I’d Never View it as Cheating–Part 1

This is a work of fiction—I made it up. None of the characters are real. Any relationship to real people is unintentional and coincidental. ©2015 by Senorlongo.

This is a story unlike anything I’ve ever written. It describes a family’s struggle to deal with a major health issue and a wife’s total love for her husband. If only women like Lizzie really existed.



“Cum, baby…fuck me…flood my pussy.”

“UNNNNGGGGHHHH! UNNNNGGGHHH! UNNNNNGGGGHHHH! AHHHHHHHH!” My head fell to lie on her supple breast as her fingers ran through my hair and my orgasm ebbed, leaving me in post-coital heaven.

“You okay?”

I lifted my head so I could look into those clear brown eyes. Smiling, I replied, “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”

“Normally, it would be, but this is an unusual occasion. You’ve had an emotionally difficult and challenging day…and you haven’t answered my question.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely okay…better than I’ve been in more than eighteen months…better than I’ve been since this whole nightmare began.”

“I’m glad and I assume you’ll want to do it again.”

“Oh yeah…and, hopefully I’ll be able to last long enough to do something worthwhile for you, too.”

“I’m not worried. I know it’s been a long time since you had real sex. I’m surprised you lasted as long as you did.”

“I’ll get off you now. I don’t want to hurt you with my weight.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Toni told me. “I like you right where you are. Maybe next time I’ll ride you. When I do I’ll expect to lie on you before, during, and after.” I looked down into those eyes and smiled as I was taken back to our first meeting.


ONE MONTH AGO

“Geez! You look like you just lost your best friend.” Looking up from my Glenlivet 18 Year-old single malt, neat—a double–I noticed for the first time the woman who had seated herself next to me when the bar was almost totally empty.

“That’s exactly what happened, except it’s even worse.”

“Why don’t you tell me about it? I’ve found that talking about a problem sometimes helps.”

“It’s really kind of personal. I don’t think you’d find it at all interesting, but thanks for the offer.” I turned back to my drink, but she didn’t leave.

“I’ll have a Chardonnay and another for my friend,” she told the bartender. “Can you bring them to that table?” Next thing she had my arm and was turning me toward the rear of the bar. She led me to the booth and pushed me onto the bench before taking the one on the opposite side. She introduced herself once the drinks were served. “I’m Antonia…Toni.”

“I’m Chuck…er, Charles…er, whatever.”

“I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but you’re obviously not having much of a good time tonight. I also see you’re married. I try to stay away from married men.”

“That’s who I’m mourning—my wife.”

“Oh…I am sorry.”

“No…I’m sorry. I’m not being very clear. I’m just so upset. She’s not dead. It’s worse than that.”

“Why don’t you tell me about it? Start at the beginning. Go ahead; I have all night.”

I finished my drink and set the glass aside before picking up the second. Closing my eyes for a minute brought me back almost twenty-five years.


CHAPTER 1

Starting at the very beginning I allowed my tale to slowly unfold. “I had just graduated from college. Initially, I thought I’d become a doctor, but I learned pretty quickly that I didn’t have the self-discipline to do all that studying. I changed after first semester of my sophomore year, opting instead to study education. I had three younger sisters I often helped with their schoolwork and I had enjoyed working with some of the young kids at a junior high as a volunteer tutor while in college.

“My summer job kept me on the beach as a lifeguard for the State Park Commission. It was a relatively easy job and one I enjoyed a lot more than working for my dad as a part-time plumber’s helper. I knew that being a plumber was a good-paying job, but I hated it. I liked the men who worked for Dad, but the work was always dirty and much worse when I had to work on someone’s sewer problem—something my dad always seemed to find for me. The beach was clean and I had gained some important people skills I’d find useful in my teaching career.

“There were preliminary interviews in the placement office at school and I’d been invited to a formal interview at a high school near my family’s home during spring break. No Florida vacation for me; I’d be working in the plumbing business the entire time except for the day of my interview. It was also the day I was hired for my first professional position.

