Man in the Mirror Ch. 02

Author's Notes:

There was a mix-up with Chapter one. I think I clicked on it by mistake the night before it was supposed to post, which the computer counted as me trying to make corrections to the story. Anytime an author makes corrections to a story after it's been posted, it changes the posting order. Since it was already set to post, I guess this caused a mix-up with the computer. By the time I realized that the story hadn't posted, it was a few days later. When I contacted the moderators about it, they posted the story immediately, but kept the original posting date instead of the day it actually posted.

Many of you didn't get to read Chapter one. You will need to go back and read that to understand what's going on in this story. I apologize for the inconvenience, but I hope you enjoy the series anyway.

Lessons learned: post a story and leave it alone. We will always think of better ways to word something AFTER the fact. Just live with what you have written and roll the dice.

Thank you all for reading.

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Synopsis from Part 1:

Arthur came home one day to find his wife (Paige) having sex with a man in the shower. When questioned, she told him that she no longer found him attractive, and that the spark was gone. This led to a huge argument, which left Arthur feeling emasculated and belittled.

When he looked at himself, he realized that he gained a significant amount of weight and stopped caring about his appearance.

Arthur went to stay with his twin brother until he can sort things out. He also talked to a work colleague named Phil, who suggested that he join a gym.

Now he is wondering if he is worthy of love.

CHAPTER TWO

I was unable to sleep. Lance's couch was uncomfortable, but that wasn't the reason for my insomnia. My mind would not shut off. Demons tormented me into the wee hours of the morning. They were haunting me with visions of my wife and Derrick. One would think that I kept seeing them entangled in sweaty ecstasy, but what I saw was the exact opposite. I saw them at the gym, working out together. I saw them at the job, joking and laughing with each other. They were sneaking away for intimate moments. Their smiles, their flirting, their insipid infatuation; these visions were so much worse than what I saw in the shower.

Did they ever talk about me?

That thought stung me in the heart, making me feel like Steve Irwin (The Crocodile Hunter). It not only hurt, but it directly attacked my pride. Surely, if they did bring me up, it was in comparison to how I stacked up against him. Or rather, how I didn't stack up.

Did she tell him how much better he was in bed than me? Did she tell him that his fit body was a bigger turn on than my fat, untoned torso?

Of course she did. Why wouldn't she?

I did manage to catch a few winks of sleep before I heard Lance getting ready for work. A quick glance at my cell phone told me that it was a little past 7.

When he came out of his room, he was dressed and ready. I saw him go into the kitchen, grab a spoon from the drawer, and pull a yogurt out from the fridge. I didn't think he even knew I was awake until he asked, "You going to work today?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

He shook his head and ripped the foil top off. After a quick lick of the excess yogurt on the back, he threw it away and stirred the contents of the cup. Then he leaned against the counter and ate his meal standing up like some frat kid.

Does he do anything like an adult? I asked myself. I wanted to say something, but I just let it go. It wasn't worth it. Besides, I was staying at his place, and had no timetable for when I wouldn't need to. Sleeping on his couch seemed like a better alternative to going home and dealing with my loveless marriage, so I didn't want to wear out my welcome just yet.

Nothing else was said until he was heading out. I had turned on the tv and was randomly switching the channels when he said, "Art, don't let that bitch turn you into some sad loser. I've seen it happen to guys, and it's pathetic. I don't want that for you. You gotta let her go and move on to the next. There are plenty of women out there."

He gave me a quick nod, like he just imparted some timeless wisdom into me, and walked out. I found myself sitting there thinking about what he said. I wasn't thinking about the words of wisdom that spilled from his mouth; I was stunned speechless by how fucking dumb he sounded. His arrogant view of my situation made me angry.

In his mind, Paige was on the same level as one of his girlfriends-of-the-week. It didn't matter that we knew each other for 12 years and were married for 10 of them. He didn't notice the difference between that and his "relationships" that never made it to the first anniversary. For him, a breakup meant a brief period of mourning followed by a stint in bachelorhood. Then, the next set of pretty eyes would bat at him, and the process would start all over again.

