Secrets

John stared at the gun on the bed next to him and knew the time had come.  He wiped tears away from his eyes as he lifted the 38 caliber pistol.  He stared at the gun through bloodshot eyes and felt nothing, but memories came flooding back.  Memories of living 23 years with his wife Carole.  Memories of warm summer days hiking in the mountains and cold winters spent on the ski slope.  All those years together, all those memories; gone. 

Carole had been diagnosed with liver cancer just three short weeks before.  He had taken time off from work and cared for her at home until he could no longer do so.  It had meant so much to them to spend those last few precious days together before the end.  She had not wanted to die in a hospital, but at home in her own bed.  In the end, the pain had been too much and she had begged him to take her to the hospital.  Three days later she was gone.  Now all he had were memories.

He also had regrets.  The two of them had never had children.  Carole had been unable to get pregnant even with the best of fertility treatments.  Those efforts had drained their savings leaving them unable to adopt.  It had taken years to pay off the bills, and eventually they had stopped talking about adoption.  They had built a life together that revolved around doing whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted.  The freedom to travel without having to worry about children was powerful.  John found himself spoiling Carole, doting on her as though she were a child.  He had worked hard and had bought her the finest of everything.  Their home was large and expensive, and they frequently filled it’s emptiness with their friends.  Having weekly dinner parties became the norm for them, but after the guests had left the house was empty again. 

His job had often taken him out of town and over the years they had taken on boarders.  A few had been college students; there had been an artist, a writer, and a few businessmen.  Eventually, Carole had decided to quit her job and manage the house as an exclusive bed and breakfast.  It was profitable, and it filled their lives with companionship, but John had always wondered what their lives would have been like if they had had children.

Now that Carole was gone he regretted that he had spent so much time away from home on business.  At the time, Carole had seemed happy, but now he felt guilty that he had neglected her.  There had been years where he had been gone more than he had been at home, but Carole had never complained.  Now, after 23 years, he knew why.

Carole had been everything to him.  He had loved her deeply and had been devoted to her.  There had been temptations over the years, but he had never been unfaithful to her.  He had always cherished their time together.  Memories of dozens of vacations together came flooding back; chasing a laughing Carole up the beach, backpacking in the mountains, trips to Ireland, England, Paris, and Italy.  He would call her every night from whatever cheap motel his company had put him into, and they would dream and plan their next getaway.  It had all seemed so perfect to him.

John felt the weight of the gun in his hand and his eyes refocused on it.  What had seemed so perfect for all those years had been a lie, an absolute lie.  When he thought about it now he could remember times when Carole had been distant.  He had thought that all couples had times like those, and hadn’t taken it seriously.  Those times hadn’t lasted for very long, a month or so at most.  Their sex life had never been particularly racy or spicy, but he had thought they had had a normal sex life for a married couple.  Eventually they had stopped having sex at some point, but he had thought that Carole was happy.

His mind drifted back to the funeral.  He had fought the urge to break down and cry in front of friends and family, and lost.  Sitting in a strange room surrounded by floral arrangements with his wife’s body on display for everyone to see had seemed surreal.  He had felt so guilty for the lost opportunities, and so angry that Carole was gone.  Then, the stranger had walked in. 

He had looked much like John, a bit taller and younger, but the resemblance was uncanny.  He had come into the room quietly, and made his way slowly to where Carole lay.  His eyes had been filled with pain, much like John’s own eyes.  He had lingered by her casket much longer than he should have.  Everyone around him was talking to someone else, and no one seemed to know him.  He had placed his hand on the casket near Carole’s shoulder, and then quickly he had traced a finger along the side of her face as a single tear slipped down his face.  He turned to go very quickly, and in a moment John was out of his chair and across the room without even knowing he had moved.  The man had had no right to touch his wife like that!

He had caught up with him in the parking lot, standing in the harsh winter sun reflecting off of the snow.  He had grabbed him by the arm and demanded to know what was going on.  Looking into the man’s face was like looking into a mirror from ten years before. 

“You never knew…” the man had murmured softly.

“Knew what?!?”  John had demanded.

“Carole-“ His voice broke and he began to sob.

“What the hell are you talking about!?!  Why did you touch my wife’s face!?!  You had no right to touch her!”  John had drawn his fist back to hit the man.

“You’re right…I had no right to touch her….she was your wife…but you weren’t the only one who loved her.”

Suddenly, it dawned on John.  All those years.  Carole had not been happy.  She had not been content.  He loosened his grip on the man’s arm as his face betrayed the shock and disbelief.

“Carole and I had been together for 20 years.  I begged her to divorce you, but she wouldn’t.  She loved me, but she loved you more.”

The man walked away as John stood there disbelieving.  His wife had had an affair for 20 years with this man.  How could this have happened?  Had she been that unhappy?  The man’s words echoed in his mind.  “She loved me….but she loved you more.”  Apparently, he had let her down more than he realized.  It hadn’t been enough for her to divorce him, but certainly enough for her to have an affair with another man for 20 years.

John sat on the bed and trembled with the memory, and then he raised the gun to his head.