Intervention 7

Tom

"Tom, we need to speak before I go out. So, could you come here?"

I was sitting on the rear porch at the time, reading the paper. It was news to me that Nicole was going out. She was good that way, always keeping me involved and up to date. She hadn't mentioned a word of not being home, which struck me as odd. I started up the steps to the second floor just as Nicole came down. I retreated and stared.

"Why are you dressed up? Isn't that the dress you bought for the cruise?" We were coming up on twenty-five years married and a cruise across the Mediterranean was booked.

"Tom, I really don't have much time to explain or I'll be late. I'm going out tonight. I have a date and I will be coming home after midnight."

"What do you mean, a date? With your women friends?" I remember feeling as if I was going into shock. "Or a real date, you know, ... with another man?" Why was this happening? Where was all this coming from? What had I done?

"If you must know, yes, it's with another man. I find him very attractive." Nicole walked past me to primp in the hall mirror. "I'm sure you have questions and I'll give you some answers when I return. But right now, I'm going. So be good. Find something to enjoy on television and wait up for me."

I was speechless as my wife, dressed far more sexily that she had for me in ages, strutted out the door to her car, got in and drove off. Not once did she look back. She made no attempt to wave as she left. My wife had just abandoned me.

I stood in front of my home for I don't know how long. When I realized where I was and how long I had been there, I went in. My wife of more than two decades had left me to my own devices with instructions to stay put while she met another man. I walked to the kitchen and collapsed into a chair.

Was this my fault? Nicole had just turned 49 and next year was making her uncomfortable. I had always been sensitive to her desires, paid attention to our sex life and tried to keep it fresh. She had always been receptive. My God, this weekend she had gone on about how much she loved me. Well, tonight, it seemed, her mind had changed. I sat there swallowing a very bitter pill. Somehow, I had let her down so badly that my once-beloved had left me behind to find pleasure in another man's company.

I was desperate. Embarrassed but not too proud to look, I search through her email. There was nothing that could have alerted me. Especially, I looked to see if Nicole had been in touch with the psychologist that Nicole asked me to see. I had been working through personal issues and wanted someone who was a professional speak with openly. I met with Dr. Jones, but we didn't hit it off. I was still looking but hadn't found a substitute yet. There was no trace of any conversation between the two. I was baffled and terribly hurt.

Around 8:00 p.m., the phone rang, and I quickly picked up. To my surprise, my daughters were calling - together. This had never before happened. That their call was happening at all was, in its own way, a shock. Emma lives in Boston and Lori, in New York. They were calling me, together, on the night their mother decided to cheat on me. It begged the questions why, and why now.

"Hi, Daddy, how are you? We were just talking, you know, and we wanted to make sure you're doing okay?"

I couldn't ignore the timing of their call. Nicole walks out on me, no notice, and my daughters are calling to see if I'm okay. Did they think I was blind? Or merely stupid?

"It's good to hear from you. I don't remember you calling like this, together on the same call. Okay? Why shouldn't I be okay?"

I was not going to make this easy on them. I could hear the confusion and hesitation in their voices. This was not the response they were expecting. Why would they know how I would react? Their stammered response was so transparent, it was embarrassing.

"Oh, just you know, ... um, we were talking and got to wondering, .. and we just wanted to make sure that you're okay .. in case you wanted to talk or something." They knew! It was so obvious. The clumsy manipulation angered me so why spare them.

"I won't lie to you. Your mother just left for the night. She has begun dating other men and made it plain that I have no choice but to get used to it. I suspect that this is not news to you. If I sit up and wait for her, she's says she may to let me know how things are going to work around from here on."

I had to stop; I was becoming too upset to speak. "I just want you to know that I love you both and whatever is going on is something between your mother and me. I don't know what's going on or why. If you know something, I wish you would say so. I'm really at a loss at what to do."

"But I do have a question for each of you. Did either of you know that this was coming? And please, do not lie to me. At least, show me that much respect."

They fell over each other, trying to avoid a straight answer, making excuses without actually lying.

