An hour later, after I had gotten myself in a bit of control, I thought about flying to Miami the next day to get her. At least, that gave me a plan of action. Then I realized I couldn't do that either. Michelle was only spending the first night at the Hyatt because it was close to the airport. By the time I flew to Seattle, then to Miami, Michelle would have already checked out of the Hyatt
I didn't know where she was going after that, or what she'd be doing for the next week. Brett hadn't told us where except the first night. I tried to remember if Michelle had told me the name of the hotel he'd been at in Seattle, but was sure she hadn't, other than how nice it was and that it wasn't the Sheraton.
I thought, "What have I done?" I'd potentially thrown away everything important in my life for a thrill. I was totally helpless, with only a thread to cling to, my trust in Michelle. But I'd never told her what I knew, that Brett had no intention of letting her come home. He planned to take her away from me. Kristen had told me he could and would do it, and I naively believed he couldn't. He'd already started, by cutting us off from each other and there wasn't a damn thing I could do to stop it!
I didn't get any sleep the rest of the night. When I stumbled out of bed in the morning, I realized that nothing had changed from when she left. I'd already known exactly what was going to happen, that she'd be cut off from me, that I'd be here alone fretting about her faithfulness. I just hadn't realized how strongly the fact that I wouldn't be able to contact her would hit me.
It was Monday, there wasn't any way I could go to work after not sleeping and worrying about Michelle, so I called my office and told them I wasn't feeling well. Then I remembered that Brett had e-mailed Michelle a phone number I could call in case of an emergency. I was actually kind of glad I hadn't remembered it last night. I'd probably have made a fool of myself blubbering incoherently. Yes, I was still scared of losing her, but the feeling of intense panic was gone. That had been the most frightful night of my life.
At least the panic was gone for a few minutes until I thought again about how wonderfully Michelle described Brett, and that I wouldn't be able to communicate with her at all for the next month. I fought the urge to call that emergency number. I counted to ten, then to a hundred to calm myself again. I knew that unless I lied and told whoever answered that I'd injured myself badly or one of Michelle's parents had died, that she'd never get the message anyway. I realized that, short of a real emergency, I simply had no way to contact my wife, and I may as well face that reality.
The next month loomed like an eternity in front of me. I realized it wouldn't do me any good to sit around the lonely house and moping, so after lunch, I dragged myself to work and told them I was feeling better.
The next several days were a hell I hadn't even imagined. When Michelle had gone to Las Vegas with Shaun, I was lonesome at home, but at least knew I could call and talk to her. This time, it was a void like she didn't exist anymore. The house was cold and lonely whenever I was at home. I subsisted on McDonald's, day after day. Anything I ate tasted more like cardboard than food, so what did it matter? I wished I had some idea what Michelle was doing. I had friends, but none I could talk about this with, not even Ginger or Eric.
I remembered one thing I'd vowed to do after Michelle left. Wednesday after work, I called Diana. I told her I knew a really nice, single guy, and wondered if she'd be interested in another blind date. She was apprehensive, but I did my best to assure her that she'd like him and stressed that he was single. I was pleased that she finally agreed she'd go out with him if he called. Then I repeated the call, with much the same kind of conversation to Shaun. I didn't do that because I wanted him to break up with Michelle. The opposite was true, I liked her going out with and sleeping with him. All he finally said was that he'd think about it. I wasn't going to worry about it, I'd done my good deed for the week. Although if it worked out, Michelle might not consider it such a good deed when she gets home. Then my reality hit me again and I changed my thought to "if" she gets home.
Friday after work I decided maybe a little company would help. In a way, I didn't want to go to any square dances because I knew I'd need to make up a lie about where Michelle was for so long. I went anyway and invented a fib about her grandma being really sick and only having a little while left. How lame was that!
I'd hoped that Eric and Ginger would be there, but they weren't. There were two single ladies that I danced with quite often, so at least I had dance partners. It helped my loneliness being around friends, but I knew that afterward I was going home to that lonely house, and that took away about ninety percent of the fun.
After I climbed into my bed, I did what I figured any sane human in my condition might do; I started counting the plaster splatters on the ceiling. There were a lot more than I'd ever suspected, over two hundred in just a couple square feet. Then I started to calculate in my head how many that would be in the whole room and finally gave up.
I wondered what Michelle might be doing. She left five days before the cruise so that either means she was with Brett now, or it might be tomorrow. If she was with him now, it was a sure bet what she was doing right at that instant! Then I had a thought how I could connect with her a little bit. It seemed a little perverted, but so be it!
I went to her lingerie drawer where all her new nighties were stacked so neatly inside. I thought that the feel of one of her silk ones on my hands and face would help me picture her. She'd neatly stacked the silk one I wanted, the one she wore the last night before she left, on top of the pile. The first thing I noticed was the fragrance of perfume wafting out of her drawer. It was one I hadn't smelled before and it was gloriously feminine! I ran the back of my hand over the soft material, then went to pick it up. I was confused; there was something hard and crinkly inside it. When I picked it up, an envelope fell out on the floor with my name on it. I picked it up and looked at it, it was sealed with "Robert", neatly written on the front with Michelle's handwriting.
I took it and the nightgown, and sat down on the bed. The only thing that went through my mind was a "Dear John" letter she'd written before she left. I tried to remember her the day she left. She'd seemed cold and distant, or was that just my imagination from the façade that we'd had to create to comply with Brett's contract?
It'd be easier if I drank, I could drown myself in a bottle and ease my fears before opening it. As it was, though, I'd just make myself sick. I'd be ashamed and throwing up.