I guess life's that easy when you're Lance. How nice it must be to have the world so accommodating.

Our existence proves that life is unfair. As kids, everyone always went on and on about how handsome he was, and how much of a heartbreaker he would be. When he reached high school, he was the boy that even had the teachers fanning themselves when he walked by.

I wasn't that blessed, despite being his twin. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't ugly. I would have even been considered kind of handsome if he wasn't the one I was constantly compared to.

What I lacked in the looks department, I made up for in hard work. I got my first job as soon as I turned 16. I was the Maintenance Associate (janitor) for the McDonald's down the street from my house. Working in the fast food environment was more stress than it was worth, so I started working for Walmart when I turned 17. Being a stocker suited me better than mopping up vomit (and other bodily functions). I steadily worked 25 hours a week, and still managed to keep a 3.5 GPA.

You would think that my parents would have been proud to have a son like this. They should have been bragging to all their friends about me. Well, my accomplishments paled in comparison to Lance's. He played football. As the running back for our school, he was responsible for more touchdowns than our quarterback. It was almost unfair having him on our team. His speed, size, and athleticism made him a weapon that our coach yielded in every tough situation.

Naturally, this made him ridiculously popular. Even when I had saved up enough money to buy a car, women flocked to him and ignored me. It got to the point that when he introduced me as his twin brother, people would first show surprise that we were brothers, and then they would snicker at me being his "twin" anything.

He even got special treatment at home. Our parents treated him like the Fabergé son. My dad was too busy being proud of his "football legend" to treat him with any kind of discipline. My mom doted on him like he was frozen in time at 5 years old. They were constantly protecting him like he was a priceless, yet fragile, piece of art. Anything he did was worthy of a parade in his honor. Me? I was expected to be the responsible one, and was to do so with little recognition. Good grades were an absolute. If I brought home an A in Calculus, I got a "good job son". If he scored a touchdown, there would be newspaper clippings littering the house with his picture on it.

Thus began our dynamic. I graduated high school and went to college to get my undergrad. Walmart treated me pretty good, so I continued working there. I was promoted twice before I graduated with my BA in business management. Even with the increased workload, I still kept a decent GPA.

Him? He was allowed to basically sleep in class, cheat his way through high school via some random smart girl (or even an infatuated teacher or two), and graduate. To further highlight our disparity and how unfair life is, he went to college on a full ride while I practically owed Sallie Mae my first born.

What did he do with all that opportunity laid at his feet? He lost his scholarship because he partied too hard and got caught with drugs. Without that, he had to pay for school. Our parents weren't really in a financial position to support his education, so his choices were to take out loans, get a job, or simply drop out. Since football was the only reason he was in college in the first place, he didn't even try to figure out a way to stay. He just gave up and came home.

Having a kid flunk out of college and ruin his free ride would have been a huge disappointment for most parents to deal with. Not mine. They immediately jumped into "Operation Save Lance" and treated him like he was the victim. It didn't matter that he was the one who fucked up. No, he needed all of us to clean up the mess, and they showed no hesitation in doing it.

Now he had a job (that my father got him), an apartment (that I gave him the deposit for) and a car (that my dad cosigned for). No wonder he eased through life without a care it the world! His carefree days were spent in the gym, playing games, and occasionally going to work.

What would he know about being rejected like I was? The cheating aspect was bad enough, but the way she casually tossed the marriage aside was something else. It was like there was nothing worth fighting for. Nothing about me worth loving.

I sighed as I slumped down into the couch. For the first time since all this started, I allowed the tears to slip down my face.

***

I stayed with my brother for a week. That was the amount of time that it took for us to get so sick of each other it became imperative for the universe that we be separated. I was grateful that he let me stay with him. While I could have gone to a hotel, I think I subconsciously needed to be around someone who loved me (even if it was Lance).