“Once I had graduated I returned home to the plumbing business until the park was officially opened for swimming. I’d had a good summer right up until the last week of August when I had to attend three days of new teacher orientation. Most of it was just as boring as I had imagined, but on Friday they took us by school bus to a county park where we were treated to a party and picnic on the beach. That’s where I first met Lizzie. She was a second-year teacher who had been enlisted to help out at the party. We played horseshoes and even swam in the ocean together. Of course, I made sure she was safe the entire time. I’m sure you know how dangerous the ocean can be around here.

“Lizzie had asked me about my swim suit. ‘That’s kind of a funny looking suit. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.’

“’That’s probably true,’ I told her. ‘ You can’t buy a suit like this in a store. I get two of them free every year.’ I explained that I was a lifeguard and that this was the official New York State suit—navy blue with a wide gold band on each side. Those suits were almost skin-tight, made by Ocean Champion—a company that’s out of business now. Think Speedo, but not as skimpy. A tight suit is more important than you might think. First, you can swim faster—there’s less drag through the water. Second, there’s less for a drowning victim to grab on to. Yes,” I continued, “I had to jump in for a rescue more than a dozen times that year.

“Lizzie was a social studies teacher at the same high school where I taught ninth grade science so we ran into each other fairly often. She was tall, about five feet nine, and slender with smallish breasts and nicely developed hips, weighing about 125 pounds at the time. I thought she was really hot. Our first date consisted of only a pizza and sodas—that was all I could afford–before going to the high school’s first home football game. That was the first week in September. After that we dated every weekend and even saw each other on several Sundays. It hadn’t been love at first sight for me, but I knew she was the one I’d want to spend the rest of my life with by the end of October. I proposed in mid-November and was shocked when she agreed immediately.

“Teachers made peanuts in those days. I couldn’t afford a ring, but Lizzie didn’t care. She clearly wasn’t marrying me for my money. I did manage to buy a cheap cubic zirconium ring, promising to replace it with the real thing as soon as humanly possible. That turned out to be years later. That alone should tell you a lot about her.

“We were married the Saturday after the school year ended—Lizzie was a beautiful bride– and moved into a small one-bedroom apartment after a week-long honeymoon in Bermuda. The following day I was back on the beach with my new wife to share my breaks. Money was tight the first five years with anything extra going either to pay for graduate school at night or the down payment on our first house. We moved in when we had been married five and a half years. We both had master’s degrees which helped financially especially two years later when our first child was born. Lizzie stayed home to care for our children and there was no doubt that we were completely in love. We spent every possible moment together, making love four to five times a week, something that has continued until recently. I think you’ll understand why when I get to that.

“Lizzie must have seen something in me because she suggested that I return to graduate school to study school administration. She was right; I loved the course of study, staying to complete a doctorate, and found a position as an assistant principal five years later once I had finished my degree. Three years after that I had my first principal’s job. I was forty when I accepted my current job as high school principal in what I think is one of the area’s better school districts. (I wasn’t prepared to share the name of the district at that point–something I later realized was silly.) Both of our kids attend an excellent university and I doubted things could have been better. Then, when Lizzie turned forty-five, it all fell apart. That was a little over a year ago.

“I had walked into the house on a Thursday afternoon, surprised when Lizzie didn’t return my greeting as she had done every day for the past twenty-plus years. I was a bit concerned when I walked into the kitchen. Then I was in a state of almost total panic. Standing there in the middle, conscious–but seemingly confused and unresponsive–was my wonderful wife.” I paused for a few seconds, taking a lengthy sip of my drink. There were tears in my eyes when I looked up at Toni. I was surprised when she leaned forward to kiss them from my cheeks.

