Woman In The Mirror: Chapters 5 - 6Woman In The Mirror Chapter Five: A Mile High And A Mile Wrong Our move to Denver did not see Andrea pregnant as planned. Finding a job for me had been hard at first. However, Aunt Madge had helped along again, with a phone number, to an old acquaintance, of hers. Even though he was retired, within a few days and him making a few calls to people, he set me up with my first job interview. It was with one of the many oil companies in the Denver area. It wasn’t a top job, but the pay was quite a bit higher, than our pessimistical expectations, had been. So financially, even with Andrea not looking for employment, we weren’t off to a bad start. Now with a good job under my belt, and some more help with “odds and ends” from Andrea’s family, we were able to get into an apartment that was actually livable, and not your standard newlywed-just-out-of-college place. We moved into a subdivision of multiplexes; where there were a lot of more progressive upscale families, and couples. The jump-start into a good neighborhood helped us get into the swing of things, and with my good paying job, money did have to be watched, but it wasn’t a big issue. With a little budgeting, we were able to see a little bit of the nightlife of Denver, and even invited over at times friends, neighbors and some of my collages to dinner or for a small party. It seemed like in no time, we were celebrating our first anniversary. Andrea was still not pregnant though. It was not as if we weren’t trying. We were trying still, even after being married for a year, quite a bit, and then some. Not that it was intentional trying; it’s just the way we were. We enjoyed our sex together, and being intimate as much as possible. It was then a few weeks after our first anniversary that I begin to notice a slight change in Andrea’s behavior. I’m still not even sure that at that time that Andrea, herself knew the why of her changing behavior. Maybe at that time, she only sub-conscientiously felt the frustration and disappointment. Nevertheless, as time went by, it seemed to grow and begin to eat at her more and more. Seeing her frustrations, I offered, asked to talk with her time and time again. But, she always avoided speaking about what was eating at her, until one day she told me that she had made a doctor’s appointment for me. It was to have a sperm sample taken. Even though Andrea jokingly offered to go with me… to give me a helping hand, I went to the appointment alone. With the sperm sample, they also took some blood and urine samples. When it came time to return to the doctor for the results, Andrea went with me. The results were devastating. For all it was worth, I was not sterile, but my sperm count was so low, that I might as well as have been. The doctor also stated that my testosterone level was too low, and my estrogen level was too high. There was a possibility of a Klinefelter syndrome (abnormal two X and one Y chromosome structure) or a congenital adrenal hyperplasia (which causes a too high production of estrogen, and a too low testosterone production, in males). Either of which, could cause a delayed or impaired development during puberty, and therefore also a permanent inability to produce sperm in any sufficient quantity. He pointed out my mostly ambiguous body, facial features and my height, inquiring if my family doctor had not tested my testosterone and estrogen levels in my early teens. It was obvious, that my physical development had been impaired during puberty. He said that at that age, there were medical means available, but now the situation could no longer be corrected. He asked if I was having any sexual problems such as ED. This I negated, therefore he replied that if I had a comfortably active sex life, and had no other problems (I was as healthy as a horse), he would not (at that time) recommend therapy to increase my testosterone level. There were definite and unwanted possible side effects to the therapy. Naturally, I was distraught, but during this time I did notice that Andrea had said nothing. After the initial statement about my sperm count from the doctor, she did nothing but stare directly ahead. At no time did she show any form of a changing facial expression. Her expression was neither of shock, anger or anything else I could surmise. It was almost expressionless. We left there and the drive home was in silence. At home nothing changed either. Andrea went about her business seemingly as if the doctor’s meeting had not happened. Only, the naturally fluid conversation between us was not there and her facial expression still had not changed from that of when she was in the doctor’s office. I was having a hard enough time coming to grips everything and Andrea’s behavior was not helping me any. If she would have cried or screamed. If she would have yelled at me, we could have fought or argued but none of that was happening. She would answer me if I asked her something simple but if I said anything about what had been spoken by the doctor, she only sternly