During that week, I'd received several texts from Paige asking where I was, and if I were coming back. I laughed to myself and casually tossed my phone on the couch next to me when I got those. But then she said the twins were asking questions that needed to be addressed by both of us. I was willing to ignore her, but I had to face the kids. So, that meant I had to go back home.

I took a day off work so that I could go home when the house was empty. I felt that it would be better to already be there when she and the kids got home. That way, I could avoid suffering through small talk and forced cordiality with her.

My plan failed because I have the worst luck in the world. I pulled into the driveway and mentally groaned when I saw her car already there. Either she picked today of all days to stay home, or she'd been staying home all this week.

I just couldn't catch a break.

I tentatively walked in. I honestly didn't know what to expect. I silently prayed to unknown deities to spare me the cruelty of bearing witness to another pornographic episode of "Paige and Derrick". I couldn't go through that twice and not end up in prison.

Someone up there heard me, because I found her in the bedroom fully clothed and alone (thank God). She was pulling clothes out of the closet and throwing them on the bed. I didn't even have to look at them to see that they were my clothes. She was working so fervently that she was sweating and slightly out of breath.

"You're finally back." She said in a winded voice when she saw me enter the room. She stopped her task and put her hands on her hips.

"What are you doing with my clothes?" I asked, alternating between looking at them and her.

She huffed out a small, incredulous laugh. "I wasn't sure you were ever coming home. You ran away without telling me where you were going. Then, you didn't answer any of my calls or texts. So, I was packing your stuff to save you the trouble if you ever decided to pick it up.

I shook my head. "You're full of shit, Paige. You knew where I was."

She rushed at me and poked her finger into my chest. "No, you're full of shit!" she said angrily. "You run and hide and leave me here to answer to the kids by myself!"

I was beside myself. I know she wasn't trying to make herself the victim of my thoughtlessness!

"Please, tell me you're joking! Please! I don't wanna believe that I married someone who is this detached from reality. There is NO WAY that you actually believe that I did you wrong. You do remember why I was gone in the first place, don't' you?"

She crossed her arms across her chest, but she at least had the decency to look apologetic. Then she took a deep breath and looked away from me.

"Okay. Okay. Fine. It's my fault." She admitted in a small voice as she uncrossed her arms and sat on the bed. "I started all of this. You have a right to be angry with me. For what it's worth, I'm really sorry. I was wrong for cheating on you."

I was sick of hearing her apologize, but at least this one was better than the previous. She actually apologized for what she did, not for how I found out about it.

"Did you ever love me?" I asked sincerely. "I know that you didn't in the end, but what about the beginning? We did have some good times, didn't we?" There was no bitterness in my voice. It was an honest question.

"Yeah. We did. And I did love you. I still do, believe it or not." She answered with a forlorn expression on her face. She didn't say "Just not that way" at the end of her statement, but I knew the implication was there.

I wanted to ask her more questions, but there was no point. She was through with me, and there was nothing left to salvage. Besides, I didn't need to get my pride beat up on anymore.

We stood there in silence, letting the chasm between us widen. I didn't fight it any longer. I gave in to the inevitable.

"Well, I guess the thing we do now is try to move forward as adults. We have a lot to figure out. So, I'll grab these clothes and move them into the guest room." I finally said. She gave a sad nod. I tried to balm over the awkwardness with a joke, so I added, "Just so you know, I'm going to buy a new bed to put in there."

She chuckled. "Yeah. Well, you're the one who bought that uncomfortable bed. Remember? Lance was going to stay with us for a little while and you didn't want him to get too comfy."

I had to laugh at the irony, despite myself. "Yeah, well, that plan sure backfired."

I saw something in her eyes, but I couldn't figure out what it was. It seemed like she was looking at me, expecting something but not getting it. Maybe it was anger, maybe it was forgiveness; I don't know. All I know is I was trying to get over the former, but was incapable of giving that latter. The only thing I had to give her was cordiality (even if it was fake).

