Firstly, a big thank you to Randi for her awesome editing skills.
For the first time in god knows how long, my husband and I were out at a concert. We had the best seats in the house. James, god he loves music, and I was watching him hang on every note, every vibration.
The huge sound waves pushed heavily on our chests. The kick drum boomed, and James, he hated being called Jimmy as so many people did, hunched over, his eyes closed as he felt it all, his eyes focused on the players as they soloed or filled in. He knew every single word, and watching him in this environment was seeing him in his house. He loved music, always had, and tonight was our little payback for a couple of hard months. Twenty years of marriage and two wonderful children brought their own drama. We had worked hard, pushing forward, and nobody had worked harder than James. He wasn't a college graduate; he dropped out to help out his family. His father died young, leaving his mother to raise five kids, James being the oldest.
I met him when he was only twenty-two, and he had already been working for five years doing whatever job he could get. Driving, labouring, digging dirty ditches, hard work. Jesus, even hardened crims didn't work this damn hard.
I could see his gnarled and calloused hands gripped tightly together as he held every syllable, every lyric, every chord. His mouth screwed as he sang along. He didn't have a bad voice, and I loved to hear it.
A little tear escaped, rolling slowly down my cheek. What I felt was the pain, watching him enjoy the night. Why, oh why couldn't he feel that way about me?
After twenty years together, I expected our lives to be slower, but what I didn't expect was the giant rift that seemed to be swallowing us.
Yes, we were moving to middle age and we could now take a breath, take a step back. Our finances were now well under control and we lived a comfortable life. The kids were off our hands, enjoying the university life that James fought so hard for. He always said he was going to be damned if his kids were going to miss out on the benefits like he did.
To keep that promise, he worked, god he worked, waking in the dark and getting home after dinner, the sun long since sunk past the horizon.
Now he had his own contracting company and had ten handpicked employees who treated him like a god. In their eyes he could do no wrong, and why not? He had personally carried each and every one of them at some point. He paid them more than they were worth, and they knew it.
If their families were sick, he sent them home, driving them himself if he had to. The company was like a family; he never pushed too hard and he lead from the front. If there was a dirty job to be done, he did it himself.
His hands weren't dirty, they were filthy, and they didn't just respect him, they loved him like a brother.
James now relaxed a little, trusting his mates to do the right thing. So why were we struggling? I knew James loved me, because he showed it every day. Never one to say the words, he said with breakfast in bed, or doing the laundry, vacuuming, gentle looks and those bewitching smiling eyes.
But here we were and I felt terrible for feeling this way. James was a man's man, ready to fix whatever was broken, he had a solution for everything, but I didn't want help. I wanted a shoulder to rest my head on, an open ear to listen, a warm body to hold me.
James had always been a solitary man, needing nobody. If he had a problem he fixed it, no questions asked. I don't think he had ever borrowed a single thing in his whole life. If we couldn't afford it, we waited until we could. The only thing we ever brought that we couldn't pay cash for was our home. Again, James stepped up. When we were looking for a house we had looked at hundreds, but when we found our home, he saw the look on my face: he realised I was in love and he went the extra mile to make it happen. No more weekends off for many years, he worked seven days a week, fourteen to sixteen hours a day. I loved that home and I still loved it just as much.
Life just seemed so lonely, with the kids gone and James refusing to let up, I was left to myself. I became so lonely and frustrated I went back to work myself.
I still remember the expression on his face the night I told him. He was aghast: no wife of his was going to work, not while he could still stand up. I dug my heels in and gave him the ultimatum. "Sorry love, you can like it or lump it, but I'm not sitting around here all day everyday by myself. Suck it up buttercup."
I think that's when the rift started, just a crack at first, but now that crack had widened and he refused to talk about it.
I passed my real-estate certificate quickly, and found a job with a local agency. I expected him to say well done babe, a pat on the back, something, anything... what I got was nothing. He hated me going to work and I couldn't figure out why. Sometimes when I had an open home over the weekend, he scowled as I left. He glared at me as if I was abandoning him.
I fell into work easily. I have always been outgoing and friendly, some people called me a chatter box, and I like people. Selling houses became my thing, and I was good at it. Yeah, okay, we didn't need the money, but I liked it and after twelve months I got an award, salesperson of the year.
The company put on a big dinner party at the local pub. It was a great night, except James was like a bear with a sore head. I would have had to sit the whole night out, except my boss, Graeme, asked if I would like to dance. I jumped at the chance, not even asking James. He could sit and sulk, to hell with him.
