I don't see what you do." She did raise her eyes this time and I held them with my own. "No, I don't believe that, and neither do you. I just wish you would tell me flat out that you want out of this marriage and that you want the freedom to do what you want. Why is that so hard?" I was becoming angry at her insistence that I was in the wrong. "Damn it Peter! I don't want out of this marriage! Why do you insist on trying to make something out of nothing? Why? I've done nothing wrong! Nothing!" "And what did I see the night I took the painting? What would have happened if I had not been there? He put his arm around you and you were moving closer to him. I saw you! And I know you! I saw you and I knew that you were going to let him kiss you. Deny that! I dare you to deny it!" "All right! Maybe I would have, but it would have meant nothing and I would have immediately stopped it! You have to believe me that I know how to control myself. And I feel nothing for Rafael Sanchez except respect for his talent. That can be intense but it is nothing else. I don't believe Rafael feels that way about me and I certainly don't have those feelings for him. That is the truth!" "That's where we disagree. He does have feelings for you and I believe you return those feelings. I know what I saw and I know the hours you are spending at the gallery every night are not spent alone. Tell me I'm wrong about that!" "You're not wrong but it's not what you think. We are working on a major showing of his work in New York. It's going to happen next month and our gallery is going to be the sponsor. It will mean a great deal to us and mean more publicity and the increased business that will bring. That's what I've been doing." "Congratulations. Will you be going to New York with our Rafael? Spend a few nights with him? Just the two of you?" Laurie looked at me in fury, threw her coffee cup against the wall behind me and then ran out of the kitchen, sobbing loudly. I watched her go with mild interest. I had my plans and I would get the proof I needed this evening. Then I could end this fiasco. I left for work, knowing Laurie would be getting dressed for her own plans. I knew what I was going to do now and I felt better than I had in some time. I spent a few hours with my top staff going over some new clients and some new business and left it to them to carry it out. They had been working independently for some time anyway and I thought about finally making it permanent. I could retire and the money from my commissions would continue to flow in. I could go back to doing those things we used to enjoy together: surfing, camping, cycling. Lots of things a man still young could do. Hell yes! I had just turned thirty six. Plenty of time to do other things, meet new people, maybe some new women. Why not? My life was still ahead of me. Right at six, I left the building and drove over to the gallery. It closed at six thirty during the week so I sat down in the little café across the street and watched. I noted that several people came out and walked away. I paid little attention to them until I noticed one woman walking away, her back now to me. I thought I recognized her but couldn't place her. As she got further and further away, my brain continued to process what I saw and it finally dawned on me. It was Rachael, my mother! I started to rise and follow her when I saw Rafael Sanchez exit the shop, Laurie stopping in the doorway and talking to him. I sat back down and watched the exchange. It was obviously something they were disagreeing on since there were several gestures indicating emotion. I couldn't tell what it was about until Raphael drew his hand down in a dramatic sweep and stood there holding that pose and my wife's eyes. She finally dropped her head and looked down at her hands. Raphael strode rapidly away and Laurie watched him go. She shook her head as if in frustration then walked back inside. I ordered a coffee to go and waited for Laurie to close up. I was going to follow her to her car, and then to wherever she went. It was only five more minutes when Laurie exited the gallery carrying a rolled tube. She locked the door behind her and then started down the street. I was taken by surprise when she walked past the lot where she was parked. She was going further down the street: she was going to his apartment! While I had expected something, some sign of her planned betrayal, this was more than I had expected. I thought she would be more discrete. Apparently her disregard for me was so complete that she had no need for subtlety. At least now I could follow her keeping out of sight since I knew her destination. I followed her the three blocks to where he lived and watched her walk up the steps to his building's entrance. Enough of remembering! I jerked my attention back to the sight before me. She had disappeared up the stairs to his second floor apartment. I had my proof. She was having an affair with him just as I assumed. And she had made a choice without keeping to her word: to tell me in advance so I could set her free. Just like my mother! Just as I expected! I knew when I asked her for her promise to tell me before betraying me that she would do just as my mother had before her. I knew it. Mother betrayed dad and asked me to lie for her. Laurie betrayed me and asked to accept her lie. Where was the difference? I walked back to my car and drove home. I took my time, knowing Laurie would be very late tonight. I had time to make some decisions, to make plans. I walked into my house, feeling the silence, the emptiness. That feeling was new but I knew it was going to be the feeling that prevailed from now on. I had no appetite so I just grabbed a beer from the fridge and went in to the family room. I sat down in my chair, stabbed the remote at the TV and sat back to let the mindless drivel soak into my weary brain bringing oblivion with it. She would be gone now at least two or three hours so I couldn't expect her back until close to midnight. It was strange that she didn't even leave me a message, telling me she would be late. Was she so callus that she felt it would make no difference to me? Of course, she was just like my mother. Hide your sin at all costs to protect yourself. Laurie probably felt if I had no evidence, she could continue to expect me to buy into the lie. I remembered the anger I felt when my mother asked me to lie to my father. It was a slow burning anger that slowly consumed my heart and soul. I treated her like the tramp she was, giving her no kindness or respect. When dad was around, I acted as if nothing was wrong but when we were alone, I would ignore her and refuse to speak to her unless asked a direct question. She was angry at first, then she slowly began to stop talking to me and finally to accept that I was not there for her. Neither of us let dad know anything was wrong but I knew and she knew. She never did tell him and finally she left. I guess she was such a coward that she couldn't stand it. Well, dad was better off without her, wasn't he? Wasn't he? As that question circled around and around in my brain, I began to feel a warmth creep up my neck and into my face until finally it burned in panic! Was I wrong? Had my father really been happier with her gone? Was I lying to myself