There’s nothing my husband could say to get out of this. I listened intently to the sounds of him entering the house. He was moving slowly but randomly. He was obviously thinking of what to say to me. He had been caught red-handed.
I remained hidden in our room. I kept chanting to myself not to forgive him. He betrayed me. He made a fool of me. Those nurses knew what was going on. And I Iooked like a damned fool going up there playing the loving supportive wife. I can never show my face there again.
He lingered downstairs awhile. After about a half an hour, I heard him coming up the stairs. I braced myself . I stepped away from the door. I heard our daughter’s door creek open.
“Joni?” I heard him say. It seemed he had thought we weren’t home. It was then I remembered I had parked down the street. I heard him mumble something to himself. Then he walked over to our bedroom door. He tried the knob. I held my breath.
“Honey?” he called out softly. I didn’t answer. I immediately devalued the ‘honey’.
“Can we- (a swallow, and a pause).” He tried it again. He got himself choked up. An emotion he didn’t have a right to. Not until I was finished with him.. and I hadn’t even started yet. The second time he got out what he was trying to say. “Can we talk about this, honey?”
I guess I was supposed to me moved. Talk? Talking was not going to undo, straighten out, pacify, or make me feel any better.
He tried the door knob and a knock. I then heard him slide his body down to the floor against the door. He started to talk anyway. He said honey two more times with no response from me.
“I am ashamed…” he started out…
Sigh. Yawn. Yeah right, He pulled the oldest phrase out of the book…
Stay tuned for Part V.