Woman In The Mirror: Chapters 5 - 6Woman In The Mirror
 
Chapter Five: A Mile High And A Mile Wrong 
 
Our move to Denver did not see Andrea pregnant as planned.  
 
Finding a job for me had been hard at first. However, Aunt Madge had helped 
along again, with a phone number, to an old acquaintance, of hers. Even though 
he was retired, within a few days and him making a few calls to people, he set 
me up with my first job interview. It was with one of the many oil companies in 
the Denver area. It wasn’t a top job, but the pay was quite a bit higher, than 
our pessimistical expectations, had been. So financially, even with Andrea not 
looking for employment, we weren’t off to a bad start. 
 
Now with a good job under my belt, and some more help with “odds and ends” from 
Andrea’s family, we were able to get into an apartment that was actually 
livable, and not your standard newlywed-just-out-of-college place. We moved into 
a subdivision of multiplexes; where there were a lot of more progressive upscale 
families, and couples. 
 
The jump-start into a good neighborhood helped us get into the swing of things, 
and with my good paying job, money did have to be watched, but it wasn’t a big 
issue. With a little budgeting, we were able to see a little bit of the 
nightlife of Denver, and even invited over at times friends, neighbors and some 
of my collages to dinner or for a small party. It seemed like in no time, we 
were celebrating our first anniversary. 
 
Andrea was still not pregnant though. It was not as if we weren’t trying. We 
were trying still, even after being married for a year, quite a bit, and then 
some. Not that it was intentional trying; it’s just the way we were. We enjoyed 
our sex together, and being intimate as much as possible. 
 
It was then a few weeks after our first anniversary that I begin to notice a 
slight change in Andrea’s behavior. I’m still not even sure that at that time 
that Andrea, herself knew the why of her changing behavior. Maybe at that time, 
she only sub-conscientiously felt the frustration and disappointment. 
Nevertheless, as time went by, it seemed to grow and begin to eat at her more 
and more.
 
Seeing her frustrations, I offered, asked to talk with her time and time again. 
But, she always avoided speaking about what was eating at her, until one day she 
told me that she had made a doctor’s appointment for me. It was to have a sperm 
sample taken.  
 
Even though Andrea jokingly offered to go with me… to give me a helping hand, I 
went to the appointment alone. With the sperm sample, they also took some blood 
and urine samples. 
 
When it came time to return to the doctor for the results, Andrea went with me.
 
The results were devastating. For all it was worth, I was not sterile, but my 
sperm count was so low, that I might as well as have been. 
 
 The doctor also stated that my testosterone level was too low, and my estrogen 
level was too high. There was a possibility of a Klinefelter syndrome (abnormal 
two X and one Y chromosome structure) or a congenital adrenal hyperplasia (which 
causes a too high production of estrogen, and a too low testosterone production, 
in males). Either of which, could cause a delayed or impaired development during 
puberty, and therefore also a permanent inability to produce sperm in any 
sufficient quantity. 
 
He pointed out my mostly ambiguous body, facial features and my height, 
inquiring if my family doctor had not tested my testosterone and estrogen levels 
in my early teens. It was obvious, that my physical development had been 
impaired during puberty. He said that at that age, there were medical means 
available, but now the situation could no longer be corrected. 
 
He asked if I was having any sexual problems such as ED. This I negated, 
therefore he replied that if I had a comfortably active sex life, and had no 
other problems (I was as healthy as a horse), he would not (at that time) 
recommend therapy to increase my testosterone level. There were definite and 
unwanted possible side effects to the therapy.
 
Naturally, I was distraught, but during this time I did notice that Andrea had 
said nothing. After the initial statement about my sperm count from the doctor, 
she did nothing but stare directly ahead. At no time did she show any form of a 
changing facial expression. Her expression was neither of shock, anger or 
anything else I could surmise. It was almost expressionless.  
 
