I found myself heading back in the direction of Samantha and our infant son, Josh. Unsure even then if what was wanted was possible; however, what I did not want was now clear. I was relieved to have Pippa move on. The affair effectively ended our 5-year friendship, motivating the return to Samantha and the salvage of our then 7-year marriage.
We rekindled our relationship, initially spending evenings together at our small three-bedroom home, that was our first house purchase. We quietly talked while settling Josh into his bassinet for the night, eventually making our way downstairs. Before leaving for my apartment, we finished our conversation over mugs of steaming-hot tea. It was hard to think of Samantha with someone else; even harder to imagine sharing my son and fatherhood responsibilities with another.
[The hypocrisy of those feelings was as clear to me then, as is now.]
Our recommitment to each other was finalized during a trip to the West coast, to the small town of Strawberry. The town is nestled between the American River and shoulder along Highway 50, and is a tourist destination easily missed if blinking while driving east toward Lake Tahoe. We put our little boy into a hiking backpack secured on my shoulders and walked along the valley floor beneath Horsetail Falls. After the hike, we bundled Josh in blankets, each laying beside him on the aged wood floor. We took turns retrieving drinks from the bar to share and played board games as we enjoyed the warmth of the fire that emanated from the oversized fireplace.
We made love that night in a small bed at the Strawberry Lodge, the uncomfortable mattress perhaps as ancient as the structure that housed us. Josh lay comfortably settled in the Coleman portable crib that had accompanied us everywhere. We listened to the sounds he made—a tempo of staccato rhythm, the familiar sucking noises as he nursed his nighttime bottle. We waited for him to finish and then replaced the bottle with his binky, the name given for his pacifier. Staring lovingly at the little boy we created, each kissed his milk-dampened cheeks as we tucked him in for the night. And as Josh gave in to the approaching slumber that always followed his meals, Samantha and I quietly moved together along the familiar terrain of each other's bodies, and comfortably found our own rhythm.
All seemed right again in the world.
YOU ARE READING
Navel Gazing
Non-FictionI didn't want to be without her... Her beautiful face, infectious smile, her long, lean body, and the way she made me feel. But as time passed, and in the cruel way that familiarity and knowledge can sometimes work together against your dreams, the...
