Monday, May 5, 2014

Chapter Three: Devastation, Part XVII: January 2010

Please begin reading my divorce memoir from the beginning.

January 31, 2010

Today, after church, I sat reading in the living room. I don’t know why I tried. It’s hard to concentrate very long and I’m not getting into the book. I exchanged the book for scriptures. Something compelled me to look up the word “lust” in the Bible Dictionary.

Jerry came back from wherever he went today instead of church and saw me reading. I tried to be pleasant. I smiled. Then I thought, why should I smile? I’m so stupid. No wonder he walks all over me.

He went upstairs to change. It’s been a whole month since he hasn’t gone to church and people are asking me questions about where he is. It’s not a lie when I say there are a lot of changes going on at work and he’s been working long hours. His company was just bought out and is changing hands. So I deflect their comments in that way.

Saving face. Always saving face, that’s me.

When Jerry came downstairs, he said he was going for a walk. I mustered a timid smile and said, “Just an FYI, it’s drizzling out, you might want to take an umbrella.”

He turned on me again. “Why is it when I want to do something you have to tell me what to do?” He clenched his fists as he yelled at me. “I’m going for a walk. I need to walk.” He slammed the front door on his way out.

Again, I sat petrified. I thought he would hit me or kill me. He was that angry about that little comment. Silly me. I thought we’re supposed to be working on our marriage. He probably wants to call her again. Well, at least he’s not doing it in the house.

When he came back, I followed him up into his room. I wanted to explain myself, that I wasn’t trying to tell him what to do. I sat down on his bed. He stood in front of me and started pacing. That’s never good, but I sat there with a smile on my face, determined to be nice.

“If I say I want to go for a walk, you should say, Fine, Jerry. That’s a great idea. But instead, you have to give me orders.” He was agitated and talked down to me.

I said, “I wasn’t telling you what to do. I just said, simply, if you’re going for a walk, it’s drizzling; you should take an umbrella. Those were my words.” I looked at him. “I don’t care if you went for a walk. I was just thinking you might not want to get wet. That is all.” We looked at each other. He couldn’t dispute it when he heard me say it again.

He said, “Look, I want us to be in love again. But I don’t want to be dictated to.”

Did he just hear what I said? “Okay, Jerry. I don’t care if you go for walks,” I said. “I know you like to go for walks.”

“I want us to do things together. I want you to think of something we can share together,” he said, which totally floored me. I had been thinking exactly about that. We never did things together. He rode his bicycle, he jogged, he went on motorcycle rides with friends. I paint, I write, I do family history.

I told him, “I actually have been thinking about that. I think we can do genealogy together. I’ve got lots of my lines done. Now we need to work on yours. I can help you. And how about taking dancing lessons?” I named a few couples who were doing that for date night. “We could join them, or we can just do it on our own. I think that would be fun. Oh, and I’d like to go for walks with you,” I said and smiled at him. “What were you thinking we can do together?”

He never did say what he was thinking. I have no idea if he even had any ideas. He didn’t come right out and say my ideas were bad. He just didn’t comment at all. I told him I was willing to put the past behind us. I was willing to start fresh. He still didn’t say anything.

The bishop talked to me today about saving our celestial marriage. He knows how important it is to me. I told him I can’t save it by myself. He told me the Landmark Forum will help and Jerry should take it, too. We should take it together. Bishop said he’d talk to him.

Jerry will never go for that. He won’t want to spend the money. He thinks it’s ridiculous. He was never one for taking courses. That’s what I do. Not him.

It’s this weekend. I’m signed up.


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