Affairytale : A Memoir Read online

  “What if someone sees us together…alone?” I asked as I yanked the emergency break and turned off the ignition.

  “We’re friends,” he said. “It’s my birthday. No big deal.”

  We sat on barstools next to the pool table and ordered another drink. Not that either one of us needed another drink after our already indulgent day, but if all that alcohol had not been swimming through our blood, what happened next might never have happened.

  He raised his bottle, “What should we toast to?”

  “Your birthday of course and um…how about…to our first date?”

  Did I just say that?

  He nodded his head slowly, smiling, acknowledging my sentiment but not saying a word. We clinked our bottles together and took a refreshing sip, then he motioned for me to follow him.

  “I’ve got some cash for the jukebox, let’s go pick out some songs.”

  He stood dangerously close behind me, looking over my shoulder as I scrolled through songs and artists. “Are we breaking our pact if we play something other than Marley?” I asked.

  “Of course not, that’s just for the boat.” I could feel his hot breath on my skin, his lips close to my ear. “Pick something good. I’ll get a game of pool ready.”

  “You mean you wanna get your ass kicked in pool too?” I said bluffing.

  “It’s like that, is it?” He stepped back, “you’re on.”

  He ran a few solids, nothing too impressive. We listened to Michael Jackson and Sublime, and I watched and laughed as he did wildly accurate impressions of Slim Shady and Shaggy. Being with him was more fun and more right than anything I’d ever known.

  I strutted around the table, tempting him, luring him, that’s when he grabbed me, one hand on each hip and pulled me onto his lap.

  I was shocked. Shocked!

  He held me down, his fingers wrapped around my hips. My skin tingled as he brushed his nose lightly across my shoulders and I could tell by the soft whirl of his inhalation, he was breathing me in.

  In a hungry growl he said, “I can’t keep my hands off you any longer.”

  ***

  “All I Wanna Do” is

  playing right now & made

  me think of u. :)

  Chapter 14

  “SIXTY-EIGHT.

  THE PERCENTAGE OF WOMEN WHO SAID THEY WOULD HAVE AN AFFAIR

  IF THEY KNEW THEY WOULDN’T GET CAUGHT.”

  — PH. D. RICA GOLD, ADULTERY IS UNIVERSAL: BUT I'M GETTING MARRIED ANYWAY

  We were in public! In a busy bar, on a tiny lake, with a small towns’ worth of residents. Everybody knew everybody!

  After all these years, why here? Why now?

  His courageous move made me want him even more. Even if I was nothing more to him than a forbidden adventure—I would be his forbidden adventure for as long as he would have me.

  Thrilled by his attention, but mortified someone might see us a nervous excitement fluttered through me. I nestled into him, fitting perfectly on his lap. Our sunburned cheeks pressed together and our lips pulsed with desire inches from one another. Then, as if nothing had happened, I stood up and positioned myself to take another shot.

  His eyes followed me in disbelief.

  I punched the cue ball and missed, “Your turn.”

  “So that’s how you want to play,” he gave me a slow, confident nod, “I’ll play along.” He chalked his cue with the little blue square and peered at me with his handsome grin. “Excuse me,” he said then playfully nudged me aside.

  I elbowed his ribs just as he was about to shoot. “Oops…sorry,” I said when he scratched. Seeking retribution, he walked behind me and dragged his fingertips across my bare lower back.

  The thrill of our game, the thrill of him wanting me, lit me on fire. I traipsed in front of him, expecting a witty crack, or inappropriate innuendo. Instead, he wrapped his arms around my torso and pulled me back down onto him again.

  A sound slipped like velvet past his lips. “Mmm…” His heart thumped against my back and his fingertips caressed my bare waist. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, gripping my arms, pinning me to him. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m not.”

  His forehead dropped against my shoulder with a thud, “I shouldn’t be doing this.”

  Silence hung between us for what felt like an eternity before I spoke and when I did, my voice cracked with desperation. “Please,” I said. “Don’t stop. I don’t want you to stop.”

  Grants lips lingering near my ear, “Then we should go.”

