Jacob's Plan

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic


Middle-aged empty-nesters confront the issues in their relationship.

Submitted: September 10, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: September 10, 2018

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A A A


There hasn't been love in this house for two years, or sex in eight months. That is until last Wednesday, Valentine's Day. Despite his charm, Jacob’s not the romantic type, never has been, so it took me by surprise that he had taken it upon himself to plan that particular night out, a holiday he always claimed was created by Hallmark to be their annual cash cow. Dinner was a lovely affair: filet mignon paired with a wonderful pinot noir. My husband of twenty-three years had obviously went to great lengths to make this night special for us: from the dinner itself seated at the most coveted table, to the wine selection, the choice of dessert (strawberry cheesecake, my favorite), the band serenading me with my favorite song, and last, but not least, the limo ride to and from the restaurant. There was, however, a familiar chumminess that Jacob shared with Francois, the maitre d, that gave me pause. This was our first time here and not exactly the kind of restaurant you frequent alone, so how could Jacob and Francois possibly know each other? I had to stowe this away quickly, for fear of my imagination taking me places I didn't want to go. When we arrived home, Jacob joined me in the bedroom, and not to sleep. Again, this took me by surprise. We had been frequently sleeping in separate rooms: not every night, mind you, but many. At first we told one another that it was because of his snoring or my sleep issues or whatever else to fool ourselves into thinking everything was okay. This occasional arrangement turned into three nights a week, then five, until gradually having company at bedtime became far more the exception than the rule. But here we were, together again for the first time in several months. As passionate as I can ever remember, remenscient of our early days. The next morning I awoke to the smell of bacon, eggs, and fresh brewed coffee. I padded down the hall wearing only Jacob's shirt from last night, something I used to do back in college while we were dating. It made me feel sexy. “Hey, Doll.” Jacob said when he saw me standing at the kitchen island. “Hope you're hungry.” I said I was and he returned my smile with one of his own, his dimples making me giddy like a school-girl. He turned toward the griddle, using a whisk to whip the pancake batter. His phone, which was sitting face up on the island, had an incoming text alert from someone named Susan. I didn't know any Susans. I was suspicious but didn't mention it. Truth was, this was as connected as I had felt to Jacob in quite some time and I didn't want to ruin the mood. We ate at the breakfast nook, regaling about last night as if it had happened ten years ago instead of ten hours. The conversation was light and easy. A companionable and familiar comfort to our words, even when the conversation turned salacious. It pained me to change the subject, but I knew I must. If I didn't ask now, while I had his full attention, I would regret it later. “I hate to bring it up, Sweetheart, especially after the wonderful time we had last night, but you remember we have the appointment with Dr. Paulson on Monday, right?” Jacob's expression darkened slightly. We had both agreed a while ago that we should seek help, but it had been several weeks since booking the appointment. I hadn't brought it up lately and I suspected that if Jacob hadn't forgotten about it altogether he was hoping I would. “I know, I remember.” was all he said. His smile still playing on his lips but no longer in his eyes. Despite our best efforts, we were unable to recapture the same carefree feeling from the previous hour or so. Eventually, we cleared the table, then went about our normal Thursday routine. Both of us worked from home now, and with our youngest having gone off to college last fall, I wrongly assumed growing closer would happen naturally. The distance between us wasn't exactly what I had envisioned for us as empty-nesters. The next few days leading up to our Monday appointment were something of a mixed bag. Never as low as our lowest moments over the last few months, never as high as our Valentine's Day evening either. But we had been sharing a bed every night since, I liked to think of that as progress. Monday morning Jacob and I agreed to meet at Dr. Paulson's office for our 11 o’clock appointment. He claimed to have business downtown that needed tending to. When I pressed for further details he was charmingly evasive as only he can be. He arrived shortly after I did, gave me a peck on the cheek, and took a seat next to mine in the waiting room. “Hey, Babe.” he said casually, oblivious to my suspicions. I sat seething, unable to understand why the mere presence in Dr. Paulson's office was conjuring up negative feelings in me. Magnifying them, really. Sensing my chilly reception, Jacob asked me what was wrong. “You having to ask is part of the problem.” I said, immediately regretting it. “What's that supposed to mean?” “Jacob and Deborah? Please come with me?” The receptionist called us, saving me, at least for the moment. She lead us down the hall to Dr. Paulson’s office.There was a nameplate on her door. It was open but I knocked anyway. She stood and invited us in. She