to light, Gerri told Phil, “It’s time. I need to go to counseling alone, you need to find your own counselor, and we have to separate.”
“You’re giving up?”
“I don’t know. If I can stop hating you, maybe we can work it out. But right now, I’m just in too much pain.”
“Where do you expect me to go? Our finances can’t withstand another residence.”
“I don’t care. Stay in the city, come out for dinner, visit on weekends, whatever. But I can’t fight about it anymore. There’s just no explanation for what you did and I can’t get past the betrayal. You just have to give me some space and time.”
“If that’s what you want,” he said. “But I still love you.”
“Well, I don’t love you right now. I want to, but I can’t love a man who can do what you did without even knowing why. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel safe again.”
“Fine,” he said. “This weekend we’ll tell the kids.”
“I don’t agree with that,” she told him.
“We tell them what they’re old enough to understand. That’s what we do in this family. In fact, you wrote that rule. You’re the social worker.”
“I don’t think they’re old enough to understand,” she said.
“Yes, they are. They’re not old enough to sympathize and it’s not in their experience, but they’ll know what we’re talking about. They’ll know that what I did was wrong, that you being out of your mind angry is reasonable.”
She shook her head and a large tear escaped. “Why did you do this to us, Phil?” she asked in a desperate whisper.
“I can’t explain. I’ve had nightmares about this for over five years. If we’re not stronger than one indiscretion, then I completely misjudged us. I thought, given all we’ve had to handle, both personally and professionally, if it came to this, we’d find a way. We’ve seen families through murder that didn’t give up this fast.”
“One two-year indiscretion!”
“Do you have any idea how many times, during those two years, I put my arms around you and held you? How many times you told me not to get any ideas? God, Gerri, I remember when the kids were little and we were both exhausted from work, the house was collapsing, everyone was screaming they needed something, and we still snuck away from them, locked ourselves in the bathroom and—” He shook his head. “I don’t know when that stopped happening for us, but it stopped.”
“Why didn’t you say anything? Before it was too late?”
“I thought I had.” He looked down for a long moment, then looked up again. “Never mind. It wasn’t because of you. It was me. I should have found a way. But then, I didn’t know it was going to be too late...”
There was a very small part of her, remembering those days so long ago, that wanted to say, It was me, too, let’s see if we can get it back. But she said, “I’ll tell Jessie if you’ll tell the boys.”
He gave a nod. “Sunday,” he said. “Then I’ll go to the city.”
“You’re going to drop it on them and leave them with me?”
“No, of course not. We’ll tell them, separately. I’ll stay through the evening and when the house quiets down, I’ll head out. I’ll handle as much of this as I can, but it’s your decision for us to live apart and we don’t do that to our kids without them knowing the reasons.”
* * *
At five o’clock on Sunday, Phil knocked on Jed’s bedroom door and said, “Hey, bud, I have to talk to you about something. Can you come with me?”
“Where?” he asked, getting up from his reclining position on the bed.
“We have to go somewhere away from the house so I can talk to you in private. Just come on, you’ll have the details soon enough.”
They walked a couple of short blocks to the neighborhood park. Phil sat on the top of a picnic table, his feet on the bench, elbows on his knees, head down. Jed stood in front of him. “Come on, man,” Jed said impatiently. “What the hell’s going on?”
“Your mom and I are having some problems,” Phil said. He felt his eyes begin to water, his throat threaten to close. “Serious problems. Oh, Jesus, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
“Come on, Dad! You getting divorced or something?”
“I hope not,” Phil said, and watched his son deflate, as if all the air had just been sucked out of him. “It’s my fault. I want to tell you why, and I need your help with Matt. He needs to know the facts, but he’s kind of young to understand.”
“You’re shitting me,” Jed said in a panicked breath. “Oh, man, you’re shitting me.”
“Several years ago—over five—I broke the oath. I cheated. I don’t have an excuse—it was wrong. I never wanted to lose your mom, lose my family. I never wanted another woman, but I guess I was weaker than my hormones or something, because I cheated. Your mom just found out and she really wants to kill me right now. She’d like us to be able to work things out, but she’ll need some time to decide if she can forgive me.”
“What?” Jed asked, though he’d heard clearly. “What? You wouldn’t do that to Mom.”
“I hear ya, buddy. I never thought I’d be that stupid or that wrong, but I was. When she found out—and I still don’t know how, though I have a few ideas—it just hurt her so bad, she got us right into counseling. We’re going to keep going, but she’s too angry to live with me right now.” He reached out and put a strong hand on Jed’s shoulder. “Doesn’t mean I won’t be around. I promise I’ll be around plenty. I want to spend time with you guys, plus I have to hang close in case your mom wants to talk about it. Or yell at me about it some more,” he added with a lame smile.
“Why?” Jed asked.
“Why what, son?”
“Why can’t you work it out with you home? You guys fight all the time. You always work it out.”
“We don’t fight all the time,” he said. “We argue about little shit sometimes. This is different.”
“Well, did you say you’re sorry?”
“Of course,” Phil said. “I didn’t just say it, Jed. I mean it. I’ve never been so sorry about anything. But there’s all that trust—you count on it. You stake your lives on it, depend on it. And when the trust is broken, you can’t just say sorry. You know? You have to pay penance. You have to work hard to put the trust back in the relationship.”
“Oh, man, she isn’t going to give in easy,” Jed said, running a nervous hand through his short, spiky hair. “This is Mom we’re talking about.”
Phil wanted to laugh. At least smile. Boy, did they both know Gerri. She was brilliant, classy, strong and stubborn. There was that little male bonding thing
