Sunday, December 9
I drove Tom to band practice. Afterward, he and I had dinner with Paul and his son, Richie, and we went to a game arcade. Paul and I lounged in chairs while the boys ran wild.
“He didn’t want to hug you, hold you in bed,” Paul said shaking his head. “I can’t believe all he wanted to do was fuck you. You’re fun, you’re smart, you’re interesting. Anytime we go out I know I’m in for a good time.”
“What are the chances he only cheated twice ten years apart?”
“I never saw what you saw in him Brenda.”
“I’m a moron.”
“Look who I married,” Paul laughed. “A dyke. I married a woman who bumps boxes.” Paul made two fists and knocked them together. I almost peed myself laughing.
Tom and I drove home and I got into bed and started watching “Homeland.”
“Watching Homeland,” JB texted. “I wish so much that I were watching it with you. I'm in hell. It's a hell of my own creation, but it's still hell. I'm going to send you a statement of assets, debts, and first draft of a budget for our separation. I am also going to send a complete declaration of all my transgressions. It will be difficult for me to write and for you to read.
“I don't want to lose you. I don't want to lose my family. I want to cook Tom tacos and go out for Indian food with you and go hit golf balls with Blake. I am so fucking sorry for the mess I've made. I would do anything, anything to erase my mistakes. I regret them so deeply. All of the fond memories I have involve you and the kids.
“Once the rawness of this has worn off a bit I hope we can go have dinner and talk. I accept that you can't stand me right now. I can feel it. I don't blame you. But I love you and I want to regain your love and trust. I know it's an incredibly tall order but I will not give up hope easily. I don't want to move on. I want to rebuild my life with you and the kids.”
I felt sick, hollow. A complete declaration of transgressions? What am I in for now?