Love, Red Page 2

  What I never expected when I opened the door to greet him was experiencing the phenomenon that is described as “love at first sight.” Many people say it can’t happen, but it is the only phrase that captures the emotions of that first meeting.

  My heart knew with that first touch of our hands that there was something more to us; that my world shifted with that first gaze into those ocean blue eyes. And although I had no idea where we were headed, I accepted the possibilities that an alternate universe opened that day. Something in me trusted that fate would take us where we were supposed to go.

  Meeting him was like stepping through the looking glass. It transformed me overnight. It’s not that I didn’t want to be accepted the way I was – we all do – but I wasn’t happy with being overweight either. It would be dishonest for me to say that I started exercising, eating right, and getting myself back into shape just because I needed to. But something happens when we fall in love. There is a tendency to want to be the best that we can be. It’s as if my focus shifted and with it came the drive to change the physical me.

  But I also needed to work on the emotional me. And that meant caring about myself. It meant understanding why I dealt with the bouts of depression and coming to terms with the dysfunctional upbringing that many of us deal with. But it was going to be a process and not something I would achieve overnight, or even completely understand for another three decades.

  What I did come to acknowledge through the letters we began writing when we reconnected in May of 2014, was that the weight was never something he saw. There was this undeniable sexual component to what we were to each other, but there was this sense of being part of something that neither of us understood. My love letters were helping me to explore just what that was.

  The letters in this book are almost exactly as I wrote them to him. As they say on many TV shows, the names have been changed to protect the innocent.

  Our friendship had kept us connected over the years, but life has a way of leading us in many different directions. There was ebb and flow to our relationship. Some years we would talk often, and then we would go for years and only exchange what would be classified as “courtesy” emails.

  When we reconnected after years of being apart, the desires that both of us had repressed for over 30 years came bubbling to the surface. And they did with a depth of emotion that neither of us knew we had.

  I remember telling everyone who would listen that I felt that I had slipped into an alternate universe. Something shifted with the happy birthday email. It was the same one that I had sent the past few years – wished him well and said I hoped everything was good with him and his family.

  This time, the response was far from what I expected. He told me he was getting a divorce. I have to admit, my heart skipped a beat – wondering if this was going to open the door for the relationship that had eluded us all these many years.

  Suddenly the reality of alternate universes was more than a theory. What was happening was surreal. It was as if the scripts that I had played out in my head so many times were taking shape right before my very eyes. The hopes and dreams of 30 years were starting to manifest and become real.

  And with every phone call, text, and email, several things were becoming apparent. First, my writings were every therapist’s dream. They were helping me understand why I had held on to the love for all those years, but they were a way of helping him understand just how unique our relationship was.

  I thought if he understood the impact we had in each other’s lives, he would accept what I thought was meant to be. I knew how our association had molded my reactions to others, but I wanted him to see how it affected his desires in other relationships as well.

  My writings were teaching me about myself. Yes, they were stories about times we were together; some were fantasies of what I hoped would happen someday, but they were also a way for me to show him how much I trusted him.

  In this day and age, when social media has transformed the notion of privacy, baring one’s soul could end up derailing even the strongest of individuals. Knowing that my words could somehow be exposed for others to read was an unspoken worry. My mind could only imagine what our friends, families; and co-workers would think if they ever read what we had written.

  The file where I kept our letters was password-protected. The password was suggested by him – his initials-69-my initials. If you’re reading this and don’t understand the reference to 69, you should put down this book. You are way too young to be reading it. The irony is that as much as I feared others learning about this side of me, in the end, I still felt compelled to share our story.

  What I realize is that as women, we have a very hard time understanding how a man can remember every stroke from every golf game he ever played, statistics for players from 20-30 years ago, or every detail of a playoff or Super Bowl game. We can’t fathom being able to recall how many fish we caught, or who we were drinking beer with when we watched our team win the World Series.

  Women remember exchanges with the men that we love, how it felt when we first kissed, and sometimes, what we were wearing the first time our clothes came off.

  When we started talking again, it was the beginning of a dream come true for me. We picked up right where we left off. It was the bantering and teasing that spiraled us both into the memories of the past.

  I remember his words after the first few letters that I sent him.

  “So, are you trying to outdo the sex scenes from Fifty Shades of Grey with your writing?” he said, with that all-too-familiar laugh that I loved.

  “How can you say that?!” I vehemently protested, but fully aware that if anyone else ever read them, they would certainly be considered X-rated.

  “We need to start our own book,” was his response. Then he added, “And we can call ours 100 Shades of Red because I can hear you blushing, even over the phone.” Now we were both laughing. And that is how the version of what we started calling Shades of Red began.