  It was hard to get off his lap, I could have died there and been happy for all eternity. He threw some cash on the bar and we both hid our faces as we hurried for the door.

  The car door shut and we were sealed in, exiled from the outside world and instantly his warm, welcome hands sought my body and began to wander. I drove aimlessly, staring at the white line, unable to focus on anything but him touching me. Winding highways and lake shores blurred past as his hands respectfully, lovingly drifted along the contours of my body. I would’ve kept driving forever.

  “I’m sorry,” he apologized a fifth time, pulling away his hands then immediately putting them back. A low rumble resonated from his throat, “I should be more responsible.”

  I stared at the center line, “No you shouldn’t. You should keep your hands on me forever.”

  It was as if he’d waited a lifetime for permission that had just been granted. He feverishly explored my body in places he’d never been. From my collar bone to my navel; then my waist to my thighs, he touched me in the most sensual way. He caressed my every bend and turn, my every freckle and bony joint. From the veins in my hand, to the knob of my elbow, from the ridge of my hips, to the scars on my stomach, he examined, cherished me—all of me.

  His fingers traced the sun faded ink on the back of my shoulder. “Dani Jean,” he read aloud, touching the deep rose and sun burnt colored tattoo. “You’re a great mom,” he said, then tucked my hair behind my ear.

  His words melted my maternal heart and held me captive. He’d watched me raise Dani, he’d been there in the background, driving the boat and filling water balloons every weekend since she was a baby. He knew me, and he knew her. He’d been watching all this time, more than I knew.

  I was forever under his spell and I never wanted to be without him, ever again. And if being with him, like this, turned out to be a mistake, it would be the best mistake I’d ever make.

  The sun dipped behind the trees and the pavement became an ocean of black ink.

  “I shouldn’t be driving.”

  “I know. I’m sorry,” he said. “Pull over, I’ll drive back.”

  “No.” I snapped. “Keep your hands on me. Don’t you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?”

  “You’ve been waiting for this? No, I’ve been waiting for this.” I looked over and saw his growing smile.

  My pulse raced as we approached the hidden driveway behind his cabin.

  Was I dropping him off? Is it over? Or is this just the beginning?

  Thoughts of what was happening and what was about to happen raced through my mind. I parked where he told me, behind the blue cabin, then turned off the headlights, but kept the reggae music on. The meaning of the words, the syncopated beat, the gospel undertones of love and unity; it all seemed to set the mood for the beginning of an incredible love story.

  He scrolled through the songs, stopping at one we’d heard equally as many times as the others. Smooth and nonchalant, he sang to me, “Could You Be Loved”.

  “This is my favorite Marley song,” he said then kept singing and looking at me.

  I almost had a heart attack right there in the driver’s seat of my tiny Volkswagen Beetle. His silky voice singing those lyrics penetrated the deepest part of my desolate heart, awakening it from a long, lonely slumber and making it feel something it’d never felt before.

  The tips of his fingers traced my collar bone back and forth, then he set his palm in the center of my ch
est. I’d never felt anything so fateful…so alive as his hand covered my heart and radiated an emerald love into me. A love I knew he felt too. He closed his eyes and hummed a hum of delight.

  “You have no idea,” he said out of nowhere.

  It was the start of him holding back and I knew it. “Then tell me. What do I have no idea about?”

  He traced a single line down the length of my arm then slid his fingers between mine. Our interlaced hands brushed across the honey tone of my skin. “You’re so beautiful,” he said. His eyes locked with mine. I tumbled into the moment, falling fast without a parachute.

  “I’ve thought about you for so long, and I dream of you every Sunday,” I said.

  “Sunday?”

  “Yes, Sunday. After being with you all weekend my mind dreams of you every Sunday after I go home. I guess I miss you.” I unbuckled my seat belt, slid over the console of my little Beetle and straddled his lap.

  I hadn’t had sex in months, but it wasn’t sex I craved. I craved him. I needed him, I was myself when I was with him. I had married the wrong person, therefore I’d become the wrong person. Now ironically, I was having an affair that was turning me into the right person.

