A Harmless Encounter
He
was sitting on a stump in the back yard just staring out into space. She knew he desperately wanted answers, and
she knew equally well that the answers would bring him no satisfaction. She had been unfaithful to him. That sounded better than saying that she had
slept around or committed adultery, but it meant the same. She was sorry. She hadn’t meant for it to happen and then she never intended to let
him find out. But it did happen and he
did find out – sadly, after most all of their friends knew.
Theirs
had been a good marriage. He was a good
provider and she worked more because she wanted to than needed to. They had three children who by all accounts
were happy and well adjusted. They
didn’t make bad grades and they didn’t drink or do drugs and as teenagers go
they were basically no trouble at all.
A
woman in her forties, she had been squeaky-clean all her life. She was a model student through all thirteen
years of elementary and high school.
She stayed on the Honor Rolls through college and even earned a Masters
Degree in History. When the children
were small she didn’t work, but when she reached that point in life at which
she felt they no longer needed her she decided maybe teaching high school would
be a good way to stay busy without interfering too much with the children and
her ability to be home for them. She
applied at the school from which she graduated and was given the position of
History Teacher, grades nine thru twelve.
Like most other things in her life, it was the ideal job. She could talk about things in which she was
keenly interested to people who seemed interested and who were impressed with
her way of teaching. It was the job she
had dreamed about since she was a small child, teaching the dolls and stuffed
animals in her bedroom all about the great events of ages past.
Then
it happened. She had a free period each
afternoon immediately following lunch.
She went to the teacher’s lounge to relax and unwind and “talk a little
shop” with whoever was there. For a
long time she shared the hour with Mrs. Thompson, the math teacher; but then
Mrs. Thompson took maternity leave. As
her habit was by then well established, she continued to go to the lounge each
day. A young college graduate awaiting
his first teaching position, Joe Elliot, replaced Mrs. Thompson. Joe was twenty-six years old and considered
strikingly handsome. Like her, he had
been reared in that community and graduated from that same high school. He was unmarried and somewhat of a flirt.
At
first she paid no attention to his hugs and suggestive comments, but little by
little she began to be interested in him.
She knew she could never marry him, and it would not turn into something
serious, she was just playing along.
She would never act on anything.
It was just innocent fun. It was
no more than a series of harmless encounters that would never be anything but
innocent flirtation. One day he sat by her on the couch, almost touching
legs. Then on another day he put his
arm around her – nothing serious. Then,
almost without her even noticing it, he kissed her. For the following few days she avoided the lounge and him
altogether, but curiosity got the better of her and she returned on a Friday
afternoon. He was there. One thing led to another and before they
knew it (if we may be as generous as possible) they had committed
fornication. Hurriedly they dressed and
each returned to their classrooms before the bell sounded. She resolved to never let it happen again,
but it did. In fact, in time it came to
be their routine: lunch in the lunchroom then sex in the lounge then
class. It was harmless – or so she
tried to rationalize it. She often
thought of ending the illicit relationship, but never did.
One
day in the middle of their session the lounge door opened and they were
discovered. It was the janitor – of all
people the worst to know of their secret.
They each covered their nakedness and she retreated out of the door
without saying a word. But her silence
was short-lived. Before the end of the
day every teacher in the school – and a good many of the students – knew what
was happening. She thought about
telling him immediately, but courage failed her and nothing was said. Then, after a few weeks (in which the
routine was not observed) Mrs. Thompson returned from maternity leave and
things got back to normal. Why had that
janitor talked so? Did she not know
what was at stake?
The
janitor’s husband ate lunch at the same café as her husband and he was
overheard and the secret was out. He
was devastated. His trust shattered,
his name ruined, his heart broken. He
confronted her and she couldn’t even deny it – much less explain it. The hurt in his eyes was almost more than
she could bear. There he sat, alone,
weeping, hurting. There she stood –
alone, weeping, hurting. What could she
tell him? What could she do? Could he forgive her? Could she forgive herself?
His
was a different problem altogether – of course, he felt the betrayal and hurt
and the broken heart, but it was more than that – well, it was more than he had
ever dreamed it could be. She not only
destroyed his faith in her, but in humanity.
He trusted her. He was blinded
by the deep love he had for her. He
believed that if a man did what he was supposed to do – not necessarily to
perfection, just to the best of his ability – things would generally work out
for him. He knew that good people
suffered, but he didn’t think this particular type of suffering had come his
way because of anything he had done. It
was, therefore, unfair. And being
unfair, it was contrary to his perception of how life works.
He
had always considered himself as somewhat of a wise man. Friends turned to him in their hours of
trouble and he helped them – at least he always thought he had helped
them. No – he had helped them. He listened and understood and counseled and
they listened and understood and took to heart his counsel. He knew things. He was not naïve. Why had he not seen this coming?
You
see, it was not just that he had lost faith in her, nor yet even that he had
lost faith in humanity – he lost faith in himself. He thought that surely there must be something wrong with him or
she would not have done this. Was he
not a good lover? Was he not good
company? Had she merely fallen out of
love with him? What could it be? If such a tragedy had befallen him and taken
him so totally unaware, how could he face tomorrow? If he forgave her – which, by the way, he now knew he could do –
could he ever really get over it? How
could he trust her? Well, that he knew;
he would trust her. Even if it meant
getting hurt again, he would trust her.
His
issue was not the infidelity; it was the lack of confidence he now felt in
himself. As he thought back over the
encounter the two had upon his confronting her about the infidelity he was
amazed at the lack of harsh words and yelling.
After all, he had every right to be mad. She wronged him. She
violated her vows. She introduced an
unwanted third party into the bond that was supposed to be exclusive the domain
of a man and his lawful wedded wife…
But,
hurt and even angry as he was, he couldn’t bring himself to yell at her. He just looked at her and, with tears in his
eyes, said, “Why? How?” She knew by the look on his face that he
knew. There was no need to tell
him. Someone else did that already.
There
they two were – suspended between the life that was and what was yet to come,
whatever that might prove to be. He
could not possibly have hurt worse than he did right then; neither could
she. All of the years… the memories…
the children… Could it be salvaged?
Could she be trusted? Could he
forgive?
She left the window out of which she had been staring at her broken hearted husband and went to their bedroom and he walked to his pickup truck and reached for something behind the seat. The children were all out with friends. Everyone knew what had happened. They were both filled with shame – she for her actions and he for his ignorance. Two loud noises sounded almost at once. And so ended a harmless encounter.
03/24/2004