answered, “Not yet.” The rest of the week continued on along the same lines. I was barely functioning. So on Friday, I had to blow off some steam. For the first time in my life, I got stark raving fall-down drunk. It wasn’t intentional on my part. After dinner, the silence in the house was getting on my nerves, so much that I took out a bottle of Jack Daniel’s left over from our last party and made a coke and whiskey. One drink followed the other and before I knew it, I was drinking shots pure and the bottle had a serious dent in it. Andrea knew in generalities about my childhood. However, there were many things that even with the extreme intimacy that we had, I had not told her. I know, I babbled a lot that night. I’m still not sure of everything I did babble. I know I got screaming mad, thinking about how much my life could have been changed, how much ridicule and abuse I would not have had to suffer. If only my parents had been less dysfunctional and had had the consideration enough to at least taken me once to a doctor to be tested, everything would have been different. Some time in the early morning hours I woke up with my head lying over the toilet bowl. My head felt like it had been hammered by a jackhammer. It felt like I could still hear that jackhammer somewhere out in the neighboring streets. I took a couple of aspirin and crawled into my side of the bed. Andrea was asleep on the other side with her back towards me. The next morning I didn’t get up until in the afternoon. Andrea wasn’t there. She only came back much later wearing jeans, a jacket and hiking boots. She said she had been out hiking in the woods and thinking. She started to cry, and I held her to me. She kept saying over and over, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” and “I didn’t know, I didn’t know.” We spent the rest of that day and long into the night then crying, cuddling, and holding each other and talking, lots of talking. We talked about our options, but in the clear light of reality, most were beyond our means, and the chances of even their success, were very slim. It did seem to help and calm us, so we talked about looking into all the options we could. ********************************** Chapter Six: Closing Shop Our relationship had changed though somehow intangibly. It never was the same again. Every time I tried to seek out that close intimacy we had before, it was like a fata morgana, always there but always out of reach. A few weeks after the visit to doctor’s office, Andrea enrolled in realtor’s classes. We hadn’t discussed this, but we had discussed a few times about Andrea now looking for work. It did come as a surprise to me that she decided to try real estate. But, if it made her happy and she enjoyed it, it made me happy. It did seem unusual to come home and find her not there. She had passed her exams easily and found employment, almost without looking. Her hours always varied. Sometimes, she would have little to do and other days she wouldn’t get home until some time after seven in the evening. Saturdays were also no longer our time alone. At times, when her customers couldn’t get off during the week, she was forced into showing them houses on Saturdays. Her business ventures also pushed us into socializing more with people we normally would not be socializing with. This involved a lot more invitations to parties and also dining out in the evenings. Andrea also spent a considerable amount more on her wardrobe than she had before. Her side of the closet was in months overflowing into the guestroom closet and dresser drawers. Slowly, and because of Andrea’s newfound independence, our relationship was again and continually changing. At first, Andrea would tell me in detail every little bit of what was going on in her days. She met (naturally) quite a few people and I found it interesting to hear about them and what Andrea thought of them. This did not stay that way, and after Andrea had been working for around a quarter of a year, I heard little of what was going on. It was getting to the point, where I had to finally express concern over not knowing her whereabouts one evening, as it was close to ten o’clock before she got home. I told her that I was worried about something happening to her. I was beginning to feel that her odd hours were driving a wedge between us and it didn’t seem as though Andrea was concerned about this, or wanting to make amends for it. About four months after Andrea started working as a real estate agent, Aunt Madge moved into a senior community residence apartment in her hometown. Since Andrea was new to her job she could not take time off, but I took a week off and drove to her to see what was going on. I was surprised at how much Aunt Madge seemed to have aged since the last time I had seen her. There was a certain aura of transparency about her. As if she were there, but not there. Her mind seemed clear and she was not senile, but she seemed to be distant, as if her thoughts were in a distant time. She was getting very frail and having