We left there and the drive home was in silence. At home nothing changed either. 
Andrea went about her business seemingly as if the doctor’s meeting had not 
happened. Only, the naturally fluid conversation between us was not there and 
her facial expression still had not changed from that of when she was in the 
doctor’s office. 
 
I was having a hard enough time coming to grips everything and Andrea’s behavior 
was not helping me any. If she would have cried or screamed. If she would have 
yelled at me, we could have fought or argued but none of that was happening. She 
would answer me if I asked her something simple but if I said anything about 
what had been spoken by the doctor, she only sternly answered, “Not yet.” 
 
The rest of the week continued on along the same lines. I was barely 
functioning. So on Friday, I had to blow off some steam. For the first time in 
my life, I got stark raving fall-down drunk. 
 
It wasn’t intentional on my part. After dinner, the silence in the house was 
getting on my nerves, so much that I took out a bottle of Jack Daniel’s left 
over from our last party and made a coke and whiskey. One drink followed the 
other and before I knew it, I was drinking shots pure and the bottle had a 
serious dent in it.   
 
Andrea knew in generalities about my childhood. However, there were many things 
that even with the extreme intimacy that we had, I had not told her. I know, I 
babbled a lot that night. I’m still not sure of everything I did babble. I know 
I got screaming mad, thinking about how much my life could have been changed, 
how much ridicule and abuse I would not have had to suffer. If only my parents 
had been less dysfunctional and had had the consideration enough to at least 
taken me once to a doctor to be tested, everything would have been different. 
 
Some time in the early morning hours I woke up with my head lying over the 
toilet bowl. My head felt like it had been hammered by a jackhammer. It felt 
like I could still hear that jackhammer somewhere out in the neighboring 
streets. I took a couple of aspirin and crawled into my side of the bed. Andrea 
was asleep on the other side with her back towards me.  
 
The next morning I didn’t get up until in the afternoon. Andrea wasn’t there. 
She only came back much later wearing jeans, a jacket and hiking boots. She said 
she had been out hiking in the woods and thinking. She started to cry, and I 
held her to me. She kept saying over and over, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” and “I 
didn’t know, I didn’t know.” 
 
We spent the rest of that day and long into the night then crying, cuddling, and 
holding each other and talking, lots of talking. 
 
We talked about our options, but in the clear light of reality, most were beyond 
our means, and the chances of even their success, were very slim.  It did seem 
to help and calm us, so we talked about looking into all the options we could. 
 
**********************************
 
Chapter Six: Closing Shop
 
Our relationship had changed though somehow intangibly. It never was the same 
again. Every time I tried to seek out that close intimacy we had before, it was 
like a fata morgana, always there but always out of reach.
 
A few weeks after the visit to doctor’s office, Andrea enrolled in realtor’s 
classes.  We hadn’t discussed this, but we had discussed a few times about 
Andrea now looking for work. It did come as a surprise to me that she decided to 
try real estate. But, if it made her happy and she enjoyed it, it made me happy. 
 
 
It did seem unusual to come home and find her not there. She had passed her 
exams easily and found employment, almost without looking. Her hours always 
varied. Sometimes, she would have little to do and other days she wouldn’t get 
home until some time after seven in the evening. Saturdays were also no longer 
our time alone. At times, when her customers couldn’t get off during the week, 
she was forced into showing them houses on Saturdays.  
 
Her business ventures also pushed us into socializing more with people we 
normally would not be socializing with. This involved a lot more invitations to 
parties and also dining out in the evenings. 
 
Andrea also spent a considerable amount more on her wardrobe than she had 
before. Her side of the closet was in months overflowing into the guestroom 
closet and dresser drawers.
 
Slowly, and because of Andrea’s newfound independence, our relationship was 
again and continually changing. 
 
At first, Andrea would tell me in detail every little bit of what was going on 
in her days. She met (naturally) quite a few people and I found it interesting 
to hear about them and what Andrea thought of them. 
 