was a tall woman with a serious but attractive face and jet black hair pinned tightly into a severe bun. After the necessary introductions were made we all took our seats. She got some background on us and asked all the perfunctory questions about why we were there. After a few minutes of getting input from both of us regarding what we thought was amiss in our relationship, the she asked us to participate in a written exercise designed to help communicate more effectively. Seemed simple enough, so we agreed. My mind was elsewhere, however. I twice asked Dr. Paulson to repeat directions and further elaborate. I remember we were to write down three things but I couldn't, for the life of me, recall what those three things were. Jacob, apparently, was having none of the same issues following directions as he put his pen to paper immediately. I did my best, wrote down what I thought were the biggest issues in our relationship, perhaps playing a bit too much to what I thought Dr. Paulson expected to hear. After a few minutes we finished and put our notebooks down. We agreed to share what we came up with at the end of our session. Further discussion, and a bit of probing on the doctor's part, revealed that Jacob struggled with feelings of isolation and inadequacy. We had been through a lot. Jacob had survived three tours of duty in Iraq and Afghanistan before retiring from the Army, we raised two boys, one of which was hell on wheels during his high school years, both of us had lost jobs that we loved and spent many years working (him retiring and me being laid off), I had a lump removed from my breast believed to be far more serious than it actually was, buried both of his parents, and my mother. Given the recent distance between us I understood the isolation part, but his feelings of inadequacy caught me off guard. He always seemed strong and confident. Then it was my turn. It took significantly longer for us to get to the heart of the matter with me. Jacob's not an open book but he's certainly less guarded than I am. We seemed to go round and round until, finally, Dr. Paulson was able to pin me down as to what I thought was causing my feelings of resentment and insecurity. I was terrified to confess my worst fear aloud. “I think my husband is having an affair.” Jacob looked as if he'd been slapped. “What! What are you talking about?” “Who’s Susan?” I asked evenly. We sat staring at one other for several seconds, awkward since we were seated side by side, opposite the Doctor. She looked as shocked by my sudden accusation as my husband. A look of resignation washed over Jacob's face. “I'm sorry, I didn't know how to tell you.” he answered, shaking his head slowly. “I should've handled this differently. Guess it's time for me to come clean.” With that he retrieved his phone, swiped it to life, then dropped it in my lap. The screen opened to the ongoing thread of texts between him and Susan that went back several weeks. I handed his phone back to him, indignant. “Jacob, why would I want to read that.” “Deborah, please.” he implored. The heat of humiliation and shame consumed me as I read. It was obvious from the earliest texts that Susan was simply helping Jacob plan a surprise trip to Italy for our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary next year. She was a travel agent. She'd also put him in contact with Francois the maitre d. Determined not to cry, l avoided Jacob's eyes, apologized, then looked up to let the Doctor in on the secret. “I was wrong, guess we're going to Italy.” I said, equal parts of relief and embarrassment. “That's wonderful! I guess congratulations are in order.” I took a deep breath, looked in Jacob's direction. Much to my surprise, if there was hurt feelings or resentment you'd never have known it. He smiled at me with love in his eyes and those dimples on his cheeks. I finally felt hopeful that we'd be able to close the chasm between us. Despite all of our shortcomings and personal challenges, I was reminded of the profound love I had for this man. Our session was drawing to a close. Dr. Paulson reminded us of our written exercises. Did we want to read them aloud or silently? We agreed to read them there in the office, but silently, for sure. Jacob went first, I watched as he moved his lips along with the words, as he always did, whenever reading to himself. My heart sank as I suddenly recalled how most of what I said had to do with paying closer attention to me and making more of an effort to be present when we spent time together. Things that, honestly, I was just as guilty of, if not more, than him. Accusations made under the mistaken notion of his infidelity. There was an impending sense of dread as it occurred to me that I totally missed the point of the exercise. Absurdly, I had closed by saying he could help out more around the house. He pressed his lips into a straight line, disappointed with himself. It was my turn to read. I took in a deep breath while opening his notebook, steeling myself for what was coming. I read the first sentence with a lump in my throat. The second caused my vision to blur. After dabbing my eyes dry, I continued. The third, caused me to lose my composure altogether. His note was unmistakably Jacob, It read: 'My greatest accomplishment was tricking you into marrying me and raising two wonderful sons together’ he said. Followed by: 'My worst day with you was better than my best day alone’. He closed with: 'I love you, I love you, I love you!’

