The Perfect....

I saw him the first time when I was shopping, not applying for a job. I applied for a job a few weeks before and they hired someone else. But I liked the store, I liked the whole damn company, so I kept shopping there despite my bitterness at not being hired. So there I was, in the store, browsing, when a door to the back opened and for a brief second before it closed again I saw the inner company workings, but mostly I saw him.

I had seen enough videos, I knew who he was. He was the company president. This store was a small extension of a company that created a lifestyle (and sometimes, an obsession) for women that encompassed principles of clothing, hair, makeup, personality, relationships, child-rearing (and more!). They created videos, wrote blogs, and held events educating their customers on their system.

I knew all the company’s main players. Aleiah was one of the mainest and he was Tom, her husband.

That moment of seeing him struck me like a holy vision. Our eyes didn’t meet across the hundred or so yards, I don’t think he saw me at all, but he didn’t have to. My clear, conscious mind said: It’s a good thing I didn’t get the job here or I would have fallen in love with him and that wouldn’t be good for anyone. I was a married woman, he was a married man. The door shut and I could breathe. I would probably never see him again.

But then, several weeks later I applied for a job as a copywriter and landed it. Tom and I were now working shoulder to shoulder. And I did fall in love.

He was funny. He was articulate. He was kind. We talked openly about everything. He was wise and understanding; he was a philosophy major in college. Gosh, that was sexy.

At night I imagined making a blanket tent in bed, snuggling up with him and whispering secrets. I wanted to fuck Tom, but mostly I wanted to talk constantly to him. But wait! I was married. Why wasn’t my husband enough?

I watched John watching the news. I didn’t want to talk to him. Why didn’t I want to talk to him? Maybe I should try. So I tried. John cut me off, interrupted and derailed every thought. When I pointed out what he was doing, he sat in rigid silence. When I finished he asked if I was done. I said yes and he turned back to his show. Okay, so that’s why I didn’t tell him anything.

I fell more in love with Tom as my marriage sputtered and died. I left John and had nowhere to go. I called up Aleiah and asked if I could stay with her and Tom for the weekend. She said yes.

Their home felt clear and comfortable, I babysat their four year old daughter then the three of us watched a movie after they returned from date night. The three of us together felt natural, like I belonged with them. And going to church with them felt natural, joining them at Tom’s parent’s house for dinner felt natural. While there I met his siblings and in-laws. No one seemed uncomfortable with our threesome. In fact, as they planned their annual summer camping trip, eyes kept falling on me as though asking me to pipe in and say I wanted to come. I remained silent.

For the next few months, Aleiah and Tom were my favorite people. The three of us ate together at work, talked easily and joked like old friends. We jived. I assumed that jive was my love for Tom, but I loved Aleiah too and I wished their relationship no harm. “They listen to the Harry Potter audiobooks at night before they go to bed,” my co-worker told me. God, that sounded romantic.

If this were a movie I would become his mistress and beg him to divorce his wife. Aleiah would be portrayed as either petty and vicious while I was Tom’s salvation, or Aleiah could be an angelic victim while I was the evil seductress. I could imagine Aleiah as petty and vicious and I was still the evil seductress and then Tom becomes the victim, but I didn’t want any of those scenarios to be true.

Maybe I was a bit of an evil seductress, I did want to have sex with Tom, but more than that, I wanted a relationship with him. Hopelessness raged through me. I loved Aleiah, I was jealous of Aleiah for having everything I wanted. And I could do nothing. I began wondering (hoping) Aleiah would die, but when you start paying attention to the stories the whore (me) is always the one who dies. And I didn’t want either of us to die, not really, only hypothetically.

How would this story end? Would all these feelings amount to nothing? I couldn’t believe that.