to justify my own anger and feelings of betrayal? Oh God! What if I had been wrong? I told myself he was better off for years but I never questioned it. God, I had refused to face the answer to that question all this time. The answer was right in front of me all that time. The answer was NO! He was miserable and it was my fault, not hers. I remember the look on his face when she left. He asked me if I knew what she meant when she said she was so sorry. I lied to him and said I didn't have any idea. I remembered that look on his face. Was it anger? At me? I finally knew that was exactly what it was but he forgave me as she requested. I drove her away and I lied to him about that as well. What was it she said? "You must forgive him. I have." How could she? How could he? God, I was miserable! I was going to ruin my life like I ruined my father's and my mother's. I was doing exactly the same thing to my wife Laurie, driven by my obsession with my mother's infidelity. And in the end, she had paid a greater price for it than she deserved because I couldn't forgive her. Eleven years old and I had the wisdom of the ages when I refused to see weakness as a human condition rather than a sin not worthy of forgiveness. And who was I, a child, to make that decision for my father? He and my mother both paid a price for my stubbornness. I suddenly realized it was too high a price to pay. All of this ran through my mind in those first minutes. Had I already driven Laurie away with my insane jealousy and my overbearing moral superiority? Only this morning I had accused her of infidelity but allowed her no chance to defend herself. It was just seven thirty, a half hour after I saw my wife climbing the steps to meet her lover when I heard the front door open and close. I stood up and turned to face whoever it was, my heart pounding in my chest in both fear and hope. I knew what I wanted but did I dare hope? Could I make this right or was it too late? I watched as Laurie stepped into the room. "Hi. I'm glad you're here. I have something to say to you. Please wait for me: I want to change first and then get something to drink. I won't be but a minute." She waited, then when I didn't answer, she walked up the stairs to change. I sat back down, my surprise increased by my pleasure and relief that she hadn't stayed at Rafael's apartment for more than a few minutes. That meant more to me at that moment than I could ever have imagined. Maybe it wasn't too late, but then again it may already have happened. I got a second beer and returned to the room to wait. My mind was trying to cope with all I had come to understand this day. There was too much information, too many mistakes and too much blame. Nothing was as it should be. My simple life and the simple truths I had clung to were no more. They were false: truths of an eleven year old boy, not those of a man. Truths that had destroyed the lives of two people I cared about. Two people who deserved more than the contempt their son had heaped upon them. The shame I considered due my mother was more mine than hers. She was an honest woman who made a mistake and I was the self righteous son who refused to forgive her. Laurie walked into the room, a cup of coffee in one hand. She took the chair across from me where she normally sat when we were in this room. She looked tired: her face was drawn, lines around her eyes and mouth were more pronounced and there was a lack of color in her cheeks and lips. She was beautiful: how could she not be. It was who she was, as much a part of her as her skin. As I gazed at her, I felt a lump form in my throat, indicating my grief. I nodded at her to begin. "First, I want to say you were right. Rafael is in love with me and I was the woman in his painting. The painting said it all. And you saw it. You saw what he felt and what he wanted me to see and for that I feel ashamed. You saw it and told me and I defended him. I was so wrong." Laurie looked now at her hands folded on her lap, the coffee forgotten, "This past week has been very busy, getting the arrangements for the New York showing set. We have been working long hours together and I failed to see what was happening. Rafael was reading things into my actions that I didn't mean. He took my admiration of his talent too far and made assumptions that were false. But again, I didn't see it but you did. And you tried to tell me and I ignored you. I disrespected you in this and for that, I am sorry. "It came to a head today. I finally heard you this morning when you accused me of planning a trip with him to New York. That you could possibly think that of me meant I had somehow given you doubts. Somehow you were able to come to believe that of me because we were drifting apart and I was the cause. I paid more attention to him than to my husband. And today, when I looked at the painting with that understanding, I saw me as he wanted me to be and I was ashamed." I listened to her words and I began to feel the weight of the world lifting from my shoulders. It wasn't too late. Regardless of what had already happened, she was still my wife and still my love. She understood what I saw and it reminded her of the promises we made to each other. Perhaps she had strayed once but she would stray no more. I could live with that as I should have allowed my mother to live with her indiscretion. If I had, my father would have been happy. His life would have been worth living. Instead, I took that away from him and I was ashamed. I looked at her face, her eyes, and leaned forward to show her I was serious. "Then I can forgive you for what you have done. If you come home to me and tell me that you will not stray again, I will accept that and love you as I have." She was shaking her head, smiling now. "But you don't understand. I've done nothing but forget that you were only trying to warn me. I should have seen the danger earlier and not caused you to worry about something that would never happen. You don't understand that I could never do anything to hurt you, regardless of who tempts me. I went to Rafael's apartment tonight to return the painting to him and to tell him that I will no longer work directly with him. I feel nothing but admiration for him but his feelings for me are not the same. I can not allow him to think things could be different. They can't. You are my love and my only love." My heart overflowed with joy. She was true to me and I was the one who was blind. We rose together and embraced. "I love you my wife. I love you with all my heart." We spent the evening talking and reconfirming our love. It had been too close this time. We lost our ability to talk to each other and we lost that thread that held us together. That was a danger that we had to avoid. To that end, I made a suggestion to her. "Laurie, I would like to find my mother and try to make amends to her. I've learned too much about myself and what I did to her and my father. I need to tell her and ask her to forgive me. She said she did but I have to hear it for myself. Would you mind?" I didn't know whether she knew who she had been seeing in the gallery but she surprised me when she said, "Of course I don't mind. Would you like me to invite her over the next time I see her?" I smiled at her and told her I would be delighted.