Long After the Fact Ch. 01

With a help of a friend from the company's security division, he set up the recording devices. He packed the clothes and other things he'd be taking with him. Then, looking around one final time, Dan left his home.

He took a cab to the bus station, then a bus down to Youngstown and spent one night in a hotel there, paying cash and using a false name. The next morning he took another bus to Akron and rented a nondescript brown sedan from Rent-a-Wreck. There Dan had to use his own name, but he paid with a brand-new credit card, one Susan didn't know about.

Driving north towards the lake, Dan went to the Cleveland airport, where he picked up a plane ticket to Dallas he'd purchased using his old credit card. Then he headed for Mentor, a few miles west of Painesville, and to the furnished apartment he'd rented for a month under the name "Theodore Drought". It was Dan's idea of a joke, combining his own name (and his feeling of emptiness) and Susan's lover's name. Even he didn't think it was particularly funny.

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DISAPPEARANCE

February 18

At first Susan had been annoyed, then angry. Now she was worried.

The cruise had been wonderful and her mother had had a lovely time, but she was eager to see Dan again. They had never spent such a long time apart, and she had missed her husband very much. It made her uneasy to be out of contact with him.

But when she'd called him from Miami Saturday afternoon, an hour after the boat docked, she'd gotten no answer either at home or on his cell phone. Why didn't he have the damn thing turned on, she wondered?

Saying a loving goodbye to her mother and sister, she headed for the airport. Before boarding the plane she tried Dan again, but still no answer. When she came off the plane at 9 pm, tired and ready to be home, he was nowhere to be seen. Now she was pissed! They'd agreed he would pick her up.

Again he couldn't be reached at either number, and after an increasingly frustrating 45-minute wait, she gave up and took a taxi home. Now, as she paid the cab driver and glanced at her dark, apparently empty house, she began to be seriously concerned.

Dan was neither impulsive nor irresponsible. She knew he would have missed her as much as she missed him, so why hadn't he been at the airport to meet her? Had something happened to him?

The house was totally dark, and she turned on several lights before leaving the front hall. Calling out, "Dan? Honey, are you all right?" she moved through the kitchen and living room without finding him. The house was neat, no newspapers lying around or dishes in the sink. She headed to their bedroom, finding the bed neatly made but no sign of Dan.

The closet doors were open, but at first she was almost too distracted to notice that most of Dan's clothes were missing, the hangers empty on the rod. Susan's heart gave a lurch. Had Dan gone on a trip? Was there some work emergency? But why wouldn't he have left a message on her cell phone?

Hoping that she had somehow missed a note from him, she hurried back to the kitchen. A quick glance into the garage revealed that his car was still there. She looked more thoroughly through the kitchen, checked the mail neatly piled on the table, and finally walked into the dining room, more confused and concerned than ever.

Sitting alone on the dining room table was her old computer, the one she'd put down in the basement months ago. As she moved closer she saw that there was an email message on the screen, and an icy knot formed in her chest. "Oh my God," she murmured.

*****

July 23, 2003

Baby—

God, you were amazing today! I've never cum so hard in my whole life! You just turned me inside out.

I'm not sure I can get away Thursday, because Dan might be coming home from work early. I'll write you tomorrow to see if we can be together Friday.

I can hardly wait!

xxoo

Susan

*****

"No!" Susan cried aloud, without being aware of it. It was one of her messages to Teddy from two years earlier, during their affair. Her thoughts were a blur. How could she have been so stupid not to delete them all? But the computer was password-protected! And why would Dan even have looked there? What was the computer doing out of the basement? Why hadn't she just thrown it in the garbage?

Still unable to process the full meaning of what she had just found, Susan glanced around her. Then her breath caught in her throat. Sitting on the table just six inches to the left of the computer was Dan's wedding ring. She stared at it and began to cry.

***************

Susan passed a horrible night. She had no idea what to do, how to find Dan—she was totally at a loss. All she could think of was that she had to find him and explain, somehow, what she had done, that it was over, that she loved only him. He must know that, surely? Ever since the affair ended she had worked so hard to be the most loving, thoughtful, considerate wife she could be.

