A different post today. Less thought out.
Yesterday we had dinner, planned this time, and a very long –unplanned – discussion.
He lied to his wife to get away with me. It was a first, and it didn’t sit well with him. Nor did it sit well with me. Lies tangle me up, trip me, and confuse everything. While I’m not innocent of tale-telling, I tend to lean toward the lies of omission. Last night I told Reed I’d grabbed a bite with a colleague. His response was okay.
He didn’t ask for details. I didn’t provide them.
At dinner, Liam wanted to hash it out within himself, to find some resolution to it all, and figure out "what the hell [he was] doing." Referring, of course, to everything up to today – to him, and me, and the us that seems to be forming.
I disagreed: we needed to discuss this. I'm too much the cause. Don't take this statement for more than face value, readers. There's no regret or guilt in that remark.
Ironically, I felt like my mother during that ride to the restaurant. I felt her strength in knowing what she wanted and what she needed to do in her life. As she told one man once, I told this man: it won't happen. It's not going to happen. I'm not willing to pay the price for an us.
I'm too selfish, I think. I'm not ready to face leaving Reed. I know it's coming. I know that soon enough the 800-pound gorilla between he and I will become too big to dance around and that I will no longer be able to be an ostrich. I need to get my financial ducks in a row first.
You know, there's a part of me that wants to just get it over with and tell him to go to hell and have the affair Liam proposes. Hell with it all. And there's another part of me that says revenge can be sweet. I could have my own affair and who would Reed be to object? Not when he's already guilty. Liam will be traveling between here and the new office for the next month or so. He can certainly slip away for a day. In fact, he'll be home alone for a weekend that's coming up. It crossed my mind several times. Who's to know if he and I meet in some hotel two or three hours away from our hometown?
But I can't lie about it, not even to myself. I don't want to try to fit into a family that will see me as a home-wrecker. I don't want his children to be torn between loving him and knowing that he did just what his father did once upon a time.