  • • •

  I will share my letters and my interpretation of the “chapters” and thoughts that I got from him. By telling our story, I’m exposing the influence of emotions that guided our way of thinking for over three decades. I’m showing how fantasy often keeps us from the true journey of our lives. And hopefully, by sharing them, others see how powerful love can be. How it molds us and makes us who we are.

  By sharing the letters and the way our lives are interwoven with the power of love, my hope is that it will give others the courage to chase their dreams, to invest whatever it takes to make those dreams come true. But also to realize that “they lived happily ever after” takes on many different forms and can be lived out many different ways.

  Chapter 2 –

  A Friend in Need

  As odd as it may seem, even though this is a story of a love affair that spanned more than 30 years, we didn’t set out to become lovers. I think both of us thought that our first encounter would be the only time we would ever make love.

  We were both riddled with the guilt of what we had done, but tantalized by the memory of being together. Rune had to see Miguel on a regular basis, and having an affair was just not something either of us was comfortable with.

  One of the things I didn’t remind Rune of in my first love letter to him, which is the prologue to this book, is that after we made love, Miguel called while we were still entwined. There is something about lying naked in bed with another man when the phone rings, and the answering machine picks up. The one voice that neither of us expected or wanted to hear was that of my husband leaving a message.

  “Rune, why don’t you join Gwynyth and me for dinner tonight? I’ve invited Sarah and John over as well. Dinner’s at 6:30, but come over whenever you want.”

  The look on Rune’s face mirrored the look that I knew must be on mine.

  He held me close and said, “What a way to be brought back to reality.”

  I returned his hug, whispering, “You know, you don’t h
ave to come. You can make up some excuse.”

  “Too late, I already came,” he said, laughing.

  “You are so bad,” and began pulling away from him.

  He tightened his grip around me, saying, “Oh, you meant I don’t have to come to dinner? You and I both know Miguel will never understand if I refuse the invitation, but don’t worry, we will get through this.”

  And then he kissed me and grinned, eyes twinkling. “Guess you have a dinner party to get ready for now.”

  • • •

  Four hours later, there he was at my front door. I greeted him in a low voice no one else could hear. “Do you think anyone can see the Scarlet A’s that are burning their imprints on our foreheads?”

  He smiled as he followed me into the kitchen. “It’s going to be okay. Something smells good. What can I help with?”

  “It’s Shrimp Scampi with Fettuccini Alfredo. I was going to make spaghetti and meatballs, but then remembered that Sarah and John don’t eat meat on Fridays during Lent. Didn’t have time to make anything else. I was a little pre-occupied this afternoon,” I said, with a smile.

  “Really, what were you doing? Anything special?”

  I couldn’t help but grin, but I knew that we were both overwhelmed by what we had just done. “So how are you doing? Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay. Haven’t had to look Miguel in the eyes yet. Not sure how I’m going to be able to do that, but what about you?” The concern in his voice touched my soul.

  “Everything is under control in order to have dinner on the table in 30 minutes; but my emotions, well, they’re all off the chart. Do you know how hard it is to not touch you right now?”

  “You mean like this?” running his fingers down my arm, raising goose bumps and triggering the waterfall again. I didn’t understand how I could want him so much when it had only been a few hours since I felt him touching me and making love to me.

  “Oooh, you are going to get us into trouble.”

  The smile turned serious. “Gwynyth, you know we debated about what was the right thing to do, and in the end, we made our decision based on the flip of that coin,” and then, grinning at me, “–even though we ignored what it was telling us! We knew what we were getting into. And we’ll get through this meal.”

  Wasn’t sure if we would, but at that point, we didn’t have a choice. As we sat down to dinner, he took the chair next to me. I remember the electricity that ran through my body as he moved his leg so that it was touching mine. As the evening continued, I enjoyed anticipating the next “accidental” time his arm brushed against mine, or our hands touched as we reached for a slice of garlic bread.

  It was impossible for us to not make some sort of contact. It’s as if every stolen touch was keeping the events of the hours of making love fresh in our minds. They were igniting the sparks between us that no one else could see.

  As is normally the case when good friends sit down to dinner, the conversations will often have the same standard sets of questions. However, when Sarah asked, “So what did you do today?” my reply momentarily got stuck in my throat.

  Rune came to the rescue and said, “Gwynyth and I went flying again today. She actually does have a knack for it. Trying to convince her she should get her private pilot’s license.”

  “Will you be my teacher?” I asked.

  “Of course, there is a lot more I need to teach you,” the twinkling blue eyes saying more than his words.

  I softly kicked him under the table and said, “It’s unbelievable how exhilarating flying is. There is nothing like soaring through the clouds. I can truthfully say, today was one of the most fantastic days in my life.”

