MOVING DAY
The day arrived. My wife, Linda, and I had agreed to separate. It was her wish, not mine. She had been involved in an illicit affair with Paul, a married man, and under the circumstances, I decided it was best to honor her desire to separate.
Two years ago, Linda suddenly became disrespectful, cold, and dismissive towards me. She was displaying abject contempt for me most of the time. She agreed to discontinue that behavior after I discovered her affair. In return, I agreed not to expose the affair to her cheating partner’s wife.
During the weeks following our agreement, we had lived together, slept, and enjoyed activities together, although she presumably continued her affair. It was a defacto open marriage. I anticipated our intimate relations would end once she lived in a separate residence.
I had recently become involved with Sharon. I had not planned to seek female companionship; Sharon wandered into my life and drew my interest. Being involved with Sharon while still residing with Linda was an awkward situation. Now that Linda and I were about to become physically, and I anticipated emotionally separated, my relations with Sharon would be more relaxed.
{This is the fourth part of a saga that begins here.}
Our friends had gathered to help Linda move — her friends, my friends, our mutual friends, some singles, some couples, some with children and teenagers. We were gathered to help Linda move her belongings. Linda and I had agreed on how we would split our possessions.
There were two conspicuous absences. Linda did not invite Paul. All but two of her friends were unaware of her affair. Paul’s wife, Regina, was also unaware of the affair. If he joined our party, it would be difficult for him to account for his whereabouts. Paul’s presence would have disrupted the general camaraderie.
Sharon did not fare well interacting with groups of unfamiliar people. It was one of the things that often resulted in her having a breakdown. Also, Sharon believed Linda and her friends were conspiring against her. There was no basis for that belief; it was not true. Sharon tended to have paranoid delusions, and this was probably one of them. She preferred to avoid attending this event.
Sharon had psychiatric challenges. She was a retired exotic dancer, currently receiving public assistance. The public assistance office tried assigning her to work projects per their policy. They ultimately realized that she didn’t function well working with others. They placed her in a daily therapy program. It was mainly occupational therapy, with a small, inadequate amount of professional psychiatric treatment. Sharon was not interested in receiving therapy. She cooperated as necessary to continue receiving public assistance.
At one point, an incident occurred that resulted in Sharon being committed to a psychiatric hospital for a couple of nights, confirming my first impression of her mental condition. She later told me that it was not the first time.
I became aware of the incident when I knocked on Sharon’s door, but there was no answer. One of her neighbors opened her door and told me what had happened to Sharon. She had started some food cooking on her hot plate. She had been drinking heavily and fell asleep. The food began to burn, and smoke was pouring out of her window. Someone had seen the smoke and summoned the fire department.
A fire truck arrived, siren blaring. A ladder was raised to Sharon’s second-story window. A fireman ascended the ladder to assess the situation. Sharon woke up in the midst of what seemed like pandemonium. She became unglued. She lunged toward the fireman, who scurried down the ladder.
Sharon climbed onto the window frame and began shrieking, incoherently at first. Then she started raving, “You won’t get me! I’ll fight you all off! I won’t let you hurt me! I won’t let you touch me!”
Several police cars arrived. An officer ascended and drew her attention. The food in the pot had burned itself out. Officers were able to enter the room. Sharon was calmer by this time. She was gently restrained and taken to a waiting squad car. She was driven to a psychiatric hospital and admitted. A few days later, she was released and I was able to see her. That’s when she told me her story.
This was not the first time Sharon had been admitted to a psychiatric hospital. She had had similar incidents in the past. It was clear that my initial impression was accurate. Sharon had a rather profound psychiatric disorder.
“Sharon,” I said, “I think I have a way to prevent this from recurring.”
“How?” she asked.
“You’ll see. The next time I stop by you’ll see what I have in mind. It’s a surprise.”
“I don’t know. I don’t see how you can do anything about it.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll see,” I assured her.
And I followed through.
We spent all of Saturday moving items from my apartment to Linda’s. We spent part of Sunday helping her arrange her apartment. Linda and some of her friends spent Sunday afternoon in the kitchen of my apartment preparing an early dinner for the movers. We gathered on the back lawn for a picnic feast. Afterward, the crowd departed for their homes. Linda prepared to spend her first night in her apartment as a defacto single woman.
Our Future
Afterward, I visited Sharon. Sharon told me stories of some of her romantic relations with men. They were short-lived. I noticed a pattern. Each time they began to become serious and move toward an exclusive, committed relationship, Sharon seemed to panic and end it before it could begin.
I thought about our future. How should we define our relationship?
I suggested that we enjoy each other’s company day by day — no commitments, no promises of exclusivity. Sharon agreed that was best.
I was also considering the fact that I was still legally married to Linda. Even though we were physically separating, I was beginning to wonder if she was cleanly separating emotionally.
In those days, there was no understood term for the relationship Sharon and I had settled upon. Today, we might refer to it as “Friends with benefits” or a “Situationship.”
