Cracked Roots & Roses 22: Villain

We went on like that for weeks. The dealership was like high school. I couldn’t wait to get to work. I didn’t think I would ever cross the line, but it goes to show that you don’t know what you’ll do in a situation. Nobody sets out to cheat on their spouse, but here I was. It being forbidden made it better. This is how sin works. I was caught up, and I couldn’t remember exactly how it happened. I didn’t know how to not be around Ahmad. Every thought was of him. I couldn’t eat or sleep without thinking of when I would see him next. I loved his masculine way, his laugh, his ambition, and everything about him. He was everything Jeremy was not. I was ready to leave my marriage—not just for Ahmad but because I recognized my inability to be good. I was trash, and I knew it. Jeremy deserved better.

One day, while sitting in Ahmad’s office, just talking about any and everything, he said, “Have you seen the movie Bridges of Madison County?” I said, “No, I’ve never heard of it.” He said, “When you get home, watch it and call me after.” So, later that evening, I turned the movie on. I watched it twice. I knew what message he was conveying but didn’t want to know. The movie romanticizes adultery. At the time, that movie was a love story to me. I watched it but didn’t call. What was I supposed to say?

The next day, I avoided Ahmad and his office. I walked the long way to get to the business office. At the end of the day, I had to take a work order to the shop. A customer’s car needed to be repaired before delivery, so I walked the work order back so they would have it first thing in the morning. I walked through the front door of the shop and through the showroom. I left the work order on the shop manager’s desk, then went towards the back door to walk out and avoid Ahmad’s office. He apparently saw me go into the shop and followed, but not too close. Halfway to the back door, he said, “Hey, did you watch the movie?”

I stopped, turned around nervously, and said, “Nah, I didn’t have time.”

By then, he had caught up to me. He stared into my eyes until I turned away. He got really close to me and whispered, “I think you did.”

I stared at him, almost angry, and said, “Why are you doing this?”

No sooner had the words left my lips, he grabbed my arm and kissed me. On the mouth. Passionately. I felt it down my back and to my toes.

It was clear to me that I had never been “kissed” — no, not like that. I forgot where I was and who I was. I didn’t pull away. I didn’t slap him like they would’ve done in the movies. I didn’t run or wipe my mouth. I kissed him back.

The kiss ended, and he stood there, close to my face, looking into my eyes. This man was no amateur. He was no teenager. I was in trouble. Maybe before this, I could’ve done something to not slip down this slope, but now it was too late. Once an attraction has been established, it must take its course—whatever that course may be. This is why it’s best not to get started. I’m talking to my 25-year-old self.

I backed up because the heat between us was too much to bear. I backed up and turned to walk towards the front door. He laughed, grabbed my arm, and said, “Weren’t you going this way?”

So I turned and went to the back door of the shop. I was in a daze. I pushed open the back shop door, and when the cool evening air hit my face, I realized what had just happened. I went to the bathroom and washed my face.

I called into work the next day. Marilyn called and transferred the phone to Ahmad’s office. He asked, “Why aren’t you at work?”

I told him, “I’m not feeling good.”

He said, “OK, I was hoping to see you today.”

After a long pause, I said, “I have to go,” and hung up. I had never felt this kind of attraction to anyone—not even my husband. I hated what Ahmad was doing but loved it at the same time. He was almost hunting me. I felt seen and wanted. Has anyone else experienced this?

I knew I could never go back to mundane, so I decided I needed to be free. I had to get divorced. I was dead wrong and would not do this to Jeremy. The words of my doctor had come true—I would be a statistic, one of the 80% who split after the loss of a child. I didn’t care, though. It was the first time in months I smiled. The mourning had taken so much out of me. I just needed to be OK.

Later that week, I told Jeremy I thought we should separate.

He laughed and said, “For what?”

I said very seriously, “Because you deserve someone better than me.”

He said, “I know you’ve been messing around. You’ve been distant for a while.”

I didn’t say anything while he was talking because this could be the time I replaced the wall.

He said—and I’ll never forget this—“Do it, but just keep it from me.”

That was the nail in the coffin. I would’ve felt better if he had gone off. He was giving me a free pass so that he could stay with me. I may have been young, but I knew I wouldn’t do that. I also knew I had to have some respect for the man I was married to.

I didn’t think it would be Ahmad. He was too big to be settled. He was the kind of man that collected women. I didn’t see it, but from what he was doing to me, I knew it.

I tried my best to avoid Ahmad, but that was impossible. He would pin me in corners after signing paperwork, going to my car, etc. After a while, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. At the time, I didn’t know right from wrong. All I knew was I was happy, and I “felt” good, and that was all that mattered.

It was tense and uncomfortable at home for weeks. We didn’t talk. We were like strangers. On one of my off days, I needed to run by Menards, so I went to the one by my job because I was familiar with it. I noticed my mother-in-law’s boyfriend’s black Jeep following me. I thought it was some other Jeep, but I knew deep down it was Jeremy.

I made a few turns, and the Jeep was still behind me. I parked and sat in the parking lot, waiting for the Jeep to drive out, but it came right to my car. He pulled up next to me, window to window. Jeremy lowered the window and said, “So, where were you heading?”

I said, “Into Menards for some cleaning stuff.”

He said, “Oh, you weren’t meeting up with your boyfriend? OK, then go in.”

So I did. When I came out, he was gone.

I couldn’t do this. That encounter scared me, and not once did I even think that was a possibility.

Now, I was no rocket scientist, but I know what happens after you’re all kissed out. Things were going too fast. I didn’t know how to say no, and even if I did learn the word, I didn’t think Ahmad would understand it. “No” wasn’t in his vocabulary.

Oddly enough, I looked him up while writing this part of my story. He has graced the cover of two magazines and won numerous awards for real estate. Surprisingly, he looks the exact same—no gray hair or age lines. The latest online listing was for a talent agency. He’s available for fitness modeling and does commercials. I am not surprised in the least bit. He’s a big personality. He’s always been ambitious and still is. I pray that he’s encountered Jesus, but I doubt it because, alongside the magazine covers, there was a mugshot for drunk driving about seven years ago.

I know this is hard to read because it’s hard to think of me as trash because of who I am today. It would be disingenuous of me to tell you all the good stuff and not give you my whole story. I want to put you where I was without making you hate me. It’s hard. I’m the villain here, and I know that.

I think about the woman at the well and the one caught in adultery. They didn’t set out to do those things, but from that came something great. I have chapters I don’t read aloud. This is one. I have never talked to anyone about this because it’s shameful.

When I decided to do a new series, it was to show you that roses come from dirt. You don’t have to open your closet door—mine is open wide enough. I just want to encourage you. Things get better. Stay with me.