The Unforgiving Minute (11 page)

and suddenly I felt good for having eaten this way. I decided I

was going to be totally observant of all the rules and

suggestions and went off in search of several bottles of water.

The box was easy to find and I took two large bottles to my room.

When I got back to the room there was a note under the

door that I was scheduled to begin my physical at seven-thirty in

the morning and that I was allowed nothing to eat from midnight

on. I dutifully downed another large bottle of the water before

eating my apple and going to bed. I instantly fell asleep on the

comfortable bed but awoke every hour to urinate. If I drank

eight to ten bottles of their water a day, I was doomed to awake

every hour, every night but I was going to do it. I was very

determined to derive every benefit possible from this experience.

At four a.m. I awoke and couldn’t get back to sleep. My

thoughts drifted back to my time with Jane and I quickly realized

that thinking of her was detrimental to what I was trying to

accomplish. I had to condition my mind as well as my body, so I

turned my thoughts to Julie and home.

***

Julie and I lived in our apartment in the city for eight

years before our move to the suburbs. Ann Marie and her husband

lived down the hall for the entire time. Each encounter with Ann

Marie left me overwhelmed with guilt and both of us vowed to stop

the affair a hundred times. It wasn’t one of those love affairs

where we went out together, sneaking around in dark, out-of-the—

way places. It was a series of encounters at times when both our

spouses were at a safe distance. Our encounters involved sex and

deep conversation. Ann Marie was a wise and stabilizing

influence on my impulsive personality. Through it all, though, I

adored Julie with all my heart. Sometimes the encounters with

Ann Marie would be as much as six months apart.

Julie and I, despite the distraction, were very happy. As

I looked back on it, one of the reasons for Ann Marie was that I

found it impossible to talk to Julie about any personal or

business problems that I encountered. I don’t know why, but her

counsel always made me nervous and irritable. After six years

with the firm I was working for, I considered strongly going out

on my own. When I needed advice, I went to Ann Marie and it was

her encouragement that gave me the final push. When I opened my

firm, I had just written my first book on management. I had

trouble selling it until I put it into seminar form and took it

to several business conventions at a reasonable price. Some of

the heavy hitters I met at these meetings recommended the book to

a major publisher and I was on my way. Some of the biggest

clients of the firm I had been with came over to me and I had a

solid base to start with. Over a period of a few years, I

parlayed my new management theories and my personality into a

successful firm that analyzed sick companies, helped manage

companies of all sizes, and advised in situations such as mergers

and acquisitions.

In 1961 Julie became pregnant and we were ready to start a

family and get out of the city. We rented a car every weekend

and explored Westchester, Connecticut and Long Island. One late

spring day we happened on the Brookville area of Long Island’s

North Shore. We took one look at the shady, tree-lined landscape

with large spacious plots of ground and were hooked. We bought a

house on two and one-half acres of ground that was only a few

years old for the then staggering price of ninety thousand

dollars. Julie argued with me all the way back to the city that

we were spending too much money. Three months later we were the

proud owners of a new house, a new Lincoln, a Dodge station wagon

and last, but certainly not least, an eight-pound, one-ounce baby

girl, Robin, who was born on January 8, 1962. We had so much fun

with our new baby and were enjoying decorating our house. I

don’t think there could have been a closer couple than Julie and

me. If Julie hadn’t kept in touch with Ann Marie, I probably

would never have called her and that part of my life would have

faded out. I would pick up the phone sometimes when Ann Marie

called and there would be warm, cordial hellos but nothing else.

I was very happy at that time with my little family and was

genuinely repentant in my mind for the times with Ann Marie.

When Andrew was born, not quite two years later, something

changed in Julie. With two babies in diapers, she became

increasingly irritable and romance between us seemed to ebb away

gradually over a period of time. Almost two years had passed

since I had any physical encounter with Ann Marie. Many times

she would call when Julie was out of the house. During that

time, I never asked, she never offered. One Sunday in April,

Julie was particularly irritable and I told her so.

“God damn it, will you shut up? Why the hell do you make

it so I can’t wait to get back to work on Monday morning? I’m

supposed to be unhappy on Monday, not on Sunday.”

She looked at me with hate in her eyes. “Believe me, no

one is happier than me on Monday morning. You’re starting to

drive me crazy. You never help me around the house and you’re

just a further burden to me when you’re home.”

Now I’m a pretty educated guy and I know all about post—

partum depression, so I held my tongue and worked out what I

thought would be a solution to our problem. We hired a

housekeeper/nanny to help Julie with the kids and her household

chores. It wasn’t something I really wanted to do. I am a

ferocious guardian of my privacy and the family’s privacy and I

really didn’t like having a stranger in my house. Julie calmed

down but I lapsed into a state of depression myself and finally

called Ann Marie to arrange a lunch together.

Ten minutes after lunch started, I felt Ann Marie’s

calming influence. It was a miracle. More than anything else, I

think that afternoon was the start of a need I felt for Ann

Marie. As usual, she wouldn’t knock Julie and was even

supportive of her, but through it all she made me feel ten feet

tall.

“I want to take you to bed,” I said, meaning every word as

I felt the strange eroticism that came over me each time I was in

her presence.

