The story behind the Kiki. Part 1

Isn't it weird how time flies when you are too busy living? Sometimes terrible things happen, and everyone is shocked/angry/horrified. We pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off and go back to trying to lead a normal life. Think about it - Princess Diana died on August 31, 1997; the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center and Pentagon happened in 2001. My point is this - as time goes by, our perception of the past in relation to now gets skewed and when we think of past events we say "Was it really that long ago?"


Which leads me to today's subject. Searabbit wanted to know the story behind my answer to #4 for TMI 94. It is still fresh in my memory, but for me the story began unfolding in December 2002. Not only did I find out a lot about M and our marriage, but I found strength in myself that I never knew existed.

My journey into my "dark time" started innocently and accidentally. M liked to go visit his friends. I'm not the type of girl that is going to question where another human goes (unless it's one of my kids). I won't go through his pockets, wallet or dresser drawers.

He would always make a point of asking me "You don't mind if I go out, do you?" I always told him he never had to ask, because I knew I never had a reason to worry. He was a grown man, and I was not his mother. Besides, at the time I had been depressed for quite a while and didn't really care what he or the kids did.

I sometimes have to use wrist braces, because of the whole carpal tunnel thing. They were not where I usually had them, and I knew M used them sometimes as well. I looked all over the house, in all possible spots. The only place left was his dresser. I opened the top drawer, and moved a few things. I saw a receipt (which he keeps), and was curious about what we might have purchased that day.

It was nothing that I expected. A dozen roses. Purchased recently. I never got them. I held onto that receipt for a few weeks, but didn't say anything just yet. I wanted to be sure of what I was saying to M when I confronted him with it. I started thinking about certain things, like his time online, and some phone calls where he whispered.

Doing some digging meant I would have to turn into something I didn't want to be. A wife that was willing to go through pockets, wallets and dresser drawers. I checked his cell phone records. Since he worked close to my office, I'd follow him at lunch time. I'd call the house to see what time he was getting home from work.


To be continued...