It had been too late to call anyone, even her best friend Diana. So she went to bed and spent a miserable, sleepless night. She felt guilty, frightened, and even angry. Why had he just walked out on her? Wouldn't it have been fairer at least to give her a chance to explain? But, she wondered, would she have let HIM explain if the tables were turned? She wasn't sure she could have been that patient . . . .

She must have fallen asleep at some point, because when she awoke with a start it was nearly 10 am and the sun was streaming in the bedroom windows. It took her a moment to remember that she was no longer on the cruise-ship; and then it all came back to her. The computer; the affair; Dan's disappearance.

She went to the kitchen, made coffee, and called Dan's cell. To her shock she no longer even got his voice-mail; instead a recorded voice said "that number is no longer in service"! Her hands shaking, she dialed Diana and begged her to come right over.

Diana and she had been close friends since before Susan's marriage. They told each other everything, and Diana was the sole person on earth besides Dr Branden who knew about Susan's affair. As soon as Diana came in, Susan tearfully told her about the computer and about her husband's disappearance.

Diana looked shocked. "You kept your emails to Teddy? Susan, what were you THINKING?!"

Susan just cried harder. "I know, I know. It was stupid. It was insane! I didn't want them, I never even thought about them. But they were on my old computer, and it was password-protected. The damn thing was down in the basement, and Dan had never used it once in his life! I have no idea what made him go get it, or how he figured out the password."

Diana came around to put her arm around Susan, letting her cry until she was a little calmer. Then she said, "well, I guess the why doesn't really matter, does it? What matters is that Dan knows—and he must be very hurt and upset."

Susan nodded morosely. "I spent the whole night tossing and turning, thinking about all those messages and how they must have sounded to Dan. Even if I had confessed the affair to him it wouldn't have been so bad—but for him to have to read all the things I wrote to Teddy . . ." She broke off, weeping again.

"Diana, I love Dan. I've spent two years trying to make up to him for what I did, and I thought we were doing so well! And now he probably wants to kill me. I know how destroyed, and furious, I would feel if the situation were reversed.

"I just have to find him, and ask him to listen to me. Can you help me figure out what to do?"

The two women talked for more than hour, considering the possibilities and suggesting plans. Susan agreed that the obvious place to start was to call Dan at work the next day. If he wouldn't talk to her, she could wait in the parking lot and try to catch him when he came out. In the meantime, Susan was going to call Dr. Branden and see her as soon as possible. She was a wreck, and she knew she needed to talk to her therapist about what was going on.

As she left Diana said one more thing to Susan. "Honey, remember: after the affair ended you agonized for weeks about whether to tell Dan. Your decision not to tell him wasn't selfish: it was to spare his feelings, knowing that you loved him and wanted him not to be devastated and hurt. And you two were doing so well by then.

"Don't forget that. Once you talk to him, maybe you can make him understand."

"I know," said Susan unhappily. "But at this point I'm not sure he'll even listen to me. Moving out without a word, without even a note, is hardly a good sign."

***************

On Monday, Susan managed to get through her day at school, though she was so distracted even her students noticed. She closed her door as soon as classes were dismissed and called Dan at work. To her horror, the receptionist told her that "Mr. Flood no longer works for the company. No, I'm sorry, he didn't leave a forwarding number or address."

In shock, Susan somehow managed to drive home, where she broke down entirely, crying for nearly an hour. Finally it occurred to her to call Sam Evans, Dan's boss.

Sam was kind and sympathetic, but unable to help. He confirmed that Dan had quit (keeping the secret that he was actually on leave), and said that Dan had told him about discovering her affair. "I'm sorry for what you're going through, Susan," he said, kindly stopping himself from adding "though you brought it on yourself!"

"Dan wouldn't tell me anything about what his plans are. All I can do is promise you that, if I hear from him, I'll tell him you are looking for him."