This did not stay that way, and after Andrea had been working for around a 
quarter of a year, I heard little of what was going on. It was getting to the 
point, where I had to finally express concern over not knowing her whereabouts 
one evening, as it was close to ten o’clock before she got home. I told her that 
I was worried about something happening to her. 
 
I was beginning to feel that her odd hours were driving a wedge between us and 
it didn’t seem as though Andrea was concerned about this, or wanting to make 
amends for it.
 
About four months after Andrea started working as a real estate agent, Aunt 
Madge moved into a senior community residence apartment in her hometown. Since 
Andrea was new to her job she could not take time off, but I took a week off and 
drove to her to see what was going on. 
 
 I was surprised at how much Aunt Madge seemed to have aged since the last time 
I had seen her. There was a certain aura of transparency about her. As if she 
were there, but not there. Her mind seemed clear and she was not senile, but she 
seemed to be distant, as if her thoughts were in a distant time. She was getting 
very frail and having now a hard time walking. It was obvious why her friends at 
her church had persuaded her into finally closing down the farm and moving into 
town. There was no way that she could continue living out there in the country 
and drive into town for her needs. 
 
While I was there, her lawyer filled me in on some of the details. The farmhouse 
had been shut down and left. It was so old and in disrepair that it wasn’t worth 
the time and trouble to fix up. All her furniture and her car had either been 
sold or given away. She had only taken with her into the new apartment what she 
needed and her personal items. The land had been leased out to a neighboring 
ranch. So it was taken care of. 
 
He also told me not to worry, that no matter how Aunt Madge’s health continued, 
she would be taken care of. Money was not a problem and there were more than 
enough town’s people willing to take care of her.    
 
Maybe it was my being away from Andrea for a full week that I noticed so easily 
the changes in her. It seemed to strike me as if her job had now reached a point 
where it entirely dominated her every waking minute. 
 
The next month saw her coming home evenings later and later, more and more 
often. There were nights when I was asleep when she came home. She was gone so 
much that by that time I had seemingly taken over all of the household chores. 
It seemed like only on Sundays that she was in the house for more than just 
sleeping, showering and changing her clothes. 
 
At the first Saturday that she came home from showing people houses, showered 
and changed clothes then left, we had a big argument that lasted beyond the next 
Saturday. There she was also dressed obviously to go to another social dinner 
party, alone without me. The atmosphere between us had now taken on a frosty 
tone. 
 
 Our sex life during these months was still there, but it too was different. 
 
I naturally felt insecure about how the doctor’s visit and Andrea’s job had 
changed us. Yet, our sex life had been wonderful before and I was seemingly 
dependent on having sex with Andrea. It was an integral part of our shared 
intimacy. 
 
What caused me though considerable trepidation was the change in Andrea’s 
attitude towards sex with me. At times, she seemed to passively accept the sex. 
She enjoyed it but did not take any active role in it. At other times, she 
became aggressive and dominating, almost masculine in her behavior, forcing me 
into a completely feminine and passive role. It was always one extreme or the 
other. Intimacy and shared lovemaking seemed not to exist for her anymore. 
Because of the lack of intimacy and lack of tenderness involved, it was 
frustrating, and demeaning for me. Even though I cannot remember a strong 
decrease in the frequency, our sex life seemed minimal. It was there, but 
without emotion. 
 
 My college estimate of three months had been wrong by about two years and three 
months. I’ll never know the exact date of when she first disregarded her 
marriage vow of fidelity. All I’ll ever know is how I found out. 
 
I will always remember that day clearly. It was a Wednesday. I had returned from 
work and found Andrea already come and gone again. 
 
She had been in a hurry, showered and changed, then left in an obvious rush. Her 
clothes she left strewn around the bedroom floor. 
 
She must have also changed purses because the one she normally uses was sitting 
perched open on the dresser. 
 
