A Phone Call

It took Lee 8 days to call. 

By that time I’d heard from Lee’s parents (twice), my concerned cousin, my out-of-town friends . . . everyone but my own husband. 

In the bleary wasteland of my dreams I imagined that Lee loved me fiercely. He would miss me soon enough and call me day and night. Surely a man in love would do what was necessary to save his marriage, or at least retrieve his wife. 

My entire world had shifted in the blink of an eye. I went from being an autonomous married woman to being a dependent child in crisis. I would wander about the first floor of my mother’s house, not sure what to do or how I fit in to this new reality. There was no meal to prepare, no space to tidy, no one to take care of. Life was in limbo. Every thought I had was a plea, a prayer for God to soften Lee’s heart, because I could only go home if Lee agreed to save the marriage. Tears came spilling out of me whenever I forced myself to consider the possibility of divorce. Whatever happened would be Lee’s choice, and not having any control over the future of my marriage was killing me inside. 

Mostly I just missed Lee. I loved him with all my soul. 

Every day my stepfather would come home from work and ask, Did Lee call yet? I had to answer no each time and he would walk away grumbling, shaking his head, unable to comprehend Lee’s silence -- the same silence I’d lived through for two years. 

Lee’s photograph finally came up on Caller ID and I barely let the phone ring twice before answering. My hello was too quick, too desperate, my heart unbearably lonely after a mere week of separation.
 

Lee said nothing at all for a long time. 

I listened to him breathing on the other end, soft and calm. He cleared his throat a few times, the way he always did when the air was dry and hot. 

I just wanted to hear your voice, he said, and then explained in a roundabout way that he’d been thinking about the things I said in my e-mail. He sounded confused, unsure about what to say, and frankly admitted that he didn’t know what he wanted to do about our situation.

When I asked if he was willing to quit gaming and see a counselor, the answer was emphatically NO. For good measure he added, My feelings on the church haven’t changed, by the way. You should see how the people in our ward have been treating me since you left. 

He fell silent as I told him things I would have said in my missionary days: testimonies, like relationships, can be rekindled with effort and dedication. Both could be saved, and our marriage didn’t have to be over.

Lee quickly replied, You’re the one who started all this, you should be giving me reasons to take you back. 

Firmly I told him he was gravely mistaken, that I left for good reason and was not ashamed of what I’d done. I felt no need to beg my way back into his good graces. Not this time. 

There was a long and awkward silence. Lee mumbled a quick apology for his comment and said he would give it some more thought. 

I hung up empty and discouraged.

Back to waiting, and crying, and waiting.