As she got off the phone, Susan began for the first time to comprehend how bad things were. Dan hadn't just left their home; he had walked out on his life. There was no telling where he might be—in a local hotel, in New York, or in South America—and no reason to expect that he'd be coming back any time soon, or at all.

She called Diana, and her friend commiserated with her over the phone, letting Susan sob out all her fears and her guilt, trying to be supportive and encouraging but without any good suggestions to make.

***************

The week passed slowly for Susan, in a wave of sadness and fear. She went to school and taught the children, cleaned the house, did the grocery shopping. Each night the act of cooking dinner for one made her cry, as did the routine of getting into bed alone, seeing the other side of the bed empty.

Her appointment with Dr. Branden was comforting, though the doctor had few concrete suggestions to make. "All you have control over is your own actions, Susan. We can hope that Dan will return, or at least get in contact with you, but that's pretty much up to him."

Dr. Branden reminded Susan that her decision not to tell Dan about the affair was a reasonable one, something the two women had discussed together for many weeks. The therapist tactfully refrained from asking why on earth Susan had allowed the incriminating emails to remain on a computer in her house for the last two years—she privately understood that it reflected an unconscious wish on Susan's part to confess and be relieved of her guilt. "Ah, the dangers of ambivalence!" Dr. Branden sighed to herself.

On Friday there was a phone message on the machine for Dan: his computer was repaired and he could come pick it up. "That's one mystery solved," Susan thought—at least now she knew why Dan had gone to the basement for her old computer.

Susan spent a miserable weekend, most of it alone, growing more and more upset. On Monday she found an investigative agency and paid them $1000 to start looking for Dan, and within two days they called her with a preliminary report.

Her husband had bought a plane ticket to Dallas the previous Sunday; the ticket had been picked up at the airport, though there was no evidence that Dan actually boarded the plane. There was no record of credit-card activity in Dallas, or anywhere else for that matter since Sunday. None of Dan's friends or work colleagues would acknowledge that they had seen or heard from him since the previous Friday.

In short, the investigator told her, he might or might not be in Dallas; he really might be anywhere. If she wanted the agency to pursue this further, for an additional $1000, they would relay instructions to a firm in Dallas. Frankly, though, he advised her to save her money and sit tight. A better bet would be to have them continue to monitor her husband's credit-card use. The agency would call again as soon as they had any further information.

At the next day's session with Dr. Branden Susan began calmly, but within minutes she was crying. "He's gone for good," she kept saying. "I've hurt him terribly, and he's gone, and he wants to make sure to hurt me just as much as I did him!"

Dr. Branden didn't have a good answer. Susan's assessment actually seemed pretty accurate to her, though she didn't say so. "Susan, I urge you to maintain a little bit of perspective. Dan has only been gone 11 days. He's had a terrible shock, and he's probably still reeling. It's too soon to make any assumptions about what he is planning to do."

As Susan calmed down a little, she and the therapist discussed the conversations they'd had in the summer of 2003. In their initial work together, Dr. Branden had helped Susan understand that her depression had caused her to withdraw from Dan, and that the affair was a self-destructive but not surprising attempt to find the love and consolation she was preventing her husband from giving her.

For several weeks Susan had talked about her feelings for Teddy and for Dan, until as her depression receded she was able to see her situation more clearly. It became clear that Teddy meant little or nothing to her: he had offered a shoulder to cry on, and had then taken advantage of her vulnerability to start a sexual relationship.

Sex with a new partner had been exciting, but with each therapy session she realized more and more that it was also empty, and that betraying her husband felt more horrible than fun. With Dr. Branden's help she was able to open herself once again to Dan, and bring the affair to an end. The attraction to Teddy didn't instantly disappear, but it became easier to resist.

Throughout September and October, after she'd recommitted herself to Dan and their marriage, Susan had wrestled with the question of whether to tell him the truth. Dr. Branden had remained neutral on this point, but had helped Susan see what each course of action might mean. She pushed Susan to examine how she herself would feel if the situation were reversed—if Dan confessed to having had a two-month affair with a co-worker.