There hasn't been love in this house for two years, or sex in eight months. That is until last Wednesday, Valentine's Day. Despite his charm, Jacob’s not the romantic type, never has been, so it took me by surprise that he had taken it upon himself to plan that particular night out, a holiday he always claimed was created by Hallmark to be their annual cash cow. Dinner was a lovely affair: filet mignon paired with a wonderful pinot noir. My husband of twenty-three years had obviously went to great lengths to make this night special for us: from the dinner itself seated at the most coveted table, to the wine selection, the choice of dessert (strawberry cheesecake, my favorite), the band serenading me with my favorite song, and last, but not least, the limo ride to and from the restaurant. There was, however, a familiar chumminess that Jacob shared with Francois, the maitre d, that gave me pause. This was our first time here and not exactly the kind of restaurant you frequent alone, so how could Jacob and Francois possibly know each other? I had to stowe this away quickly, for fear of my imagination taking me places I didn't want to go. When we arrived home, Jacob joined me in the bedroom, and not to sleep. Again, this took me by surprise. We had been frequently sleeping in separate rooms: not every night, mind you, but many. At first we told one another that it was because of his snoring or my sleep issues or whatever else to fool ourselves into thinking everything was okay. This occasional arrangement turned into three nights a week, then five, until gradually having company at bedtime became far more the exception than the rule. But here we were, together again for the first time in several months. As passionate as I can ever remember, remenscient of our early days. The next morning I awoke to the smell of bacon, eggs, and fresh brewed coffee. I padded down the hall wearing only Jacob's shirt from last night, something I used to do back in college while we were dating. It made me feel sexy. “Hey, Doll.” Jacob said when he saw me standing at the kitchen island. “Hope you're hungry.” I said I was and he returned my smile with one of his own, his dimples making me giddy like a school-girl. He turned toward the griddle, using a whisk to whip the pancake batter. His phone, which was sitting face up on the island, had an incoming text alert from someone named Susan. I didn't know any Susans. I was suspicious but didn't mention it. Truth was, this was as connected as I had felt to Jacob in quite some time and I didn't want to ruin the mood. We ate at the breakfast nook, regaling about last night as if it had happened ten years ago instead of ten hours. The conversation was light and easy. A companionable and familiar comfort to our words, even when the conversation turned salacious. It pained me to change the subject, but I knew I must. If I didn't ask now, while I had his full attention, I would regret it later. “I hate to bring it up, Sweetheart, especially after the wonderful time we had last night, but you remember we have the appointment with Dr. Paulson on Monday, right?” Jacob's expression darkened slightly. We had both agreed a while ago that we should seek help, but it had been several weeks since booking the appointment. I hadn't brought it up lately and I suspected that if Jacob hadn't forgotten about it altogether he was hoping I would. “I know, I remember.” was all he said. His smile still playing on his lips but no longer in his eyes. Despite our best efforts, we were unable to recapture the same carefree feeling from the previous hour or so. Eventually, we cleared the table, then went about our normal Thursday routine. Both of us worked from home now, and with our youngest having gone off to college last fall, I wrongly assumed growing closer would happen naturally. The distance between us wasn't exactly what I had envisioned for us as empty-nesters. The next few days leading up to our Monday appointment were something of a mixed bag. Never as low as our lowest moments over the last few months, never as high as our Valentine's Day evening either. But we had been sharing a bed every night since, I liked to think of that as progress. Monday morning Jacob and I agreed to meet at Dr. Paulson's office for our 11 o’clock appointment. He claimed to have business downtown that needed tending to. When I pressed for further details he was charmingly evasive as only he can be. He arrived shortly after I did, gave me a peck on the cheek, and took a seat next to mine in the waiting room. “Hey, Babe.” he said casually, oblivious to my suspicions. I sat seething, unable to understand why the mere presence in Dr. Paulson's office was conjuring up negative feelings in me. Magnifying them, really. Sensing my chilly reception, Jacob asked me what was wrong. “You having to ask is part of the problem.” I said, immediately regretting it. “What's that supposed to mean?” “Jacob and Deborah? Please come with me?” The receptionist called us, saving me, at least for the moment. She lead us down the hall to Dr. Paulson’s office.There was a nameplate on her door. It was open but I knocked anyway. She stood and invited us in. She was a tall woman with a serious but attractive face and jet black hair pinned tightly into a severe bun. After the necessary introductions were made we