Free August 9th by Stu Schreiber Page A

hear in my ear.
    “You were the best lover, ever. I still remember that night because you were so sweet and thoughtful and actually concerned about me. It really wasn’t about the money with you. I hope you believe me. I wish you weren’t married, but I also wished for the same thing years ago.”
    And just like that, I gave in. All it took was her hot body, beautiful face, ego boosting words and now a wildcard, her intelligence. When I suggested we finish going over the rest of her marketing plans at dinner, she smiled and answered with her voice an octave lower, “I’d love that. I can really learn so much from you.”
    That night I repeated the behavior I most despise in myself. To help me from thinking about what I was doing I drank most of a bottle of wine at dinner. The sex was wild and pure passion. I thought I enjoyed the evening until the moment I got into my car to drive home.That’s when whatever conscience I had repressed returned with a vengeance.
    Stupidity is often defined as making the same mistake over and over again. How stupid am I since I continued the escapade with Hope for the next two months. It seemed as long as I continued to see her I perpetuated a lie I didn’t have to confront. I was consumed with trying to act like everything was normal once I got home.
    Finally, three days ago I stopped the madness and ended whatever Hope and I had. Now I’m left alone in my own pool of guilt to contemplate my way out of the huge hole I’ve dug for myself. I don’t know how or where to start.
    Oh Tess, I need someone to save me from myself.

Dear Tess,
    I’m truly sorry and apologize for my last letter.
    I was at the lowest point of my life and dumped my misery on you. Somehow writing you allows me to face my conscience and do the right thing and the night I mailed you the letter I confessed to Maggie after the kids were asleep. I’ll never forget her screaming at me when I told her what I’d done.
    “You stupid son-of-a bitch. Again, with that same fucking bitch. How could you jeopardize our marriage and our family? How? Tell me how? I am so fucking disappointed in you. Why Dan, why? Do you want a fucking divorce, is that what you want?”
    That was the first time Maggie had ever screamed at me or said the word fuck. Then she started to cry and shake. I never wanted to hold her more but when I tried to put my arm around her she told me to keep my fucking hands off her. For what seemed like a halfhour we sat motionless across from each other in the den with her sobbing and me slumped in a chair. Finally she asked me two questions I will never forget.
    “Dan, do you still love me or do you want a divorce?”
    And, my answer was the first step in rebuilding our marriage. I told Maggie my truth. She was the only woman I had ever loved and I couldn’t imagine my life without her. I never, ever had thought of a divorce, never. I acknowledged my despicable behavior without any excuses. I admitted to my character flaws, a drinking problem and a life that often came too easy for me. I needed help, I wanted help and I wanted our relationship and our family to flourish more than anything in the world. And I’ll never forget her response.
    “Dan, I believe you. I’m still mad as hell and hurt so badly I can’t even look at you but I want to work it out, if we can. Let’s get our butts into therapy and learn how to really communicate with each other, again. But Dan, as sure as I am in saying that let me tell you something else. If you ever fuck around again, we’re finished. You need to know that. No more throwing yourself at my feet asking for forgiveness. No more second chances. Understand? Am I clear?”
    And that was the start of my recovery. I immediately started therapy alone and with Maggie. I also started Alcoholics Anonymous finally admitting to myself that there is no such thing as a part-time drunk. I attend meetings regularly and have been sober for almost a year.
    I did have one more