"You will have significant experiences. I hope that you will write them down." (Gordon B. Hinckley, 2006)
Waiting On The Spouse To Change
She waited for my wife to leave.
I'm talking three hours in the waiting room, watching HGTV.
My wife who felt that watching a basketball tournament was more important than staying to watch Law & Order SVU reruns at her hospitalized husband's bedside. Her husband that had just been diagnosed with Diabetes.
Shayla Hall. A dark skinned, 5 ft, 7 inch tall hottie.
My "work wife". She coined the term, not me.
She's married with five children and so was I. But we'd gone from being best friends to lovers over 10 years of working closely together. Mostly due to the fact that we both were married to people that we had become disillusioned with.
My wife was selfish, ungrateful sexually unavailable.
Shayla's husband was just an all out a**hole ... To describe him as kindly as possible. And he proved day in and day out that he did not deserve her.
It was these discussions on marriage that kept us locked inside of spirited debates. But it was our mutual love for movies, classic television and great music that kept us bonded and excited to be in one another's company.
Shayla made me laugh. And I did the same for her.
More laughter, more affection. More affection, more time together. More time together, greater affection. Greater affection led us to be alone in a darkened shower in the boys locker room. But also the laundry room in the basement, an abandoned classroom now used for storage and the changing room/ office on the deck of the swimming pool.
Where Do We Go From Here?
How does one stay with a person that makes you miserable day after day, week after week, year after year?
Loyalty? A sense of familiarity? A inner promise to stay with the devil you know? I don't know. But that's where we both were; living with people that we once loved with all of our hearts, but now wanted to trip, smother or push down the stairs on a regular basis.
"What's up Champ?" she said softly as she walked into the room with peach roses.
She bought me roses ... Wow ...
"Hey Baby Girl."
There was concern in her face. But then I licked my tongue out at her and crossed my eyes, which made her burst into laughter. And with that, she knew that I was on the road to recovery, even with IVs in my arm.
She lay the roses on my slide away table and seemed to debate with herself whether or not she would come closer. Perhaps worried whether it was appropriate to give me a kiss when the nursing staff was probably very familiar with my wife.
I could see it in he eyes when I said, "Kiss me anyway."
A smile developed on her face as she slowly approached me, leaned towards me and planted one right on the lips. And as I dared to taste he tongue, I was so glad that I had taken the time to brush my teeth earlier.
A tear escaped her eye and I took a hand to wipe it away.
She'd been worried about me and had been waiting with bated breath for a couple of days to see me. And I could feel the love that she had for me, shooting out of her pores and surrounding me.
"Have you had your dinner?"
"What did you order?"
"A black bean burger, fries, angel food cake ..."
"Is that healthy enough?"
"I don't know. But it'll be tasty as h*ll."
"Okay, but I don't need you falling out and taking another ride in an ambulance. You just don't know ... I thought that my heart was going to fail me when I heard what had happened to you."
"How'd you ...?"
"Your wife called up to the school and ended up replaying everything for the principal and she told our classroom team."
"I know that you like your privacy and everything. But if she hadn't, I wouldn't have known your situation."
"No ... Of course I wanted you to know ... I'm just wondering if the principal blabbed it to more people."
"That I can not confirm or deny. But all I really care about is you getting better so you can go home ... Do you need me to spring you out of here?" she asked, arching her eyebrows with a fake diabolical facial expression. To which I almost busted a gut laughing at.
"Um, I'd rather you not end up in jail for kidnapping."
"Yeah, I hear that the food is terrible."
Shayla had a brother, a mother and a little sister in prison because of a street fight that went left. So she knew a little about prison from their letters and from frequent visits.
I smirked. "Is that so?"
"Yeah. Especially the green gelatin."
"I'm divorcing him."
"Run that by me again?"
"I'm divorcing him ... I need to be free ... And I'd really love for us to be free together, to be honest."
Was I ready for that?
To dream and agonize over leaving my wife was one thing. But to actually muster up the gumption to actually pack my sh** to leave ... That was the biggest of moves. A move that had me quaking in my metaphorical boots.
© 2022 LaZeric Freeman