Chapter 3: The Transition

I stayed awake all night, angry at the disloyalty of my husband. I was thirsty and feverish, haunted by the premonition I was about to die. When my husband woke up and got out of bed I pretended to be asleep. I heard him shower, shave, dress. He gently placed his hand on my shoulder.

“Honey, it’s time to get up. You need to get ready for church. It’s Communion Sunday.”

I wasn’t really in the mood for the whole thing, getting dressed, putting on a smile and talking with our friends, the grape juice, the dry bread, the blood and body of Christ.

“I’m not feeling well,” I said.

“But Lilith, my parents are meeting us there with the kids. We were planning on having brunch afterwards in Santa Monica…”

“I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Again?”

“I’m not going.”

“My parents are expecting us.”

“Tell them I’m sick. I’m not going.”

“But -”

“It’s very simple, Eric. Listen to me carefully. Say hello to your parents for me, tell them I’m not feeling well this morning and thank them for watching the children last night.”

“Are you mad at me about something Lilith? I’m getting the feeling you’re mad at me.”

I turned away from him in bed.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said.

Eric always was a bright boy.

I heard him finish getting ready. Before he left he turned to me in the bedroom doorway.

“Whatever it is that you’re mad at, can I just apologize for it so we can enjoy the rest of our weekend?

I stayed silent. Did he think a simple apology would wipe the slate clean? After hearing the front door shut, I got out of bed and turned on my lap top. With a few clicks I found the website of a private investigator and sent an email requesting that my husband be followed for a 24 hour period and a report sent back to my private email account. Any photos were to be sent to my I-Phone and I gave him my private number. I didn’t reveal the fact that we were married. I got a response almost immediately. The man was expensive, but promised to be discrete. He attached a contract in the email which I signed and faxed back to his office.

Next I exchanged an email with a divorce attorney I found through a Google search. Without going into details, I asked how I could initiate divorce proceedings against my husband. He set up an appointment for me to meet with him next week and sent me the forms to my email I needed to fill out to get started. Both emails took less than an hour. It couldn’t have been easier to initiate divorce proceedings. There always seems to be a private investigator and a divorce lawyer available right when you need one, I guess. I signed and dated the divorce papers, folded them up into my purse, shut the blinds of the bedroom window and fell back asleep.

I woke up to the sound of my kids getting home in the late afternoon. They came running up the stairs and jumped into bed with me. I hugged and kissed them and they told me about all the treats their grandparents gave them for their sleepover and how late they stayed up. My husband followed them into the bedroom.

“You’re still in last night’s clothes. Aren’t you feeling any better, honey?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” I said, not making eye contact with him.

I kept picturing his penis all the way down the whore’s throat and the tiny sickle-shaped incision he made on his chest for her to suck upon afterwards, the drops of blood seeping from open slit. I kept replaying the image of her sucking so passionately on his penis, swallowing his semen and then his blood. His blood. I keep picturing it, the burgundy color, trickling down his chest.

“Have you been in bed all this time?” he asked, trying to make conversation with me.

I nodded yes. The girls slipped away to play in their own rooms. I missed them the second they left my arms, their purity, their laughter, their clean sweet smell. Eric lingered in the doorway.

“Are you in the mood to go out on a hike? The girls feel like doing something and our lazy dog could use the exercise. It would do you good to get some fresh air, don’t you think?” Eric proposed.

“OK,” I said.

“Have you eaten something Lilith? You look very pale.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You really should eat something. I haven’t seen you eat anything since yesterday morning.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m just concerned about you, you know. You look anemic again. I don’t like the fact that you’ve not been eating. Have you been taking the iron supplement I prescribed for you?”

“Yes.”

“Well I don’t like the look of your complexion this morning. We really need to get you something to eat, Lilith.”

“All this talk about food is making me nauseous.”

“But Lilith, you really need to -”

“Will you drop the subject, Eric?” I said, snapping at him.

“Sure,” he said, offended, his feelings hurt. “I just care about you, Lilith. There’s no need to be snippy with me...”

He walked out of the room and I finally got out of bed. We changed and went out on a walk in the mountains above Los Angeles, our two pretty girls, the dog, the successful, physician husband and the ideal mother and wife, the perfect family. My exercise clothes felt loose on me.