"And so, I have my answer." I could hear their screams as I hung up. They called back many times, but I ignored them. My daughters knew what was coming before I did. What did that mean?

Over the next two hours, Nicole's mother and sister, my mother, even my best friend Bill Johnson called to ask asking how I was doing. I tried to be civil but by the last call, my mother's, I had lost whatever good will I might still have felt.

"Robert, don't be that way? I'm your mother and I'm just calling to check in." She was trying to sound her normal self, open and friendly, grounded and sensible, but I could hear the tremor in her voice when I let things go quiet. I'd had enough.

"Mother, my wife announced to me tonight that she intends to have affairs with men. I am expected to accept that and the subservient role she has planned for me, whatever that may be. No sooner does she walk out than my so-called loved ones began to call to see how I was taking it?

"Tell me, Mother, how did you know to call? Who told you to call?"

"Robert, I won't be questioned by you," she huffed. "I am your mother ..."

".. who knew in advance this was happening and did nothing to protect her son. You are my mother who let the blow land, full force. So, Mother Dearest, show me how much you love me and care for me. Tell me why I deserve what's happened to me. Tell me why it's for my own good. Tell me why you betrayed your only child. What would my father say if he knew what you had done?"

We had an old-fashioned wall clock on the kitchen wall, the kind that has the huge red sweep hand to count the seconds. I watched the red hand go around once and half again, waiting for my mother to respond, and then the line went dead.

Whatever was happening, clearly Nicole had planned this night in exquisite detail. She had won in advance whatever support I might have found in my own family. She sent everyone I loved to war against me in support of her plan for sex outside our marriage. More than I had ever been in my life, I was alone.

I called Dr. Jones, hoping she might help. We hadn't clicked but this was an emergency. She wouldn't turn me away, would she? Her service took a message and when I told them that things were dire, they told me that she wasn't taking calls, and no one was covering her service. Did that mean she was already part of this and not on my side?

BY 12:30, I was out of my mind. I kept pacing the floor, looking out the windows, hoping to see Nicole arrive. I wanted to call the same people who had called me but what was the point in that. They were all in on this. They were all part of this. They weren't going to tell me the truth and whatever so-called help they offered was a lie.

I was a good sex partner. I wasn't a prude and we had experimented in many ways. We liked to share stories we found on line and talk about them. Had she found something there? I didn't find anything in her history but I found stories where wives acted like this. The wife figured out that her husband couldn't survive a divorce and used that as leverage to force him to submit. Sometimes, these wives made their husbands watch or dress up in women's clothes. One story went on about a wife who made the husband clean her messy vagina with his mouth. Was that the kind of life Nicole planned for me? I didn't find any of that arousing.

I was back in the kitchen, drinking ice water in an attempt to calm down. I don't remember why I thought that would help. As she walked in the front door, Nicole looked at me from the opposite end of the hallway. Her hair was messed and dress wrinkled. Paying me no mind, she went upstairs. I could hear her shoes hit the floor and then the shower in the master bedroom come on.

What more did I need to know? My wife had been with her first of what looked to be many lovers. The next time, would she bring him home? She might insist that I watch. I knew I couldn't survive that. She would demand that I do every sordid thing she wanted, no matter what I said. All because she had concluded that I was too weak to stand up to her.

I remember what happened next as if someone else was pulling my strings. I took my passport from the fire-safe box, grabbed my wallet and keys, and left. My attorney saw me on an emergency basis so that I could sign a power of attorney and the necessary divorce documents to wrap up my affairs. My last instructions were to sweep the joint accounts, take half, put the rest in my private account, and close the credit card accounts. Under no circumstances was he to disclose my whereabouts.

I took a cab to the airport and caught the first flight to Los Angeles. I made my way over to eastern California, paying cash for everything. Near Indio, I came across an old but well-maintained Airstream and bought it. I used a new name, bought a phony ID that matched and began a new life. Rule One was simple. Never contact the people I left behind. Rule Two was to live the rest of my life as a journey. Its purpose was to discover who I really was and its goal was to find someone who loved me as I am.