  His hands slid under my shirt, up my bare back and into my hair. He tugged it gently back then pressed his lips into mine.

  Our first kiss…

  Was intoxicating. He was intoxicating, more than I’d imagined he would be, and in such a different way. My physical body was drunk on him of course, but the invisible union of our souls felt like destiny, like we’d been meant for each other since the beginning of time.

  I’d been starving, desperate for emotional love, begging for it like a dog begs for crumbs. Now what I felt with Grant illuminated just how lonely and isolated I’d been in my marriage.

  The sensual kissing escalated in to a steamy enthusiasm for something more and my already tiny car became too small to contain our fire.

  With his hands in my hair pressing me to him, he whispered on my lips, “Follow me.”

  I stepped into the moonlight, not more than a second passed before I was crushed against the cold metal as he hungrily devoured me. My body arched in pleasure as he made a trail with his lips from my neck to my chest. Then without warning, he whisked me up from the hood and tugged me along the shoreline behind him.

  The moonlight shone down on us like a spotlight targeting an escaped criminal, giving away our coordinates. We were already on high alert so when his phone rang loud from his pocket, we both jolted stiff like we’d been shocked. He reached in to silence it, then pulled it out. The screen glowed bright with hues of blue and green, blinding my night vision.

  It was her.

  On the screen of his phone her face was giddy with a new love glow that crushed my heart in a single glance. He stuffed his phone back into his pocket without saying a word.

  “She’s not here, is she?”

  “I hope not.” He said befuddled, “she’s supposed to be in Australia.”

  “Maybe you should answer it? Just to be sure.”

  He shook his head. “No way. I’ll call her back.”

  Her phone call reminded me of his predicament and that I wasn’t the only cheat. We tiptoed along the reedy shore, looking into the warm glowing windows for signs that someone might be watching.

  “Shh…” he put his finger to his lips as we approached his cabin.

  “You shh…” I said louder, then slapped his shoulder.

  Playfully, he yanked me along harder, up the creaking steps and into his cabin. Then we snuck down a narrow hallway and into a back bedroom.

  The bedroom door creaked shut, I heard the click of the lock, and my senses became acute. A visceral awareness of just exactly where I was, and what I was about to do came over me. I felt his labored breath on my skin and heard his wildly thumping heart.

  He stood inches in front of me in the darkness and for a moment there was reluctance—then just as quickly as it had arrived, all hesitation melted away as he swept me into his arms. Through the years I’d known him his body never changed, it seemed immortal. His strong hands sprawled across my back, then gripped the bottom of my shirt and lifted it off. I tugged at his and he was instantly bare. I set my forearms on his shoulders and pressed my bare skin against the warmth of his body. Silently begging him not to stop, I hummed in pleasure. He silenced me with his lips.

  For hours we became acquainted, kissing, touching, and tormenting one another. There was a clear unspoken line neither of us were willing to cross. So on that night, shirts off, jeans-on, was as far as it would go.

  It was four in the morning when I asked to look at his watch. If I didn’t leave soon, the sun would be up. I couldn’t risk being seen but I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay with him forever. Going home, getting caught, not getting caught, being stuck in my life, stuck without him, they were all intolerable options. I was too scared to ask him what now, and too insecure to tell him how I felt, so I agonized in silence.

  “I have to go.” It was painful to whisper those words as I lay draped against his warm bare skin wanting more.

  He encircled me in his arms, wrapping me tighter then nudged me to move on top. I laid my head on his firm chest, over his heart.

  So this is who he is? I thought as I listened intently to the miraculous nature of his heartbeat. I longed to be inside it.

  He reached for my hand, opened the creaky door and peeked out. We ran quickly from his cabin across the wet grass and back to my car.

  I looked up at him before getting in, needing him to say all the right things, wanting him to ease my mind about what would happen next. My eyes begged him to tell me that I had not cheated for nothing, that what we had was magnificent and lasting, and that he felt it too. Instead, he looked even more confused than I felt. His eyes were pained and seemed to apologize for the reassurance he couldn’t give. My head fell into his hands as they surrounded my face. Then he pressed his soft lips to mine.

