Finding Her Journal

I thought I knew my wife of thirty years, until, that is, after her death, when I began reading Claire's journals. When I found ten volumes in a cardboard box in our attic, I left them for months, until I was selling the house and was throwing out 'stuff' from the attic and started the process of moving. The only thing is, it becomes a slow process when you throw some, read some, and find things you don't want to part with. That's how it was going, and when I got to her journals I got caught up in reading them and I found I couldn't put them down.

Who was this I was reading about? My Claire? There were musings about handsome men, things she wished she had done, and some very erotic passages about sexual things she hoped to do or had just finished doing. It was Lady Chatterly's Lover, The Story of O, and Immanuel all rolled into one. I was dumbfounded as I read.

The first journal read: "Today I heard from Randy (who is Randy?) and he wants to meet again. I am not sure I can get away, but I will try. He wants me to stay with him for the weekend. The last time we were together, it was heaven. He didn't let me out of bed for two whole days. I could barely walk when we left. He wants me to take part in a threesome, which I haven't done for years, not since Carlton (who is Carlton?).

"If I can, I will find a way. It is usually worth it, but I am not sure I can arrange things this time. It is getting harder to get away for any more than a few hours at a time. I will call Randy's cell this weekend. He is such a hunk, and I can hardly keep up any longer. Sex is great with him, however, and I really want to try."

Then there was a lot about shopping, women's clothes, and plants to try to get started in our yard. However, three pages later she got back to Randy. She wrote:

"The weekend with Randy was sublime. I am a little sore, but it was certainly worth it. He always teaches me things I have never even heard of. The other two men were fascinating (the other two men?). The double was, just as Randy said it would be, was incredible. He always knows what I'd like.

"Randy thinks I should try a woman. I am not sure about that. I did do some kissing with Janet in college, but to go further than that may just be more than I could handle. It is not the bi stuff that I am cautious about, because my lesbian friends swear by the taste of pussy (the taste of pussy?). I am not afraid I will like it too much, but I like straight sex too much to complicate things with stuff that may just be too libertarian."

Libertarian? Leave it to Claire to say libertarian. Leave it to her, a lifetime English teacher, to use 'further' correctly.

I read on and discovered a person I had never met. She wrote: Today I found an article at the dentist's office about 'fisting' and I think I have to try it. Maybe the next time I am with Marco (who is Marco?) I will try it."

She then talked about fashion and recipes. I skimmed through until I came to: "Today Randy introduced me to Clarissa. I may never forget the taste of Clarissa. I have fallen in love. Randy was right. There may not be anything that rivals the taste of a good woman. Maybe it is true. Only another woman knows how to eat pussy. We were only together for a couple of hours, but I will never forget them. She may have the most talented tongue I have ever met. Oh, my, what a skillful lover she is.

"I can still taste that lovely flavor even after all these hours. Our bed still smells of her. I just go in and smell the sheets. (Our bed?) Right here in my own house. If only Dave (that's me) could see us. I think he would have a heart attack if he saw me eating another woman in his bed. It surprised me as well. I did not think I could be bi, but after Clarissa I am not so sure. Maybe I should try someone else.

"She has a girlfriend she wants me to meet. Her name is Shelley, and Clarissa thinks I will really like her. I just reread The Story of O and I think I may be gay. Now I look at women and wonder how they would taste. It is crazy, but I now masturbate three or four times a day. Each time I think of Clarissa and wonder about Shelley."

(She masturbates? I thought)

I stopped reading and looked at the ceiling. Who is this woman who wrote this journal? It could not be the wife who was too shy to watch a porn film with me because it was too 'crude.' It could not be the woman who only undressed when the lights were out or in the bathroom with the door closed and locked. Masturbate? I didn't know she even knew how such a thing was done.

I read ahead through the parts about her book group, her PTA meeting, and her canning peaches, until I got to the part that said: "Today Clarissa was here until just before Dave got home. I didn't think she was going to let me out of bed until after he got there. What a surprise he would have had if he had caught us in bed with our panties on the headboard and our legs spread as wide as the Grand Canyon.

"Sometimes I think about what a sheltered life he has had. Pity, he is so naive. I wonder what he would think if he saw me doing a double, or with Clarissa's legs around my head. Today, I got a call from Julian. I haven't thought of him since Florida, when I said I was visiting my sister and spent three days in Julian's bed (damn, who the hell is Julian?). I have been trying to get Dave to loosen up and try new things. I think he gets embarrassed when he sees himself naked in the mirror. My, my what a shame. He doesn't even like oral sex."

I put the book down. Who is she talking about? I love oral sex. I thought she considered it "dirty" and I didn't push it. You mean she liked it. I picked up her journal and started to read again.

