How Do the Scales Balance?

Maybe problems were inevitable. I was a natural scientist, physics if you must know, and Tilly was an economist, solidly in the social sciences. We didn't work in those fields, but our college majors were major tells about how each of us thought.

I believed in absolutes. Not in every single thing, but there are many things that are true no matter the circumstance. Natural laws, like gravity. Tilly believed in truths too, but her mind always left room for exceptions. Even for gravity.

"It's always true, Till. Gravity is immutable."

"So far. You can't believe that somewhere out there in this infinite universe there's not a single instance where it might not apply?"

"Not a chance."

Then we laughed. Neither of us ever convinced the other, but we enjoyed the repartee. We had a good marriage that way.

We weren't going to challenge Gates or Bezos for money, but I got into big-data management via actuarial analysis while Tilly ran a sales group of two dozen for a regional brokerage company that was growing like crazy. We had plenty of money for both the present and the future. We owned a nice four-bedroom home with an in-ground pool and hot tub, and we split the mortgage on a cabin up north with Tilly's sister Margie and husband Nate, so we had a place to escape to when summer came and the temperatures climbed.

Our older daughter Annette -- Annie -- had started first grade and our younger Kiley was just shedding her diapers. Not only was each of them absolutely adorable, they were both energetic and well-behaved too. I was hinting around for a third child, maybe a boy this time, but Tilly wasn't as enthusiastic. Which was cool. She had to carry the babies, and after Kiley it took her nearly two years to get back to her fighting weight and tone. I could see where her hesitation came from. It certainly wasn't a dealbreaker for me.

And sex?

I don't think there's such a thing as bad sex, and I certainly enjoyed our time in bed. And sofa. And hot tub. And hammock, although that took some extra care. No slamming around in that. We probably weren't the most adventurous lovers in the world, but we were no prudes either. She really liked me to go down on her, and I really liked it too, so that was a frequent part of our repertoire. I loved plowing her from behind, because I could be my most energetic. I also loved her ass, and holding her hips while I went to town always revved me way up. Tilly seemed to climax most when she was on top. We didn't often finish with missionary, but it was the most intimate position for us both, so we usually spent at least a little time there when we made love. And often a lot of time.

Our marriage was well-balanced. Sometimes I was up, taking more than I gave when I had a big project at work or when Dad had his stroke and Mom needed my help around the house. But just as often I was down, giving more so Tilly could handle a business trip to new prospects or stay with her sister for a week after Margie's breast-cancer diagnosis. I think both of us would say the scales ultimately balanced though.

So where did we go wrong?

The seeds of our discontent were sown from the beginning of our relationship. We were who we were, but I don't think either of us quite believed it about the other. We assumed that our differences weren't profound, and so I suppose we didn't discuss our expectations completely enough. I loved her, and she loved me. What else mattered? A whole lot more, as it turns out.

At least that's what I'm left with now. Who knows if it's true? Tilly always understood people better than me.

Even if we'd taken a wrong turn in the beginning it took a while for it to be exposed. Years, in fact. We were living pretty blissful lives, all the while unaware of the fissure that lay below our marriage.

"Daddy, why don't Kiley and I get to go too?"

Annie was precocious and more than a little spoiled. Tilly and I adored both our children, and we included them far more often than we left them with babysitters or our own parents to watch. But Tilly was going to recognized by the CEO of her firm for landing three very large accounts -- a software titan and two family offices that together controlled over two-billion dollars in assets -- and we decided to spend the night at the hotel where the celebration was taking place.

"Because this party is for grown-ups only, sweetie. But I promise that we'll go out and celebrate as a family tomorrow night. Okay?"

"I wish I could go with you."

"I know, sweetie. But tomorrow night you will."

Fate is too often decided by inconsequential details, the minutia that's like the blood cells flowing through our bodies: abundant, ubiquitous, and individually almost trivial. Almost.

I had parked the car -- Tilly's midnight blue BMW 5 Series sedan -- and we were in the elevator going up when I realized I'd forgotten the parking ticket. If it had been a municipal lot I would have just paid the five bucks, but this hotel charged forty dollars to park overnight, so I kissed Tilly when the elevator reached the lobby, ushered her out, and then pushed the button to return to the second level. I was coming through the doors with the ticket in my coat pocket about five minutes after Tilly had walked in.

