The Worst Week of My Life

She looked at me a bit oddly, but said, "Tommy had on red and blue Superman pajamas; Joanne had her favorite pink nightgown on—it has a picture of a princess on the front. Lucy had tried to get her to change it, because Joanne had spilled grape juice down the front and there was a big stain, but Joanne wouldn't take it off."

After a minute I said, "Susan, you probably think I'm nuts for asking you all these questions. But after the last ten days, and everything I've been through, I'm finding what you've told me pretty hard to believe. Would you do me a favor?"

"Anything that I can do to help, Bob. I want you and Lucy to work this out—it's all just a huge misunderstanding!"

"OK—can you give me a ride home, and wait with me there until Lucy gets home from work?" I was thinking that I couldn't let Susan and Lucy talk, and possibly coordinate their stories, before I had a chance to speak to Lucy.

Susan quickly agreed. I told my secretary I'd have to leave early on a family matter, and we left the office. When we got to my house I asked Susan to drive four houses further on, then sit in the car and wait with me.

It was an awkward half-hour. I was nervous and emotional and confused. I didn't have much to say to Susan, I just wanted to see Lucy and figure all this out. I was torn between immense relief and deep suspicion. And it hadn't escaped me that, even if Lucy hadn't cheated on me, she had still lied to me about an elaborate plan to help Stan and Susan—it was still a betrayal of my trust in her.

I watched in the mirror for Lucy's car. When I saw it turn into our driveway and pull into the garage, I got out and said, "thanks, Susan. Lucy and I will have to take it from here, I guess."

She looked at me and squeezed my hand hard. "Please give Lucy a chance to explain, Bob. She's beside herself at what's happened between you two."

When I came into the house Lucy was standing in the kitchen, checking the answering machine. She turned, gasped, and threw herself into my arms, saying, "thank God! Sweetheart, you're back!"

I gently peeled her off me and stepped back. My mind was whirling, and I could feel my heart pumping like crazy.

"It's a little too soon for that, Luce. We have some talking to do first."

She looked closely at me, no doubt seeing the deep unhappiness and doubt in my face. Without a word the two of us went into the living room and sat down facing one another.

"Forgive the expression, Lucy, but 'you've got some 'splainin' to do'!" I said, managing a weak smile.

"Whatever else did or didn't happen, you lied to me and deceived me again and again. In my mind our marriage is over, until I hear your explanations and decide whether or not they are satisfactory to me."

Her mouth fell open in shock, and it occurred to me that she may never have realized the full meaning of my walking out on her, though it seemed hard to believe.

"I can't believe this, Bob! Our marriage is over? I told you, Stan and I never …."

I cut her off angrily. "Look, Lucy, face it! Face up to what you've done! You sneaked around behind my back with that …. with Stan for weeks! You kept me completely in the dark about what you were doing. You lied right to my face, not once but repeatedly! Do you think that's all trivial?"

She continued to look shocked, and I could see she was on the verge of an angry reply. But she took a deep breath, and after a moment said only, "no Bob, it's not trivial."

I tried to speak more calmly. "I'd like you to tell me the whole story, from the beginning. And I'd like it to be the truth, if you don't mind."

Again her eyes flashed angrily at me, but she said only, "all right, Bob. I'll try to tell it as completely as I can."

She thought for a minute, and then began.

"Stan called me about a week after his big fight with Susan. He said he was incredibly sorry and he wanted to make it up to her, but she wouldn't talk to him.

"At first I didn't think I should get involved. That was your opinion, I know, and I'm aware that you can't stand him, so I didn't discuss it with you.

"But Stan and I talked several more times on the phone, and I even went to his motel one day and talked to him for more than an hour. I was really impressed with his sincerity. He had totally given up alcohol, and was beginning an anger management class offered by a therapist over at the hospital.

"He also told me about his fight with Susan. According to him she had really exaggerated what happened. He didn't slug or punch her, he just pushed her hard one time and she fell down. He felt absolutely awful about it, and kept telling me how ashamed he was. But it did seem quite a bit different than if he'd beaten her up.

"I also had some talks with Susan. It seemed to me that she still loved Stan, but once she got the restraining order she didn't quite know how to back down. Plus she was still a little scared of him, even though she did also tell me that he'd only pushed her the one time.

"So Stan and I cooked up a plan. I'd arrange a dinner date with Susan, and then Stan would join us. I would stay for a while, to make sure that Susan was OK with him being there, and then if all was going well I'd leave and let them have an evening together to try to make things up.

"We arranged it for the restaurant in the Chesterton Hotel, and I booked a room so that if it all worked out, they could spend a romantic night together.

"I know this part was stupid, Bob, but I felt I couldn't tell you what I was up to. I really regret that now! I'm so sorry for what happened. But I knew you loathed Stan and didn't want me meddling. It seemed better just to keep it a secret, and I figured it would never be a problem. So I arranged with my mom that I'd pretend to be working with her on her photo albums, and she was ready to cover for me.