Susan had been shocked and overwhelmed by the feelings that erupted inside her. The pain she felt, the fury at Dan's betrayal, the sense of emptiness and loss, the blow to her own sense of attractiveness and sexual appeal—all were far stronger than she could have imagined. After being rocked by these feelings just from thinking about Dan cheating on her, she was truly frightened about what the revelation of her affair would do to him.

In the end Susan had decided on silence, for two reasons. One was no doubt selfish, as she admitted to the doctor: she didn't want to lose her husband, and feared his reaction if he learned of the affair. But the other was more generous: she didn't want to cause her husband pain.

She actually felt an urge to confess to him, but saw that easing her own conscience at the expense of his devastated feelings would be a bad trade. Better that she felt guilty than that he felt destroyed.

And although Dr. Branden was careful not to guide Susan towards a decision, the therapist felt privately that Susan's choice to keep the affair a secret was reasonable: above all because she truly loved her husband and was devoted to rebuilding their marriage. In the doctor's experience, revealing the affair was far more likely to lead to divorce than to future marital happiness.

By the time Susan ended her therapy that December, she had emerged from her depression, the affair was three months behind her, and her marriage had improved dramatically. Dr. Branden had felt a sense of satisfaction at having helped her patient through a truly difficult period.

Now, of course, it had all gone to hell. There was only one small silver lining, Dr. Branden, thought, and it wasn't much. Unlike some cheating spouses, Susan had already faced up to the pain her partner would feel when he learned about her affair. Now that it had happened, she was under no illusions about how catastrophic a blow this would be to Dan.

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FIRST MEETING

March 28

Dan had to laugh to himself at the irony of his situation. He was in more pain than he'd ever experienced, feeling a deeper sense of loss even than when his parents had died; yet at the same time his life was utterly boring.

He spent most of his time in his dingy furnished apartment, reading or watching TV. He did not contact any of his friends, or do anything that might draw attention to himself.

Once a day he drove his rented car to Painesville. Cruising slowly past his house, he made sure that Susan's car was gone. Then he parked in a lot about a mile away. Making sure not to be observed, he strolled into the woods and followed a path that led directly to the locked gate of his back yard. He let himself in, then entered the house through the back door and went to the basement, where the voice recorders were hidden behind the oil burner.

Being careful to leave no traces of his visit, Dan sat in the kitchen listening to Susan's conversations. He knew everything she'd been doing: her return to Dr. Branden, her talk with Sam Evans, the many hours spent with her friend Diana, and even the investigative agency's so-far fruitless attempts to find him.

What did he feel? Dan wasn't sure. There was a sort of grim satisfaction to hear how much Susan was suffering. He wasn't proud of it, but admitted to himself that he was glad she was miserable. She had it coming, didn't she? God knows he was feeling about as miserable as a human being could feel.

From a rational perspective, Susan's behavior was everything Dan could have hoped for. She was guilty and terrified. Everything indicated that she loved him, missed him desperately, and wanted only to talk to him and beg for his forgiveness and understanding. She hadn't taken any steps towards divorce, hadn't contacted Teddy—though Dan knew she might have spoken to him at school—and even in her anger at Dan for leaving always made it clear she understood why he had gone.

All this might have calmed and reassured Dan—if he had been rational. But he was still feeling like a cannonball had been fired through his heart, and he was a long way from rational.

What he learned on his daily visits didn't make things worse, but it didn't do much to make them better either. Dan returned to his apartment to eat, and brood. Sometimes he made idle plans to move to the West Coast—then he dropped them. He knew he wasn't finished with Susan yet. He didn't know when that moment would come, or if it ever would.

***************

Towards the end of his third week away Dan called his boss. Sam was delighted to hear from him, and happy to agree when Dan invited him to lunch on Saturday.

"I hate to be cloak-and-dagger, Sam, but would you mind just driving to the Wal-Mart on the north side up near the highway overpass, and parking in the lot? I'll come pick you up."

Sam agreed, and was mildly amused on Saturday when Dan drove up in his nondescript sedan and took them back to his place in Mentor. They had some sandwiches and a couple of beers, and Dan filled him in on everything that was going on.