It was so easy to slip away. It was almost like a current pulling him away from her. Her emotional frailty used to make him feel so strong. When it didn't go away, when he was the person who made her cry, when she blamed him for his misery, that's when it started. He took up cycling. Being in control despite gravity, wind, rock fighting for a piece of him, begging him to fall, to lose control, was an incredible rush. It gave him all that she'd taken away. She thought she was the fragile one. She'd cornered that market years ago. That left him no choice but to be the hero, or the villain. The role of victim was taken.
It got to where he was numb to her crying. He'd pretend he couldn't hear her, in the shower, in bed. He was really good at fake sleeping. She was great at falling asleep on the couch, then sitting up, crying in the dark on the couch. He just didn't care anymore where the tears came from. He was certain she didn't know anyway. She'd run out of things to blame. They'd turned over every rock after the "accident". They'd blamed post-partum depression in the early years, her childhood before that. She was just happy being miserable. There was really nothing left to blame but him. Even he could admit he was hard to deal with. He knew he was demanding, bold, held grudges. So he softened, gave her space, complimented her constantly. It made everything worse. She went from crying to screaming. She'd shout at the kids, him, the dog. Sometimes, she'd take the trash out just to get outside and scream. Everyone pretended not to notice. Eventually, they didn't have to pretend.
When being nice didn't work, he just went numb. So did she. There was nothing left to say, or there was too much. Regardless, he controlled his world. He took care of himself. He focused his energies where he could make an impact, and he did. His career took off. He didn't have to make the excuse of long hours, the work piled up. He went from Junior Associate to Partner in three years. His secretary stayed with him. He knew it was dangerous. She was cute and fun and made him laugh, but they worked so well together. They listened to the same bands and liked their pizza and chinese take-out the same way. It worked. A little too well. The train was pulling full speed out of his marriage before his brain had caught up with his dick. What started as a reprieve, a little salve for his wounded ego, became something undeniable, palpable.
If they hadn't both been married, they would have called it love at first sight. He resented his feelings of guilt, or shame, or both. He loved Claudia wholeheartedly. Her husband didn't; he chased tail on the side, bragged about it at racquetball. He put her down in front of all their friends. If Claudia had behaved the way Anastasia had, he would have understood. It made him hate Amit and Anastasia all the more. They were the poison in the marriages. He and Claudia were the victims. They just wanted to be happy. Life didn't have to be this hard. Marriage didn't have to be this hard.
They were just friends at first. Then running partners. Then best friends. Then lovers.
