Who is she?

Everywhere I went, I was looking for her.  Every woman matching her type, I wondered if it was her.  I was angry at them, all who I suspected, strangers to me I deemed enemy.  I was unable to function, lacking focus and sincerity to those I judged.  Who is she?  Who was this person that brought my husband to complete submission?  Is she beautiful? Is she physically attractive? Did she do everything to him that he wanted, that he likes?  Did he like it?  Does he still see her?  How often?  How long?  Where?  How did they meet?  Where was I?  Did he talk to her about personal things?  Did he kiss her?  Where did he kiss her?  Did she go down on him?  Did he go down on her?  Did he hold her afterwards?  I could not stop thinking about what they may have done together.  I could not stop thinking about her, what she looked like and what my husband seen in her that failed his commitment to me.

I falsely accepted what happened, my husband’s infidelity and the child that came from it.  I tried to move forward supporting him in his effort to be in his child’s life.  I asked him to keep his growing relationship with his daughter at a distance, on his own time, without me.  But as time continued moving, I stood still, my mind and soul still trying to recover from the heartache.  My attempt to recover failed in the therapist’s office as the phony demeanor deterred me.  Most days if not all, I cried- alone.  At work, the single, self-locking bathroom became my sanctuary, somewhere I could flee to when I could no longer pretend life was good.  So many times I remember standing in there, crying, trying to get myself together and refreshing my makeup, putting on a façade.  No one had any idea what I was going through, I was always smiling, so work focused, on the surface.  But deep down, I looked at those strangers who I seen as enemies and I wondered, maybe she is the one.. or her.. or that one.  I had to begin my healing process to get past this ugly, hate filled thing growing within.  Every day was a struggle and on top of it all, wondering, who is she?

In his efforts to build a relationship with his daughter, my husband of course communicated with her mother to coordinate pick up and drop off locations.  It was understandable to me, expected, but I despised it.  Normally he would coordinate visits on his own time but I happen to be in the room when a call had been made.  He was to pick up his daughter at her daycare and her mother would be there, too.  As my husband explains that he will be leaving I could not resist the opportunity to rid my mind of so many unanswered questions about her.  “I’m going too.”  No, no, no… he did not want that and I did not care.  I was clear, I was going and there was no way in hell he was going to stop me.  The drive was long, I was so anxious to see her, to meet her.  He was tense, nervous, concerned that I was going to do something stupid, but I was confident.  I finally can get this part past me, no more wondering, no more suspecting this person or that person, no more hatred, no more enemies. 

As I waited in the car for them I imagined what was going on in the daycare; so much time had passed after my husband went in, did she not want to come out?  Is their daughter not ready?  Are they talking? Talking about what?  So many thoughts as I waited intently in the car.  Finally the door opens.  My husband walks out carrying a bag and she follows behind, holding their 3 year old daughter in her arms.  I stared at her as she walked towards the car, giving her time to make her way closer before I act.  As she approaches the vehicle I open my car door and walk towards her offering my hand in an attempt to be civil.  My demeanor is strong, confident and eager.  I shook her hand “It is finally nice to meet you” I said.  Her hand shake revealed so much to me, I, for a moment felt pity for her.  And at that moment I found closure, I did not heal, but I woke up from those trivial thoughts that wasted my time.