Family Dinner
Monday I arrived home from work. Our daughter, Mary Ann, had stayed with her mom the previous evening. Mom’s apartment was only one block from the school she attended. I drew a warm bath. I placed a small stand by the tub. I put some ice in a glass. I poured a wine cooler and placed it on the bathtub stand. I removed the cordless phone from its base and set it on the stand as well; I wanted to be ready in case Mary Ann decided to call me. If not, I thought I might call her later and maybe visit for a few minutes.
As I was relaxing in the tub the phone rang. It was Linda.
“What are we doing for dinner tonight?” she asked.
Her wording surprised me. “What are we doing for dinner?” She still considers us a “we?”
“I haven’t decided what I’m having for dinner,” I replied. The emphasis on the word “I’m” was in my mind, but not in my voice. “I thought I might just grab some fast food.”
“Well, I’m cooking spaghetti. Why don’t you come over and eat with Mary Ann and me.” she replied.
“Okay. Why not,” I said. The three of us having dinner together would reassure Mary Ann. I thought that after dinner I would stop at Sharon’s.
The Solution
The next time I arrived at Sharon’s room I was carrying a box and a paper grocery bag. I told Sharon to open the box. Inside was a slow cooker, a Crock Pot.
I also had a bag of groceries. The slow cooker came with a recipe booklet containing a simple recipe for beef stew. I brought the prescribed ingredients and the appropriate utensils. Sharon and I prepared the ingredients and placed them in the pot. I then plugged the cord into an outlet near the small stand on which the pot rested. I set the pot on low heat.
After starting the slow cooker I said to Sharon, “Let’s go for a ride.”
“Where?” she asked.
“We’ll go wherever the car takes us,” I said. Sharon smiled.
We lived in a sparsely populated county. The county seat, where we lived is the county’s population center, about 30 thousand souls. The rest of the area is mostly rural. It was dotted here and there with small villages and hamlets. Some of them are interesting places to stop and walk.
As we were driving along, Sharon appeared edgy. “Shouldn’t we go back and check the cook pot? It might be on fire. Are you sure it’s not burning?”
“It’s not burning,” I assured her. “I set the heat on low. It won’t get hot enough to ignite a fire. The stew will take all day to cook.”
“You’re sure?” she said.
“I’m sure. I used to do this all the time at my house.”
We spent the afternoon exploring some of the villages in our region. The towns had unique shops, not the usual chain stores, but small independent stores with items of merchandise not found anywhere else.
In the early evening, we returned and shared a delicious beef stew.
“If you use this to cook your food,” I told her, “there is no danger of falling asleep and starting a fire. No danger of waking up frightened by sirens, firemen, and police cars, just a well done dinner.”
After we ate we made love. We were both dead sober. Neither one of us had so much as one beer that day.
During our first week of separation, Linda invited me to dinner at her apartment twice more. I assumed these family dinners were arranged for Mary Ann’s sake. I agreed for that reason. I guessed that on other occasions Linda was keeping company with Paul. Her time with him would be limited by the fact that his wife was still unaware of his affair with Linda.
It was early on a hot midsummer day. I suggested to Sharon that we go for a ride in the country.
“I know where there is a quiet pond. We can relax and cool off in the water.”
Sharon smiled and said, “Why not, I don’t have any other plans. Okay, I’ll go.”
The pond was in an isolated rural area, at the end of a narrow road. Cottages mostly surrounded it. There was a wooded area on one side. The near end of the pond was a grass lawn maintained by a private organization. The organization allowed public access to the pond via their property.
I knew Sharon would want something to drink, so I had thought ahead and brought some canned beer. Sharon and I sat on the grassy shore and we each opened a can of beer. I retrieved an inflatable boat that I had thought to bring along. While we drank our beer, I used an electric pump to inflate the boat. I placed the rest of the beer in the boat along with a large beach towel.
We climbed into the boat. Sharon opened a can of beer and I followed. I pushed away from the shore and we began drifting out into the pond. We drifted toward the forested shore. There was a slight breeze. The area was deserted; we had the pond to ourselves. I removed my shirt as we lay together at the bottom of the boat. Sharon unbuttoned hers. I pulled the beach towel over us. As we drifted along we found ourselves shedding clothing. We found ourselves making soft love as we lay there, drifting along. After only two cans of beer, we were both reasonably sober and alert. My wish for Sharon to be a full participant, fully conscious during our lovemaking had come true for a second time. It was sweet.
Weeks went by. Linda had still not taken any steps to file for legal separation. She frequently invited me to her apartment for dinner. As time went by, I found that I often declined her invitations. I had errands to run and upkeep on my apartment. The time I was able to spend at her place was limited. She still had made no effort to obtain a legal separation.
One evening, Linda suggested cooking dinner at my apartment. That was a convenience to me and I accepted her offer. She and Mary Ann arrived carrying a box with food to prepare and some cooking utensils.
Family dinners at my apartment became more frequent over time. One evening Mary Ann brought her school homework with her. After dinner, I spent the rest of the evening helping her with her assignment.
“It’s late, and it’s dark out,” Linda said when we had finished. “Would it be okay if Mary Ann and I slept here tonight.”
I was ambivalent, but I said, “Okay.”
