Chapter 21 - William

                                    

                                          


William
PRESENT
            It's the morning of Christmas Eve.  I've been desperate to talk to Sarah, which is why I've called her 33 times in the last two days since it happened.  But she won't answer my calls.  Serves me right.  
It's only through Joseph that I know I'm welcome back home this morning.  I use the term welcome ironically.  It's more like tolerated.  And Joseph.  That's who's my go-between.  Fitting.  Should've seen that coming.  Their closeness is both annoying and undying.  
            But I suppose I deserve that.  I've committed the ultimate cardinal sin in a marriage.  Not only couldn't I keep it in my pants once.  But now twice.  Should've seen that coming too.  I never said I was smart when it came to Sarah.  In fact, I believe I used the word idiot.  She turns me into this bumbling buffoon who stumbles about wanting desperately to be loved by her while at the same time feeling unworthy of her love.  It's why I've found myself in this arduous position.   
            I don't know what I expect to become of my meeting with her today.  I'm certainly not expecting forgiveness.  Not right away anyway. But I hope she'll at least hear me out.  See where I'm coming from.  
            I've tried to figure out why I'd put myself in this position again.  And the only reason I could come up with is love.  I still fucking love Rochelle.  Why else would I create such havoc in my life?  Love is something that is often misunderstood.  It makes us do crazy things.  Love isn't a choice either.  Sometimes, it just happens, all sanity be damned.  It's the only explanation.  
And what does loving Rochelle mean for me and Sarah?  I know I can't have them both.  But I also know I don't exactly have a choice in the matter.  The fate of our marriage completely and unequivocally rests in Sarah's hands alone.  I'm fucking powerless here.  If given a choice though, I know I'd choose Sarah.  Who wouldn't?  She's funny, sexy as hell, the mother of my incredible children and she loves me.  Loved me.  No, she still loves me.  She has to.  
That's why I'm here now.  With my head down and my tail between my legs.  Even though I don't deserve her forgiveness, certainly not twice, I'd be one lucky bastard if I managed to make lightning strike again.  My odds are slim at best.
I'm grateful she's found it in her heart to at least have a dialogue with me.  But I saw that anger and hurt in her eyes.  She stared me down like I stole the very life force out of her.  Seeing her that way put my heart in a vice so constricted, I was gasping for sweet oxygen.  It's why I can barely look myself in the mirror now.  
A better man would've been faithful.  A better man would stand down and let her have her freedom.  I'm not that man.  I'm a selfish, desperate motherfucker who will take any second or third chance she'll allow me.  Because she's my world, my birthright.  And I'm not going down without a fight. All I can do now is beg for her mercy.  
I use the key in my front door, pleasantly surprised my key still works.  She didn't change the locks on me.  That's a good sign, right?
Once I step inside, I hear chopping noises.  From the front door, I see her in the kitchen.  She's dressed festively, a red sweater, nice black slacks and a green headband to hold her long blonde hair back.  She covers her Christmas outfit with an apron.  She doesn't acknowledge me yet, but I know she heard me.
Looking around our living room, she's really outdone herself with the Christmas decorations this year.  It's like Santa, Rudolph and Frosty the Snowman threw up all over the place.  The Christmas tree is the piece de resistance though.  From head to toe, it's adorned with flashing lights that switch from white to rainbow.  And every branch is decorated with a special ornament we've collected over the twenty years we've been together.  Stepping closer, I see the first one I gave her to commemorate our first Christmas together. A silver musical note with a picture of us laughing together, running down the beach.  She actually put this one up and didn't burn it.  Didn't destroy it like I did our marriage.  I'm overtaken by a deep sadness.  A dark regret.  Our first Christmas was so wild and free.  It was the foundation of everything I held dear.  My heart clenches at the idea that this one could be our last.