  It was a sweet kiss with a clear message.

  Every girl knows when she’s being broken up with. Whether it’s a direct dumping or the round-a-bout way a guy starts to ignore you, and that kiss was no exception. It lacked the passion a man conveys when he can’t wait to see you again, it lacked the fervor of a man in love who refuses to let go.

  That kiss was a kiss goodbye. A let-me-down-easy, I really do care about you but this was a mistake. I promise it will never happen again, I’m so sorry…goodbye.

  Chapter 15

  “…IF TRUTH WERE EVERYWHERE TO BE SHOWN,

  A SCARLET LETTER WOULD BLAZE FORTH ON MANY A BOSOM.”

  —NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE, THE SCARLET LETTER

  It was a cruel kiss goodbye and a sobering drive home.

  I slipped into the cabin just as the sun was revealing the morning fog on the lake then crawled into the bottom bunk, still in my dirty clothes and day-old mascara. Dani slept next to me, her plump face exuding innocence, making my sinful existence feel even more despicable. I laid my head on her pillow and stared at her porcelain face.

  I’d failed. I wasn’t showing her what a good mom and wife should be. I’d just cheated on her dad when I should have found the courage to leave instead. It was hard to sleep with the morning sun shining bright in the room, but sleep would have eluded me regardless. Stomach wringing guilt and flogging shame had teamed up to keep me awake.

  It was nine am when I heard tires on the pavement outside my bedroom window. It was Levi making a surprise Sunday visit. I leapt out of bed and locked myself in the bathroom before he could make it to the front door. I brushed my teeth twice, washed my face, and neck, sprayed perfume in my hair, and dropped in Visine. I slipped on fresh clothes, rolled up last night’s attire into a crumpled ball and stuffed it deep down in my duffle bag. I popped in an Altoid, slipped on my sunglasses and stepped out to greet my husband.

  The rest of the day I clung to Levi like a leech clings to its oblivious host. Silently I was begging him not to le
ave me yet I really didn’t know why. All I could think about was Grant, but all I wanted was for Levi not to find out. I was panicked, terrified of what my consequences might be. I didn’t want to lose Levi, I didn’t want to be alone. Without actually coughing up a confession I did everything I could to apologize for what I’d done.

  I tied our floaties together with twine so we could be near enough to hold hands. I sat beside him on the dock, went for a dip in the cool lake water when he did, leapt into his arms and asked him to jump into mine. I got him a beer when he wanted and rubbed sunscreen on his back when he asked. I was a passive, good little wife. I offered him a neck rub, lunch, and anything else he might want, all of the things I didn’t typically offer. In addition to my peculiar, clingy, needy, servant like behavior, I was out-of-character silent. My mouth was gagged, stuffed full of lies.

  Levi was annoyed and suspicious of my unusually meek behavior, “What’s wrong with you?” he barked in a harsh tone.

  I just fucking cheated on you and I feel horrible, that’s what’s wrong with me!

  “Nothing. I just don’t feel good.”

  I feel like I might throw up, and all I can think about is Grant, and last night, and kissing him and cheating on you!

  “What did you do last night? Drink too much?” Levi asked in the most condescending way.

  “No.”

  “Where’d you go?”

  Shit, shit, shit, where did I go?

  “We all just went to a few bars. Nothing crazy.” Hung-over and quivering with anxiety, I stood up and held back the urge to heave. “I just need to eat. I’ll be right back. You want anything?”

  “No,” Levi said uncaring and suspicious of my sickness.

  He knew something was up. I had to start acting normal or he’d keep asking questions. I had to ignore him, or argue with him, or be nice to everyone but him—all the things I normally did. But I couldn’t, all I could do was hang on him. My cheating heart raced and thrummed loud in my ears, threatening to expose my secret. I needed more time to prepare my defense, to sweep my car for evidence, to wash my skin and conscience clean. I needed to make sure no one saw me last night, or saw my car parked on Grant’s side of the lake.