As I was picking up the clothes that she had left on the floor in her hast, I 
bumped into her purse and knocked it over. Everything fell out of it. 
 
When I went to pick up the stuff and put it back in her purse, I found a packet 
of partially used birth control pills and a package of condoms, four of which 
were missing.       
 
I stayed up that night until after two o’clock in the morning. Andrea had still 
not come home, so I left the packet of pills and the condoms on the kitchen 
table, where she had to see them when she came in. I slept, but I did not sleep 
well.
 
The next morning when I got up they were gone. Andrea was in bed sleeping. I 
called in sick at work. I sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee. Later I 
heard the shower run and Andrea getting dressed. I still sat and waited. 
 
A few minutes later Andrea came rushing into the kitchen apparently in a hurry, 
“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?” 
 
All I could say was, “Don’t you think we need to talk?”
 
She gave me an impatient and angry look, “I don’t have time for that right now. 
I’m late for an appointment.”
 
She turned and walked to the front door. There she stopped for a moment, before 
turning back to me. Staring somewhere over my shoulder and off into the 
distance, she sighed, “Anyway, I haven’t decided yet what I want to do, so 
there’s no need to talk.” With that she walked out the door. 
 
Ever since I had found the birth control pills and the partially used package of 
condoms I felt numb. I kept thinking that I should feel something more, maybe 
rage, anger or hurt, but I was only numb. 
 
I knew now that she was cheating on me. Why wasn’t I reacting? Maybe it was 
because I could not seem to conclude a thought. Whenever I tried to think about 
what I had found out, one thought seemed to lead to another thought, then to 
another though, and so on. I could never come to a conclusion. It was also like 
this was happening to me, and not to me, but rather to some other person. 
 
I sat there drinking coffee until my cup was finished. Then I got up and called 
my office saying that I would not be in on Friday either. The only person that I 
was close enough to, to be able to talk with, about something like this, was 
Aunt Madge. I packed some clothes in a bag. I left a note on the table saying 
where I was going then left. 
 
I never got to talk to Aunt Madge. On the way down, I started to think about how 
she would react. I could not do this to her. Better I keep what I knew, what was 
going on, to myself. I stopped, and spent an almost sleepless night at a motel, 
in a small town off highway 287. 
 
That Friday morning, after finally getting a couple of hours sleep, I decided to 
force Andrea into talking with me. Maybe we needed consoling. Maybe we needed to 
just talk and clear the air. Maybe, it wasn’t as bad, as I thought it was. 
Maybe, she did love me but had some reason why she was cheating on me. Maybe, 
there was something we could do, to get things back in line. I didn’t want to 
lose Andrea. I loved her too deeply. I needed her. I depended on her. She was my 
one and only, the love of my life. Without her… I could not think. 
 
I spent my time traveling very slowly and trying to think clearly. I stopped off 
a couple of times to breathe some fresh air or to get a cup of coffee. 
 
I arrived home at around six o’clock in the evening. I dropped my bag at the 
front door and went looking for Andrea. Andrea was not there. 
 
I realized that I had not eaten anything that day. So thinking Andrea would not 
be home early; I decided to go eat at a café not far from us. 
 
I returned at about half past nine and there were lights on in the living room 
and in the bedroom. Andrea was home. 
 
When I opened the door, I almost stumbled over my own bag I had left there. 
Lying on the living room floor were two pair of women’s heels and two pair of 
men’s shoes. Draped over the couch were various clothing articles from obviously 
multiple persons of both sexes. On the living room table and on the kitchen 
table were four empty glasses and a half full wine bottle. No one was in the 
living room or in the kitchen. Down the hallway, I could see that the bedroom 
door was open and I walked towards it. 
 
Standing at the bedroom door, I could see Andrea and another woman, locked in a 
69 position with Andrea on top. Behind each of the women, was a man fucking her. 
The men were not wearing condoms. I could see the mixture of cum and Andrea’s 
juices squelching out from between the man’s cock and Andrea’s sex lips as he 
fucked into her.    
 
