8 years

 Eight years ago today....

    In some ways it seems like a lifetime ago

        In other ways, I remember every moment of that evening.

The day before, I was preparing for a trip to Johnson City, Tn to attend my aunt's funeral.

    I had found a receipt in his suitcase by "accident" (divine providence) for a PO box that he had rented.

        I had no idea why and was so confused; terrified of what this meant.

An ice storm was bearing down on Charlotte.

    I had just driven home from Johnson City trying to outrun the storm.

        He had just flown in from NYC.

                 My son was living at home and my youngest was at college.

                 My oldest was coming over to stay because her husband was out of town, and she didn't want to be alone in the storm. 

                My oldest and my son decided to leave to go and buy a new puzzle to work on during the storm.

It was just he and I. 

    Alone

        With the cloud of his secret hanging overhead with the clouds carrying the ice storm.

I knew I had to take this window of time to ask the question as he sat at the kitchen table. 

ME:    "I'm hoping that you can give me a really good reason that won't turn my stomach as to why you have a PO box?"

HIM:          "A what?"

ME:     "A PO box."

HIM:          "Who says I have a PO box?"

ME:    "Do you have a PO box?"

HIM:            "Why would I have one?"

ME:    " You tell me."

            "Be honest. Just don't lie to me."

                    Twenty minutes of excruciating SILENCE followed.

      The room was spinning. My mouth was like cotton. My heart was beating out of my chest. My stomach was doing somersaults. My ears were ringing. My fingers were numb. My legs were shaking. 

He wouldn't speak. Wouldn't answer my questions. Wouldn't put my fears to rest. Wouldn't care for me. 

He was only interested in figuring out how to cover up the double life that he had been living that had just been discovered. He was trying to find a way to turn it on me.

He looked at me like I was the crazy one when I told him that he needed to fess up before the kids came back home any minute. 

He said he wasn't ready for this and I wasn't either.

He needed to have somewhere to have some medical records sent.

        I was foolish enough to believe he had a disease that he wanted to keep from me so I wouldn't               worry. 

Me:     "There has never been another person in the world that I trusted as much as you...

                    ever in my life."

                                    LOOOOONNNGGG SILENCE

Finally, I was told that "there was a massage with a male masseuse in NYC and there was contact." He thought he had a wart. He said it wasn't as much as I might have thought. 

That was the biggest lie of all. 

    It was a male masseuse.

        There were genital warts.

            There was contact...a lot of contact.

                    Many, many times with many, many partners.

And this all came out over a period of several months.

    And I will never know the whole truth.

        And I believe it is much worse than I can even imagine. 

So why eight years later do I still listen to the recording of the above conversation that God provided when he prompted me to hit voice record when I first sat down at the table?

    Because it reminds me that I am not the crazy one.

        It reminds me how devastating and traumatic it was.

            It reminds me why I am still not healed.

                It reminds me that I knew it all along.