In all my years with Anthony, I had never been grateful for his straight-to-the-point style regarding me. I would have explored every emotional and psychological nook and cranny with him. That was important to me. And fun. It would have built intimacy…although not everyone wants that.

Whenever Anthony and I discussed things of human complexity, that high-speed attention train didn’t wait for anyone to board before getting the hell out of there. As a consequence, I eventually retired from spending effort expressing myself. I developed the habit of whittling down my words to the bare essentials when communicating with him, and here was just another example. My reflex was to share all of the details of what was happening–inside and outside–but he seemed, as usual, uninterested. So I took the whole beautifully unfolding story with Sammy and reduced it to a single bland bite, which was all I believed Anthony could swallow.

My heart already knew that Sammy and I were, accidentally and intentionally, in love. But I couldn’t betray myself in saying it out loud to someone who would receive it with cynicism and mockery. There was no proof of it anyway so there was no credible value. “And besides,” my head said to my heart, “there’s really no way this can be true…he’s probably right. How humiliating, singing to them from your heart and then realizing that you’re tone deaf. Could you ever trust yourself again?”

So, my heart kept its secret…for now. It mustered up as much courage as a heart ever could while protecting itself, and gave my voice those few dense words: but what if she is interested? I really think she is.

A clean and simple response: Go for it.

What freedom! The message that had broken my heart months before…namely that my fidelity to Anthony wasn’t that big a deal to him…was being repurposed to open a new door for me. This was permission, if you will, to be radically creative in pursuing what inspired me. I was relieved at his consistency and, in finding this secret door ajar, elated. And, for once, appreciative of Anthony’s passivity in my direction.

If he had stomped on the brakes for me in this moment, I would have pulled the plug on my passion. I would not have explored. Instead, I would have trodden the familiar path of Anthony’s perceived needs and wants (many of them projected), which wasn’t in conflict with what society, “morality,” religion, friends/family said was “right.”

I also would have resented him for wanting me to not have my cake or eat it.

Instead, I felt incredibly grateful for my newly realized liberty which was not afforded to many women by their husbands. It didn’t matter what actually happened with Sammy. Now I could imagine the possibilities available to me. There was spaciousness to roam and I also had security. Thanks to Anthony; thanks to my husband.

Regarding Sammy, when I thought about her having romantic feelings for me, my logic stepped in to play devil’s advocate. For instance, the first time I met Sammy, when the subject of her wife came up, I mentioned having met her. “Isn’t she wonderful?” Sammy had said, beaming a smile at me, adoration dripping from her voice onto me like warm molasses. And the indications kept rolling in…the ones that told me that Sammy was completely and totally in love with Superbloom.

But what about her messages to me? The subtle and not-so-subtle things that were tugging at me and convincing me that…. Convincing me of what?

Anyway, I was no homewrecker. Happily or unhappily married, I wasn’t the kind of person to become romantically involved with a married person. Was I???

And that kiss. I had looked at the photo over and over again. If I was falling for Sammy, why wasn’t I jealous? I was that kind of person. Wasn’t I???

To ponder or not to ponder…that is the question.

(And if you still don’t know me by now, I always choose to ponder.)

---

Sammy had checked in briefly after arriving home from their trip, delighting in the gift she received from me, wishing to connect further after the birthday dinner she was preparing for. I didn’t hear from her again until way past my bedtime.

After putting Leetl to sleep, I slipped into the guest bedroom, my “sacred office,” and pored over my books for hours. Still no word from Sammy. Finally, when I was too sleepy to keep my eyes open, I sent her a goodnight message, letting her know that I was celebrating her existence in the world. I tucked myself in for the night.

Five minutes later, her poemed response illuminated the dark:

Because the Woman I love lives
Inside of you,
I lean as close to your body with my words
As I can–
And I think of you all the time, dear pilgrim.

Because the One I love goes with you
Wherever you go,
Hafiz will always be near.

If you sat before me, wayfarer,
With your aura bright from your many
Charms,
My lips could resist rushing to you and needing
To befriend your blushed cheek,
But my eyes can no longer hide
The wondrous fact of who
You Really are.

The Beautiful One whom I adore
Has pitched His royal tent inside of you,
So I will always lean my heart
As close to your soul
As I can.

Hafiz

I was stunned. Only emojis could convey my true emotion in this moment.

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