No one had noticed me. I stumbled back into the living room and out the door. I 
got into my car and started driving. I had no idea where. 
 
They say that when someone is injured badly, that one goes into shock and cannot 
feel pain at first. I don’t think that is true. I think one feels pain, only 
can’t fathom the pain or the extent of the pain. 
 
I made it maybe two blocks before I abruptly vomited all over the car dash, the 
windshield, and myself. The last few days had finally caught up to me. My head 
was throbbing it ached so badly. I was crying and had been crying for some time 
but only then realized, that I was doing so. 
 
I don’t know how long I sat there, but I was driving again. I didn’t know where. 

 
I stopped at a park-and-ride parking area on the I-25 north of town. I felt the 
need to vomit again. I got out of the car and made it over to a grassy area 
before I emptied my stomach again, and again. 
 
After there was nothing left in my stomach but bile, I got up and walked to the 
top of a bridge crossing the freeway. I stood there watching the semis zooming 
underneath me in the darkness. Watching those big truck come screaming out of 
the darkness then under me and back into the darkness, I though of how easy it 
would be for me to step out beyond the guardrail of the bridge and into the 
front of one of those massive trucks. Death would be painful but short in 
coming. 
 
I wanted to do it, but then I didn’t. I walked back to my car and sat down on 
the ground watching the traffic zooming by me. I questioned myself, asking now 
after what had happened, everything that had happened in my life, what reason I 
had not to do it. 
 
After debating with myself, I got up once more, walked to the bridge, and stared 
down. 
 
I didn’t have it in me. I walked away. I crawled onto the back seat of my car 
and slept the sleep of the exhausted, until the early morning sunlight and the 
cold woke me. 
 
Still exhausted, and not knowing where to go, I drove back to the apartment. 
When I entered the apartment, I noticed that my bag was no longer sitting by the 
door.  In the bedroom Andrea was awake and changing the sheets on the bed. When 
she saw me, she only blankly stared at me. 
 
Seeing Andrea holding those crusted and cum soaked sheets, I turned and made it 
only to the bathroom sink before emptying my stomach of its bile once again. 
 
Andrea was now standing at the bathroom door watching me. Her face was still 
blank and expressionless. 
 
Exhausted, I moved past her and into the guestroom. Where I fell on the bed and 
slept. 
  
It’s easy in retrospect, to say what one should have done or not done. But, when 
you have your mind set, and you’re deeply involved, not wanting to give up on 
something of great value to you, sometimes you push things, or accept what 
shouldn’t be, even though you know better. 
 
 Again, I didn’t sleep long. My rest had been interrupted by a nightmare. In the 
nightmare, I jumped off a bridge and into an oncoming truck. I awoke just before 
the truck hit me. 
 
Even though I was coated in sweat, mentally I did not care. My whole attitude in 
waking was still of exhaustion but also of lethargy. Nothing mattered to me 
anymore. 
 
Not having the strength or will to do anything, I just lay there, staring at the 
ceiling. 
 
Time pasted until I took notice of Andrea standing in the doorsill staring at 
me. All my thoughts in seeing her were just of the awareness that she had just 
finished her shower. Nothing of the past hours or thoughts of the future were on 
my mind. Just that that person standing in the doorway I knew. It was Andrea and 
she was dressed in a bathrobe and her hair was wet therefore she had just 
finished taking a shower. I thought nothing else in seeing her. I felt nothing 
else in seeing her. Everything else was blank.
 
The first words she spoke were, “Guess maybe we should talk.” 
 
She paused, “You saw last night didn’t you?”
 
 I only continued to stare wordlessly back at her. 
 
After a while, a slight nervousness begin to appear in her facial expression, as 
she continued, “It’s nothing serious… We’re only friends… It’s just sex… nothing 
more… They’re all married… They all have their own families.”  She stammered out 
the last and then dropped her eyes from mine.
 