Before we reached the trailhead, I began to notice a definite change within me. My breath was shallow. I felt feverish again and weak. Though the sky was overcast it felt like the sun was burning into my eyes and skin. I shaded my eyes with my hand, wishing I had remembered to bring my sunglasses. I became quite light-headed, drank nearly my entire bottle of water and then could not take a step further. I stumbled over to the side of the path and lowered myself down to the dirt. My skin was literally on fire from the heat of the sun and I felt like I was about to pass out.

“What’s wrong, honey?” my husband asked.

“I don’t know. I feel sick,” I said.

“Mommy? What’s wrong with Mommy? Daddy! Mommy’s sick!” I heard the kids say in unison.

“I’m so… hot,” I said, through parched lips.

My husband helped me to my feet.

“Let’s go back to the car, kids” Eric said. “Mommy’s not feeling well today. Let’s get you home, Lilith.”

My family escorted me back to the car and we drove home. Our small dog, always so friendly, cowered at my feet in the front seat, staring up at me. Back at home it took all the energy I had just to make it up the steps, take off my clothes and get back into bed. Later my husband brought me up some dinner, but the sight and smell of the food nauseated me. What was happening to me?

I went to sleep early in my exercise clothes and woke up the next morning, again with a burning thirst. I made my way slowly to the kitchen, bracing myself on the sides of the walls and the furniture as I walked. I drank several glasses of cold water but wasn’t hungry, even though I hadn’t eaten a single morsel of food in nearly 48 hours. I found a note on the dining room table that said Eric had taken the kids to day care and school. He told me he had a full day of clinic and meetings that night and would not make it home until late. He arranged to have his parents pick up the kids at school and take them to their house every afternoon this week and bring them home before bedtime so I could have some time to rest. He was concerned I was suffering from nervous exhaustion and said he would set me up with an appointment to see one of his colleagues at the University. Eric could be very thoughtful like that. If he hadn’t gotten a blow job from Miss Bouncy Breasts, he would be the perfect husband for me.

After drinking the water I felt a little less dizzy. Out of curiosity, I went into the bathroom and weighed myself. Remarkably, I had lost nearly 10 pounds since last Friday. I still had no appetite for food, but craved tomato juice of all things. My husband would occasionally drink a Bloody Mary at night, so there was a bottle in the refrigerator. I poured myself out a glass which I sipped throughout the day. I took my iron pills with the thick red juice. I was able to get down just a few sips before I became nauseous.

When I felt a little better I called to set up an appointment on Wednesday morning for the minister of our church, Pastor Evans, in order to discuss a “personal matter”. Eric goes in late on Wednesdays so I set the appointment up for 9AM. He would complain and tell me he had to catch up on his patient notes but I would insist he come with me after we dropped the kids off at school. I knew he would demand to know the reason why we had to meet with our minister and that’s when I planned to tell Eric I knew about his relationship with the salesgirl.

I didn’t know if the Minister would have any words of wisdom to share. I just couldn’t think of anyone else to turn to. He would probably just refer us to see a marriage counselor, but I’m almost certain Eric would not agree to talk to another physician about our problems. In the end, no matter how many sessions of therapy we went to or how much spiritual counseling we received, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to get over what Eric did to me.

I took the forms out of my purse and read through them again. There it was on the official paperwork, the dreaded D word. I couldn’t believe my relationship with Eric would end this way. Being the child of a painful divorce myself, I made a vow never to put my own children through what I had to endure. I felt terrible about it. I didn’t want to raise my sweet children in a broken home, but I just didn’t see any other options after what happened. I mean, let me ask you. What would you have done if you caught your spouse in an act of intimacy with someone? What would you do about? What choices did I have? How could I trust my husband ever again after what I saw? I felt deeply humiliated, especially with the cavalier way he’d been carrying on the affair right under my nose. I suppose, as a trusting housewife, he thought I was too stupid to ever find out what was going on, even in my own home. I hated Eric now, despite the wealth and security he provided the family. Can something broken inside ever be repaired? Feeling depressed and exhausted, I fell asleep for the rest of the day. Perhaps Eric was right. I was on the verge of some kind of nervous breakdown.

I woke up in the early evening and checked my email. The private investigator sent me a report with some pictures attached which was also sent to my cell phone. He said Eric worked in his clinic all day and left around 5PM. He followed my husband on the 405 freeway south from Santa Monica. Near the airport he exited and pulled up to what looked like an abandoned brick building near a public parking structure. There were a few pictures of Eric getting out of his Lexus alone, walking over to the side entrance of this strange place, and entering. The building did not have a physical address, but the investigator gave me detailed directions on how to find it. He told me he was currently parked outside and would send me another email when my husband left this location. What was he doing there, I wondered? What was happening in that building?

