Another Love: Fallout

"Perhaps I should have one of our counselors speak with you," he said.

"Will he be okay, doctor?" Karen asked tearfully.

"With the right treatment, I believe so, Mrs. McDonald," the doctor said. "However, his recovery could take a couple of months. We've prescribed some medications -- beta blockers and aspirin -- and we'll see how well he responds. We'll know more once the counselor speaks with him. In the meantime, I suggest you do everything possible to keep his stress level down."

"Thank you, doctor," she said as he walked out of the room. After the doctor left, Karen and Avril came to my side. I looked at Karen before speaking.

"Why?" I croaked.

"I already told you why I fell for Phillipe," she said. I shook my head and waved my hand, dismissing her statement.

"No," I said. "Why did you let me live?" Her face turned white. "You already killed me. You should've just let me die." Both of the women started crying again. "Please, just go," I said. "You've hurt me enough."

"Please don't say that, Rob," Karen said through her tears. "Don't you know how much I love you? I'll die without you. I will be back, Rob, and I promise you I'll make this up to you. Please don't hate me."

By then, one of the nurses came into the room, accompanied by another woman dressed in a medical smock. The nurse ushered Karen and Avril out of the room and closed the door, leaving me alone with the other woman. She rolled a chair to the side of my bed and sat down.

"My name is June, Mr. McDonald," she said. "Dr. June Carstairs. I was asked to come talk to you to see if we can figure out what caused your heart problem. Do you mind if I record this conversation?"

"Not at all," I said.

"Thanks," she said, starting her recording with an introduction. "Please tell me about yourself."

I told her the Reader's Digest version of my life history and what little I could about my work at the university.

"So, stress is a normal part of your work," she said. "I understand. What about your home life?"

I told her everything -- how Avril came by with the portrait and dropped what amounted to a nuclear bomb on what I thought had been a relatively good marriage. I also relayed to her as best I could what Karen had told me about her relationship with Phillipe Du Monte. She listened quietly, taking notes as I spoke, pausing only a few times to ask clarifying questions. I also told her how Karen planned to rub her infidelity in my face with that painting.

"And that led to the incident with the shotgun?" she asked. I nodded my head.

"Yes," I said.

"I see," she responded. She asked me a few more questions and noted my answers. "I'll need to talk with your wife before I make my report with my recommendation to Dr. Allen," she added. "In the meantime, you need to rest. If you feel the need to talk, just ask one of the nurses, okay?" I nodded my head again.

"Thank you," I said, feeling drained. I fell asleep after she left. The next day, Dr. Allen said I could be transferred out of ICU and into a private room. I let the nurses and orderlies do their thing and soon enough, was laying in a real bed in a small, but nicely-appointed room. It felt good to be away from the ICU, and I found I could actually relax.

I didn't see Karen or Avril that day, but Lisa and some of the others from the university came by to visit. Lisa brought me a paper airplane, thinking it would make me feel better. I smiled at the gift, even though I actually hate airplanes. Oh well, I said to myself, it was the thought that counts. After eating a black bean burger -- the hospital insisted I follow their cardio diet to the letter -- I watched a bit of television and dozed off.

...

Karen:

The last three days had been a blur. It all started the night of Rob's heart attack. Avril and I had just fallen asleep when we heard the first shotgun blast downstairs. The security system hadn't gone off, so the only thing that came to my mind was that Rob had decided to kill himself. The first blast was followed by another, then another and another. What was Rob doing, I asked myself.

Avril and I ran downstairs and saw Rob at the back hall closet. He was shooting my portrait! Both Avril and I screamed at him to stop shooting, but he ignored us and kept pumping rounds into the picture. Our hands over our ears, we watched as he systematically destroyed my nude image in the portrait.

He ran out of ammunition, so he threw the gun on the floor and began kicking the frame, tearing it apart with his hands and feet. Once he was done, he gathered up the pieces and ran to the front room. We followed him, begging him to stop, but he was like a man possessed.

We watched in horror as he threw the pieces into the fireplace and started the fire. We sobbed uncontrollably as we watched the beautiful portrait Phillipe had crafted turn into ash. Then Rob pulled his wedding ring off and threw it as hard as he could into the fireplace. I saw it bounce off the brickwork and made note of where it was so I could recover it later.

