2010 Wyoming Writers Contest Winner - FREE VERSE

 

The Affair

by Vickie Goodwin

 

          Mariah began the morning ritual of reading Wyoming's statewide paper front to back.  She scanned the headlines and read the stories that interested her.  She paused at the obituary section to clip one.

          She checked out the advice column, wondering how the woman married to ‘a wonderful husband and father’ could get so upset about the way he put the toilet paper on the roll.  Mariah was always happy when anyone in the house put on a new roll, no matter what direction it came off.

          She smiled at some of the comics and laughed at others, read the trivia section, and worked out the sudoku puzzle. 

          Pouring her third cup of coffee, Mariah picked up the obituary and read the name - Dale Mark Jamenson.  There was no picture.  She was glad as it allowed her to remember him in her own way.

          Dale Mark Jamenson age 70 died Sunday at Ivinson Memorial Hospital in Laramie from a stroke.

          Mariah read the details of his life; born and raised in Laramie, served in the Navy during Vietnam, drove truck, loved the outdoors. The article mentioned two of his marriages, that his parents, a bother and a sister, had preceded him in death. It listed the names of his five children and current companion.

          Mariah stood and took a cigarette and lighter from the top of a high shelf.  She lit the cigarette, inhaled and blew out a perfect smoke ring.  That was one thing she wouldn't be teaching the grandchildren to do.  Her son and daughter would freak if they knew she could do it.

          She had smoked in college, but quit when she got pregnant with her son.

          She watched the smoke ring dissipate and thought of Dale Mark Jamenson.  His obituary left out so much.  How do you put a lifetime into three or four paragraphs? His third wife wasn't mentioned. 

          Mariah and Bill had met Dale and his first wife Lisa at a Frontier Days' breakfast over thirty years ago.  Bill and Dale had hit it right off, talking like old friends before the meal was finished. 

          Mariah and Lisa talked about kids and housework.  They did not dislike each other but there was no real spark of friendship. Lisa and Dale lived in Laramie. Lisa stayed home with their three children.  Mariah sensed that Lisa felt her life was drudgery. Dale was a truck driver delivering drilling materials to oil and gas wells statewide. He was usually gone from Monday through Thursday leaving Lisa to deal with any problems.

          The next thing Mariah knew, Bill was telling her Dale and Lisa were coming over for supper on Friday night.

          “Well,” Mariah had thought, “perhaps she'll grow on me.”

          Dale and Lisa arrived at six o’clock with their three children in tow. By the time they left, there were two broken dishes and toys all over the living room. The cat was in hiding. The dog was in the basement. Mariah’s son had a bite mark on his arm.  Her daughter was crying about a beheaded Barbie doll.  Mariah had a headache. Bill was in shock.

          “I really like Dale,” he said.  “But maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

          “I don't think the UW football team could keep up with that crew. Let's go to bed and clean up tomorrow.” Mariah suggested.

          In September, Bill’s job caused the family to be transferred to Casper. Bill went to a couple of football games with Dale, but there were no more family get-togethers, which suited Mariah.

          Late in November, Bill called to say Dale was in town. 

          “Would it be okay to invite him to supper?” he asked.

          “Only if he's alone.” Mariah joked.  “Of course, it's okay.”

          During supper, Mariah found she actually enjoyed Dale.  He was intelligent, articulate and funny.  After the kids went to bed, the three of them enjoyed the wine Dale had brought. 

          Dale took to dropping in to visit or have dinner with the family.  He brought wine and sometimes flowers.  He was always attentive to Mariah's questions or comments.  He often complimented her cooking, her hair, or what she was wearing. Bill noticed little things, like the new haircut or the new dish she'd prepared, but there was something exhilarating about being noticed by another man.

          One frosty afternoon in January, Dale called.  Mariah explained that Bill was out of town for a couple of days, but Dale was welcome to come over.  Dale showed up with roses and a bottle of wine.  The kids had gotten used to Dale and dinner was fun. 

          After putting the kids to bed, Mariah came into the living room and sat down to visit with Dale.

          Over the intervening years, Mariah would remember that night in great detail.  A fire was burning in the fireplace.  Dale and Mariah were seated in the two recliners facing the soft firelight, the end table between them with the wine and two glasses.  It was snowing outside, but the wind was quiet so the snow fell gently. The cat was asleep on the couch and the dog lay contentedly snoring on her rug. Mariah got up to put another log on the fire and Dale said it was time he was leaving.  As Mariah turned around to say goodbye, she tripped over the dog. Dale reached over to steady her.   

          The contact was startling to both of them, electric in its intensity.  He pulled her closer and she had not resisted. The kiss was long and powerful.  The lovemaking that followed in her bed inspired a passion that Mariah wasn't sure she had ever felt.  She was totally, selfishly in the moment, with no thought to her children or Bill.

          As they lay in the afterglow, Dale held her.  “Oh Mariah, I love you.”

