In college, I met Kathy (Kat) who I thought was the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Light, almost otherworldly blue eyes framed by gorgeous auburn hair and a smile that lit up my universe. We shared a chem lab station in our sophomore year at UC. She was smart - brilliant even - in every class but this one. After the first (nearly catastrophic) lab class, the instructor assigned me to be the person who was in charge of keeping her safe with all the chemicals and flames around us. He promised me a good grade if she finished the semester without hurting someone or starting a fire. He said it in a kind way so no one took offense. She laughed at herself with ease. I was immediately, extremely smitten.
I asked her out for coffee. We had a great conversation about classes, roommates, family. We dated casually for a while with each of us seeing other people, separating for summers with family. By the time senior year came around, i was convinced I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. Thanksgiving came and I brought her to meet my family. It was great. A major love fest. We met her family during Christmas break and I asked her father for permission to ask her to marry me. He was ecstatic. That night, I did the whole kneel down ceremony after dinner and she screamed Yes! Yes! Yes! Her mom and dad were thrilled, as were my parents when we called them. Then, wedding planning, home searches, job searches; the usual post school, pre marriage life tasks.
Kat started working for a clothing store chain as an HR executive and I finished grad school, eventually taking a position as CFO of a small consulting company. It had just an ok salary, but included a stake in the company and enormous potential, I was also impressed by the company's owner, Tom. He was smart and encouraging so I decided to take a chance. Kat did well at her job, but wasn't truly engaged in the work. She started doing charity work on the side and helping nonprofits get stable. She truly loved helping people. It became her main purpose to get up every day. Meanwhile, my company and my career were absolutely killing it.
Tom, the original owner and founder of my company ended up being my mentor. He and his wife, Sally soon became our best friends, despite our ten year age gap. The four of us became inseparable and spent most of our free time together. We talked about everything under the sun. The only sad part of their life was that Sally just found out that she was infertile. It was something they were dealing with. Maybe they'd adopt; it was very difficult for them to talk about, so it faded as a topic of conversation.
Kat has a younger sister named Alexandra (Alex) who would also join us from time to time for BBQs at our house or Tom and Sally's, or even just stop by for dinner and Netflix. She would sometimes bring a date, but never got serious with anyone. She was every bit as breathtaking as her sister. Eyes more piercing gray than blue, hair a bit more ginger, but the same underlying beauty, intelligence and humor. Her body was as lean, strong, and as beautifully proportioned as Kat's.
As my income (salary and company profits) passed the million dollar a year mark, Kat wanted to quit her job to concentrate on charity work. Obviously no problem. Our income was sufficient and steady. Her heart was full from being able to help others in any way she could. I admired her for that even if we had to pay for an occasional hotel room for an abused mom and child to stay, or to help rebuild the city food pantry. We had dinner together almost every day and spent our evenings and weekends laughing with our besties, Tom and Sally.
We designed and built our dream home on ten acres just outside of town. It was the home we dreamed of raising our family in. We decorated with comfortable furniture and bought art to create what felt like a haven for us and our future children. There were souvenirs of our trips and pictures of us in the different places we visited. Pics of her holding up the tower of Pisa, walking the bazaars in Morocco. Mouse ears in Disneyland.
Our love life was spectacular. Each time together was an adventurous continuation of our explorations of each other. Dream life. Dream job. I couldn't believe how happy I was. Now in our mid thirties, we were approaching the time of our lives that we wanted children to complete the dream. We started talking about it. Both of us excited. We started to pick baby names and colors for the nursery.
Then, Kat became even more loving and sexually attentive; not really (overly) kinky, but definitely more loving and adventurous. Raw, uninhibited up against the wall sex, as well as the slow seductive patient kisses and touches that were our norm. She was unbelievably more attentive in every way. She would bring a picnic to my office for lunch, leave love notes in my jacket pocket. There often would be a single red rose waiting on my desk in the morning when I got to work. At 35, I was living a life others could only fantasize about. I, of course, reciprocated the romantic gestures. Lovey dovey greeting cards, weekends away, surprise dinners out. I was in no way suspicious of her motives for the change. I was just basking in it.
