Without going into detail, the fallout was tremendous. My boss called us both in separately. He was almost in tears when he saw me. “I can’t tell you how disappointed I am in you. You were the best of the best. I always admired your marriage. I thought it looked a lot like mine when the wife and I first started our journey together. Do you still have a husband?”
I nodded, not bothering to hide my tears. Yes, I was still married, even if I hadn’t seen my husband in two weeks.
“Good. He was a fine man. I hope he has in his heart to forgive you. I have to protect my business, and cannot be as forgiving. You still have your job, but your days as team leader are over. You will never travel representing this company again, or represent it publicly. Do you understand?”
I nodded, grateful I still had a job. I knew, though, that my days were numbered at his company. My star would never rise higher than I was right now. Somewhere down the road, I would have to dust off my resume, and hope he gave me a reasonable recommendation.
X didn’t fare so well. He left quietly in return for a reasonable recommendation. I was sure it was carefully written, “Mr. X has excellent communication skills, works well with others, blah, blah, blah.” I knew, though, that if any of my boss’s friends considered hiring him, a quiet word would pass and the old boy network would kick in. I sincerely believed that if we’d spoke, we would both have apologised for ruining each other’s lives. We didn’t, though, our boss and spouses made sure of that. My husband, who I never heard raise his voice, told X in no uncertain terms that when he finally found him, he would wish he had killed him, because it would be a miserable, painful life from then on. X believed him and left for parts unknown as soon as his divorce was final.
He left behind a devastated wife and five-year-old son. I think it took her years to recover. Eight years went by before she married again, to an older man who dotes on her and her son. He asked the son what kind of car he would like for his sixteenth birthday and broke down when the boy told him that what he would value more than a car would be the use of his last name. So with a stroke of a pen X was removed from his life forever, and his new dad got him a top of the line sports car, despite his mother’s objections. X never saw his son again after he left, even though his wife tried to find him to remind him she had divorced him, but their son hadn’t.
I found my life suddenly divided into segments; eras, if you will. There was my life BTA (Before The Affair) and ATA (After The Affair). I remember BTA being full of light and happiness, and ATA being filled with grayness and despair. Mercifully, ATA didn’t span near the time BTA did.
Then it became time to choose sides. Other couples had broken up in our normally tight little circle, and the remaining couples didn’t know how to handle it. Who do we invite to the BBQ, the nights out, and the nights in? Gone were the casual flirtations and innuendoes, afraid it would trigger terrible memories for the ones who were still around. I was kind of glad when we sold the house and went in different directions. I’m sure the other couples gave a sigh of relief, just not in front of us.
The women in the circle were sympathetic to my plight, offering me support while making sure I didn’t get close to their husbands. After all, I had already broken up one marriage that was happy, and there was no need to tempt fate. X fared even worse, the men were supportive while making damn sure he never ever came close to an intimate setting with their wives.
There was a lot more support for hubby and Mrs. X. After all, they were the wronged ones, right? It wasn’t their fault they found themselves in the mess their lives had become.
Then I had to move to the TTP/FF phase. Tell The Parents, Friends, and Family. I disappointed both sets, but both forgave me even though my marriage didn’t survive. I still send his parents’ Christmas cards and a gift on their birthdays. They always send cards back to me, and after a few years, his parents would ask me to visit them if I came into town. I never went, but thanked them warmly for their kindness.
The first casualty in the ATA era was our love life. We used to tease, tantalize, make slow languid love or rut like animals as the mood took us. It took three weeks for hubby to move back in, and another six before we attempted any intimacy. It was a total disaster. We were both afraid, him of being compared to X and be found lacking, me of doing the wrong thing and triggering terrible memories.
As the months passed, it got better, mostly. We would try to pleasure each other when I would feel his body just shut down. I understood at first but grew to resent it towards the end. Couldn’t he see how hard I was trying? How much I loved him?
We went through counseling, and it helped. It helped us to realize we were over. I’d broken his trust, and no matter how hard I tried, how much I worked to mend his heart, the wound was just too great.
So in the year 1. 5 ATA, we were no more. The divorce wasn’t contentious, just a straight split right down the middle. I didn’t even cry when I got the final papers. We would see each other from time to time because our town wasn’t very large. We would always greet each other and be civil, but that was it. I remember how heartbroken I was in the year 4 ATA when I glanced through a cafe window downtown and saw him with a woman. She was smiling, sitting close, giving him intimate touches that every woman recognizes as ones reserved for a lover. I went home and cried my eyes out for the last time.
I cast resumes far and wide and got an offer from a firm two states away. It was a good sized step up and just what I needed. I told the friends I had left goodbye, kissed my parents, and moved on.