I could see that she'd shed her coat and was talking to a tall man in a dark suit and another woman wearing a silk dress of vibrant green. The woman was long and lean, athletic, but Tilly outshone her. My wife wore classic clothes of quality, and she wore them with confidence. Her proportions were nearly perfect, both the features in her face as well as the build of her body. She looked womanly, with full curves that she kept firm with an hour-long workout nearly every day, but it was the intelligence in her eyes, the mirth in the curve of her lip, that won my heart. And seeing her across the room I felt the familiar swelling for her in my heart. And other places too.

It was appropriate that it was that moment when the lie was exposed.

"I see Tilly didn't bring her husband. Do you think Randy is going to tap her again tonight?"

I was at the coat check, and two men had turned away just as I slipped in behind them, so they never saw me. I remembered Ted Masters. He'd been on Tilly's team for three years. I didn't recognize the other man, but I knew Randy. He was the tall man talking to Tilly.

I've never experienced anything like I felt at that moment. Certainly not before, and not since either.

I knew I was in unfathomable pain, a torment that might never release me from its grip. The wound was so deep and so consuming that I wondered if I'd be able to survive it. I didn't know how I'd cope with it.

And yet I didn't feel it.

My instinct for self-preservation kicked in with a vengeance. It walled off the agony immediately, and while I wouldn't be able to stave it off forever I wasn't going to let myself be humiliated either. I don't know if it's true for all men, but I didn't want to show vulnerability in public. My mind was far from clear, but my survival mode let me make decisions that I look back on with a measure of gratitude.

I walked over to Tilly wearing a grim face that she was slow to notice.

"The coat check is by the entrance, honey. And would you please get me a glass of white wine on your way back?"

I didn't waste time or words.

"I'm leaving, Tilly." She looked at me, puzzled. "I wouldn't want to get in the way of Randy tapping you tonight. Again."

Randy spewed the whiskey he'd just sipped. Tilly's eyes went wide, and she gaped at me. But as she looked into my eyes she saw that I knew about her affair. Her face fell and her eyes filled with tears.

"Oh, no," she whispered, quietly horrified, as I turned and walked away, passing Ted Masters who'd heard everything I'd said. He looked white as a sheet.

"Air!" Tilly called. "Please wait. I'll get my coat and be with you in just a second."

I ignored her and kept walking. I took the stairs, quickly. I wasn't going to run, but I wasn't dawdling either. I got out of the garage without seeing her. And I was parked for such a short time that I didn't have to pay for the parking either. Who says the universe doesn't bend towards justice?

Thank God the girls were with Tilly's parents overnight. As I drove I made plans. Worst case I had a four- or five-minute head start. If she made apologies to the execs I'd have a couple more. If she had to wait for a rideshare or cab, that could give me up to ten minutes more. Regardless I couldn't spend much time at home. Like any wounded animal I wanted to get to someplace safe, someplace where no one could see my suffering and my shame for how it would break me.

Because I knew it would break me. Soon. I needed to get some things together and get out, but I wasn't sure I'd be able to do that before Tilly got home. I knew I wasn't operating anywhere near peak efficiency. And I most definitely wasn't ready to see her.

Then I laughed.

I wouldn't need to go home. I had an overnight bag in the trunk. I wasn't going to hide, but I wouldn't make it easy either. I found an ATM and withdrew the maximum, then found a Residence Inn where I paid cash for the night. I turned off my phone and left it in my room while I went to the Red Robin next door for a burger and salad and a draft beer. But only one. I never saw the point of drinking to excess. The data was pretty clearly against it. I didn't need to punish myself; the pain would take care of that just fine.

I lingered at Red Robin. As long as I was in public I thought I could parry my pain effectively enough to pretend I'd be okay. I feared being alone in my room, but I was drawn towards it nonetheless. My facade was about to crumble. I left bills on the table and walked out. The waitress would be thrilled with the tip, but I just didn't think that I'd survive the wait for my change.