“I thought at the time that she’d suffered a stroke. My arm still around her waist, I pulled her to the phone on the wall, holding her tightly while I pressed 911. I couldn’t get the words out of my mouth fast enough and then there was the horrible wait for the ambulance and the police to arrive. Later that night after I called our kids I sat alone in her hospital room while she was being tested. My emotions were out of control when she was wheeled in and placed into the bed. If the nurses knew anything they weren’t saying. Lizzie just laid there, her eyes open and still not moving, when the doctor finally walked in to see me.

“He was Dr. Thompson, a neurologist. He was slow and patient as he explained that Lizzie had not had a stroke. He thought it was something I’d learn to dread—Early Onset Alzheimer’s. I asked a lot of questions and he tried to answer all of them. I learned that night that thousands of men and women as young as forty are stricken every year with a condition for which there was no cure. Earlier that evening I had prayed that Lizzie hadn’t had a stroke. Later I prayed that she had…anything other than Alzheimer’s.

“Lizzie came out of her…I still don’t know what it was—spell…trance…episode, something like that I guess. I really don’t know and neither did the doctors. I learned later that she’d had many small short-duration spells over the past months, but had hid them from me in fear of what might be happening to her. She had medicine that made her wired, but at the time I thought that was preferable to the times when she was out of it—when she couldn’t recall the simplest things in our life like who I was or the names of our children. At least I could speak with her and hold her. Yes, I know what you’re thinking—make love to her. I didn’t realize then that all the medication did was to buy a little time. She’s still taking medication, but who knows if it’s doing any good. I can’t see any visible signs that it is.

“She kept slipping away and, worse, she seemed to realize what was happening. The frequency of the spells began to increase and their duration was longer. Her memory sometimes seemed to completely disappear as she became more and more disoriented. I came home from work several times to find her car in the garage but the house empty. I can’t begin to tell you how frantic that made me.

“One of our ideas was to have a party with our neighbors. Once everyone had a drink I asked for quiet and began to tell them of Lizzie’s condition. I could hear the gasps as I described what we, but mostly she, had been through. I finished by asking for their help. Several of the wives were home during the day. Would they be willing to keep an eye out for her? I wasn’t at all surprised that everyone volunteered. In spite of that there were still times when she disappeared. A few phone calls brought together a neighborhood posse, all dedicated to finding her and bringing her home safely.

“Eventually, after about a year, she was spending more time out of it than in. I worried every time I went to work. I wanted to speak with her about what to do, but she….” I had to stop. I realized that I was bawling, tears flowing down my face. Toni patted my shoulder then rose and walked to the ladies’ room, returning with some wet paper towels for my face. I was amazed when she washed my cheeks and cleaned my eyes.

I took another deep swallow of my drink, but turned down the waitress for another. Toni did the same. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Believe it or not, the food is fairly decent here. Will you join me?”

“Of course; I know you have a lot more to get off your chest. I don’t want to seem nosy, but I can see how this is a catharsis for you.” She reached across the table to rest her hand on top of mine, removing it only when the waitress returned with two menus. I suggested the onion soup knowing that it was home-made and the steak sandwich. Toni followed my lead. My story continued once the waitress was gone.

“Finally, one Saturday morning Lizzie was lucid and we talked about what was happening and of my concerns. ‘I’m terribly afraid that I’ll come home some evening and find you dead here in the house or I’ll get a phone call that you’ve wandered away and been killed crossing the road. I don’t know what to do.’

“’You’ll have to put me someplace where you know I’ll be safe. I’m glad you have my power of attorney. I trust you, darling. I know you’ll do what’s best for both of us. I have something for you to look at under my bras, but not until you’ve found a good place for me and I’m there full-time. Now I want to make love with you. I know you won’t do it when I’m somewhere else and I need to know how much you love me.’ It was the last time–our last time—almost a month ago.

“It was wonderful, just like every other time, but when we finished I could see that she was gone again. I began looking that very afternoon, checking online and the yellow pages. I phoned the hospital; Dr. Thompson was on duty and was kind enough to speak with me for almost fifteen minutes. He phoned back about an hour later with several suggestions, all in our area.