Remembering slowly last night and what had happened before, I asked perplexed 
and wondering, “And the condoms?” 
 
Her head jerk a little but she did not look at me. Not saying anything for a 
long time, “Those are for with others.”  
 
Pondering over the magnitude of what she had just stated, I asked, “Are you 
doing this for some kind of revenge? Do you hate me?”    
 
Her answer was first quick, “Maybe.” Then she paused for a moment, “No, I don’t 
think so… I’m not sure. I don’t know. You did hurt me a lot, you know.” 
 
After that she got a very sad, tearful look on her face, “No I don’t hate you. I 
still love you, just as much as ever. That’s the problem. I wish I could just 
hate you and let it go at that. I can’t do that. I just can’t.”
 
Just pondering the thought because it seemed logical, I asked, “What if I were 
to cheat on you?”
 
There her eyes snapped back to mine. There was fire in them when she angrily 
answered me, “Conner, don’t be foolish.” 
 
“I love you because of your personality and how understanding and caring you 
are. I fell in love with you because I felt you were the best of both worlds. 
You had the softer caring touch of a woman. Some times making love to you was 
like making love to another woman.” 
 
“You even seemed to think like us. At times, in talking with you, I felt I was 
talking to my best girl friend.” 
 
“But, you were a man and I could have sex with you like with a man. I could live 
with you and have a family, like I could with a man.”
 
“Take a look at yourself. Take a good look. Some times I think you look so 
feminine… too feminine. 
 
“Didn’t the doctor say that too?”
 
“Do you know that people have asked me if you’re gay?” 
 
“Maybe your mother was right. Maybe you should have been born a girl.”  
 
“Other people don’t know how you are. They only see how you look. They don’t 
know you like I do.” 
 
“How many women have you ever had?”
 
Waving her arm in the direction of the window, “Go ahead and go to bars. See if 
you can pick up anyone. What woman is going to have anything to do with you?” 
Then with a snort and a sneer, “ All you’ll be able to get is a hooker… or a 
queer.” 
  
It looked as if she was going to continue but she stopped. She turned her head 
to the side, as if trying to calm herself and get her thoughts back under 
control. 
 
At one point, she almost turned and walked away from the door but thought better 
of it. 
 
She sighed sadly, “Conner, I didn’t want this talk to go this way. I know you’re 
hurt and I’m sorry that you are.” 
 
“But, I’m having troubles coming to grips with your sterility. I need to work 
this out my own way. I told you that I didn’t know what I wanted to do and I 
still don’t know what I want.” 
 
“Just please give me time and don’t do anything rash. Maybe, there’s still a 
chance for us. I just don’t know.” 
 
“I’ll tell you first, what I decide, as soon as I have decided.” 
 
“I won’t hurt you any more then I have to.” 
 
After saying that, she turned and walked away.
 
I went back to staring at the ceiling, but at some time or other, I nodded off 
to sleep. 
 
Again, I woke up a short time later, having dreamt that I was falling. Falling 
in front of an oncoming semi. Waking, I could still hear the screaming of the 
air horn and the squeal of the tires. 
 
Again, I was drenched in sweat. I automatically got up to take a shower. 
 
After the shower, and without thinking, I wrapped the towel around my waist and 
went towards the main bedroom to get dressed. I stopped though at the doorway 
and could go no further. I was unable to force myself to go past that door. My 
body began to shake and I was beginning to feel sick to the stomach again. 
 
Within reach, was the bag I had taken with me, to visit Aunt Madge. With a 
lunge, I grab the bag and rushed to the guest room to dress. The thought of 
enter the main bedroom was too sickening for me. 
 
Coming into the living room, I could see that Andrea had stayed home. She was in 
the kitchen cooking dinner. She was making a big affair of it. She had the table 
already set. There were candles ready to be lit. Wine goblets sitting next to 
the plates. 
 
