I was walking down the terminal searching for the gate to my connecting flight at the Atlanta terminal when it all fell apart. I had just turned on my cell phone so that I could check in with my secretary when it rang in my hand. The caller ID showed that it was my wife's cell phone.
"Hi hon."
"You Son-of-A-Bitch!" My wife's tearful anger radiated from the cell phone I held to my ear. "How could you do that to me?"
The phone clicked in my ear and I was listening to my own heart racing. My guilty conscience filled in the rest.
I work for a large high tech consulting firm, one of the original "Beltway-Bandits." We have a program that brings in college juniors and seniors for 2 month summer internships. The kids get a little real work experience and a summer job. We get slave labor and the chance to try out a lot of would be hires without having to commit to hiring them permanently.
Last Friday we had a going away party at the office for the interns that had been our copy slaves and coffee gofers for us over their summer break. Our group had five interns assigned to us. We were not going to end up hiring any of them. They were bright and hard working, but our firm demands far more than that. These kids would all be fine for most places, but we were looking for the cream of the crop, people with the smarts, personality, and drive to be the best in the business. All of these kids had one or two of those qualities, but no one was a complete package.
Sandy Mathers had the smarts and personality, but her drive was going to ensure that the best she could hope for was to catch a wealthy husband. That way she would be able to live off of his income while spending her time shopping at the exclusive stores and toning herself at the gym. She was a beautiful little dark eyed brunette with a happy personality. She just didn't have the hard charging "I'll work 'til I drop" attitude we look for in our new hires. Her attitude was that work was a social event that took second place to her evening and weekend social whirl.
We combined their going away party with celebrating the win of a new government contract that would keep us feeding at the public trough for years to come. The proposal and award process had been arduous and everyone in my group had put in lots of work on it. After the soft drinks and cookies stage of the party most of us went to the local sports bar for wings and beer.
Without going into too much detail (I'm kinda fuzzy on it anyway...), I ended up in the parking lot with little Sandy. We were both drunkenly groping and kissing each other. Then, she dropped her head into my lap and proceeded to give me an unskilled blow job. This was my only marital indiscretion -- the result of lots of work stress being cut loose, too much beer, and a cute little twenty two year old with her hand on my leg.
Lame excuses aside, I knew I screwed up. I was wracked with guilt from the time it happened. To make matters worse, I had to leave the following Monday for a five day business trip. I spent the weekend trying to be extra nice to my wife to assuage my guilty conscience.
I didn't know if it was one of the wives that came to the sports bar that spotted what happened in that parking lot and told my wife, or if Sandy had done or said something that got back to my wife. Whatever it was, something had happened. Before I even got all the way out of town, someone had said something to my wife. Last night and over the weekend we had chatted and played with no sign of any problems beyond my guilty conscience. Then, just as I was moving through the crowds to get to my connecting flight was the call that changed everything.
I was devastated. I tried calling her back to no avail. The house line just rang. She'd turned off the answering machine. Her cell phone rolled over to voice mail. I couldn't think of anything I could say to the machine that could express my feelings adequately, so I just hung up. The two and a half hour flight was hell. I ran scenarios over and over of what could have happened, and of how to properly beg for forgiveness from the love of my life.
I arrived at my destination and tried calling again. This time she answered her cell phone. Her voice was all but emotionless this time.
She answered the phone with, "Please stop calling me. I need some time."
"I can get a flight back leaving in an hour," I said. " We need to talk."
"No. Stay there. Do your work. I need time. Don't call me. I'll call you in a couple of days." CLICK. The line disconnected.
I went on to my meetings. I was a total zombie there. It was fortunate that I had done enough prep work to fake my way through things on autopilot. My thoughts were definitely not on what was in front of me. Monday and Tuesday nights were hell. I wanted to call Debbie so much, but didn't want to push her. If she needed time to come to grips with my stupid mistake, then I would give it to her. I spent the evening playing scenarios in my head of what I could say or do to make it up to her. I was an emotional wreck. The lack of sleep and not having an appetite was turning me into a physical wreck as well.
Wednesday evening was particularly hard. I was guessing that she would call that night so I left early and grabbed a greaseburger and fries on the way from work to the hotel. I sat on the bed staring at my cell phone from five until eight that evening, checking every five minutes that the battery was fully charged and that I had a strong signal. I almost fainted with relief when she called right at eight.
I held the phone, looking at the caller ID, and took a deep breath. "Hello, Debbie. Thanks for calling," I answered with my planned opening. I paused to let her respond.
"I said I would. I told you I needed time," she said quietly. "We need to talk about things -- lot's of things. And I don't think the phone is the best way to do it."
"I can get a flight out first thing in the morning," I leapt in. I wanted to get face to face with her and explain what happened and that I realized how I had hurt her and us with my stupidity. "I know you are hurt and I want to make it right. I love you dearly and have made an awful mistake. You are so important to me. I never wanted to hurt you. I can make it up..." I was babbling. Bits and pieces of all the little preplanned speeches were trying to gush out.
"No," she cut me off. "I still need this time. I need to put things in perspective. I love you. I don't want to be without you. But I need to handle my own feelings on this before I will know how to forgive you. You shattered the world I built. I need time to find a place to start rebuilding again."
I wasn't sure what she was talking about. Rebuilding? It sounded like something from Oprah or Cosmo to me. It was the kind of woman talk that never made sense to men. All I got from what she said was that she wasn't cutting me out of her life and that forgiveness was in the works. I should have listened better.
"OK, honey. I'll give you all the time and space you need. Like I said, I know I've done wrong and want to make things right again," I said. "But, can I call in the evenings?"
"I'd rather not," she replied. " I don't want to try to deal with things on the phone. Lets use this as some cooling off time. I'll see you at the airport on Friday evening, OK?"
