Feb. Sucks - Alt. Ending - The End

I collapsed onto the ground screaming NO, no, no. I crawled to my husband and held his head in my lap. I told him how sorry I was and how I never intended to hurt him and how I loved him and how we were going to grow old together and sit side by side on our front porch and watch our grandkids play in our yard and how happy we would be.

Someone touched me on my shoulder and I looked up into a police officer face. She gently pulled me to my feet and I noticed people, our neighbors, standing around us in shock and police cars and sirens. She asked me if I was injured, I had Jims blood all over me, but I shook my head no. She led me a short distance from Jim and placed a blanket around my shoulders.

As I look back on it I don't remember looking at Mark on the ground or wondering about his condition. Just as I had not thought of Jim the night before when I was with Mark I now had forgotten completely about Mark. How could I have been so stupid, so selfish, so self-centered to allow this to happen. It was all my fault. I started the sequence of events that led to my Jim lying dead on our lawn and my lover close by. Why should I live when all of this was my fault? My Jim didn't deserve any of this. I should be the one lying on the ground lifeless. It then occurred to me the depth of pain Jim must have felt by my betrayal. How much he suffered throughout the night imaging all that I was doing in a stranger's arms, how I was kissing and holding Mark and giving myself to Mark over and over. Jim must have felt powerless to do anything as I now felt powerless. He must have felt anger, loss, grief, feeling of worthlessness and betrayal, but most of all hopelessness.

I looked up and saw Dave and Dee coming towards me. Dee had tears in her eyes and stretched her arms out to hold me. I lost it. I screamed my hatred at Dee and Dave. I screamed at them how could my best friends stand by and even encourage me to leave with a stranger and leave my beloved Jim behind at that club. Why didn't they stop me, why didn't they tell me I already had the best man in the world as my husband and to go to him and tell him how much I loved him and would never leave him for anyone ever.

I collapsed and knew my anger was really directed at myself. Dave and Dee stopped and looked shocked. Dee was sobbing and Dave put his arms around her and led her away.

In that moment I felt so all alone. I would never hear Jim's voice again; I would never feel his loving touch or see his smile again.

I don't remember much after that for a couple of weeks. I was taken to a hospital and kept overnight, I suspect to make sure I didn't try to kill myself. I finally was able to begin to function again. My kids needed me. My parents and Jim's parents had taken the children and kept them while I struggled to recover.

I stayed with my parents for several weeks with my kids and they were wonderful. They never asked me about that night or the events that led to the day of Jim's death although I suspect they had heard plenty from the news stations and newspapers.

The media had a field day. A well-known and well-respected member of the local professional football team involved with a married woman and shot to death by her husband. It was front page news for several days. The police did a preliminary investigation and no charges were filed. I stayed hidden from the news media, friends, neighbors, everyone for several weeks.

I was consumed with remorse and grief.

Jim's funeral was horrible. There were many in attendance but many were there because of the media coverage and wanted to see the cheating wife, the supposedly loving wife who threw her husband away for one night of hot sex, and who watched her loving husband kill himself in front of her. Maybe that isn't what they were thinking but it was what I was thinking.

Eventually life moved on. A year later the kids are in school although they rarely smile, are quiet and withdrawn. Counseling has helped them but it is a struggle. I sometimes notice them watching me out of the corner of my eye and I wonder if they are blaming me for the loss of their father. I try talking to them about that week end but they don't want to hear it. I attend counseling too but there is just too much guilt on my part to really make any progress. I hate myself and the only reason I am still alive today is because of the children.

Five years after that weekend little has changed. The kids are a little better and seem to be trying to move on with their lives. I hope some day soon they can forgive me and will give me a hug and maybe a small kiss on the cheek. Our conversations are still brief and to the point. I sometimes still cry at night as I reach over to where Jim would be sleeping in our bed. My parents, and even Jim's parents, have encouraged me to move on with my life and begin to socialize and maybe even meet someone. My hair has turned mostly grey and there are prominent wrinkles in my face and I rarely wear make-up. I tell them I had the perfect husband and I hurt him and killed him, I don't deserve another chance nor do I want one. My heart died the day my husband died.