now a hard time walking. It was obvious why her friends at her church had persuaded her into finally closing down the farm and moving into town. There was no way that she could continue living out there in the country and drive into town for her needs. While I was there, her lawyer filled me in on some of the details. The farmhouse had been shut down and left. It was so old and in disrepair that it wasn’t worth the time and trouble to fix up. All her furniture and her car had either been sold or given away. She had only taken with her into the new apartment what she needed and her personal items. The land had been leased out to a neighboring ranch. So it was taken care of. He also told me not to worry, that no matter how Aunt Madge’s health continued, she would be taken care of. Money was not a problem and there were more than enough town’s people willing to take care of her. Maybe it was my being away from Andrea for a full week that I noticed so easily the changes in her. It seemed to strike me as if her job had now reached a point where it entirely dominated her every waking minute. The next month saw her coming home evenings later and later, more and more often. There were nights when I was asleep when she came home. She was gone so much that by that time I had seemingly taken over all of the household chores. It seemed like only on Sundays that she was in the house for more than just sleeping, showering and changing her clothes. At the first Saturday that she came home from showing people houses, showered and changed clothes then left, we had a big argument that lasted beyond the next Saturday. There she was also dressed obviously to go to another social dinner party, alone without me. The atmosphere between us had now taken on a frosty tone. Our sex life during these months was still there, but it too was different. I naturally felt insecure about how the doctor’s visit and Andrea’s job had changed us. Yet, our sex life had been wonderful before and I was seemingly dependent on having sex with Andrea. It was an integral part of our shared intimacy. What caused me though considerable trepidation was the change in Andrea’s attitude towards sex with me. At times, she seemed to passively accept the sex. She enjoyed it but did not take any active role in it. At other times, she became aggressive and dominating, almost masculine in her behavior, forcing me into a completely feminine and passive role. It was always one extreme or the other. Intimacy and shared lovemaking seemed not to exist for her anymore. Because of the lack of intimacy and lack of tenderness involved, it was frustrating, and demeaning for me. Even though I cannot remember a strong decrease in the frequency, our sex life seemed minimal. It was there, but without emotion. My college estimate of three months had been wrong by about two years and three months. I’ll never know the exact date of when she first disregarded her marriage vow of fidelity. All I’ll ever know is how I found out. I will always remember that day clearly. It was a Wednesday. I had returned from work and found Andrea already come and gone again. She had been in a hurry, showered and changed, then left in an obvious rush. Her clothes she left strewn around the bedroom floor. She must have also changed purses because the one she normally uses was sitting perched open on the dresser. As I was picking up the clothes that she had left on the floor in her hast, I bumped into her purse and knocked it over. Everything fell out of it. When I went to pick up the stuff and put it back in her purse, I found a packet of partially used birth control pills and a package of condoms, four of which were missing. I stayed up that night until after two o’clock in the morning. Andrea had still not come home, so I left the packet of pills and the condoms on the kitchen table, where she had to see them when she came in. I slept, but I did not sleep well. The next morning when I got up they were gone. Andrea was in bed sleeping. I called in sick at work. I sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee. Later I heard the shower run and Andrea getting dressed. I still sat and waited. A few minutes later Andrea came rushing into the kitchen apparently in a hurry, “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?” All I could say was, “Don’t you think we need to talk?” She gave me an impatient and angry look, “I don’t have time for that right now. I’m late for an appointment.” She turned and walked to the front door. There she stopped for a moment, before turning back to me. Staring somewhere over my shoulder and off into the distance, she sighed, “Anyway, I haven’t decided yet what I want to do, so there’s no need to talk.” With that she walked out the door. Ever since I had found the birth control pills and the partially used package of condoms I felt numb. I kept thinking that I should feel something more, maybe rage, anger or hurt, but I was only numb. I knew now that she was cheating on me. Why wasn’t I reacting? Maybe it was because I could