Nicole

When I returned, Tom looked at me from the kitchen, obviously scared and confused. Good! Seeing that, I thought my plan had a promising chance for success. I went up to our bedroom and got undressed. It had been hot where I had been and I jumped in the shower to freshen up.

I first became concerned about Tom and our marriage six months ago. He was increasingly withdrawn and depressed. I often found him paging through art school catalogs or reading what I felt were silly, unduly romantic novels. These were pursuits that were beneath him.

Tom made a good effort to keep up a sex life but he was so earnest. He's always been so dutiful and earnest about everything. I often felt sex had become a duty (his), not a delight (mine). Perhaps I should have discussed that with him but I assumed that his laborious attempts to make things "better" would not make things better. I did not tell him about my new, silicone vibrator, which did a better job of meeting my needs that he did.

My daughters complained that I was too rigid that they meet my standards. Tom probably resented me the same way. I thought that people were supposed to make something of themselves. Men would provide and have other uses and women would keep things on track. That way, the world would be orderly.

After watching TV talk shows and reading magazines, I got the idea that Tom needed an intervention to get him in line. I started contacting psychologists, none of whom were interested. Then, I found Dr. Jones who, after listening to me, agreed that Tom clearly needed an intervention and offered to help me plan and execute it. I did not think to check her credentials. Later, I learned her license had been taken away. It was only one mistake of many that I would make.

The goal was to provoke Tom into a fit of jealousy by making him think I was seeing other men for sex. At the same time, I would tell Tom that he had nothing to say about it. Of course, there would be no such men. It was a ruse to get him to expose his rawest emotions and reveal what he really wanted out of our marriage. I wanted to make sure, and Dr. Jones agreed, that Tom should not be left alone so I reached out to our daughters, my mother and his, and his friend Bill. We had a conference call, led by Dr Jones, with everyone on the call. We set up a schedule of who would call, in what order and time, what our message would be and how we would reassure him.

I sat around the corner as Dr. Jones confirmed that everyone had made their calls. Tom had at least been civil, if increasingly upset. What he said to his mother was unforgivable but we'd somehow have to get past it one day. Dr. Jones waited for me to call when I was with him. She and the other callers were across the street at Bill's house and would come immediately to kick off the intervention. Surrounded by people who loved him, I would assure Tom that I loved him totally and always would. This had been our way to show our concern and there was no chance that I would ever be unfaithful to him. We would tell him how we loved and supported him. In that loving environment, Tom would be able to reveal his deepest emotions and our marriage would get back on track. How could I have been so naïve?

I looked for him in the living room, and then on the front porch. Not there. Maybe he was sitting in the kitchen? That's where I had last seen him and that's where we had talked when I left. Not there either. He wasn't on the back porch or walking down the path to the dock. I started to move quickly from room to room, ending in the garage. Tom was nowhere to be seen and neither was his car.

I called Dr. Jones. Tom had fled. How far could he have gone? He couldn't be far, could he? I realized to my dismay that he might ignore my telling him to stay and wait for me. He might decide to leave, and I had made no allowance for that. I took for granted that Tom would do as he had been told. I had misjudged but it still seemed fixable. Clearly though, mistakes were piling up.

I had no idea where he was or where to look. I had to assume that Tom believed everything that he had been told. I realized how badly I had underestimated how brutally he had been treated. It was just one more way I took him for granted and assumed I knew best. Our daughters were sobbing. Everyone (except Tom) was in our house now. My mother was engaged a vicious fight with Tom's mother, Betty, who was beyond anger and grief. Betty slapped my mother so hard that she was knocked to the floor.

Over the next several days, we called everyone and looked everywhere. I took a call from Tom's attorney 48 hours later, explaining that Tom had left with the express intention of never contacting any of us and telling us never to contact him. Tom wished me well in my new sex-based life and said good riddance. My daughters wouldn't take my calls. My mother's face was deeply bruised, and her jaw dislocated, but she chose to move in with Betty rather than be with me. Neither would speak to me.

