recycle

It seems forgiving is not the same as forgetting. Larry & I are both guilty of this.

I can forgive him for saying "I told you we shouldn't have had another one" when I told him how much daycare was going to cost when I priced it after Hannah was born. But I haven't forgotten it.

It seems Larry & I are recycling an old fight. Every three years lightly, every ten years, heavily.

Ten years ago, I had had enough. I was not getting what I needed emotionally from him. I didn't feel the love. I had two children that for the first seven years I had raised pretty much on my own. Larry didn't ever want to go anywhere or do anything. All the portraits were of me and Ashley, and then Hannah.

I met Marilee (my best friend for 13 years now) when I started babysitting Little Ashley. (we call her little Ashley because their were two of them, to this day she is still "little Ashley, and my Ash is "big Ashley") Little Ashley & Hannah were about two. Both had chubby cheeks and were in diapers. When Marilee would come to pick her up, she would ask, "Where's Larry?" He was in our room, on the computer.

This was way before Al Gore invented the internet. They were dial in boards. FTP credits so you could download. This is where he spent most of his time. Playing Kings Quest. I grew to resent the computer horribly. I grew to resent his absence.

A few years later, that was it. I was done. But it wasn't a true conscious decision. It was more like, OK, you do your thing and I'll do mine. Christmas time came around and I found the perfect gift for his nephew. Robert was a huge Rockets fan. This was the season after we won the first championship. I had heard that if you drove down to the Summit (formerly Compaq Center, now Lakewood Church) on practice days, as they drove out they would often stop and sign autographs.

So, I drove down with my Rockets shirt in hand waiting for the players to come out. A car drove in, stopped and asked me what I was doing, I told him I was waiting for autographs, he said he may be able to help me. He drove down inside, then had a guard flag me over. I got to go inside and wait by the door instead of having to chase them down on foot.

He gave me his card, I called to say thanks. He invited me down again, then out for drinks after the game, and so on. I was not attracted to this guy, at all. But it was fun hanging out with the Rockets and feeling alive again.

Then one night I met the assistant trainer. I was, what word? I was interested. It was dangerous, it was wrong, I had checked out, he was checking me out. I was 27, on the verge of a mini nervous breakdown, and here was some relief. We flirted, a lot. We talked, a lot. We went out.

Larry began to suspect there was something more, and even though I really didn't care at the time whether he knew or not, I denied it. He would come home, I would have the girls fed and bathed and then head out on my way if I wanted.

I was at game four the night we swept the Magic on our second straight championship. I saw him afterward, for about a second. Shortly after that, and I'm not sure exactly how or when, the flirting went to more. One time.

That was all it took. Larry found out and lot of crying, screaming and hurting followed.

We both took the blame, it was shared although not equally. Mine was bigger than his. I remember telling him during the anger part, "You never wanted to spend any time with me. Well, someone else got your time". He can forgive that, but probably has not forgotten it.

We went to counseling and fell in love again. We both changed. But not equally. He made an effort to be more involved, I made an effort to never again hurt him like that. I had more work to do because of the intense guilt I carried around. Whenever I was out doing something, I would call from that number so he could see it on caller id. I brought home receipts and proof of every place I had been. Something I still do to this day. Because I never, ever wanted him not to trust me again.

There were two very chance encounters that were not planned, and did not continue. Larry knew. Whenever I speak of someone who shares the same name as the mistake, I always include the last name. It's a habit.

To this day if I am running late at work, I call from the landline, not my cell. Caller ID.

We actually started our marriage ten years after it began, in more ways that one. We really became a family and started to come together. But, I could never, ever watch basketball again. I was too afraid I would see him sitting on the sideline of some team. It's not worth it.

In one of the latest emails Larry sent me, he brought that up. I guess I deserved it, back then, and to some degree still do. I told him I was sorry he felt the need to go so far back in the past. If he really wanted to go back there, we could. There were reasons. Were they validated? At the time, yes. Was it wrong? Yes. Am I still racked with guilt still to this day? Yes. Do I resent him for bringing it up ten years later when I have done nothing but be a better person and cringe when I think of that time? Yes.

He can forgive me for the affair I had ten years ago, but he hasn't forgot it. On the flip side, I probably wouldn't either.