Monday 18th March 2019, late afternoon

At least this time when I turned the corner into our avenue Jill’s was the only car in the driveway. If she’d been absent or still ‘entertaining’ Callan I could have reversed course and avoided a difficult conversation, but my heart spoke the truth. A wave of warm happiness washed through my body as I realized that Jill, like me, knew we needed to talk. And talk without the distractions and background noise of Malcolm or Callan.

“Hello,” was all I said as I entered, trying my best to keep my voice as calm and confident as I could, despite my feelings which in truth were swirling around like a swollen mountain stream passing over particularly treacherous rapids.

Jill had been so lost in her thoughts that she’d not heard my car park on the driveway or my key in the lock. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick. You didn’t answer any of my calls or texts. You scared me something terrible.”

I don’t know where it came from, and I wasn’t proud of it, but someone inside me said, “So mission accomplished then.”

Jill’s face was a strange mix between anger and contrition, contrition just about winning out by a narrow head. “I guess maybe I deserved that, at least a little.”

Our conversation could have gone two ways. It could have gone the way I’d planned it this morning – a blow-by-blow post mortem of how badly Jill had behaved with Callan at the pool party and what happened this morning. When I thought about it this morning that might have been appropriate, but after a day of thinking I saw the bigger picture and opted for the high road.

I slowly walked into the lounge and sat next to Jill who seemed to look surprised, sensing something was up. Something more than the temper tantrum she’d prepared herself for.

I reached across and took both her hands between mine, instantly aware of the irony that Veronica had grasped my hands just like this during our heart-to-heart just hours earlier.

“Jill, I was deeply hurt by what you and Callan did yesterday, and by what you did again today. But that can wait for another day. I think we have bigger things, bigger problems we need to discuss.”

Jill tried to speak, but before she could I just carried ongoing. “Jill, let me ask you this, how important is our marriage to you? How important is it to the other parts of your life?”

Again, she tried to speak but I talked over her. “Before you answer, ask yourself this: how do you spend your time? What are the parts of the week that you really look forward to? That you’re really excited about?”

I could see tears were starting to form in the corners of Jill’s beautiful hazel eyes, dampness spreading slowly down her cheeks.

“Honey, you know how important our marriage is to me. You know that. I thought you loved the games we play. The games with Malcolm and with Callan…” her words slowly trailing off as her worried and desperate eyes stared at me.

Looking back at Jill, I took my time before speaking. “Jill, honey, I did love the games. At first. But then as things have gone on, as we’ve got deeper and deeper, I’m not so sure anymore. It feels like things have gotten all turned inside out. What started as a game has become our whole life, hardly any room left for our marriage, our marriage just bookended into a few random hours on a Monday and Tuesday. Sometimes it feels like one of those arrangements where a mum or a dad has custody for just a few short hours. That our marriage had got custody of our lives for just for those few short hours, and aside from that we’re strangers leading separate lives.”

Panicked and desperate, Jill just repeated herself. “But I thought you loved it, honey. Every time it’s been you who’s encouraged me, told me we can’t back to our old ways.”

I couldn’t step back from telling Jill how it truly was, but I did feel sorry for her. I still loved her, she’d been my best friend for so long and I could hardly remember a life without her by my side. But I needed her to take off the rose-tinted glasses and see things how they truly were. The low point we’d truly descended to.

“Jill, honey, I still love you, I’m not saying I don’t. But I want you to see the truth, to see the world how it is, not how you want it to be. Look at this last week. You and I were together for a couple of days. Aside from that, we’ve either been working and several thousand miles apart, or you’ve been with Malcolm or Callan and I’ve been with Veronica.”

From the look on her face, the penny was slowly starting to drop for Jill.

“What kind of a marriage is that, baby?” I asked rhetorically. “At first it was exciting and new, but be honest with yourself, Jill, what kind of a marriage is it really.”

The tears were flowing freely now, and I felt mean about saying it, but I couldn’t stop myself. “Jill, I’m not being horrible, but look at yesterday as an example. Truth is you were more excited and happier to spend time with your ex-boyfriend than you were with me, your husband for the last twenty years.”

I squeezed her hands and for the first time kissed her softly. “Truth is, honey, if we carry on like this, we won’t have a marriage to come home to. You and me, both of us, need to decide what we really want and be honest with each other. Even if it hurts to be so honest.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That was the start of a long and difficult conversation between me and Jill that evening. Jill blew work off as she knew our marriage and relationship was at a crossroads.

It took time and was hard, but we opened up to each other, discussing the complex web of feelings and relationships we’d allowed our lives to become. We talked about Jill’s new job, how Luther was getting her to explore things sexually. More significantly we talked about her growing feelings for Malcolm.