not seem to conclude a thought. Whenever I tried to think about what I had found out, one thought seemed to lead to another thought, then to another though, and so on. I could never come to a conclusion. It was also like this was happening to me, and not to me, but rather to some other person. I sat there drinking coffee until my cup was finished. Then I got up and called my office saying that I would not be in on Friday either. The only person that I was close enough to, to be able to talk with, about something like this, was Aunt Madge. I packed some clothes in a bag. I left a note on the table saying where I was going then left. I never got to talk to Aunt Madge. On the way down, I started to think about how she would react. I could not do this to her. Better I keep what I knew, what was going on, to myself. I stopped, and spent an almost sleepless night at a motel, in a small town off highway 287. That Friday morning, after finally getting a couple of hours sleep, I decided to force Andrea into talking with me. Maybe we needed consoling. Maybe we needed to just talk and clear the air. Maybe, it wasn’t as bad, as I thought it was. Maybe, she did love me but had some reason why she was cheating on me. Maybe, there was something we could do, to get things back in line. I didn’t want to lose Andrea. I loved her too deeply. I needed her. I depended on her. She was my one and only, the love of my life. Without her… I could not think. I spent my time traveling very slowly and trying to think clearly. I stopped off a couple of times to breathe some fresh air or to get a cup of coffee. I arrived home at around six o’clock in the evening. I dropped my bag at the front door and went looking for Andrea. Andrea was not there. I realized that I had not eaten anything that day. So thinking Andrea would not be home early; I decided to go eat at a café not far from us. I returned at about half past nine and there were lights on in the living room and in the bedroom. Andrea was home. When I opened the door, I almost stumbled over my own bag I had left there. Lying on the living room floor were two pair of women’s heels and two pair of men’s shoes. Draped over the couch were various clothing articles from obviously multiple persons of both sexes. On the living room table and on the kitchen table were four empty glasses and a half full wine bottle. No one was in the living room or in the kitchen. Down the hallway, I could see that the bedroom door was open and I walked towards it. Standing at the bedroom door, I could see Andrea and another woman, locked in a 69 position with Andrea on top. Behind each of the women, was a man fucking her. The men were not wearing condoms. I could see the mixture of cum and Andrea’s juices squelching out from between the man’s cock and Andrea’s sex lips as he fucked into her. No one had noticed me. I stumbled back into the living room and out the door. I got into my car and started driving. I had no idea where. They say that when someone is injured badly, that one goes into shock and cannot feel pain at first. I don’t think that is true. I think one feels pain, only can’t fathom the pain or the extent of the pain. I made it maybe two blocks before I abruptly vomited all over the car dash, the windshield, and myself. The last few days had finally caught up to me. My head was throbbing it ached so badly. I was crying and had been crying for some time but only then realized, that I was doing so. I don’t know how long I sat there, but I was driving again. I didn’t know where. I stopped at a park-and-ride parking area on the I-25 north of town. I felt the need to vomit again. I got out of the car and made it over to a grassy area before I emptied my stomach again, and again. After there was nothing left in my stomach but bile, I got up and walked to the top of a bridge crossing the freeway. I stood there watching the semis zooming underneath me in the darkness. Watching those big truck come screaming out of the darkness then under me and back into the darkness, I though of how easy it would be for me to step out beyond the guardrail of the bridge and into the front of one of those massive trucks. Death would be painful but short in coming. I wanted to do it, but then I didn’t. I walked back to my car and sat down on the ground watching the traffic zooming by me. I questioned myself, asking now after what had happened, everything that had happened in my life, what reason I had not to do it. After debating with myself, I got up once more, walked to the bridge, and stared down. I didn’t have it in me. I walked away. I crawled onto the back seat of my car and slept the sleep of the exhausted, until the early morning sunlight and the cold woke me. Still exhausted, and not knowing where to go, I drove back to the apartment. When I entered the apartment, I noticed that my bag was no longer sitting by the door. In the bedroom Andrea was awake and changing the sheets on the bed. When she saw me, she only blankly stared at me. Seeing Andrea holding those crusted and cum