Adultery(65)

My eyes locked on him, listening to him repeat my name with each movement; I realized he wasn’t wearing a condom and was going to come. Once again I shifted, making him withdraw. I asked him to come on my face, in my mouth, and tell me he loved me.

Jacob did exactly as I said, while I masturbated and came, too. Then he embraced me, put my head on his shoulder, and wiped the corners of my mouth with his hands. He said again, many times, that he loved me and that he had really missed me.

But now he’s asking me to get dressed, and I don’t budge. He’s gone back to being the well-behaved boy who the voters admire. He senses something is wrong, but doesn’t know what it is. He begins to realize that I’m not just there because he is an amazing lover.

“What do you want?”

Closure. As much as that breaks my heart and leaves me emotionally in shambles, I need to end it. To look in your eyes and say it’s over. Never again.

The suffering I endured this past week was almost unbearable. I cried tears I didn’t have and became lost in thoughts of being carried away to the campus where your wife works and committed to the university asylum. I thought I’d failed at everything, except at work and as a mother. I was one step away from life and death at every minute, dreaming about everything we could have had if we were still two teenagers looking into the future together, like the first time. But there came a moment when I understood that I had reached the limits of despair and couldn’t go any deeper, and when I looked up there was a single outstretched hand: my husband’s.

He must have known, too, but his love was stronger. I tried to be honest and tell him everything to lift that weight off my shoulders, but I didn’t need to. He made me see that regardless of the choices I made in life, he would always be by my side and so my burden was light.

I realized I was blaming myself and beating myself up over things he wasn’t condemning or even blaming me for. I told myself: “I’m not worthy of this man, he doesn’t know who I am.”

But he does know. And that’s what allows me to get back my self-respect and regain my self-esteem. Because if a man like him wants to stay by my side, a man who would have no difficulty at all finding a new partner the day after separating, it’s because I’m worth something; I’m worth a lot.

I discovered I could go back to sleeping by his side without feeling like I was dirty or think I was cheating on him. I felt loved and that I deserved this love.

I get up, gather my clothes, and go to his private bathroom. He knows it’s the last time he’ll see me naked.

There is a long healing process ahead, I say, when I return. I guess you are feeling the same thing, but I’m sure that all Marianne wants is for this fling to end so she can hug you again with the same love and the same security as before.

“Yes, but she won’t tell me anything. She knew what was going on and she closed herself off even more. She was never affectionate, and now she’s like a robot, more devoted to her work than ever. It’s her way of running away.”

I adjust my skirt, put on my shoes, take a bundle out of my bag, and leave it on his desk.

“What’s that?”

Cocaine.

“I didn’t know you …”

He doesn’t need to know anything, I think. He doesn’t need to know how far I was willing to go to fight for him, the man I was madly in love with. The passion is still there, but the flame weakens each day. I know it will eventually die out completely. Any breakup is painful, and I can feel this pain in every fiber of my body. It’s the last time I will see him alone. We will meet again at galas and cocktail parties, at elections and press conferences, but we will never again be the way we were today. It was great to have made love like that and end as we began, both of us completely surrendered to the other. I knew it was the last time; he didn’t, but I couldn’t say anything.

“What am I supposed to do with it?”

Throw it away. It cost me a small fortune, but throw it away. Then you’ll set me free from my addiction.

I don’t explain exactly what addiction I’m talking about. It has a name: Jacob K?nig.

I see his expression of surprise and smile. I say good-bye with three kisses on the cheek and leave. In the vestibule, I turn to his aide and wave. He looks away, pretending to focus on a stack of papers, and just mumbles a good-bye.

When I make it to the sidewalk, I call my husband and tell him I would rather spend New Year’s Eve at home, with the children. If he wants to travel, let’s do it at Christmas.