November 2019
Jeremiah has been very thoughtful lately. He hasn't been forgetting things quite as much, and I can tell he's trying to make our relationship work.
He still plays a lot of video games, but we've compromised on that.
For the past month and a half, the communication problem between us has diminished almost entirely. I won't say that all of our problems are fixed, but I can say that we are working on them. Slowly, we have begun the process of putting our broken marriage back together.
Couples therapy has seemed to help a lot, as well.
Dr. Davis, our marriage counselor, says that the number one reason why marriages fail is because of improper communication, making infidelity number two.
Our sessions have definitely put some spark back into our relationship, and I think back to just last night, when Jeremiah and I made love.
It wasn't what I remembered; it's been so long since either of us has shown any type of affection to each other, so it was a little awkward.
Jeremiah was perfectly romantic though, and it was wonderful.
I rush home from work today, eager to see him. Recently, I've been working late most nights, the holiday season making work busier and busier as companies spew out advertisements left and right. Today, though, I'd like to surprise Jeremiah by being home at a reasonable hour.
Carol has Audrey for the night, so I mentally make plans to hang out with Jer and maybe watch a movie on Netflix.
I pull up to our gray, two-story house and practically hop out of the car. I skip up the steps and onto our front porch, which is adorned with fall decor, but when I enter the house and call out for Jeremiah, no one answers.
Maybe he's in the shower. I think to myself, and check the garage for his orange Mustang, but his car isn't here.
I decide to quickly whip dinner together before he gets home from wherever he is, wanting to surprise him since I'm not known for my cooking skills.
After dinner is done and the dishes are washed, I take a quick shower and then return to the living room. Turning the television on, I play "The Office" for some background noise while I wait patiently for Jeremiah to return.
Eventually my eyes become heavy, and I find myself drifting off to sleep.
***
I don't know how long I was passed out on the couch, but when I look at the clock on the wall in the living room, the time reads 12:24 AM.
Where is he?
I start to panic, and grab my phone from off the coffee table, checking to see if I missed any calls or messages from him.
Nothing.
I tap on his name from my Favorites list, and impatiently listen, growing more and more anxious with each passing shrill of a ring.
My mind is racing with a million different thoughts: What happened? Where could he be? Why did he not call me? Should I check at the hospital?
Just as I prepare to call everyone in my contacts that knows Jeremiah, the front door opens, and in walks the devil himself.
Relief floods through me, and then anger takes its place. I stand up from the couch.
"Oh hey babe! I thought you were working late tonight...?" Jeremiah says as he hangs his jacket up on the hook next to the door.
I cross my arms in front of me, raising an eyebrow.
"Where were you?" I ask, choosing to ignore his comment.
He chuckles and rolls his eyes.
"Woah, woah. Calm down, okay? I went to a friend's house," he replies, running a hand through his hair.
I narrow my eyes at him, hurt taking place of the anger now.
"Until midnight?" The question comes out more hysterical than I'd planned. "I made dinner and I had a plan to watch a movie with you..." My words trail off as a notification goes off on Jeremiah's PlayStation.
@AngelofDeath:
Had fun tonight...can't wait til you come again, no pun intended 😘
My stomach drops to the floor, and suddenly, I can't feel my own legs beneath me.
I turn my attention back to Jeremiah, expecting an explanation, not wanting to believe the message I had just read for myself.
Jeremiah's face is pale white, sheer terror turning his expression from smug to worried. He continues to stand by the door, fiddling with his keys.
"Jer?" My voice is hoarse, expectant.
"You weren't supposed to see that...I told her not to..."
Clink. Clink. Clink.
"What? What the fuck Jeremiah?!" My words come out in a high-pitched tone.
Clink. Clink. Clink.
"You're cheating on me?!"
I can't believe it. I seriously cannot believe what is literally unfolding before me. We were doing so well, we were making progress...
Clink. Clink. Clink.
"Would you stop fiddling with your keys!" I shout, the hurt outweighing the aggravation.
"V, please. Let me explain," Jeremiah starts, desperately clinging onto the thread that is our sham of a marriage.
I gasp for air, and try to speak, but I can't find my voice. All that comes out is a small squeak. I clear my throat, trying to swallow the huge lump that has taken up residence there, hoping it will help.
It doesn't.
The tears are falling now, and I can't even attempt to stop them. I'm frozen, right here in my own living room, unable to hide the shame that threatens to tear me apart.
This can't be true, can it? Jeremiah keeps to himself. He doesn't talk to other women! He never has.
I glance up at the television, and instantly regret it. The message sits at the top of the screen, taunting me, the symbol of a failed marriage sent to its grave.
My stomach is in knots as Jeremiah "explains" his situation.
I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear any of it.
I cover my ears like a toddler and run up the stairs and into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind me.
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