Love and Happiness

Karen

I’m lying on white linen sheets panting and sweating in a motel room in Syosset. My breasts rise and fall as I try to catch my breath. The strong smell of sex fills the room. The air conditioner blows on high, cooling my trembling, naked body. I stare at the mirror on the ceiling wondering how, in a matter of minutes, I’ve gone from complete bliss to sadness.

When I have sex with Raheem, it takes me away from my chaotic life. He makes me feel sexy and unrestricted. I feel like a woman, but when it’s over, I fall hard back to reality. Raheem is not my husband.
I watched him get dress and wondered why I kept doing this to myself.

“I gotta go. I’ll text you sometime tomorrow,” Raheem said.

“Okay.”

He kissed me softly, and for that brief moment it felt real, but I know our relationship could never be anything more than this. This isn’t love. What we have is pure lust. Our relationship is merely a quick fix to the problems in my marriage.

Raheem has a family too; a wife and three kids. I have my husband Chris, and my twin girls, Jocelyn, and Jaclyn. He cheats on his wife for the thrill of fucking someone else. I cheat to feel validated.
Raheem winked and closed the door behind him. I stood up and stared at my reflection in the full-length mirror. I fanned myself, ran my hands down my naked body. My chestnut eyes show the windows to the soul of an emotionally drained woman. For the last three years, I’d been living a lie and every day; I feel like a piece of me dies.

My heart was heavy as tears filled my eyes. I started to cry thinking about what my life had become. I cried because I felt horrible for cheating. I cried because I just wanted to be happy but I don’t know how to be.
I composed myself, dressed and headed to the motel office. A maid cleaning one of the rooms shook her head and scowled at me when I put the room key in the return slot. She saw the wedding ring on my hand. I know she figured no married woman would come here in the middle of the day with her husband. That judgmental look would be another thing to torment me. I got into my silver Honda Accord and headed home. I felt even worse than before.
I love Chris, I do. I always have, but I’m not in love with him. I owe him a lot. I knew he was the one when we met in college at a campus party.
***

“Look, I’m not interested,” I said to some random guy who approached me at the party.

“Come on. Stop playing hard to get.”

“She said no, leave her alone before there’s a problem,” Chris said, coming to my rescue.

“Who the fuck…”

Random guy turned around and saw Chris, Will, and Lou standing behind him. They were all huge, but Chris looked the most intimidating. He was about six-one and ripped like a Greek God.

“My bad, I didn’t know she was with you.” Random guy said as he walked away.

“Thanks for that,” I said; liking how sexy he looked.

“It’s no problem. I’m Chris, and these are my boys, Will and Lou.”

“I’m Karen,” I said and smiled.

Chris and I got to know each other after that. I loved that he was driven and masculine. He was about something, a “real man”. It was a huge change from the boys pretending to be men who usually approached me.
Back then I was reckless and irresponsible. Chris came into my life and showed me that I needed to calm down and think about my future. I toned down my hard partying. I quit smoking weed and cigarettes. I stopped drinking to the point of throwing up and passing out, and focused more on school and improving my life. In some ways, Chris saved me. He taught me to want more for myself, and I was truly grateful for that.

When we first started dating, there were several times when my immaturity almost drove him to leave me. Sometimes I’d relapse, and go back to my party girl ways; my last big fuck up happened senior year.

“Chris, please don’t be mad at me.”

I gripped the phone tightly, mentally preparing myself for his reaction.

“What? What’s going on?” Chris asked, groggily. It was two o’clock in the morning.

“Chris, please wake up, baby. I need you. I got arrested, I’m in jail.”

“You’re where?”

“I’m in the holding cells at the 114th precinct. They’re taking me to central booking. I got arrested for DUI.”

Chris sighed. There was a long pause before he spoke.

“What happened?”

“I was partying in Queens… I ended up smoking—”

“Smoking weed.”

“Yes, Chris. I was smoking weed. Anyway, I guess it was stronger than I thought. I got pulled over on my way home, and the cops smelled it on me. When they searched my car, they found some bags.”

“How much is some, Karen?” Chris had that tone in his voice that made me feel like a child.

“I bought a couple bags for days when I’m stressed out.”

“How much is a couple!” he shouted.

“I don’t know exactly. They said it’s felony weight though.”

“Jesus, Karen. Who are you, Pablo fucking Escobar? This could’ve all been avoided if you’d just stop with this bullshit.”

“I don’t need a lecture right now, I need your help. Can you help me, please?”

Chris bailed me out of jail. Since I had no money, he spent a small fortune on a great lawyer who found a loophole in the case and somehow got all of my charges dropped.

While my legal struggles were over, my partying was putting a strain on our relationship. Chris grew distant. The writing was on the wall. I was close to losing him for good, so I stopped taking my birth control. I knew he’d never leave me if I got pregnant. It was lowdown and risky, I know, but I loved him. I still love him more than anything and anyone, but as time passed our relationship became stagnant.

When I come home, I don’t feel appreciated or beautiful. Chris and I don't go out or do anything exciting anymore. He’s always working. When he’s not working, he’s sleeping, watching sports or in the garage restoring his 66’ Mustang. I swear he cares more about that fucking car than about me. He doesn’t pay attention to me anymore. Don’t get me wrong; he’s a wonderful father. He always takes care of our kids and provides for us, but we’ve lost something. I feel that something when I’m with Raheem.