“Robert, I want you too, but you just can’t come flying

into my life occasionally and leave. I don’t ever want to come

between you and Julie … I really love her, you know, but I

can’t be fantasizing about you for months at a time, waiting for

your latest whim. Either we are going to see each other on a

regular basis or we have to stop this thing.”

“Agreed,” I said. “We’ll meet once a week from here on

in.”

“It’s not just sex I’m talking about, Robert. It can even

be for lunch or a drink. I just want to see you.”

We both took the afternoon off, her from her job and me

from my business. I took a room at the New York Hilton and we

made love hungrily and prolifically.

Afterward, coming back from the bathroom, I stood looking

at her naked body on the bed. You wouldn’t say Ann Marie had a

perfect figure. She certainly wouldn’t look great in a bikini.

Her hips and thighs were possibly a little too large and her

breasts a little too small. Her buttocks were large, but

perfectly formed. She wasn’t pretty by any stretch of the

imagination. Her good looks came with age and she is far more

attractive in her sixties than she was in her forties. Still,

with all the flaws, when you put all the body parts together, she

was the most irresistible woman I ever knew. Maybe it was her

skin, which was and is the smoothest and most perfect I’ve ever

touched.

There was no turning back. Ann Marie and I were a full—

fledged affair. The funniest part was I no longer felt guilt.

That lack of guilt later magnified into many other women. I

always felt that it started with Julie screaming at me that cold

April Sunday.

Having the housekeeper made Julie far easier to live with,

but I resented the fact that I had, in effect, bought her good

disposition with the hiring of the housekeeper. The next few

years were quite pleasant and I really enjoyed my children. I

was totally taken aback when less than two years later she

suggested having a third child. During that period and up until

now Ann Marie and I managed to see each other almost weekly. She

became my lover/sister/mother/confessor. When I had brief

dalliances with other women, I told her everything. She was

amazing. She seemed to know they wouldn’t last and wanted all

the details.

For a short time after Gary was born, I actually felt the

guilt again. Julie had been pleasant and friendly and our social

life was exciting.

When Gary was about two months old, it started all over

again. She started to get angry over nothing and treated me like

I was the fourth child. I held my temper and buried my

disappointment and frustration in Ann Marie’s warm, smooth body.

I think that if it wasn’t for Ann Marie, I would have thrown in

the towel right then and there. I became increasingly intolerant

of Julie’s moods and missed the romance of our early days.

The children, though, were a joy. I enjoyed every minute

with them and couldn’t understand why Julie found them such a

burden, especially when we had a housekeeper.

It seemed we were at each other’s throats constantly. At

least when the housekeeper was around Julie would manifest her

anger by way of cold silence, but on Sundays, the housekeeper’s

day off, she would be on my case from morning until night. I

just couldn’t understand why she was angry with me. I just

couldn’t wait for Sundays to turn into Mondays. A few years

later when Ann Marie moved to Douglaston, I saw her even more.

Dominic worked nights and their son was away at college, so I

stopped in on the way home several nights a week. I leaned on

Ann Marie more and more over the years that followed and she gave

me the strength to stay with my family.

As the years went by Julie changed again, this time to

someone who was a littler easier to live with, but, alas, she

never turned back into the sweetheart I once had. I just

couldn’t recapture the old romance.

***

As I lay there desperately trying to sleep, I vowed that I

would make it better when I got home. I would do everything

possible to bring back the romance. I lay there and tried to

fantasize sex with Julie but it just wouldn’t jell in my mind.

It had been so long since sex with Julie satisfied me. It wasn’t

that she was unresponsive, but there was something missing that I

couldn’t fathom. A psychiatrist friend once told me about the

Madonna/Prostitute syndrome in which some men found it impossible

to make love to their wives with the same sexual abandon they

felt with other women. I dozed off pondering this dilemma.

I presented myself for the physical examination right on

schedule. I was amazed at the size of the staff and the

sophisticated equipment. A nurse shaved spots of my chest and

placed suction cups with wires attached in preparation for my

stress electrocardiogram. I was escorted to a treadmill where

the wires were attached to an electrocardiograph machine. An

asphignomometer was attached to my arm to record my blood

pressure at various intervals and, clad only in walking shorts, I

was told to commence walking on the treadmill. Prior to this

ritual, blood and urine samples had been taken and were already

on their way to the in-house laboratory. A business-like doctor

and nurse supervised this part of the examination and were

professional and efficient. Every few minutes the doctor would

relate something in German which the nurse would dutifully write

on a chart. Subsequent to each report, the treadmill would be

elevated until it felt like I was trying to run up a wall. I was

getting tired and a little more winded than I wanted to be, but I

wasn’t going to quit. I figured that if I was in any danger it

would show on the monitor. After what seemed like an eternity, I

was released, bathed in sweat, and led to a room with a shower

stall and fresh shorts and athletic supporter. After gratefully

bathing my body, I was given a chest x-ray, and a full medical

history was taken. I was then examined head to toe by a

physician and was again immersed in water to measure my body fat

content. I was then given a complete eye and ear examination and

was wondering what else they could possibly examine when I was

led to a dental office and given a complete oral examination.

Three and one-half hours after the examination began, I

was led to the anteroom of Dr. Bierbauer’s office where I was

served my first meal since the sparse supper of the previous

evening. The tray I was given had two small muffins, which,

being fat free, were reasonably tasteless. There was a small

glass of grapefruit juice, a very small banana, and a lot of