He turned to face us and looked like he was going to say something, but then he fell down, unconscious. I quickly grabbed the phone to dial 911 as Avril tried to turn the fire off, but it was too late. The portrait was completely destroyed.

The paramedics were there in record time. As I watched, they performed CPR and put him on a gurney. They told me what hospital they would take him to and left. Avril and I quickly dressed and left for the emergency room.

We were told that Rob had suffered some kind of heart attack and the doctors were working on him. We waited for what seemed like an eternity before a doctor came out to speak with us.

"Mrs. McDonald?" he asked. I nodded my head and he directed me to a small room just off the waiting room. "Your husband has suffered what we call a cardiomyopathy. We almost lost him a few times, but were able to revive him. He's being taken to CICU, our cardiac intensive care unit. Once he's stabilized, a nurse will come and get you."

"Is he going to be alright?" I asked.

"We're doing everything we can for him," the doctor said. I sat down and cried. Had I done this to him? Had I pushed him too far and expected him to accept more than he was capable of? I had never seen Rob get violent before and I certainly didn't think he had it in him to do something like shoot my portrait. Avril held my head as I cried, wisely saying nothing.

Several hours passed before a nurse came out and escorted us to CICU. As I looked, it seemed as if everyone knew that my cheating had put my husband in the hospital. No one said anything, but the accusatory glances I got burned in my soul. I almost lost it when I saw him for the first time. He looked about 10 years older, his eyes sunken, his skin a sick shade of gray.

We sat there, watching the monitors while hoping for some sign that he was still with us. As we sat, nurses came in to check his vital signs and make adjustments to his medications. We dozed off a few times and a nurse suggested we leave and come back in a few hours. I refused, though. There was no way I was going to abandon my husband when he needed me most -- at least, not again.

Avril and I took turns -- one of us slept as the other watched and waited. We had been there for about 30 hours or so before Dr. Allen came in with a nurse. He spoke with Rob for a bit before putting a couple of X-Rays on the viewing screen. He explained that Rob had suffered something called a " takotsubo cardiomyopathy."

I had heard of this before. The name came from the pot used by Japanese fishermen to trap octopuses. It was a condition brought on by severe emotional strain or stress. I nearly died when Dr. Allen asked if there had been something extremely stressful happen recently. I broke down crying when he asked Rob if he had lost a loved one. Yeah, I thought. It was ME. I did this to him. Avril held me as I sobbed.

I asked the doctor if he would be okay, and was told that with the right treatment and reduced stress, he should be fine, but it could take months. He also said he would have a counselor speak with Rob. That was a good idea, I thought. Maybe a counselor could help Rob get over his hurt feelings. I thanked the doctor as he left. Avril and I walked to Rob's side.

As I looked in his face, I saw a sadness I had never seen before. I was surprised when he asked me, "why?" I thought he wanted to know why I had fallen for Phillipe, but he waved his hand and shook his head.

"No," he said. "Why did you let me live?" I was shocked beyond words. "You already killed me. You should've just let me die," he said. Both of us started crying again. "Please, just go," he said. "You've hurt me enough."

"Please don't say that, Rob," I said through my tears. "Don't you know how much I love you? I'll die without you. I will be back, Rob, and I promise you I'll make this up to you. Please don't hate me."

I meant everything I said, but I wondered how could I possibly make this up to him. How could I ever get him to understand that I needed him? For the first time, I truly began to realize what my affair with Phillipe had done to him and I felt horrible. My God, I thought to myself. I did this to him. A nurse came back into the room with another woman and ushered Avril and I out, suggesting that we go home and return the next day.

I was in no shape to drive, so Avril drove us home. We showered, ate, then went to bed, physically and mentally exhausted. Avril was so sweet, so supportive of me. I truly felt lucky to have her in my life at that moment. We laid there in each others arms and fell asleep.

I dreamt that I was standing in a circle of light. I looked around but saw no one at first. Then several large disembodied heads came into my view. I recognized them from pictures Rob had shown me -- they were members of his family. I recognized his father, his mother and some of his other family members. They looked down on me, angry, disapproving. The face belonging to his father spoke.

"You killed him, Karen," the face said. I shook my head.