On a whim, We decided to go to a favorite B&B by a lake where we thought we might build a home for our retirement. It was beautiful. We wore clothes for long enough to get meals at local hang outs, or maybe a walk near the water, but mostly we were entwined in tangled sheets, looking out the wall of windows at a crystal clear lake. On Sunday night we went home.
We sat in the living room with some wine and then she said, "David, you are the most amazing and loving husband and lover I could ever ask for. We have everything. Money, careers we both love, and, she paused, maybe the best support network in the world. I just want you to know that you have my infinite and undying love. Always. I hope you understand that.
I also need to tell you I'm leaving for about a year, then I'll come back to you and everything will be unchanged. I can't tell you why. I can't tell you where. I can only tell you I'll be thinking about you every day. That being said, I'm leaving now. I'm leaving my phone and my keys. I'm taking nothing with me. Don't try to contact me. Don't try to find me. Don't follow me. I'll see you in a year. I love you more than I can say.
Then she walked out the door. No goodbye. No kiss or hug. She just walked out the door and into a waiting Uber. No overnight bag. We hadn't even unpacked yet.
I sat stunned. Shocked. Stupid. Unable to speak. She was gone before I could beg her to stay or ask why.
I couldn't cry. Just sat there like a statue trying to process what just happened. After realizing this was too elaborate to be some weird joke, I felt empty. Hollow. This was a nightmare in real time. I sat on the sofa staring at the fireplace with our wedding picture above it, cruelly mocking me.
Then my screams started. Raw. Harsh. Completely uncontrollable. I didn't know where those sounds came from, not from any part of me I could recognize; nowhere I had seen before. A visceral wailing that didn't have a beginning or an end. Sobs. Howls. All night long. Next day at noon I was still sitting in the same spot, staring at nothing. No voice left to shriek or even whimper; my voice was gone.
My phone rang. I couldn't answer, so I let it go to voicemail. It was Betsy, my secretary wanting to know where i was. I texted her to cancel all my appointments and meetings until further notice. Then, Kat's phone buzzed on the counter where she had left it. Probably Betsy trying to ask Kat what was going on. Ironically contacting my tormentor to help me. I didn't answer. Didn't look at the phone. I didn't eat. Didn't sleep. Didn't move.
That evening there was a knock at the door. I ignored it. Probably Alex. Maybe she was the support network Kat mentioned, but no way could I face anyone. I saw Alex peeking into windows trying to see if I was here. It was dark enough she couldn't. I didn't move. Eventually, she stopped.
I practically crawled to my liquor cabinet where I kept my very expensive Kentucky bourbon that I saved for special occasions. This was definitely special. I thought, ironically that the "Pappy van Winkle" brand bourbon (a splurge I permitted myself with my first big end of year profits payment) would let me sleep for a good long time. Maybe a year, so the nightmare I was living would be over. Or maybe it would let me die right then so the pain would be gone. I drank about half the bottle before sleep mercifully enfolded me.
The next thing I knew Alex was shaking me yelling my name. Kat had asked her to check on me. Apparently she was the support system Kat mentioned. I looked her in the eye and said, "she left me." The tears started rolling again and I passed back out. I woke up in bed in a cold, avocado colored room. IV in my arm and monitors beeping. I yelled for someone and a nurse came in. "Well, you decided to join us finally." She held my hand. "You gave us a scare."
"She's gone," I cried, and felt the wailing starting to explode again from my gut. She gave me a shot and I went back to sleep. A week later, my psych doc said I could go home now that I was stable, as long as Alex continued to be with me. I hadn't been permitted visitors; didn't want any, so I had no conversations outside the hospital.
Alex picked me up and drove me home. She said that people thought I had a health crisis I didn't want to talk about, and was finally recovering - all of which was true. "Heart problems," I mused. We talked all evening. She had no idea why Kat left; she had never mentioned it at all. She was as surprised as I was. No explanation. Not even conjecture. I couldn't bring myself to go back into our bedroom so I fell asleep on the sofa, weeping in her arms. She became my rock at a time when I needed one. She made sure I took my meds and had good food.
Tom and Sally remained close to us, but we rarely spoke of Kat, concentrating on work related issues. Tom was traveling more to business meetings, and I kept all the day to day issues in hand. I lost myself in the work to separate from my real problems. I maintained a strong image for everyone except Alex. She saw and nurtured the empty shell I had become.