As soon as I was behind the locked door the sobs overtook me. I grabbed a pillow from the bed and wrapped it around my face. A howl poured forth from deep, deep inside my ravaged heart, and if anyone could have heard it I'm sure it would have shaken them to their core. I shrieked and cried and gave vent to all the agony that twisted my guts and rent my heart. I don't know how long I screamed into that pillow, but when I finally slumped to the floor it was soaked with spit and tears and mucus. I tossed it into a corner. There were three more on the bed and two others stashed on the shelf in the closet. I knew I'd need at least some of them before I left in the morning.

* * * * *

I had devastated my husband.

"I'm leaving, Tilly. I wouldn't want to get in the way of Randy tapping you tonight. Again."

Aaron's voice was cold, but his eyes betrayed his pain. He knew. My breath caught in my throat. I wanted to reach out, to cradle him, use my love to soothe his grief, but I froze instead. I don't remember if I said anything at all while our eyes held each other, but when he turned his back and walked brusquely past Ted I snapped out of my stupor.

"Air! Please wait. I'll get my coat and be with you in just a second."

He kept walking. I followed him. I thought about making my apologies to Jim and Frank, but work was way down my list of priorities at the moment. Nothing mattered except Aaron. I walked quickly to the coat check to retrieve my coat and then punched the button for the elevator to the garage. I know it didn't do any good, but I pushed it every few seconds until the doors opened. Once in the garage it took a few seconds to see that my car was gone, so I rode the elevator back to the lobby and went out the front doors. Cabs were few and far between, so I summoned a Lyft with my phone. Ahmad and his blue Prius arrived four minutes later.

The twenty-minute ride felt like the longest of my life.

I texted both Jim and Frank and told them Aaron had become suddenly ill and gave my regrets. I got texts back immediately expressing their disappointment that we would miss this recognition but also their understanding. They both hoped Aaron felt better soon. With that task handled I returned to Aaron.

So many thoughts collided, but my overarching thought was more of a fear. I knew Aaron saw everything in black and white. That had never been a problem. I loved him for his clarity, his integrity. And for his intellect and his sense of playfulness and his devotion to our girls and to me and to our family. But where I saw things as conditional he had certainty. I didn't know what our future held, of course, but I knew he would have a much harder time moving forward than I would have had the circumstances been reversed.

But of course they wouldn't be.

His commitment to me was total. My commitment to him was just as strong, but sexual fidelity seemed irrelevant to my marriage. The sex didn't intrude on our time together. It in no way affected my feelings for my husband, which grew stronger and more full with every passing day. I could be completely committed and still have the occasional fling if it didn't affect Aaron or the girls or anyone else in our family.

Not that I was a slut.

I slept with Randy for the first time about a year before, nearly two years after he joined the firm. And we'd only had sex twice more since then, always on the road, and not even on every trip. We never spent the night together. I never left town thinking I'd fuck around on Aaron. It only happened if circumstances aligned, the biggest of those circumstances being if I was horny and my prospective playmate was also just interested in some passing fun.

I'd had only one other tryst since being married, a one-night stand with the stereotypical salesman for a manufacturing company. So four dalliances spread over five years. Two or three hours total. Hardly a big deal. I'd had way more massages than that.

But I knew Aaron wouldn't see things the same way.

When Ahmad dropped me off, the house was dark and there was no sign Aaron had been there since we left it not even an hour ago. I moved through our home, the home that we peopled with Annie and Kiley, that we filled with mementos from our families and our lives together. I felt sad, and I felt scared. Sad that now our memories would include this wound, and scared of the changes it would mean to our marriage, to our children, to our family. It would be a long time before our lives returned to their previous states. If they ever could.

I changed into comfy sweats and slipped into my sheepskin mules and went to the family room to wait for Aaron. I had no new texts, and we never did that find-my-phone thing, so I couldn't say where he might be. I thought about what to say to him, but I couldn't come up with anything.

We needed to talk. Despite my reaction at the hotel, I was good at processing in the moment, and I was always more effective when I could see and sense nuance from tone, eye contact, body language. If I could sit across from Aaron -- or better yet next to him -- I could see and hear and feel his reactions to our conversation. I didn't know if I could convince him of my perspectives, but the chances were better in person. So I'd wait for him, however long it took.