soaked sheets, I turned and made it only to the bathroom sink before emptying my stomach of its bile once again. Andrea was now standing at the bathroom door watching me. Her face was still blank and expressionless. Exhausted, I moved past her and into the guestroom. Where I fell on the bed and slept. It’s easy in retrospect, to say what one should have done or not done. But, when you have your mind set, and you’re deeply involved, not wanting to give up on something of great value to you, sometimes you push things, or accept what shouldn’t be, even though you know better. Again, I didn’t sleep long. My rest had been interrupted by a nightmare. In the nightmare, I jumped off a bridge and into an oncoming truck. I awoke just before the truck hit me. Even though I was coated in sweat, mentally I did not care. My whole attitude in waking was still of exhaustion but also of lethargy. Nothing mattered to me anymore. Not having the strength or will to do anything, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling. Time pasted until I took notice of Andrea standing in the doorsill staring at me. All my thoughts in seeing her were just of the awareness that she had just finished her shower. Nothing of the past hours or thoughts of the future were on my mind. Just that that person standing in the doorway I knew. It was Andrea and she was dressed in a bathrobe and her hair was wet therefore she had just finished taking a shower. I thought nothing else in seeing her. I felt nothing else in seeing her. Everything else was blank. The first words she spoke were, “Guess maybe we should talk.” She paused, “You saw last night didn’t you?” I only continued to stare wordlessly back at her. After a while, a slight nervousness begin to appear in her facial expression, as she continued, “It’s nothing serious… We’re only friends… It’s just sex… nothing more… They’re all married… They all have their own families.” She stammered out the last and then dropped her eyes from mine. Remembering slowly last night and what had happened before, I asked perplexed and wondering, “And the condoms?” Her head jerk a little but she did not look at me. Not saying anything for a long time, “Those are for with others.” Pondering over the magnitude of what she had just stated, I asked, “Are you doing this for some kind of revenge? Do you hate me?” Her answer was first quick, “Maybe.” Then she paused for a moment, “No, I don’t think so… I’m not sure. I don’t know. You did hurt me a lot, you know.” After that she got a very sad, tearful look on her face, “No I don’t hate you. I still love you, just as much as ever. That’s the problem. I wish I could just hate you and let it go at that. I can’t do that. I just can’t.” Just pondering the thought because it seemed logical, I asked, “What if I were to cheat on you?” There her eyes snapped back to mine. There was fire in them when she angrily answered me, “Conner, don’t be foolish.” “I love you because of your personality and how understanding and caring you are. I fell in love with you because I felt you were the best of both worlds. You had the softer caring touch of a woman. Some times making love to you was like making love to another woman.” “You even seemed to think like us. At times, in talking with you, I felt I was talking to my best girl friend.” “But, you were a man and I could have sex with you like with a man. I could live with you and have a family, like I could with a man.” “Take a look at yourself. Take a good look. Some times I think you look so feminine… too feminine. “Didn’t the doctor say that too?” “Do you know that people have asked me if you’re gay?” “Maybe your mother was right. Maybe you should have been born a girl.” “Other people don’t know how you are. They only see how you look. They don’t know you like I do.” “How many women have you ever had?” Waving her arm in the direction of the window, “Go ahead and go to bars. See if you can pick up anyone. What woman is going to have anything to do with you?” Then with a snort and a sneer, “ All you’ll be able to get is a hooker… or a queer.” It looked as if she was going to continue but she stopped. She turned her head to the side, as if trying to calm herself and get her thoughts back under control. At one point, she almost turned and walked away from the door but thought better of it. She sighed sadly, “Conner, I didn’t want this talk to go this way. I know you’re hurt and I’m sorry that you are.” “But, I’m having troubles coming to grips with your sterility. I need to work this out my own way. I told you that I didn’t know what I wanted to do and I still don’t know what I want.” “Just please give me time and don’t do anything rash. Maybe, there’s still a chance for us. I just don’t know.” “I’ll tell you first, what I decide, as soon as I have decided.” “I won’t hurt you any more then I have to.” After saying that, she turned and walked away. I went back to staring at the ceiling, but at some time or other, I nodded off to sleep. Again, I woke up a short time later, having dreamt that I was