all took our seats. She got some background on us and asked all the perfunctory questions about why we were there. After a few minutes of getting input from both of us regarding what we thought was amiss in our relationship, the she asked us to participate in a written exercise designed to help communicate more effectively. Seemed simple enough, so we agreed. My mind was elsewhere, however. I twice asked Dr. Paulson to repeat directions and further elaborate. I remember we were to write down three things but I couldn't, for the life of me, recall what those three things were. Jacob, apparently, was having none of the same issues following directions as he put his pen to paper immediately. I did my best, wrote down what I thought were the biggest issues in our relationship, perhaps playing a bit too much to what I thought Dr. Paulson expected to hear. After a few minutes we finished and put our notebooks down. We agreed to share what we came up with at the end of our session. Further discussion, and a bit of probing on the doctor's part, revealed that Jacob struggled with feelings of isolation and inadequacy. We had been through a lot. Jacob had survived three tours of duty in Iraq and Afghanistan before retiring from the Army, we raised two boys, one of which was hell on wheels during his high school years, both of us had lost jobs that we loved and spent many years working (him retiring and me being laid off), I had a lump removed from my breast believed to be far more serious than it actually was, buried both of his parents, and my mother. Given the recent distance between us I understood the isolation part, but his feelings of inadequacy caught me off guard. He always seemed strong and confident. Then it was my turn. It took significantly longer for us to get to the heart of the matter with me. Jacob's not an open book but he's certainly less guarded than I am. We seemed to go round and round until, finally, Dr. Paulson was able to pin me down as to what I thought was causing my feelings of resentment and insecurity. I was terrified to confess my worst fear aloud. “I think my husband is having an affair.” Jacob looked as if he'd been slapped. “What! What are you talking about?” “Who’s Susan?” I asked evenly. We sat staring at one other for several seconds, awkward since we were seated side by side, opposite the Doctor. She looked as shocked by my sudden accusation as my husband. A look of resignation washed over Jacob's face. “I'm sorry, I didn't know how to tell you.” he answered, shaking his head slowly. “I should've handled this differently. Guess it's time for me to come clean.” With that he retrieved his phone, swiped it to life, then dropped it in my lap. The screen opened to the ongoing thread of texts between him and Susan that went back several weeks. I handed his phone back to him, indignant. “Jacob, why would I want to read that.” “Deborah, please.” he implored. The heat of humiliation and shame consumed me as I read. It was obvious from the earliest texts that Susan was simply helping Jacob plan a surprise trip to Italy for our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary next year. She was a travel agent. She'd also put him in contact with Francois the maitre d. Determined not to cry, l avoided Jacob's eyes, apologized, then looked up to let the Doctor in on the secret. “I was wrong, guess we're going to Italy.” I said, equal parts of relief and embarrassment. “That's wonderful! I guess congratulations are in order.” I took a deep breath, looked in Jacob's direction. Much to my surprise, if there was hurt feelings or resentment you'd never have known it. He smiled at me with love in his eyes and those dimples on his cheeks. I finally felt hopeful that we'd be able to close the chasm between us. Despite all of our shortcomings and personal challenges, I was reminded of the profound love I had for this man. Our session was drawing to a close. Dr. Paulson reminded us of our written exercises. Did we want to read them aloud or silently? We agreed to read them there in the office, but silently, for sure. Jacob went first, I watched as he moved his lips along with the words, as he always did, whenever reading to himself. My heart sank as I suddenly recalled how most of what I said had to do with paying closer attention to me and making more of an effort to be present when we spent time together. Things that, honestly, I was just as guilty of, if not more, than him. Accusations made under the mistaken notion of his infidelity. There was an impending sense of dread as it occurred to me that I totally missed the point of the exercise. Absurdly, I had closed by saying he could help out more around the house. He pressed his lips into a straight line, disappointed with himself. It was my turn to read. I took in a deep breath while opening his notebook, steeling myself for what was coming. I read the first sentence with a lump in my throat. The second caused my vision to blur. After dabbing my eyes dry, I continued. The third, caused me to lose my composure altogether. His note was unmistakably Jacob, It read: 'My greatest accomplishment was tricking you into marrying me and raising two wonderful sons together’ he said. Followed by: 'My worst day with you was better than my best day alone’. He closed with: 'I love you, I love you, I love you!’

