The Truth

The Truth

I am married. I have three lovely children, a successful husband, and a beautiful home in the country. I met my husband when I was in college. I was with another man at the time, but things eventually dissolved with him. My husband and I started dating shortly after Christmas and the New Year. It was our final semester in college. He was going on to be a trooper and I was working on getting things around for a bachelor's degree. That was soon to come. We hung out on campus each chance we got and he spent most nights at my apartment in town. He kept me going when I was "burning the midnight oil" in preparation for midterms. All of our friends were so happy that we were together and predicted that we would get married. About a year after we began dating he popped the question. It was a beautiful ring and proposal. He had taken me up to campus during finals week and sent me on a scavenger hunt around the grounds. Each of our friends, many of them still in attendance at the college were in on it and helped him give me my next clue, the next piece to the puzzle. The search ended with him standing in a dress shirt, black slacks, and a large bouquet of daisies, my favorite flower. He was standing in the student lounge, we were spent all of our time between classes. I saw him, smiled, and he dropped down on one knee. Shocked and excited I can't remember even saying yes, but I know that I did and here we are.
         I had had two children from a previous relationship that he took on as his own and helped me with them since day one. I had been a single mom for seven years and when he started paying the bills, initially I was offended and stubborn, but he soon won me over. It seemed the next logical thing for him to do would be to move in. And so he did. He moved in a few short months before our graduation and we lived as roommates, he in his own room and me in mine.
         We quickly fell in love as the days turned into weeks and then months. Eventually, we moved out of the apartment we were living in and found a ranch style house on the outskirts of town to rent for about the same price we were paying in the city. Our life had begun. A few years later we got married. It was a beautiful wedding. Outdoor, among trees and a stunning pond in the backdrop. It was perfect - everything that I wanted. My girls gave me away and we became a true family that day. About six months before our wedding he graduated from the academy and was now a New York State trooper. He was lucky enough to receive an assignment in Central New York which left us close to his family as well as mine. A year after we were married, we put a down payment on a house and became official homeowners four months later.
         The house was set back in the country, a masterpiece against a brilliant sky. It was white with dark green trim and had a wrap around porch. The kitchen was large and had a wood burning stove. The upstairs had four bedrooms and a sitting area. The living room was large and the den, which became my office, was just to the left of the front entrance, which displayed a welcoming foyer.
         I worked from home as a wellness consultant to gyms, community centers, and did some direct work with clients from my home or theirs. The girls got off the bus everyday and after grabbing the mail, would come trotting up the driveway with book bags and lunch boxes in hand. My life was perfect, I had everything that I'd hoped for.
         Two years later, we decided to try for a baby of our own. After some restless months and negative pregnancy tests we had all but givin up hope that we were going to conceive on our own. Then one morning, after the girls had gone to school, I simply wasn't feeling well, and hadn't been for about two weeks. I decided to pick up another pregnancy test while out running my errands that morning. Upon arriving home, I went upstairs to the master bathroom and took the test. I began folding towels while waiting for the test to change. "+" - positive. Oh my gosh! Could I really be pregnant?!
I grabbed my keys and headed over to the trooper barracks. Sergeant Wilkins was on duty that afternoon and upon seeing me walk in the door became nervous, asking me if everything was ok with the me or the girls. I told him that I had something I needed to give to my husband and if he could call and see where he was. Turns out he was not too far away from the barracks. I asked Sgt. Wilkins to do me a favor and say "Congratulations Lieutenant Collins" over the radio. When he radioed back, Wilkins gave me the microphone. I said, "Lt. Collins, you are requested back at the station to congratulate your wife." He sounded puzzled.
         "Casey? What am I congratulating"
         "Well, do you like pink or do you like blue?"
         "WHAT! Hang on, I'm turning around now!"
A few minutes later I heard the sirens as he raced into the barracks parking lot. I rushed out to greet him, pregnancy test in hand. He jumped out of the car, sirens still going and swooped me up in his arms, twirling me around.
         "Is it true, are we really pregnant?!"
I handed him the pregnancy test and he gave a huge cheer, throwing his hands up in the air in seemingly disbelief.
         Months passed and my belly grew bigger. One night while eating Chinese take out in front of the fan I felt something a bit more than just a kick. It was time! His mother came to stay with my two girls while we headed to the hospital. 6 hours and 32 minutes later a beautiful baby boy was born. We named him Matthias James.
         My life was going smoothly. I had the house, the minivan, the devoted husband, the wonderful children, and a supportive family. We had a cat, three dogs, a goat, and some chickens. Things were working so well.
         But there is one thing that held me back from true happiness. I never quite loved my husband as much as I loved him. He knows this, but feels he has one because he has me. That may be true, but my heart is not with him anymore. As the years pass, I think about him more and more. I wonder where he is, if he is happy, what he is doing. Things ended so rough with the two of us and I don't think I ever quite recovered.
         We had a love that created shooting stars, made the world go round, etc. Our love was concrete. But life happened and it became too difficult for us to be together, much as we desperately tried. I suppose I never got over it in a sense. He still had a large part of my heart.
         Then one day, in a chance encounter, I was walking with my two girls, and the baby in the sling and of all people in all the towns - I run into him here and now. We look at each other for the longest time before one of us speaks.          "Casey. Wow, you look different."
         "As do you"
         "Is that your new baby? I heard that you were pregnant."
         "Yes, his names Matthias James"
         "James?"
         "Yes." Is all I could say. How could I tell him that I named a baby that I had had with another man after him? This was all too surreal. My oldest, now 11, remembered James and gave him a big hug. My other one just clung to my leg.
         "So, how are doing? I heard somewhere that you started you own contracting business, how is that going?"
         "Pretty good. I am actually doing a job here in town and came down to the hardware store...I broke my hammer and need to get a new one quick. Stupid me - I did not bring extras"
         "You mean the hammer I gave you on our first Chrismat together? The one that the sales clerk said would never break?"
         "That'd be the one."
I couldn't help but see the irony in that. We break - the hammer breaks. Was this all a sign to end the conversation right then and there? We stood a few more minutes looking at each other, taking stock, committing things to memory.
         "Look, here is the number of the hotel that I am staying at, call me, we'll go for coffee. That is...if you think your husband wouldn't mind?"
         "I'm a grown woman."
         "True."


