Raw Edges: A Memoir

Meaning of Goodness

: : 115 : : I carried Brad everywhere in a Snugli, a secondary womb of yellow corduroy attached by soft straps to my shoulders. I couldn’t stop kissing the top of his head and patting his white-blonde hair. He was always with me, even at the kitchen sink paring potatoes. He was a tiny, elflike, wispy baby, almost too thin. Maybe my body had been too undernourished, too busy, too tired to give him what he needed in utero. But I would protect him now. I wouldn’t leave his side. Except for this one particular day when I asked David the tough question. “Are you or aren’t you?” I sat beside him on a Saturday morning before he rolled out of bed. “Please don’t lie. I’m not blind.” “Yes,” he said, since there was too much available information hanging out in the air for him to tuck it back inside where no one would notice. “I can’t take this anymore.” My eyes filled up. “We have a brand-new baby plus two other children.” “I don’t mean to hurt you. You need to believe me.” “Tell me something.” My whole world wasn’t whole anymore. Nothing was in its right place. “You can’t deny your current involvement with Melanie , but when I had that dream last year about a woman named Audrey, was that another affair?” He looked to the left of my chin. “To tell you the truth, I almost fell out of bed when you told me your dream and said her name. I knew you knew, even if you didn’t know you knew.” :: The Meaning of Goodness :: 116 : : r a w e d g e s “How can you keep doing this?” I grabbed the sixth Kleenex from the box. My nose was red. A crumpled pile of sopping tissue proliferated on the bed. “Tell me what’s going on. We have a new baby, and this is killing me.” “I’ve been coming apart at the seams.” He pulled the covers up over his shoulders. “In the middle of every night, I wake up sweating after dreaming of sex with another woman. During the day I fantasize about the same thing. I know I can’t explain it, but the only time I don’t feel totally stressed, when my muscles aren’t tense, is when I’m sexually aroused. I’ve had trouble for years with, you know . . . I stayed with Audrey one weekend when I was in the Bay Area. Maybe because I wasn’t in love, I could sustain an erection for what felt like the first time. You can’t imagine how that felt. Being with her was only a passing thing, but it helped me feel less frightened about sex.” “A passing thing, you say. But what about our intimacy? Why can’t we solve this between us? And now Melanie. Why her?” “I haven’t always volunteered everything, but I’ll tell you the truth if you ask me a question.” “So . . .” “You’re right.” He wrapped himself in a cocoon of bedcovers. “Melanie and I were working on a committee together, we took a hike in Parley’s Canyon, and she invited me home and asked if I’d make love to her—she was lonely. But it was a mistake. I promised myself I’d never again make love to someone I didn’t love.” “It wasn’t anything, you say. That sounds like a line from a movie.” The pile of crumpled Kleenexes grew higher. “How am I supposed to feel while this is going on?” “I feel totally shut down. I’ve been having a hell of a struggle with all of this,” he said. “The strange thing is, I still love you very much.” That stopped my flow of words. “You need to understand. I’m trying to keep our family together at the same time I’m dealing with these feelings.” He folded his pillow double and punched a place for his head. “Maybe I shouldn’t have married before all this was worked out.” “Fine time to tell me, Lucille.” The Meaning of Goodness : : 117 “It’s not about you, Phyllis. It’s certainly not about not loving you.” I lifted my fist. I wanted to hit him. Hard. Hit him in the jaw and knock some sense into his head. I wanted to...