falling. Falling in front of an oncoming semi. Waking, I could still hear the screaming of the air horn and the squeal of the tires. Again, I was drenched in sweat. I automatically got up to take a shower. After the shower, and without thinking, I wrapped the towel around my waist and went towards the main bedroom to get dressed. I stopped though at the doorway and could go no further. I was unable to force myself to go past that door. My body began to shake and I was beginning to feel sick to the stomach again. Within reach, was the bag I had taken with me, to visit Aunt Madge. With a lunge, I grab the bag and rushed to the guest room to dress. The thought of enter the main bedroom was too sickening for me. Coming into the living room, I could see that Andrea had stayed home. She was in the kitchen cooking dinner. She was making a big affair of it. She had the table already set. There were candles ready to be lit. Wine goblets sitting next to the plates. Seeing me she smiled, “You’re right on time. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. Go ahead and sit in the living room, get some more rest. I’ll call you, when it’s ready.” I went into the living room and sat in the dark, staring at the wall. It didn’t matter any more. Nothing mattered anymore. I couldn’t eat much at dinner. It should have tasted good and I should have been hungry. Everything tasted like cardboard. Andrea tried to make simple conversation but I couldn’t really concentrate on what she was saying. Whatever was said, what use did it make? It was all just words. I answered her, as best I could. After the meal, Andrea stood up and walked over to me. First then did I notice that she wasn’t wearing what she would normally wear around the house but had on a very pretty, sexy dress that I had never seen before. I remember wondering why she would be going out so late in the evening. Coming around the table and standing beside me, Andrea took my hand in hers. At her touch, I felt the hairs on my body rise. My stomach twisted. Pulling me up from my chair, she almost whispered, “Come, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll show you that everything is still okay. No one has taken anything from you. I’m still here.” She led me into the hallway and towards the bedroom. At the bedroom door, I stopped and tore my hand from hers. She turned, “What’s wrong?” I couldn’t tell her how much that bedroom repulsed me. How every time I looked into that room and saw that bed, I saw also that scene of her and those others. When she went to wrap her arms around my neck, her lips coming closer to mine, my stomach revolted. I tore her arms from around me and dived towards the bathroom. I just barely made it before I brought dinner back up. My head was pounding and everything around me was spinning. The cold porcelain of the toilet bowl felt comforting and I was relieved to be away from the bedroom and Andrea. Andrea came into the bathroom and knelt down beside me. She put her arm around my shoulder; “Please don’t do this to me.” The closeness and contact to her set my stomach off again. Only bile rose this time, burning my throat in passing. Jerking away from her and pressing myself as far away from her, as I could, “Why are you doing this to me? Don’t you know, how you are hurting me? Looking down at the floor, no longer able to see her, without feel sick, “Why don’t you just kill me, and put me out of my misery? People don’t even treat animals, as cruel as you are, to me.” Then in a whisper, “Go, just go, and leave me alone.” Andrea stood for moments, then again said, “Please, don’t do this to me.” A few minutes later, she left the bathroom and I could hear her crying. Next, the bedroom door slammed shut. It took me another quarter of an hour of crying, before I too got up and left the bathroom. I went into the guest room, closed the door, took off my clothes, and slipped between the sheets. During that night, I awoke twice falling and hearing again, the howl of an air horn and screeching of tires. The next day, I stayed as much as I could behind the closed guestroom door. I only came out when I knew that Andrea was not moving around in the apartment. It seemed Andrea was doing the same. That next week, I did not go to work but stayed home. I didn’t have to stay in the guest room hiding from Andrea. On none of the weekdays did she come home before midnight. On Wednesday, she didn’t come home at all. She left again Friday evening and only came back Sunday late in the afternoon. Saturday, when I emptied the kitchen garbage I found an empty box of condoms. During that week, I emptied the master bedroom of all my clothes and possessions, taking all of Andrea’s from the guest room and putting them in her room. I didn’t do this until Saturday and then it still took a lot of will power to enter that room and not get sick. Most nights that week, I still had the nightmares about the bridge and the semi trucks but the next Monday I felt good enough to go back to work. So began the time of Andrea’s and my co-existence.