There hasn't been love in this house for two years, or sex in eight months. That is until last Wednesday, Valentine's Day. Despite his charm, Jacob’s not the romantic type, never has been, so it took me by surprise that he had taken it upon himself to plan that particular night out, a holiday he always claimed was created by Hallmark to be their annual cash cow. Dinner was a lovely affair: filet mignon paired with a wonderful pinot noir. My husband of twenty-three years had obviously went to great lengths to make this night special for us: from the dinner itself seated at the most coveted table, to the wine selection, the choice of dessert (strawberry cheesecake, my favorite), the band serenading me with my favorite song, and last, but not least, the limo ride to and from the restaurant. There was, however, a familiar chumminess that Jacob shared with Francois, the maitre d, that gave me pause. This was our first time here and not exactly the kind of restaurant you frequent alone, so how could Jacob and Francois possibly know each other? I had to stowe this away quickly, for fear of my imagination taking me places I didn't want to go. When we arrived home, Jacob joined me in the bedroom, and not to sleep. Again, this took me by surprise. We had been frequently sleeping in separate rooms: not every night, mind you, but many. At first we told one another that it was because of his snoring or my sleep issues or whatever else to fool ourselves into thinking everything was okay. This occasional arrangement turned into three nights a week, then five, until gradually having company at bedtime became far more the exception than the rule. But here we were, together again for the first time in several months. As passionate as I can ever remember, remenscient of our early days. The next morning I awoke to the smell of bacon, eggs, and fresh brewed coffee. I padded down the hall wearing only Jacob's shirt from last night, something I used to do back in college while we were dating. It made me feel sexy. “Hey, Doll.” Jacob said when he saw me standing at the kitchen island. “Hope you're hungry.” I said I was and he returned my smile with one of his own, his dimples making me giddy like a school-girl. He turned toward the griddle, using a whisk to whip the pancake batter. His phone, which was sitting face up on the island, had an incoming text alert from someone named Susan. I didn't know any Susans. I was suspicious but didn't mention it. Truth was, this was as connected as I had felt to Jacob in quite some time and I didn't want to ruin the mood. We ate at the breakfast nook, regaling about last night as if it had happened ten years ago instead of ten hours. The conversation was light and easy. A companionable and familiar comfort to our words, even when the conversation turned salacious. It pained me to change the subject, but I knew I must. If I didn't ask now, while I had his full attention, I would regret it later. “I hate to bring it up, Sweetheart, especially after the wonderful time we had last night, but you remember we have the appointment with Dr. Paulson on Monday, right?” Jacob's expression darkened slightly. We had both agreed a while ago that we should seek help, but it had been several weeks since booking the appointment. I hadn't brought it up lately and I suspected that if Jacob hadn't forgotten about it altogether he was hoping I would. “I know, I remember.” was all he said. His smile still playing on his lips but no longer in his eyes. Despite our best efforts, we were unable to recapture the same carefree feeling from the previous hour or so. Eventually, we cleared the table, then went about our normal Thursday routine. Both of us worked from home now, and with our youngest having gone off to college last fall, I wrongly assumed growing closer would happen naturally. The distance between us wasn't exactly what I had envisioned for us as empty-nesters. The next few days leading up to our Monday appointment were something of a mixed bag. Never as low as our lowest moments over the last few months, never as high as our Valentine's Day evening either. But we had been sharing a bed every night since, I liked to think of that as progress. Monday morning Jacob and I agreed to meet at Dr. Paulson's office for our 11 o’clock appointment. He claimed to have business downtown that needed tending to. When I pressed for further details he was charmingly evasive as only he can be. He arrived shortly after I did, gave me a peck on the cheek, and took a seat next to mine in the waiting room. “Hey, Babe.” he said casually, oblivious to my suspicions. I sat seething, unable to understand why the mere presence in Dr. Paulson's office was conjuring up negative feelings in me. Magnifying them, really. Sensing my chilly reception, Jacob asked me what was wrong. “You having to ask is part of the problem.” I said, immediately regretting it. “What's that supposed to mean?” “Jacob and Deborah? Please come with me?” The receptionist called us, saving me, at least for the moment. She lead us down the hall to Dr. Paulson’s office.There was a nameplate on her door. It was open but I knocked anyway. She stood and invited us in. She was a tall woman with a serious but attractive face and jet black hair pinned tightly into a severe bun. After the necessary introductions were made we all took our seats. She got some background on us and