It began: "I was thinking about Julian the other day and decided to look him up on Facebook. I found his address and cell number. When I called he could not believe that it was me. We had phone sex right there in the kitchen with dinner cooking on the stove. He asked me what I was wearing and I said nothing. He laughed and said he could just picture me, probably at the sink washing dishes naked. He'd never believe that I actually used to do that when Dave was at work and the kids were at school.

"He asked me to do myself and I did right there on the chair at the dining room table. He asked me to tell him what I was doing and I described putting my fingers in my pussy and diddling my clit."

I didn't even know she knew where her clit was. Mentally, I pictured my old-fashioned wife masturbating at our kitchen table, a phone in one hand and her clitoris in the other. Then I got another shock when I read:

"Today, after Dave left and the kids went to school, I got in the car and drove to the coast and went to the nude beach at Pirates Cove near San Luis. I went down to the beach, then took my clothes off and it was glorious. I felt so free to be nude in the warm breeze, and to feel it all over my body. I had started going nude around the house after Clarissa suggested it after one afternoon that she was here. I met a man on the beach that day who sat by me and started to chat. At first I wasn't going to talk but he was cute and I thought what could it hurt. He said his name was Brian and said he thought he recognized me. He asked if I was married to Dave Miller, and I said he is my husband.

"It seems Brian works with Dave. He asked if Dave came to the nude beach and I told him no, that I would rather he not tell Dave he saw me there. He promised not to mention it. I don't know if Dave would be upset if I went nude at the beach, but I would just as soon he not find out. Being at the beach without my clothes just seems like my private pleasure.

"I see Brian occasionally now, but we usually just chat and go separate ways. It is not such a terrible thing, but it is my personal place and I am better without Dave knowing."

I stopped reading. How come, I thought, did she think I would object to her going to the nude beach? Actually, I have thought about trying it, but I wasn't sure she would be open to it. I skimmed some more pages about mundane stuff, then I came to the really surprising part. It read:

"Today Phillip from next came over to help me with the washing machine. I saw him out in his yard and asked him if he knew anything about machines. He told me he was pretty handy with things around the house. It didn't take him long to see the problem, pick up the part at Home Depot, and fix it.

"Phil lives in an apartment that faces our bedroom window. I have known for awhile that Phil has watched me through my bedroom window get undressed before showering, and sometimes in the morning when I am getting dressed. Even though I saw him peeping while I was naked, I made sure to take a long time dressing so he could watch me be naked.

"It became like a game and I liked him seeing me undressed. I never mentioned it to him and he hasn't said anything either, although I think he knows I do it for him. I sometimes can see him behind the curtain and I linger in front of the window as long as I can.

"After he fixed the washing machine, I asked if he wanted a cup of coffee. He asked if I had tea and I said, 'Sure.'

We sat drinking coffee and his tea and I wanted to tell him I knew he watched, but I just could find a way. That night I fantasized about Phil and me. I imagined putting on a show for him and him making love to me afterwards.

"Someday I might be able to tell Dave about my little secret, maybe, but I just don't know how he will react.

It would kill me if he was ashamed of something I did. I am not sure why I do it, but I guess the answer is probably pretty simple. It is exciting to expose myself to other men. I guess that is why I go to the nude beaches,

and that is why I put on naked performances for Phil next door."

I put down the journal and digested what I'd just read. My wife had been an exhibitionist and I had no idea. She had female lovers and male friends I was not aware of any of it. I didn't even know the person I had been married to for all these years. I looked over at the stacks of her possessions and thought about the woman I thought I knew. There were the ice skates she never used, I didn't think. The skis I never saw her use.

I reread the passages about her times with Clarissa in our bed, the parts about her sex with Randy, her feelings for Julian. I wondered as I read what I would do with them. Would I run the possibility that someone else would find them and discover who she really was? However, I was not ashamed of who she was. I just didn't know her, not really, but I loved her. I loved the person that I knew at least. The caring and generous woman I fell in love with so many years ago.

That I didn't know so much about the woman I lived with only added dimension to the woman I loved. I had read the last of her journals, and I had discovered more about the woman I thought I knew. In the last journal I read the passage that said: "Phil and I have been meeting a couple times a week at his apartment and I usually go over there about noon each day. It started with him watching me through my bedroom window, but then after that I went over for coffee a few times.

"He finally said one day something about our bedrooms facing each other. It must have been the way I blushed, because he then said, 'People who don't close their curtains should know others can see in.' I told him I knew he watched and I undressed just for him. 'You are beautiful,' he said.

"I told him I was glad he liked it, and that I hoped he liked what he saw. He said he did and he kissed me. That was when it started. After that I would go over and pose for him with to paint me. He is a good artist and after I would pose we went to his bedroom and I have had sex with him at least a couple of times a week."

I stopped reading and put down her last journal. Right then I decided no one needed to read what was on those pages and I carried the books all out to the trash. From that day on, I acted as if those ten volumes never existed.

I had thought I knew my wife, but I guess you don't ever know anyone as well as you think.