"No," I said. "You don't understand. What Phillipe and I had was wonderful."

"NO!" the father-face said. "You broke his heart. He loved you with everything he had. He TRUSTED you. And what did you do?"

"Please," I begged. "I needed Phillipe. You don't understand."

"I understand all too well," the father-face said. "Your husband nearly DIED in that war, but that wasn't good enough for you, was it? You plotted and cheated and deliberately broke his heart. You brought that man into his house. You brought him into your bed. You turned his children against him. You destroyed everything he held dear. You KILLED him!"

"No," I begged, crying. "Please try to understand."

"You're GUILTY!" the father-face declared, his eyes glaring at her angrily. "Guilty," the other faces said in unison. "Guilty. Guilty." I woke with a start, and saw Avril laying next to me, her eyes open.

"Shhh," she whispered, holding me tight. "It was just a bad dream. It wasn't real. Go back to sleep." She held me as I cried myself to sleep. No matter what she or anyone else said, deep down in my soul I knew those faces were right. I WAS guilty, and a good man nearly died because of me.

The next morning, I got up, showered, dressed and went downstairs. Avril was already up and had made us some breakfast. I poured myself a cup of coffee and mindlessly ate. Afterward, we talked about the exhibition, but my heart wasn't into it. All I could think of was the look I saw in Rob's face the previous day.

"Your portrait is destroyed," Avril said. "That was to be the centerpiece of our exhibition. What will we do now?" I shook my head.

"I don't know," I said. "We'll figure something out." Fortunately, our discussion was interrupted by a phone call. It was a Dr. Carstairs and she wanted to talk to me that morning about the events leading to Rob's heart attack. "We need to go back to the hospital," I told Avril after Dr. Carstairs ended the call.

"Why?" she asked.

"They want to talk to me about what happened," I said as I went upstairs to change. An hour later, we pulled into the hospital parking lot and walked to Dr. Carstairs' office. Dr. Carstairs said she wanted to speak to me alone first, so Avril sat back down in the waiting area.

"I want to discuss the events that led to your husband's incident," she told me after closing the door. "Do you mind if I record our interview?" I shook my head and watched as she pulled out a digital audio recorder and made some notes. When she was ready, she looked up at me. "Please," she said. "Start from the very beginning."

I told her everything just as I had told Rob the other day -- how I met Phillipe, and how he awakened me sexually. I told her about bringing Phillipe into our house the day Rob went to war and didn't leave anything out. I even told her about the events behind the painting Rob destroyed and about how I would travel to Montreal to see my lover periodically. I also told her about enlisting the boys into keeping my life with Phillipe a secret from their father.

Dr. Carstairs was very professional, taking notes as I spoke. She would have made a great poker player, I thought. She displayed no emotion as I spoke and refused to do or say anything that might indicate either approval or disapproval of my actions. She said nothing until I was finished.

"So, do you feel any remorse or guilt for your actions?" she asked.

"At first, no," I said. "I was -- AM -- still a good wife and mother."

"I see," she said, writing something in her notes. "And how did you expect your husband to react to your affair?"

"I had hoped he could put it behind him," I said. "I thought that after the first of the year, we could attend counseling and he could eventually forget it and move on. Phillipe is dead, after all."

"So, just so I understand," she said. "You engaged in a decades-long physical and emotional affair with another man, even bringing this man into your marital bed while your husband was overseas fighting a war, and you expected your husband to simply shrug it off as though nothing happened. Is that right?" It seemed so sordid, the way she explained it, but she was essentially accurate. What else could I say?

"Well," I began, "that was pretty much how I imagined it would work."

"Has your husband ever shown any violent tendencies before?" the doctor asked. I shook my head.

"No, never," I said. "Rob is somewhat shy and introverted. He tends to keep things to himself until he's fully analyzed them in his mind. I've never seen him lose his temper, ever."

"You mentioned the first of the year," the doctor said. "Why wait for counseling? Is there something special about the first of the year?"

"Avril Du Monte -- Phillipe's wife -- and I are putting together an exhibition of his work," I said. "The portrait Rob destroyed was to be the centerpiece of that exhibit. I had thought that we could forget about the past until after the exhibit."

"I see," Dr. Carstairs said. "And you intended to flaunt the very picture that proves your infidelity to the world. Is that right?"