  However, there was a part of me that wanted to jump up on the table instead and say, “Everyone, listen up – I have a confession to make. It wasn’t the flying that had me soaring today. It was making love to this wonderful man that has me smiling like the Cheshire Cat. Until today, I have never known what it was like to need someone so much or to be desired the way Rune wanted me. And by the way, I’m not going to feel guilty about it – at least not today.”

  I wanted to cherish the time we were together; hold onto the memory. There would be plenty of time for guilt tomorrow.

  And the guilt did set in – for both of us. We continued to talk about the day-to-day things of life, but now our conversations were charged with emotions that neither of us had ever anticipated. And although we weren’t planning our next encounter, now we shared a secret. We knew how to push that button that would generate the physical reactions in each other.

  And yet, we didn’t plan on making love again. We didn’t look for opportunities to be together. We struggled with the morality of having made love. Maybe that is why each encounter was so exceptional.

  • • •

  My life was in chaos, but not because we had made love, or the fact that I was hopelessly in love with him. My life was in turmoil because I had started getting this uneasy feeling that Miguel had secrets, and things just weren’t adding up about the stories he told about his past.

  There was the letter from the IRS that had arrived, informing us that the social security number we had put on our tax return for Miguel belonged to someone else. Granted, that was from years before – but it takes the IRS a while to put things together.

  There were the hidden letters from Portugal that I found. Men, take note, when your wife does the laundry, and she is responsible for putting things away, your underwear drawer is not a very good hiding place. Of course, the letters were in Portuguese, but there are some words that translate in almost any language. When I asked him about them, he made some excuse about information regarding his father’s estate, but I knew that wasn’t true.

  For me, Rune was not just my escape; he had become my best friend. There was a safety in telling him things that I didn’t want to tell my girlfriends. Not sure why, but oftentimes we don’t want our female friends to know we have been duped. We are embarrassed to admit that a man has played us.

  In many ways, it was embarrassing to confide in others that I had been such a fool about Miguel. Rune, however, was different. Even as young as he was, he had a different perspective on things.

  Yes, part of it was the male perspective, but Rune was never going to judge me. I think that is one of the things that I was most attracted to about him… along with his naivety. He was still too young to be jaded by the world. I needed someone who could give me hope.

  With Rune, friendship was easy. When I needed to talk, he was there. When my car broke down, he would fix it. When he needed a home-cooked meal, he would come over for dinner.

  Before we were lovers, we would sit in my living room, and he would entertain me with stories of Norway. He enjoyed having someone hear about the things he missed most about his homeland. When I needed someone to confide in, he would listen to my stories about Miguel and try to help me figure out what was going on.

  Not long after we met, it became very apparent that my marriage to Miguel was about to fall apart. Emotionally, it was over even before I met Rune, but the reality of the events that were taking shape were going to change my life again. Miguel had taken the letters to his office, and he would get very paranoid if I said I was going to go check the mail. It wasn’t anything less than my intuition that told me there was a secret that I had to get to the bottom of.

  I had always been a big fan of any TV series that revolved around solving mysteries of any kind – and still am. In fact, when I was in high school, my backup plan for a career was to be a detective if I couldn’t be a Mom or a translator. They say you can’t learn anything from TV, but I used the skills and techniques I had picked up from many of my favorite shows and put them into action to contact the Portuguese consulate.

  “Hi, my name is Gwynyth Mendes and I’m hoping you can help me get some information for my husband,” I said, in a voice that was filled with dread. There was a part of me that wanted to know the truth, but another part that was terrified to
confirm my suspicions.

  “My husband Miguel Mendes needs some records for us to give to our lawyers before we can finalize the purchase of our home. He said that you could provide us with his official records. Is this something you can help us with?”

  “Certainly, the “Registo de Nascimento” will have information about his birth, his parents’ information, marriages, divorces, and his children. Would that be of help?”

  “That’s exactly what we’re looking for. It will have the dates of all of these events?”

  “Yes, it will have all of that information.”

  It’s amusing in some ways how my offering to have the person who the information is about to call and request it, suddenly made it unnecessary.

  “Should I have Miguel call or send you a letter requesting the information? He’s not available right now, but I can have him call you tomorrow or come by and fill out a form, if that is required.”

  It was at this point that I started praying to all the saints I could think of. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do if she said yes. It was also a little scary to me that I could lie so convincingly.

  “No, that’s not necessary, just give me his full name and your address, and I’ll mail it to you as soon as I get it.”

  Looking back, I’m still surprised that they sent me the document they did, but there it was, in black and white. The names and dates of the births of the children I never knew he had. His wife’s name and the day they were married, but no divorce date on the paper. They had no proof that I had any connection to Miguel. They sent me very personal information just because I asked for it. Obviously, the issues around privacy were very different in the 80’s.

  It was after I got the document that confirmed all my fears, that Rune and I had our next encounter. We didn’t plan it; and as clichéd as it sounds, it just happened.