          Mariah started.  She was pretty sure love had little to do with what they had just done - lust, chemical attraction, proximity or as her mother used to say, 'being twitter pated'. But not love.  Still, she allowed him to stay and they made love twice more.

          After he left, Mariah lay in her bed awash in emotion.  What had she done? They hadn't even thought about protection.  In this time before AIDS, she worried not about a sexually transmitted disease but about getting pregnant.  She felt guilty as hell. She felt good.  Her heart was breaking because she had been unfaithful to her marriage vows. Her heart was soaring because her body felt so very good. She felt very alive. 

          Sometime after three in the morning she changed the sheets on the bed and threw the sinned upon bedding in the washing machine as if to wash out her unfaithfulness.

          The next morning Mariah was awake at five thirty.  Dale called about seven to see if she was okay and to ask if she was going to tell Bill.

          “I don't know,” she answered.

          “I'll abide by your lead.  But I'm not sorry. You are wonderful.”

          Mariah shoveled snow.  She played with her children making snow angles and snow sculptures.  She cleaned her house. She had so much energy. She felt vibrant.

          Bill returned late that evening.  The roads were terrible and he'd had a rough trip. After she fed him a light supper, he sat in the chair and fell asleep.  Gently, she awakened him and urged him to bed.

          He was asleep almost immediately. Mariah, spooned up next to him, fell asleep quickly, too.

          She didn't tell Bill the next day or the next. The time never seemed right, though she wasn't sure how to find a right time to say, “Oh by the way, I had sex with your good friend the other night and it was great.”

          When she made love with Bill, she fantasized about Dale. She daydreamed about him and how life might have been different if she'd met him first.  Dale called a few times.  Just checking in, he said.

          On a Wednesday morning a few weeks later, Dale called to ask if she could meet him at his motel in the afternoon.  Knowing she should say no, she said yes and called her mother to watch the kids.

          Her fantasies and daydreams had not led her astray.  The sex was every bit as good and exciting as she remembered, even better.  She began to wonder. Could she leave Bill for Dale?  Dale had a family too, what would happen to them?  Mariah didn't see herself as a home wrecker, though she knew she was dangerously close to wrecking two homes.  Dale asked about Bill. Had she told him?

          “No.  I don't think I can.”

          “I didn't say anything to Lisa either.” Dale said.  “But Mariah, I do love you. I know you don't believe me, but it's true.  I've never cheated on Lisa.  But this doesn't feel like cheating.  It feels right.”

          Mariah understood what he was saying.  She loved Bill.  She suspected that she loved Dale, too.  Was she so wrong if she could be a good wife and mother and also be a good lover?  This 'affair', she still thought of it in quotes, gave her energy, made her happy, fulfilled a need she hadn't known she had.

          Bill asked her a few times if she had heard from Dale.

She said, “Yes.” At least that was not a lie.  “He said he has been busy and to say ‘Hi’.”

          Late in September, Dale quit calling.  Mariah worried. Had he had an accident? Was he sick?  Mariah didn't have the nerve to call him at home.  Dale's routes varied and she didn't know his schedule. 

          She watched the obituaries.   She drove by the motel where he stayed to see if his truck was there. It never was.  She found herself becoming more and more depressed, but there was no one to talk to. Bill became concerned and suggested she see a doctor. 

          “I'm fine,” she snapped, immediately sorry because she understood that Bill loved her and wanted her to be happy.

          “Get a grip,” she told herself.  She started exercising and helping out at her daughter's kindergarten.  Slowly, she found herself thinking less often of Dale.  By Christmas, she was down to fifteen or twenty times a day and, of course, every night.

          Late in April, Mariah ran in from a trip to the grocery store to answer the phone. 

          “Hi,” Dale said.

          Mariah felt her breath catch.  She sat the groceries on the counter.

          “Hi.” Mariah answered.

          “I'm so sorry...” he started

          “I was so worried...,” she said at the same time.

          They both stopped. 

          “Lisa left me last fall,” Dale said.  “She said she couldn’t take being with alone with the kids all the time.  She packed up the car and left us.  I don't know why Mariah. I had to get another job so I could take care of the kids.”

          “Why didn't you call?”

          “I just couldn't.  I guess I thought that I deserved this for being so happy with you.”

          Then the line was silent. 

          “Wow.” she said finally.

          “I know.” He said.  “I just wanted you to know what is happening.  Right now I'm swamped.  My mom is helping out but...  Anyway, you can call me now.  Maybe you could get away and come down?”

          “Let me absorb this.  I'll call you.”

          “Mariah, I love you.” He said.

          “I, I love you too.”

          Mariah hung up the phone and dropped into a chair.  What now?  She loved Bill. She loved her kids. She loved her life. She loved Dale. 

          In May Mariah had a conference in Laramie. The meeting justified an overnight stay. She called Dale.  He asked if she could stay an extra day.  He'd take time from work.  Mariah said she would find a way.  She told Bill she wanted to do some shopping. Bill gave her a kiss and said of course it was o.k. 