"Pretty much," I said, feeling ashamed.

"Hmm," she said, making a note on her pad.

"How would you describe your husband's relationship with your children?" she asked.

"I guess like most fathers and sons," I said. "Right now it's a bit strained. Rob doesn't talk to them much."

"Did you encourage them to keep your affair quiet?" the doctor asked.

"Yeah," I said quietly.

"And you don't think that may have affected their relationship?"

"I didn't think it would at the time," I said.

"But now?" the doctor asked.

"I don't know," I said.

"One last thing, Mrs. McDonald," the doctor said. "If you had it all to do over again, what would you do?"

"Honestly?" I asked. "I don't know. I think under the same circumstances I would probably do it all over again."

"Even knowing what it would do to your husband?" she asked. I had to think about that.

"You had to have known Phillipe," I said.

"I see," she said.

"So, is my husband going to be alright?" I asked.

"You'll have to speak with his doctor," she said.

"Can I go see him now?" I asked. She shrugged her shoulders.

"Sure, if you really want to," she said. I told her I did and left her office as fast as I could. I could feel her glare burning into the back of my head as I left. I grabbed Avril and we went to Rob's room.

...

Rob:

After a decent night's sleep, I woke to find one of the hospital workers wheeling in my breakfast. I scarfed it down, and was beset by another nurse who took my vitals and wheeled me to X-Ray for my daily checkup.

After I got back, another nurse was waiting to walk me around the ward. The doctor said he wanted me to walk around the ward at least twice every day to build up my strength. I got back to my room and in bed when Karen and Avril showed up.

"How are you feeling?" Karen asked as she came to the side of my bed.

"Not as crappy as yesterday," I said.

"You look better than you did yesterday," she said, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

"That's good, I guess," I said.

"Of course it's good," she said. "I need you home as soon as possible. I miss you, you know."

"I'm sure," I said in a neutral tone of voice. She looked at me, shocked.

"It's true," she said. "I love you and I miss you. I know you probably don't believe me, but it's true."

"You're right," I said. "I don't believe you. But I appreciate the sentiment anyway." Avril came to my bedside, angry.

"How can you say that to your wife?" she said. "She cried all night because of you."

"Because of me?" I asked. "Please, don't insult my intelligence."

"I would not dare to do such a thing," she said. "But I have to wonder why you would destroy such a beautiful masterpiece."

"You mean, that painting?" I asked.

"Of course," she said.

"That was no masterpiece," I said. "That was just a painting of a beautiful whore done by her lover intended to be a constant reminder of her infidelity. The real masterpiece is what Karen and I had before she met your husband. The two of them destroyed that masterpiece and as I understand it, you helped. As did your whole family. Along with my two sons."

"Please do not say such a thing about your wife," Avril said as Karen wiped her eyes. "Look at her. She loves you still. Can you not put your foolish pride aside and let her love you?"

"You don't get it, do you, Mrs. Du Monte," I said, purposefully using her married surname. "It takes more than love to make a marriage work. It takes loyalty, fidelity and trust. Karen and I made a solemn vow in front of God and everybody to forsake all others till death do us part. I held up my part of that bargain. She didn't. Worse yet, she lied to me for two decades. Maybe that doesn't mean anything to you, but it's everything to me. And Karen knew that when she spread her legs for your husband."

"You make it all sound so... depraved," Avril said.

"That's because it was depraved," I said in response.

"Can't you forgive your wife's mistake?" she asked.

"Mistake?" I asked. "A mistake is accidentally leaving the milk on the counter overnight or making a right turn instead of a left turn. What she did went way beyond a simple mistake. She betrayed me in the worst way a woman can. She made a mockery of our marriage. Then she lied to me for twenty years to cover it up, and she got our children to lie for her. Besides, she doesn't think she did anything wrong. How can I forgive someone who thinks she's a pure as the wind-driven snow?" I turned my attention to Karen.

"Tell me something, dear wife," I said. "What would you have done if the roles were reversed? Hmmm? Suppose you came home one day to find someone you never met on our doorstep with a portrait of a nude woman only to learn that I had been sleeping with her for twenty years. Would you simply forget about it and expect us to keep going as though nothing had ever happened? Honestly."