Love story
It was way more than just lust, but it was done so well, and kept so quiet, that it was hard to call it a passionate affair.
Upon reflection, though, it was definitely a deep love, the kind where two souls touch and wrap themselves around each other like grapevines on a fence.
It was the kind of love I've always wanted, and thought I had, with my wife of 32 years, Traci, until I discovered differently about 12 years ago. That revelation shook me to my core and nearly killed me ... but it wasn't my funeral we were attending now, was it?
Still beautiful at 55, Traci was in the seat next to me openly weeping for the loss of her long-time co-worker and friend, Gene, while the pastor droned on about Gene's great qualities as a human being, father, son, brother, and friend. I was there to support my wife in her grief. She had worked with Gene for 30 years, and in the course of this had become pretty good friends, the kind that go out for co-worker lunches and share family stories about the kids and so forth. I had been hearing those stories through Traci for this whole time, and at this point felt like he was my friend I knew so much about him and his family.
I had even met Gene and his wife, Laura, at several of Traci's work-related functions, and in fact, the four of us got along just great.
It was quite a shock, then, when Traci received a phone call on Saturday morning from another co-worker telling her that Gene was dead, apparently the victim of a robbery in a parking lot at a small motel in our city the previous night.
Crime in the city had been on the upswing recently, and in fact our home had been broken into recently, and the thieves got my 22 handgun and most of Traci's jewelry. But that was just a break-in, upsetting as it had been; this was a death.
Like Traci and I, Gene was 55 years old, in good shape, with a boyish face and thinning, gray-brown hair. He was a good-looking guy, but no Brad Pitt, just your average guy living an average life, with two grown children. From all the stories I have heard, he and Laura lived a lifestyle similar to mine and Traci's: nothing too crazy, solid financially, they puttered around their yard for fun.
Just a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, the police would later note.
I didn't feel one drop of remorse as they loaded the casket into the hearse for the ride to the cemetery.
I remained quiet for the entire 20-minute drive while Traci sobbed almost uncontrollably. The short service at the grave took only another five minutes, then we headed back to the car for the trip home. As we approached the car, we could see a man standing by the driver's side of the car, a legal-type envelope in his hand. When we got within a few yards of him, he moved toward us, extending the envelope to my wife as he asked if she was Traci Lyons. Wiping away tears from her eyes, she replied affirmatively, and as she took the envelope from him, he said, "You have been served."
Traci quickly pulled her hand back from the process server as if he had a communicable disease. Her damp eyes got wide with surprise. She looked at me, then the envelope, as if her brain was slowly making the connection. As the server moved quickly away, Traci unhooked the clasp on the envelope and pulled out the paperwork. She glanced at the first page before the tears started again, and with faltering steps she slowly made her way over to her side of the car, where I awaited, holding the door open for her.
The 15-minute drive home was mostly silent, except for Traci's low sobs and sniffles. While I expected the dam to break sometime, I wasn't going to be the one to initiate what would surely be a shitstorm.
When we got home, Traci went into the kitchen and sat down at the table. I followed her to the kitchen, got a beer out of the fridge and sat down as well.
"Why are you doing this, and why on this day of all days?" she asked quietly. "And at the cemetery?"
While I wasn't exactly proud of myself at that moment, I also wasn't of the mindset to back down.
"Because I felt it was only fitting that you should lose both of us together, if you will, the way you had both of us."
Traci's face came up to meet my gaze; she was absolutely shocked, to say the least. Apparently her dumbass husband had finally figured it out.
"I- I- I never meant to hurt you," Traci stammered. "You know I love you."
"Do I?" I challenged. "You've been doing this to me for at least 22 years! Yeah, I know that Hayley is his!"
She stared back at me in complete disbelief, her mouth wide open as if she couldn't figure out how to make sound come out.
I went back to the fridge for beer No. 2. Probably a good thing I had a 12-pack in there to start.
"How long have you known. How did you find out?" she questioned. "We were so careful, for both your sake and Laura's."