asked all the perfunctory questions about why we were there. After a few minutes of getting input from both of us regarding what we thought was amiss in our relationship, the she asked us to participate in a written exercise designed to help communicate more effectively. Seemed simple enough, so we agreed. My mind was elsewhere, however. I twice asked Dr. Paulson to repeat directions and further elaborate. I remember we were to write down three things but I couldn't, for the life of me, recall what those three things were. Jacob, apparently, was having none of the same issues following directions as he put his pen to paper immediately. I did my best, wrote down what I thought were the biggest issues in our relationship, perhaps playing a bit too much to what I thought Dr. Paulson expected to hear. After a few minutes we finished and put our notebooks down. We agreed to share what we came up with at the end of our session. Further discussion, and a bit of probing on the doctor's part, revealed that Jacob struggled with feelings of isolation and inadequacy. We had been through a lot. Jacob had survived three tours of duty in Iraq and Afghanistan before retiring from the Army, we raised two boys, one of which was hell on wheels during his high school years, both of us had lost jobs that we loved and spent many years working (him retiring and me being laid off), I had a lump removed from my breast believed to be far more serious than it actually was, buried both of his parents, and my mother. Given the recent distance between us I understood the isolation part, but his feelings of inadequacy caught me off guard. He always seemed strong and confident. Then it was my turn. It took significantly longer for us to get to the heart of the matter with me. Jacob's not an open book but he's certainly less guarded than I am. We seemed to go round and round until, finally, Dr. Paulson was able to pin me down as to what I thought was causing my feelings of resentment and insecurity. I was terrified to confess my worst fear aloud. “I think my husband is having an affair.” Jacob looked as if he'd been slapped. “What! What are you talking about?” “Who’s Susan?” I asked evenly. We sat staring at one other for several seconds, awkward since we were seated side by side, opposite the Doctor. She looked as shocked by my sudden accusation as my husband. A look of resignation washed over Jacob's face. “I'm sorry, I didn't know how to tell you.” he answered, shaking his head slowly. “I should've handled this differently. Guess it's time for me to come clean.” With that he retrieved his phone, swiped it to life, then dropped it in my lap. The screen opened to the ongoing thread of texts between him and Susan that went back several weeks. I handed his phone back to him, indignant. “Jacob, why would I want to read that.” “Deborah, please.” he implored. The heat of humiliation and shame consumed me as I read. It was obvious from the earliest texts that Susan was simply helping Jacob plan a surprise trip to Italy for our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary next year. She was a travel agent. She'd also put him in contact with Francois the maitre d. Determined not to cry, l avoided Jacob's eyes, apologized, then looked up to let the Doctor in on the secret. “I was wrong, guess we're going to Italy.” I said, equal parts of relief and embarrassment. “That's wonderful! I guess congratulations are in order.” I took a deep breath, looked in Jacob's direction. Much to my surprise, if there was hurt feelings or resentment you'd never have known it. He smiled at me with love in his eyes and those dimples on his cheeks. I finally felt hopeful that we'd be able to close the chasm between us. Despite all of our shortcomings and personal challenges, I was reminded of the profound love I had for this man. Our session was drawing to a close. Dr. Paulson reminded us of our written exercises. Did we want to read them aloud or silently? We agreed to read them there in the office, but silently, for sure. Jacob went first, I watched as he moved his lips along with the words, as he always did, whenever reading to himself. My heart sank as I suddenly recalled how most of what I said had to do with paying closer attention to me and making more of an effort to be present when we spent time together. Things that, honestly, I was just as guilty of, if not more, than him. Accusations made under the mistaken notion of his infidelity. There was an impending sense of dread as it occurred to me that I totally missed the point of the exercise. Absurdly, I had closed by saying he could help out more around the house. He pressed his lips into a straight line, disappointed with himself. It was my turn to read. I took in a deep breath while opening his notebook, steeling myself for what was coming. I read the first sentence with a lump in my throat. The second caused my vision to blur. After dabbing my eyes dry, I continued. The third, caused me to lose my composure altogether. His note was unmistakably Jacob, It read: 'My greatest accomplishment was tricking you into marrying me and raising two wonderful sons together’ he said. Followed by: 'My worst day with you was better than my best day alone’. He closed with: 'I love you, I love you, I love you!’


© Copyright 2018 Jason Petersen. All rights reserved.

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