The Other Woman

I believed him: when he said that his wife no longer loved him; when he said that he was filing for a divorce; and when he said that he had never loved another woman like me. I simply believed him. I never questioned the time that he did not spend with me. I never wondered if he truly loved me. I never doubted the paltry complaints that he made about his wife or if he had ever stopped loving her. Not even once was I concerned about his marriage with her… that is until she called me.

The phone rang. “Hello,” I said, but there was nothing but moments of silence. Hesitantly, she asked to speak to me. The sound of her voice lingered in the air and I intuitively knew that it was her, his wife. I could feel our hearts beating as one connected to the same line of drama. I sensed her feelings of agony, sadness and betrayal as we both gently hung up the phone. A deep, nagging pang settled in my abdomen and I was paralyzed in the moment. She reminded me of myself during a period of my life that I never wanted to remember. But I had too soon forgotten what it was like to be on the other side of the phone.

When I was married, my husband told me that there was no one else, but I could sense her between us. I couldn’t prove it. I had never even seen traces of her. There were no clichés of lipstick on his collar, hotel receipts or strange phone numbers in his wallet. No, he did not stay out late at night; in fact his actions were very predictable. There was absolutely no tangible evidence, but I knew I had lost him long before he had the courage to leave. Because whomever she was, she had managed to touch my baby so deeply, that only my heart could detect her presence. He denied that she existed and branded me as insecure. How could I ask him to leave a woman who only existed in my imagination?

My imagination was quite vivid. When I snuggled up next to him at night there was no one there, Just the corpse of a man who use to love me. He was obligated to me, but I felt his loyalty to her. I could hear him promising her that he only slept with me, because he had to. I wondered who she was. My mind audited every old girlfriend, coworker and neighbor whom I thought he might be interested in. I wanted to know what she looked like. Were her breasts bigger, smaller, and firmer than mine? Was she prettier than me? I wondered how many times had he made love to her and where and when had he met her. I imagined him caressing her perfect body and declaring his love to her. I tortured myself to sleep each night as his listless body laid next to mine. We both were thinking about her.

I didn’t have to search for her phone number because it was always available waiting for me to address, accept and dial reality. I wanted to see why he loved her. So I called her house just to hear her voice. She sounded, so innocent and sweet that it made my heart ache. She thought I was playing on her phone, but I needed to know if she was real. I needed to hear her voice to validate my instincts. No matter how much it hurt, I needed to prove to my husband what my heart had already known. She knew it was me, the other woman because both of our hearts were connected to the same man. I could hear the echo of her thoughts as we both silently, politely hung up the phone. Upon confronting him, the pain and humiliation was unbearable when he said that he needed time because he loved her too. I never asked the other woman to come into my life therefore; I had no right or power to ask her to leave.

I was disgusted with myself for inflicting such horrendous pain on another human being. I had absolutely no excuse because I knew exactly what my lover’s wife was going through because I have been on both ends of the phone. And now I was the other woman. I wanted to call her back and tell her that I was so sorry. But I couldn’t, because at that point, I loved him too. I demanded that he choose between us. But he clearly stated that there were no easy solutions because he loved both of us and needed time and space to sort his feelings. After a few days of thinking, I decided to treat his wife as if she were me. I asked myself what would I have wanted if I was her. I searched my soul and went back to the exact moment when I suffered the most and my decision was easy, clear and faultless. I told him that I sensed that his wife loved him more than he could ever imagine and I gave him back to her.