We parted ways and I slowly piled all the groceries and the kids into my mommy-van and drove home in a daze. I was preoccupied the rest of the night. When asked what was wrong I told my husband that I simply had been fighting a headache all day and that I think I might turn in early that night. He kissed me on the forehead and told me to go relax, that he'd clean up from dinner.
         I lay awake in bed that night thinking about everything. With sleep not finding me, I snuck out onto the back porch for a cigarette, something I had recently taken back up after the baby was weaned. It seems to be my only vice these days. I looked up at the stars and began remembering all the nights that James and I would lay out in the backyard on a blanket and just watch the starts and the moon, sometimes til dawn, we'd be out there talking, making love even.
         I went back in the house, brewed myself a cup of tea and pulled out a photo box from the dining room hutch. I began looking through old pictures of the two of us, the days on the motorcycle, that shabby run down house where we fell in love, the lake that we spend so much time at. Everything came flooding back. I read through some old letters and cards that we had given each other. Then - there it was, tucked in the back, a small velvet box. Trembling, I opened it to reveal his grandmothers ring. A promise ring that he had given me so many Christmases ago.
         The birds began chirping. My husband will be awake soon for another 7am shift. I slowly put everything back in the box and tucked it away and proceeded to make lunches for my girls for school and put a load of laundry in.
         It amazed me how so many things could come flooding back so quickly as if it were yesterday. Back when our love was strong and real. All I want is to forget everything, forget that a love like that can exist, but I can't. I remember. I remember it all and ... I miss it.
                             
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