Seeing me she smiled, “You’re right on time. Dinner will be ready in a few 
minutes. Go ahead and sit in the living room, get some more rest. I’ll call you, 
when it’s ready.” 
 
I went into the living room and sat in the dark, staring at the wall. It didn’t 
matter any more. Nothing mattered anymore.    
 
I couldn’t eat much at dinner. It should have tasted good and I should have been 
hungry. Everything tasted like cardboard. 
 
Andrea tried to make simple conversation but I couldn’t really concentrate on 
what she was saying. Whatever was said, what use did it make? It was all just 
words. I answered her, as best I could. 
 
After the meal, Andrea stood up and walked over to me. First then did I notice 
that she wasn’t wearing what she would normally wear around the house but had on 
a very pretty, sexy dress that I had never seen before. I remember wondering why 
she would be going out so late in the evening. 
 
Coming around the table and standing beside me, Andrea took my hand in hers. At 
her touch, I felt the hairs on my body rise. My stomach twisted. 
 
Pulling me up from my chair, she almost whispered, “Come, I’ll make it up to 
you. I’ll show you that everything is still okay. No one has taken anything from 
you. I’m still here.” 
 
She led me into the hallway and towards the bedroom. At the bedroom door, I 
stopped and tore my hand from hers. She turned, “What’s wrong?”  I couldn’t tell 
her how much that bedroom repulsed me. How every time I looked into that room 
and saw that bed, I saw also that scene of her and those others.  
 
When she went to wrap her arms around my neck, her lips coming closer to mine, 
my stomach revolted. I tore her arms from around me and dived towards the 
bathroom. 
 
I just barely made it before I brought dinner back up. My head was pounding and 
everything around me was spinning. The cold porcelain of the toilet bowl felt 
comforting and I was relieved to be away from the bedroom and Andrea. 
 
Andrea came into the bathroom and knelt down beside me. She put her arm around 
my shoulder; “Please don’t do this to me.” The closeness and contact to her set 
my stomach off again. Only bile rose this time, burning my throat in passing. 
 
Jerking away from her and pressing myself as far away from her, as I could, “Why 
are you doing this to me? Don’t you know, how you are hurting me? Looking down 
at the floor, no longer able to see her, without feel sick, “Why don’t you just 
kill me, and put me out of my misery? People don’t even treat animals, as cruel 
as you are, to me.” Then in a whisper, “Go, just go, and leave me alone.”  
 
Andrea stood for moments, then again said, “Please, don’t do this to me.” A few 
minutes later, she left the bathroom and I could hear her crying. Next, the 
bedroom door slammed shut. 
 
It took me another quarter of an hour of crying, before I too got up and left 
the bathroom. I went into the guest room, closed the door, took off my clothes, 
and slipped between the sheets. 
 
During that night, I awoke twice falling and hearing again, the howl of an air 
horn and screeching of tires. 
 
The next day, I stayed as much as I could behind the closed guestroom door. I 
only came out when I knew that Andrea was not moving around in the apartment. It 
seemed Andrea was doing the same. 
 
That next week, I did not go to work but stayed home. I didn’t have to stay in 
the guest room hiding from Andrea. On none of the weekdays did she come home 
before midnight. On Wednesday, she didn’t come home at all. She left again 
Friday evening and only came back Sunday late in the afternoon. Saturday, when I 
emptied the kitchen garbage I found an empty box of condoms.    
 
During that week, I emptied the master bedroom of all my clothes and 
possessions, taking all of Andrea’s from the guest room and putting them in her 
room. I didn’t do this until Saturday and then it still took a lot of will power 
to enter that room and not get sick. 
 
Most nights that week, I still had the nightmares about the bridge and the semi 
trucks but the next Monday I felt good enough to go back to work. 
 
So began the time of Andrea’s and my co-existence.