"The only unexpected thing was Susan's babysitter Diane. Susan had arranged for Diane to come just for the evening, so she and I could have dinner. I'd secretly called Diane and asked her to stay the whole night. But then around 8:30 Diane had gotten very ill with a stomach virus and really couldn't stay. I was just leaving the restaurant about that time. Susan took the call from Diane, and I volunteered to go over there and watch the kids. I really wanted Susan and Stan to have their romantic evening!

"Then the next morning when I came back you were gone! I didn't understand at all why you had left. I know we had a nasty fight on Thursday night, but that didn't seem to justify your walking out. I had figured that once Saturday night was past I could tell you the whole story and apologize for keeping it a secret.

"For the next couple of days I got more and more crazy, and more and more angry at you. How could you disappear and not even let me know where you were? None of your friends would tell me if they'd seen you, and you wouldn't even answer my calls at work!

"So on Tuesday I barged into your office. I was pretty wild, wasn't I?" She smiled at me.

"And then when you accused me of sleeping with Stan, I just about had a stroke!"

Suddenly she looked somber and frightened.

"I came back here and tried to sort through everything that had happened last week, and how you might have come up with that conclusion. It occurred to me that you might have checked my cell phone records and found the number for the motel where Stan was staying, though that seemed awfully unlikely.

"And I knew you'd caught me in a lie about the Chesterton Hotel. Then on Saturday night when I was showing Stan the hotel room I'd reserved, and giving him a box with a teddy for him to give to Susan, there was a wrong number in the room. I realized it might have been you, calling to check up on me.

"That was the moment when it finally hit me, what you were probably thinking. And I just fell apart. I cried for an hour—I was frantic. I couldn't figure out how to get you to listen to me so I could explain what really happened.

"Yesterday Susan called me to say thank-you. She and Stan are back together, they're going to see a counselor, and she's really optimistic about the marriage. The kids are thrilled that their daddy's back.

"But Susan could tell right away how upset I was. When I told her what you'd said, she thought for a minute and then said she'd go see you, to try to explain the truth. Thank God you listened to her, Bob!"

She looked at me, her expression serious and imploring.

"Bob, I swear on my father's grave that every word is the truth. I will tell you anything, answer any question you have, if it will help you believe me. I am so sorry for deceiving you!

"But I have to say, I still don't quite understand how you became so certain that I was cheating! Didn't you jump to some conclusions? I would have thought you would trust me more, even when I had lied to you."

Her last words, perhaps ill-chosen, made my anger flare up again.

In an icy voice I said, "oh, you really think I jumped to conclusions?"

Realizing she had gone too far, Lucy hurriedly apologized. "I'm sorry Bob! I shouldn't have said that! I know that I'm the one to blame here …."

"Perhaps, if you don't mind, Lucy," I said, my tone still cold and angry, "I can share with you the numerous facts that led me to my—apparently mistaken—beliefs about your behavior. Then you can decide whether I really 'jumped to some conclusions'."

Looking very frightened, Lucy nodded.

"First, your lie on Monday about the Chesterton Hotel. When I called you on your lie, you made up a new one! About how you'd reserved a suite for a surprise for my birthday. Except that when I called the hotel they said the Fortners had a suite reserved for the next Saturday, the day you told me you'd be with your mother!

"Then, on Tuesday I overheard your phone conversation—I assume you were talking to Stan. You were saying how much you were looking forward to Saturday, and how you'd convinced me you'd be at your mother's that night. What was I supposed to conclude from that, Luce?"

Lucy didn't reply. She looked terrified and miserable.

"After that phone call I used *69 to get the number. I called it and found it was the Pinecrest Motel. I found 8-10 other calls to that number from your cell phone in the past few weeks. And when I went out to the motel with your picture, the desk clerk confirmed that you'd come in asking what room Mr. Marino was in! So you'd visited him there at least once.

"Then on Wednesday I looked through your drawers and found the laciest, sexiest teddy I'd ever seen! And I knew I'd never seen you wear it, so it wasn't hard to start imagining whom you'd be wearing it for!"

She gasped, and said, "I didn't know you'd found that, Bob! It was for Stan, to give to Susan…"

"Yes," I said, "she told me that today. But at the time, what do you think it looked like to me?

"Then on Thursday, when I tried to talk to you, you just about bit my head off. You've never EVER walked out in the middle of an argument, but you did it then! Instead of taking the time to explain the truth to me, you pitched a convenient fit and stormed out of the room.

"And on Friday—well, the icing on the cake! A box of Trojans in your purse, Luce! Since you're on the pill, I had to wonder what those were for!"

She looked down, and said, "I got them for Stan. I knew Susan had stopped taking the pill, and I was afraid he'd forget."

