Someone should have issued a severe storm warning. My wicked case of post DDay affair fog thickened up a few days after Thanksgiving. I wasn't seeing anything clearly. Richard called himself "My Barometer". His quality of life was completely dependent on my moods. I have likened these past months to a war. Maybe I should have used the weather metaphor instead. I was the proverbial tempest in a tea kettle. So in love. Imagining the perfect future with my not-so-perfect man one minute, measuring myself for a tight white jacket the next or maybe having such an enormous fit of anger, Richard could not see any possible way we had an ice cube's chance in hell of reconciling.
In each new day there was the potential for a category 5 hurricane. The morning I'm about to share was one of those days.
Consequences weren't on my Dopler radar. I wasn't thinking that far ahead. It was not even day by day...it was minute by minute most of the time. Questions about the affair were so over whelming to me that day. I couldn't take it. Jaymie had not responded to any of the emails I had sent recently. Playing on her sympathies and offering to throw Richard under the bus wasn't working. She didn't want him back, AFAIK, so wouldn't she want to destroy him? He lied to her, used her, tossed her aside like a used condom. You think she'd want to give me all the dirt so I would hang him out to dry...by his penis!
Texting was also a total waste of time. I needed a more direct approach. Still had her home number. That had proven to be a sure thing. Back to the war analogy...
The casualty count was about to rise again.
Jaymie's dad picked up. "Hello?"
"Hello. I need to speak...."
"Got it, Dad!!"
She was exceedingly NOT happy about me calling her house. As you can imagine, that sent me into a very natural endorphin enhanced euphoria! She wanted to know just what I thought I was doing!?
My plan, a few seconds ago, was just to get her on the phone. Get some much needed answers to my over flowing list of questions about her time with Richard.
But, that was a WHOLE second ago. Once I heard the fear in her voice...the fear of her dad finding out...It was soooo ON! "I want to talk to your dad. Please put him on the phone."
"Why? Why would you involve him?"
"Jaymie...I'm a parent! If my daughter was making such horrendous life choices, I sure hope someone would let me know. I just want to do the right thing."
Oh my God! This was the most fun I'd had since DDay!
"Shawn, please. There is no reason to talk to him. It's over. I thought we had an understanding. I tried to help you. I answered your questions." Not all of them. Not even close.
"You are so stupid. Why would I just let you off the hook? I was only nice to you to get the information I wanted. It's obvious how Richard played you. Manipulating you is a piece of cake."
Royal Bitch in full body armor had shown up for this battle! (Oh, wait! Are we still doing the weather analogy?.Ok..this storm...this tornado...whatever!) I was in my glory! Ripping her a new one and listening to her squirm! I'm getting chills now just thinking about it!
Played a little cat and mouse with her for a bit more. Hearing her BEG me not to call Daddy was like seeing a double rainbow after a raging rain. (I really gotta get my metaphors figured out. Sorry.) It was way too much fun to stop. In the end, I made it clear, her dad and I were gonna chat.
Finally, I hung up on her. I had also acquired her dad's work line. He worked from home, but he had a private line. Used that. Get ready, James.
"Is this Mr. Sim****?"
"Yes, it is."
"This is Shawn Feu*****, Richard's wife. I have something you need to know. Your daughter had a affair with my husband."
There was a very long pause. I waited. I figured it would take some time to set in. What really surprised me was the fact that he never doubted a word of what I told him. Not a word. As I parent, I think I would have needed a bit of proof that my daughter was a low-life skank. Not James.
I could have offered up the emails. I could have shared sordid details galore! Nope. Not necessary.
The rest of the call was James apologizing to me. Asking about MY welfare! Inquiring about MY emotional state! What could he do for me? Well, that sure slowed my wind speed down a notch. Open up the flood gates, here it comes....I wailed! I couldn't believe how kind this man was being to me! How could I be such a Royal Bitch?? He, unwittingly, continued to apply the tourniquet of guilt,
"Can I pray with you?"
Then he proceeded to ask our Dear Lord to help me heal, give me guidance and comfort my heart. I think the whole call lasted less than 10 minutes. As I sobbed, I prayed for a cyclone to pick me up and deposit me in hell, right then, where I belonged.
Once again, I didn't think it through. I didn't think at all. I acted or reacted. I was volatile.
This blog helps me understand what I should have done differently. If you are dealing with the first few months after DDay, use me like the local weather woman. I'm gonna let you know when you'll need an umbrella, when to pack the sunscreen and when to stay the hell home because the road to happy is too damn icy to navigate.