We talked about me and Veronica, and me and Veronica and Haley, which wasn’t something which was easy for Jill to hear. And inevitably we talked about the latest big knot that had stretched things to breaking point – Jill’s resurrected relationship with the man she’d loved way back in her college days before she’d even known I’d existed.

Eventually, our conversation got to a point where talking in abstract terms about all the different moving parts of our life was all talked out – nothing new to be gained by discussing further. So, I repeated my earlier blunt and direct question to Jill, how important was our marriage?

Earlier Jill had assured me our marriage was incredibly important to her, that our present difficulties were just the result of misunderstandings, that she thought I was still on board and happy with the games and all the men in her life.

But now I needed to move things on, because if I didn’t, I was truly scared for our future.

“Jill, you said our marriage is important to you. But can’t you see, right now all the time you’re spending with these other guys, all the games you’re playing with Luther, they’re suffocating our marriage. Starving you and me of the oxygen of time together, starving us of focusing on each other. The games, the job, the other guys – it was fun, but it’s all become too much. If we go on like this for much longer, there’s going to be nothing left of ‘Jill and Dave’, our marriage is just going to be a dim and distant memory.”

I’d had to get it all out, share with Jill exactly where I’d gotten to, just how scared I was. The time for subtlety and quiet conversations was long gone. We’d gotten to the point where shock therapy and harsh, black and white decisions were needed.

“Jill, you say our marriage is important to you. Well, I have to say, day to day, week to week, I’m not seeing that. Let me ask you, what will you give up to make our marriage better?”

But Jill just tried to skirt around the issue – saying she didn’t think things were as bad as I was painting them, that we’d just had a bad few days and that things would be alright after that. Saying that she didn’t think the problem was as big as I was painting it, that we should give it some more time and maybe see how we felt in a few weeks or a month or two. That she was sure I’d feel differently about things then – after all, as she reminded me, wasn’t I the one who’d persuaded her that there was no going backward for a couple like us.

But the way that Jill was responding was gradually making me more and more angry. I was doing all the heavy lifting in this conversation. The Jill I’d known before, always so honest and objective, was AWOL somewhere. Physically she was there, but mentally she was AWOL, maybe in bed with one of the other men in her life or smiling into a camera lens for her boss/director/pimp.

“Jill, you’re not listening to me. Wake up and smell the roses! Our marriage is on life support, and unless we do something about it, it’ll be too late.”

And then I said what I now knew to be true. I’d not planned it or thought it when I’d walked back into our home earlier that day. But the realization had been growing in my mind with every passing minute of my conversation with Jill. Every new avoidance and half-truth she offered just reinforcing my growing conviction that she and I faced a fundamental choice; one we couldn’t duck or compromise on.

With a growing sadness, I almost cried inside as I prepared myself to say what I knew needed to be said. I’d desperately hoped that Jill and I could have discussed it and come to a decision together, but I could see now that wasn’t to be. So, I summoned the last reserves of my emotional reserves, clasped Jill’s hands tight, and told her how it had to be.

“Jill, unless we do something now, we’ll have nothing left. Jill, I think you and me need some space. That’s the only way we’ll truly both know how important our marriage still is to us.”

“Dave, what are you saying,” her ragged and desperate voice asked, my use of the word ‘space’ ringing multiple alarm bells in her head.

“Jill, I’m saying that I think we could do with a couple of weeks apart. I know how important our marriage is to me, and I know I still want to try and make it work. But from everything you’ve said today, it’s clear you still think we can make it work just like it is now. A marriage with you, me, and two or three other guys in it. So, I think it’s best if we have a couple of weeks apart, to do some thinking and then see how we both feel.”

Jill started to speak, tears now streaming down her cheeks, but I stopped her.

“No, Jill, that’s how it has to be. And before you ask, during the next few weeks I’m not going to see Veronica. This isn’t some sneaky plan on my part to have more time with Veronica. This is my way of showing you that our marriage is still the number one, most important thing in my life. And, Jill honey, what you choose to do, well that’s up to you. I can’t make those decisions for you.”

Jill was crying like a fountain now. I tried to stop myself, but I couldn’t, I had to reach out and hug her, as she started clinging to me like a limpet. Our heads next to each other as I stroked her hair and said my last piece. “Jill, honey, I’m not asking you to pretend you don’t have feelings for Malcolm and Callan. I’m not asking that. I’m asking that you show us both where our marriage sits within your priorities, in the list of things you want in your life.”

And with that, I slowly and gently uncurled Jill’s arms from around my back and left our family home, not daring to look back lest I weaken or burst out into tears myself.

(Thanks to cbears and Kite for their help.)