The Affair

Chapter 22

Months pass and every day seems to be the same. I drink until I'm numb. I can't sleep unless I take pills I've been prescribed by a doctor. But the pills don't stop the dreams. They're of her, nearly every night, and I wake in a cold sweat and feel sick every time. I've considered taking an entire bottle at once and ending it. My life feels as if it has no meaning, so what point is there to keep going?

But every time I want to do it, to end my life, I can't bring myself to. I think of Sophie and my brothers and how much it would hurt them. Then I think of Theodora and want to do it again. I spend my time going back and forth, contemplating suicide, unable to get out of bed. Food doesn't seem to have much taste anymore. I have a perpetual stomach ache that lasts from the moment my eyes open in the morning until the time I go to sleep.

I've terminated my contract with Hugh and his publishing company. He asked to take me to dinner so we could discuss what he could do to keep me from leaving. But there's nothing he could ever do or say, so I refused, and we've parted amicably. That's more than I can say for Theodora and I.

There's no remaining trace of her in my apartment, aside from my journal, which is buried in my desk. It's as if she was never here, but I still see her everywhere. In my bed, on my couch, chairs, the floor, shower, everywhere we fucked and made love and shared secrets and talked endlessly. Every square inch of it is tainted with memories of her and I think of moving constantly.

I feel sick over the pieces of me that she has with her, my secrets, my love, all the things I never shared with anyone before and will never share again. Why does she get to keep those things? I would take them from her if I could.

The thought to corner her, wait for her outside of their building, has occurred to me. But I could never do that. It isn't in me to beg or plead with people, not even her. She's made her decision, hurt me, and I can't do anything about it.

When I lie awake before succumbing to the sleeping pills, I imagine her coming back to me, climbing in bed next to me, and our affair starting all over again between us. I would forgive her for leaving me the way she has and she could forgive me for being the shit that I was and we could continue on like nothing ever happened.

Then I want to hit myself. If I hadn't been so damned jealous and angry, if I hadn't started all of those fucking fights with her, or begged her to leave Hugh, she would still be here. She didn't want to leave him. What right did I have to try to force her or harass her into it? I couldn't help that I wanted her all to myself, could I? I would share her now if I could with any number of men.

I become physically sick during the day when thoughts of her with another man come to me. They do so often. Him fucking her, him inside of her, him doing all the same things I used to do to her. And her telling him she loves him, taking him into her mouth, kissing his lips, making the same promises to him that she did to me. Maybe she'll keep those promises with him and they'll make it the way we couldn't. She'll leave Hugh and start a family, get married to this faceless man I've created in my mind, and she'll forget all about me.

When I'm out in the streets, getting groceries or trying to go for a walk, I see her in every red headed woman. I look for her in crowds. My heart races and I feel dead inside when they aren't her. Though I'm not sure what I would do if they were her. I couldn't talk to her. It would be too painful to face her, stand a foot from each other, and talk as if we're friends. I don't want to be her friend, I never could be, not after what we shared together. I wouldn't even be able smile at her. She broke me too deeply.

Can someone die from a broken heart?

I've pondered this question often in the months after our separation. If you could die from it, I would be dead already. That's the conclusion I've come to.  I thought Francesca had broken my heart. If I could talk to my fifteen year old self, I would tell him to just wait, it's going to get much worse. I would tell him he's going to meet a woman he's going to trust and love and see himself spending the rest of his life with... only to have her tear his heart from his chest and fuck him in a way he's never been fucked. Not even by Francesca.

I had imagined what our children could look like and what kind of wedding ring I would get for her. I was willing to do things with her I never would have done with anyone else. Marriage and children and settling down never mattered to me before her. And they don't matter now.

I'm incapable of writing. She is too ingrained in my mind and my memory for me to think too much about anything else. It's sickening how much I love her, revolting, ridiculous. I want to hate her. I want to fuck her over the way she's fucked me, but I don't know how. What could I possibly do to her?

I want to get Theodora out of my system. I want to exorcise her from my body and my memory. I want to forget her. I want to fuck another woman and then fuck another and another and forget she exists. But I know that will only amplify the hurt and the pain. I could have any number of beautiful women, but even the thought of them does nothing for me. She has ruined my ability to lust or want anyone but her. I can't imagine fucking a woman without loving them now.

She's ruined me for good.