It was good to be held in a man's arms. I loved dancing, and James and I used to go out frequently when we were younger, before the kids. James sat chatting uncomfortably with the others, but I could see his eyes glaring daggers at us, as we glided around the dance floor, he was pissed. Nobody else may have noticed, but I felt the sting of his laser-like eyes burning into my back. I mean, Graeme was married and his wife Mandy was sitting right beside James watching; we were doing nothing wrong, but James, for some reason, was pissed.
The whole way home in the car there was nothing but silence, a dark depressing silence and it got too much for me.
"Damn it, James, what the hell is going on with you?"
He turned towards me and his voice never wavered, "What is wrong with me? Nothing, that's what."
"Don't bullshit me, James, something's wrong; just tell me what is happening?"
"Nothings happening, Erin, not a damned thing."
"Then why this god-awful silence?"
"I was thinking about work, nothing more."
"Liar." I snarled. "You bloody coward, just tell me what is wrong."
"Erin, nothing is wrong, but I didn't want you to take that damn job. We don't need the money. I worked my whole life so we could enjoy our lives, the kids are off our hands, but now you're never home, and tonight you spend the whole night dancing with another man. Yes, I am angry."
"It was just a dance. Graeme is a lovely man and he has been a big help in getting my career started."
"You're a gullible woman, Erin. I could see right through that bastard. You're a beautiful woman and I could see the lust in his eyes, he wanted more than a dance."
I was astounded by his jealousy. "Honey, his wife was sitting right there beside you, and nothing happened."
"No, not tonight, but it will I've met his sort before, dressed in their fancy suits, driving their fancy cars, pretentious bastards."
"James, you're getting uptight about nothing."
"We will see, Erin, but mark my words; I'm watching him and you as well."
When we got home, James parked the car and went straight to bed. In the old days we would have turned the stereo up loud and danced, sang and talked before retiring for a night of lovemaking.
That night, it was lights out and straight to sleep. In the morning he was gone before I even opened my eyes. That was a reflection of how our lives had been lately, and I missed intimacy, just a hug, a cuddle, anything, damn it.
If he wanted me to look elsewhere, he was certainly going the right way about it. He was wrong about Graeme, though. He was a happily married man who loved his wife Mandy.
I had offers, though. Yes, I considered myself attractive; every woman who is blessed with beauty knows it. Never believe those who say they are oblivious to it. I was still attractive enough to draw admiring glances, and I enjoyed that. Every woman does: knowing you can turn the eye of a handsome man is something we never grow tired of.
Lately, I took more notice and there were a couple of guys I worked with, colleagues who had made it very plain that they were interested. I flirted innocently with them; yes, I was capable of flirtation.
There was nothing in it, just a little teasing and flirtation, some suggestive remarks, a gentle touch of the fingers, showing a little leg. At forty-four, I still had nice legs. I'm not a cougar, or man hungry, but I liked to use the tools I was blessed with. I didn't become the biggest selling agent in town without using the tools god gave me.
Okay, I probably went overboard a couple of times, one of which was on purpose to torment James. His stupid childish jealousy annoyed me, so I vamped things up a little one night when we were out at his foreman's birthday party. I danced up close and personal with a young man who was silly enough to let me use him to bait my husband.
James was an angry man. After the dance with Graeme it took a while before we returned to a loving husband and wife relationship. I love sex as much as the next person, and it was hard fighting all the time. With the constant bickering, that rift grew a little wider every day.
What I missed most was intimacy, conversation, advice, and of course, hugs. Every time I tried to open up dialogue about work and what I had been doing, James just held up his hand and shook his head. He refused to even acknowledge I had a job. There were times when I wanted his advice and I could have used his knowledge, but no, the moment I mentioned work the conversation ended abruptly. He wanted me to listen to him rabbit on about his job, but mine didn't even rate a mention.
It galled me that everybody else was so complimentary and encouraging, and when I won the salesperson of the year it was a big deal for me, but James didn't want to know. He never even said congratulations. It would have been nice to be made to feel special, but he ignored it so when Graeme caught me having a cry in the office, he suggested we go out for dinner to celebrate. His smile and good-natured invitation was what I needed.
That night as I was getting ready to go out, James walked in and caught me getting dressed. Yeah, okay, I was going the extra mile to look nice, but it was innocent. When James saw me, he asked, "What are you doing?"
"Getting ready to go out for dinner. Graeme is taking me out to celebrate my award."
He stopped in his tracks and stared. "What do you mean going out?"
"Well, we are going out to dinner to celebrate, seeing as how you haven't even bothered your ass to say congratulations."
"Erin, if you go out with that bastard I am warning you it will be the straw that breaks the camels back. You are a married woman, for gods sake; going on a date with another man is not acceptable."