Three hours later my husband’s parents dropped off the kids. The children were blissfully unaware of anything and disappeared into the secret world of their dolls and their games. Eric’s parents asked how I was feeling and I told them I picked up some kind of bug and I appreciated them taking care of the kids this week. They told me they were happy to do it and left. I got the kids ready for bed, read them a story and kissed them goodnight. It was quite late by the time my husband returned. I pretended to be asleep.

Once he got into bed and fell asleep I quietly got out of bed and checked my email. The investigator reported that my husband left the warehouse location at 10:15 and he followed him back to the house. He asked if I wanted him to continue the surveillance of my husband and I said no and thanked him for his work. I got back into bed and tried to go to sleep but tossed and turned all night again.

The next morning I heard my husband shower, shave and get ready for work while I pretended to be asleep. After he put his starched white coat on, he placed his hand on my shoulder.

“Lilith? Are you awake?”

I nodded yes.

“Good. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“There’s something I want to talk to you about too, Eric. You were out late last night. Where were you?” I asked.

“I stay late at the lab to catch up on my research.”

“You never left the campus then?”

“I may have run an errand or two after my last patient. Why do you ask?”

“No reason…”

“Well, I’m glad you’re awake and talking to me again, at least. You haven’t said a word to me in almost three days. Why haven’t you been talking to me? Even the girls asked me why you were acting so strange. Are you depressed again?”

I shook my head no.

“Are you experiencing sensitivity to light? You squinted just now when I turned the light on.”

“No.”

“I don’t like the look of your skin color. I’ve set you up with an appointment today to see Dr. Madison at 10AM. I tried to get you in yesterday but his clinic was booked solid. He’s squeezing you in today as a personal favor to me.”

It’s funny. He’s the one telling lies and having oral sex with weird women in my own home, yet I’m the one who has to see the psychiatrist.

“I told him of your recent symptoms, pale color, loss of appetite, dizziness, lack of energy. He thinks some medication may help.”

Perfect. Drug your wife and pretend she’s crazy so you can continue with your little dalliance. Of course, I didn’t respond.

“Honey? Did you hear me? Your appointment is at 10 today in building 200, 3rd floor, with Dr. Madison. You’ve been to his office before. Remember? He treated you for depression after your first pregnancy.”

“I remember where his office is, Eric.”

“Good.”

He leaned over and gave me a quick husbandly peck on the cheek.

“Please don’t worry yourself about this, Lilith. We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

Oh, I’m not worried. We will get to the bottom of this, Eric.

“I’m sure you’ll feel better after seeing a specialist. I’ll drop off the kids at school and my parents will pick them up later. I should be home for dinner this evening. Get some rest, dear. I love you.”

I turned over in bed, listening to him get the kids up, feed them and get them ready for school. Twenty minutes later they were out the door. I felt cold so I took a long hot shower and shampooed my hair. I stepped on the bathroom scale. The baby weight: completely gone. I couldn’t believe it. I had lost another 10 pounds. I guess there’s an upside to all this emotional angst. In a few days I’d be skinnier than the little bitch that went down on my husband. In fact I was maybe a pound or two lighter than her right now, the little whore.

Determined to get out of bed today and get some of my questions answered, I blow dried and straightened my hair. When I sat down in front of the mirror to put on my makeup I was shocked by how ghastly I looked. Not eating for three days and only drinking water may have been good for my waist and hips, but it made my skin appear as white as a sheet. I put a little makeup and lipstick on, but it didn’t make much of a difference. I threw on a blouse and skirt and they practically fell off my bony shoulders. I went into the kitchen, made myself a piece of toast with butter, took one bite and couldn’t get it down. Everything in the refrigerator made me nauseous. I picked up a bottle of water, put on my sunglasses and left the house.

On the way to the location the private investigator had given me I started feeling dizzy and ill again. The 405 was like a parking lot even at 11AM and it took me almost an hour to get to the warehouse off Century Boulevard. I was lucky I didn’t lose consciousness and crash the car on the way. I parked, walked to the side of the building, gripping the side of the wall to stop myself from falling down, and opened the black front door. It was very cool, almost cold inside. I was happy to be out of the burning sun. It appeared to be some kind of supper club, with elegant mahogany tables and chairs, booths and an attractive mirrored bar. There were a few people there for lunch dressed all in black, drinking cocktails. I saw several pairs of eyes gazing at me through the shadows of the room, scowling at me. Then I must have collapsed.