But I also wanted him to know that I loved him and that he was the most important person in the world to me. I thought for nearly fifteen minutes, starting at least a dozen texts before settling on a simple one:

- Pls come home to talk to me. I love you.

Then I waited.

* * * * *

I slept remarkably well. I had one more screaming fit before falling into a dreamless sleep. It was still early when I awoke, but as near as I could tell I'd been out for about nine hours. I guess emotional exhaustion does that.

I still felt off though, like I was wading through mud, both physically and mentally. I showered but skipped the shave. It was about 7:30 when I ventured out to the Original Pancake House. The coffee was fresh and hot and the pancakes were lighter than I expected. About the only thing I didn't care for was the sausage patty; it was particularly greasy. But the bill wasn't even twenty bucks, so I left another generous tip.

I felt restless.

My usual workout was a run, but I didn't have workout clothes, and I'd completely forgotten to pack another pair of shoes. But I didn't want to sit around a hotel room, so I bundled up the best I could in a couple t-shirts, my dress shirt from the night before and the hoody I packed to wear home, and I walked the park trails near the shore of the nearby lake. Aside from a couple of runners and a mom with two boys climbing on the play structure, the park was deserted. Which gave me plenty of time to think.

And I needed to think.

I did best when I knew the questions that needed answers. Tilly's mind was flexible, and it processed at light speed. If I didn't have an outline to give me structure and focus for our discussion then I'd be at a decided disadvantage. I had no idea how she could justify her unfaithfulness, but I had no doubt that she'd try. I believed that she loved me, or at least she thought she did, but for the life of me I couldn't reconcile that with her behavior.

So I walked, hearing the sound of water making its unhurried way to shore, smelling the lake and the dormant grass and the dirt and the trees, breathing the crisp air. And I did what I did best: organize my thoughts into categories and then try to articulate the essential issues. I dismissed the trivial or distracting or irrelevant and refined the questions that would hopefully give me the answers I needed. I ordered the questions in my mind. I refined them, supplemented them with clarifying language. And when I returned to my hotel room I wrote them down. I didn't plan on reading them to Tilly, but writing down ideas always cemented them in my mind.

First, why did she think she could trash her vows, her commitments to me? I had little hope that her answer would be satisfactory, but I still wanted to understand.

Second, did she put my health at risk by having unprotected sex? If so, then she was at best thoughtless about me and at worst cavalier.

Third, how often had she slept with Randy? And were there any others? She could try to shade her answer, but she was fundamentally an honest person. She was not a good liar. And I was good at discerning lies.

Fourth, why Randy? Did she love him? Want a relationship with him? Did she want to continue fucking him?

Fifth, how did her coworkers know about their liaisons? Were they flagrant? Work spouses? Was the company culture rotten with infidelity?

Finally, how did she think we should proceed? The path forward wouldn't be completely her choice, but I was curious to know what she thought should happen.

I knew I needed to face Tilly, and I knew that it had to happen today or tomorrow. My priority was to protect the kids, and that meant until Tilly and I decided on a path the girls needed to come home to a house that included both parents. I felt mentally ready, but I was still edgy, agitated. I needed to relax as much as possible, focus as much energy on the conversation instead of leaking it out with fidgeting and mind trips.

The hotel had a small gym with a treadmill, so I walked for another hour in my jeans, t-shirt and dress shoes. Then I went to Red Robin for a BLT and side salad with coffee.

Exercised and fed, I was probably as ready as I'd ever be.

* * * * *

I woke up on the sofa with a sore neck. I checked my phone while I rolled my head around, but there was nothing of consequence. I knew Aaron would need to process his feelings, but the longer he was incommunicado the harder my task would be. I could picture him, vividly, as he formulated and tested hypotheses, ran scenarios, trying desperately to make order out of what he didn't understand.

I felt weird being the subject of his deliberations.

Sad too.

Guilt pressed in on me. I knew that I would be honest when Aaron came to me, and I knew that my honesty would hurt him. I hoped it would also cleanse his wound. I wouldn't allow lies between us. Lies fester and infect any intimate relationship. I have lied to save someone's feelings if it didn't otherwise matter, but this was way too important. Only full truth would work. Might work. It all rested on Aaron.