          “You deserve a break.  My Mom can take the kids if your mom can't.”

          Mariah suffered through the conference, hearing very little of what was presented. Her anticipation mounted as the day dragged. 

          Finally, after the obligatory Saturday night banquet, Mariah begged off drinks with other attendees and hurried to her room. Dale knocked ten minutes after she called. 

          In memory, Mariah was pretty sure she grabbed his collar and pulled him into the room. Hello was a deep kiss and clothes fell in a trail to the bed. Twenty minutes later her first words to him were, “Oh my god, it just gets better and better.” 

          “Woman, I missed you!”

          Sometime in the early morning, Mariah stuck the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door. When they stopped touching each other long enough to eat a room service breakfast, Mariah asked about Lisa and the kids.

          “She had some kind of break down.  She's not mentally strong like you. She came back last week and the kids are spending more time with her,” Dale commented. 

          Mariah wondered how Dale would know just how mentally strong she was.  Then he reached for her and they became engaged in activities that required no mental strength at all.

          “Mariah, I love you so.  Leave Bill. Come marry me,” Dale said.

          Mariah caught her breath.  She had anticipated this moment.  She had practiced variations of how she would answer, waffling back and forth, unable to make a decision until this moment.

          “Dale, I can't leave Bill.  The kids are too young, your kids need some stability and,” she paused, “I love Bill, too.”

          “I know.” Dale said. “It was a long shot, but I had to try.”  He kissed her and they were back on the bed. 

          Mariah smiled at the memory of the seemingly unending desire they had for each other.

          Years passed, Mariah and Dale meeting whenever they could.  Bill seemed unaware and Mariah didn't know if it was because he truly did not know, or if he was afraid that if she knew he knew they would have to deal with it.

          Dale remarried.  The second marriage produced two more children, but ended in divorce after five years. Dale once again proposed to Mariah.

          “Your kids are older.  They would survive.” He said.  But Mariah had come to several realizations over the years.  She liked things just the way they were.  She supposed she was like men who kept mistresses; the fun and excitement of something different, of being adored, of no strings attached.  She did not have to wash his dirty underwear or put up with little habits that might be cute in a lover but irritating in a husband. They had wonderful discussions ending with the sex that was almost always as exhilarating as the first time. 

          Then Bill got sick. The kids were in college and Mariah cared for him and loved him with all her heart.  She thanked her lucky stars and maybe even her good sense that she had stayed. 

          Dale moved to Nevada.  She never told Dale that Bill was sick. He called her from time to time, asking her to come. She found excuses not to go, ironically thinking of all the excuses she used to give Bill for going. 

          Bill died and Mariah grieved.  Something good would happen and she'd want to tell him, something bad would happen and it was he she wanted to cry with. 

          Six months after Bill died, Dale called.  He was back in Casper.  Would she meet him at the motel? 

          When they saw each other the embrace ended in passionate lovemaking as it always did.  Afterward, as they lay catching their breath, both spoke at the same time.

          “I need to tell you something.” She said.

          “I got married again.” He said

          “Oh.”

          “She knows all about you and she's ok with it.”  Dale said. 

          “Okay.”

          Dale was so brimming with his news that she never told him about Bill. 

          Mariah had an active life, busy with various boards and politics.  Her occasional dates ended at the front door.  She was afraid the sex could never measure up.

          Dale called to tell her that he was once again divorced and asked her to join him on a trip to Las Vegas. Mariah went. She never told Dale that Bill had died, deflecting any questions with a change of subject. 

          Dale seemed unable to live without a woman. Mariah enjoyed her freedom. 

          She saw Dale every few months on one of his trips through Casper or when she found herself in Cheyenne where Dale now lived.

          Then a few years ago she had to attend a conference in Laramie. She looked forward to spending a passionate night in Cheyenne before she drove over the summit.

          When Mariah reached Dale's home, he met her at the door with one of those wonderful kisses, his hands all over her, pulling her into him.  As she reached for his shirt, he stopped her hands

          “Wait.” he panted as he held her hands.  “I'm involved with someone. She says no other women.”  But his free hand roamed her body

          “Couldn't you have told me on the phone?”  She said.

          “I didn't want to hurt you. I wanted to tell you in person.”                            Mariah stepped away, her passion gone. Damn him.

          “I'd better go.” She said.

          “Wait, stay and visit for awhile.”

          “No, I don't think that's a good idea.”

          “One last kiss?”

          “Good-bye Dale.”     

          She turned and walked to her car.  She started the engine and drove away, determined not to look back.  Mariah hit the Interstate, set her cruise control on eighty, and drove.

          The end was typical of the whole relationship, leaving Mariah filled with contradictory feelings.

            Last year, she sold her house and bought this little cabin in Story.  She never heard from Dale again.

          She inhaled sharply on the last of her cigarette and touched the end to the newspaper. As the flames devoured the paper, she placed it in the stove and smiled at the memories.