I went on, near the end now. "And let's not forget Saturday. You went off dressed for a fancy dinner, though you were supposedly headed for your mother's house. I checked your drawer and the sexy teddy was gone. I called your mom 45 minutes later and she said you hadn't arrived yet. I drove to the Chesterton and found your car in the parking lot.

"Then I asked to be connected to the Fortners' room and found myself talking to Stan! I even heard your voice in the background. What the hell was I supposed to conclude, Lucy? Was it 'jumping to conclusions' at that point that you were fucking the guy blind?"

Her head was down and I could see she was crying. She didn't make any attempt to answer me.

I felt my heart pumping, felt the rush of rage and adrenaline through my body. I could have picked up the sofa and hurled it out a window, I was so wired.

I sat still, concentrating on my breathing. Gradually, very gradually I started to feel calmer.

I took a couple more deep breaths, then went on in a quieter voice. "That was it for me, Lucy. I had already decided that if you went off to screw Stan again on Saturday, our marriage was over. I was already packed when you left the message about staying at your mom's overnight. Just for kicks, I called her back and she said you were 'in the shower'. At that point it didn't make much difference."

We sat in silence for a long time. Lucy's explanation, following up on what Susan had said, seemed so plausible. It made sense that she hadn't fucked Stan Marino, just helped him get his wife back. If there had been an affair, I couldn't see any reason why Susan would cover for Lucy in that way—the explanation the women were both giving me was far more straightforward.

I wanted to believe Lucy—God, of course I did! I wanted to have my faithful (if stupid) wife back. But how would I ever know the truth? I couldn't imagine living for years with those horrible doubts, that fear that I had been cheated on and, even worse, played for a fool.

At last Lucy wiped her eyes and came over to sit next to me on the sofa. She looked calm and serious.

"I had no idea about most of those things, Bob. I realize now that it looked much worse to you than I could have possibly imagined. The motel, the condoms, the hotel room … all of it.

"I have no excuse. I thought I was doing the smart thing keeping you in the dark. I would tell you all about it after the fact, and you'd be proud of me for helping our friends. I can see now what an idiot I was, and how much pain I caused you."

I was still torn, stuck on the fence between relief and fury, between happiness and deep suspicion.

"So on Saturday you stayed with Susan's kids all night, Lucy?"

"Yes—I got there a little after 9 and sent the sitter home. They were already in bed. The next morning I got them their breakfast and let them watch some TV. Susan arrived around 9:30, with Stan. It was such a happy scene! The children never understood why Daddy had been gone, and they were overjoyed to see him."

"Did you get them all dressed up to greet their parents?"

"No, I probably should have but it never occurred to me. They ate breakfast in their pajamas. Joanne spilled half a glass of grape juice all over her nightie, but she wouldn't let me put her in a clean one. It was her favorite, she said, a pink one with a princess on the front. She looked pretty silly with that huge purple stain on it, but when you're six years old I guess that doesn't matter so much."

Lucy turned to look at me, and was shocked to see tears streaming down my face. I began to weep, gasping loudly and unable to control myself. She came into my arms and held me tightly, pressing her head onto my shoulder, stroking my hair.

I cried and cried, feeling the days of misery and hurt dissolve and drain out of me, leaving me exhausted with relief. I didn't even realize until that moment, when it was all behind me, how much pain I had been in.

Finally it was over. I sat quietly, as spent as if a tornado had just blown through me. Lucy remained in my arms, clutching me tightly, perhaps afraid of what might be coming next.

Hesitantly, she asked, "honey, do you believe me?"

"Yes," I said. "I believe you."

We sat silently for a long time, maybe ten minutes. Finally I gently disengaged myself and stood up. "Luce, I'm going to go take a shower and clean up."

She squeezed my hand and gave me a happy smile, then let me go.

As I trudged upstairs my mind was still buzzing with confusion. Thank God, Thank God, Thank God. She hadn't cheated on me, hadn't had an affair with that big jerk. It was all a misunderstanding, the Perfect Storm of all misunderstandings.

Then why on earth didn't I feel better than I did?

I climbed into the shower and stood under the water, letting it rain down on my head. Slowly, very slowly my jumbled feelings started to come into focus. Mixed with my relief was a lot of anger. All of the suffering she'd put me through, for nothing! Because she didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth! Because helping Stan and Susan became more important to her than her marriage to me.

I realized that the worst week of my life was finally over—but not the worst week of Lucy's….

I got out of the shower, dried off, and put on a shirt, some slacks and a casual jacket. Whistling softly to myself, I headed downstairs.

In the kitchen Lucy was humming to herself as she prepared to cook our dinner.

I went up to her and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. Then I headed for the door.

"Bye, Lucy," I said.

"Where are you going?" she cried in alarm.

Without stopping, I called back over to my shoulder to her. "Out. I have a date."