The two of us moved my clothes into the other room as we silently agreed to an unspoken ceasefire. We didn't do any more talking than was absolutely necessary. For the rest of the afternoon (until the twins came home) we existed in a cold but polite atmosphere. She thankfully stepped out to run some errands for a while, and I hung up my clothes in peaceful solitude.

It wasn't until we sat the twins down after dinner that the emotional volcano fully erupted. We explained (without really explaining) what was happening between us.

Josh and Allie were smart kids. They knew there was something that we weren't telling them. Truth be told, I wanted to spill the beans on Paige. I really did. But I saw no point in it. It wouldn't make their pain go away. In fact, it would add to it. Sure, I would have had a few moments of vindication as they turned on their mother, but it would hurt them more in the long run. They were too young to process that information as an adult would. So, it was best that they thought that this was what happened when "mommy and daddy fall out of love".

That ate me from the inside out. It killed me to not only have to remain silent in the midst of such betrayal, but to also have to cosign it as I watched my kids crumble. It was a weight that was almost too heavy for me to bear.

I avoided making eye contact with Paige. I couldn't do it. I wasn't strong enough to look at her - knowing that all this was her fault - and not lose it. She also instinctively knew to stay away from me after that. No doubt she realized how much I was biting my tongue.

Life just wasn't fair.

***

Life dragged along in our household for the next few weeks. I contacted a lawyer who gave me a gloomy picture of what my future held. The good news was there was a decent chance that I wouldn't have to pay any alimony. Paige didn't get paid as much as I did, but she was paid well enough. Throw in the fact that she was the one who cheated, and my lawyer was optimistic that it should be enough to convince a reasonable judge that child support for two children was sufficient. It was still a considerable amount of money, but it wasn't just about dollars and cents for me. It was about some sort of justice. Paying alimony to a wife that cheated would be rubbing salt on a very open and painful wound. It felt like rewarding bad behavior. If I had my way, she would be paying me!

With good news comes bad. My lawyer said that in order to even be considered for a divorce, we would have to be separated for a year. That meant that we had to live in two separate residences. It also meant that we were stuck in this purgatory for another 12 months.

So, he drew up a separation agreement instead of a divorce decree. There was a bit of a discussion between the three of us (Paige, my lawyer, and myself) about the terms. We settled on a fair payment amount rather quickly, but there were other details that made this conversation heated. The disagreements were mostly about what we were and weren't allowed to do during this time period.

Yep, you guessed it. She wanted to be able to "date". I wonder who she had in mind.

After much debate, we had to settle on what was fair. She had the right to a single life, but I had a right to request that she keep her affair away from the kids. She agreed, and quickly signed the papers.

Once our names were on the dotted lines, I found a decently priced apartment. I was moved out within two weeks. It took us over a decade to build a life together, and only half a month to undo it.

That hit the kids hard. Paige and I tried to do our best to reiterate to them that they weren't losing me as a parent. Their pleas for us to go back to being a happy family were heartbreaking.

I almost felt sorry for Paige (almost, but not quite). The guilt written on her face as she watched the kids cry and beg was enough to make me believe that there was still a piece of the woman that I married buried in there. She wasn't a complete soulless bitch.

After moving out, life was really bleak for me. Coming home to an empty apartment was a daily reminder of how low things were. It got to the point that I made up work to do just so I could stay at the office.

One day when I was sitting in my apartment watching my 32 inch TV, I saw a commercial for the gym that Phil recommended. The commercial advertised their "judgment free" atmosphere. It showed people of all shapes working out with smiles on their faces, and highlighted their various amenities (fitness classes, spa, etc.).

I fished through my wallet and pulled out the card for the gym that Phil gave me. I googled the gym to see if I could find reviews. I found dozens of favorable comments. They talked about the courteous staff, the updated work out equipment, and the new spa room that was just built.

There were a few comments about particular staff members. For instance, a woman named Naomi seemed to have a small fan club. She got raving reviews about how inspirational she was, and how she helped always went out of her way to help members. I remembered that name from my conversation with Phil. This made me curious.