Dr. Jones made excuses. All relationships are dynamic and interventions by their nature risk unleashing powerful emotions in ways that cannot be predicted with any certainty. When I said I was going to sue her, she handed me a copy of the paper in which she warned me of the risks, a paper that I had signed. She might be a quack, but I had assumed the risk. She had warned me and, arrogant fool that I was, I went ahead so sure that I was right.

I had orchestrated everything that happened that night. I controlled everything Tom was told. I planned every bit of it to be convincing. I persuaded him beyond all doubt that I was cheating on him. I had no one to blame but myself. That's when I started getting very drunk.

Tom

I'm artistic and I like to write. I didn't know that. I'm good at math. In high school, I got terrible grades in algebra, but I realized recently that I had terrible teachers. My community college grades were great. I plan to take physics next. The senior's community offers cooking courses, some of which I took. I had never done much cooking before and survival suggested I get better.

I got in shape. I had never let myself go but I started to run, setting out just before dawn. I live on the edge of Joshua Tree, a huge desert disguised as a national park. There's a desert thistle that has a barbed point. It goes in and you're hooked. You need a doctor to cut it out. There are cougars (real ones) and they can eat you. You can get lost or run out of water. Your car can break down. You can die. Sometimes, people do. It's my personal heaven.

Imagine almost every night looking at a sky filled with stars. I picked up an inexpensive telescope and have it in a small shed on my property. I live in a trailer community. They give you a concrete slab, water and electrical hook-ups. A honey truck comes regularly and handles the sanitary situation. I have white canvas tarps strung up to give me shade. I can see the Painted Desert in the far distance and I have my easel pointed that way. It's coolest at dawn so I run then, getting done before the sun's hot. Then, I take a cold shower outside. One nice thing about where I live now is that I have no close neighbors. I can drop my running shorts and shower outside in the nude. I hydrate, get a bite to eat and then spend the morning painting. In the afternoon, I run errands or go to class, mainly because both keep me in air conditioning. Coming up to sundown, I'm back, puttering around and getting ready for my nightly visit to the Universe.

In the relatively short time I've been here, I've met a number of women who are looking for casual relationships. It may sound odd, but sex is way down the list. Dinner, a good conversation and a bottle of wine gets it done where I'm from now. There's a gentleness in how we treat each other. We've all made mistakes. Somehow, I drove my wife away. I'll never know what I did but I don't speak of it. The women who share my table and perhaps my bed (I call them the "girls" and they all know each other) made their mistakes too, but we're all-in for each other in the here and now. I'm still hurt by what happened, but I don't think about that any more or at least try not to. I'm looking ahead.

There's an amateur gallery at the Indio annual art show and two of my canvases were accepted. I'm so excited. I've got them listed for sale for $550 each and it would make my day to be able to say that I'm a successful, "professional" landscape artist. The girls say they are putting on a party for me, sale or no sale. They're threatening group sex. Oh, my stars!

Nicole

After 19 months, no one had found my husband. I paid investigators to look. We knew he had been in Los Angeles, but after that there was no trail. He had a credit card that he didn't use. I thought I could track him down by looking at public sources and the internet. Everything leads to his attorney's office and dies there. His attorney said that my husband's contact information is attorney-client privileged and wouldn't say one word more. His attorney pays Tom's bills and keeps his affairs in order, but nothing leads back to him. I have begun to despair.

I had hoped that, with time, the hard feelings that my family felt towards me would soften; they did not. Christmas turned into my own intervention and I got a terrible sense of what my husband endured. My family spared me nothing. I had lied to them and hid my true intentions from them. Had they known the risks, they never would have participated. Had they known what I told Tom that evening, they would have told him the truth. Had they known of my plans to date men outside my marriage, they would have sided with my husband. When I told them that I ate dinner alone that night, none of them believed me. His mother spit in my face and told me she hated me. My own mother did nothing to defend me. In fact, she gave Tom's mother a hug. The group message was clear. They were done with me and this nightmare was mine.