The Earth You Fall Upon — Part 2
A journey into one’s mind will most likely reveal fears you never intended to find but needed to.
The measurement of how crazy I was beginning to act was found in the concerned looks of everyone around me.
It’s hard to be around someone going through such a tragedy.
However, it was polarizing enough that it drew a sharp line between those that truly cared about me and those that just couldn’t bare to watch this slow motion head on collision.
Leaving the country for a foreign island three weeks after your wife leaves earned me many of those concerned looks. Some never expected me to come back. It was those friends that took me out a few nights before my departure for a ‘farewell’ night out.
Understand, that in the days leading up to my escape, new information had come to light about my wife. She was sleeping with someone else. She had left our home that night with her black suitcase and rushed into his arms.
He was a friend.
He had been on my couch watching Sunday football with me the day before she left. Slugging down beers, laughing. Telling me about how lucky I was to have such a great woman in my life.
So, the countless hours I’d spent trying to disect my character, examine the things I could have done differently, were in vain. She simply loved someone else more than me.
I was powerless to prevent any of this and it weakened me further. I felt shame and I told no one about it. No one knew that I knew.
This is the hardest part of the story. Understanding this made me wish that it had been my fault.
I just wasn’t worthy to be loved.
Living with that for the rest of one’s life is something that emasculates, embalming the very soul of a man.
I found some comfort that night out with my friends. Booze helped me forget and in two days I would be gone. Even if I wanted to do something about the situation, I would be too far away to even try. I was about to put an ocean between my problems and me.
I wasn’t two steps into that pub when I saw him. Yes, him. The man having sex with my wife. His backstabbing ass was at the bar and he had heard the ring of the bell at the door as I entered.
He turned to look and smiled when he saw me. He opened his arms as if to embrace me and cried “Seth!”
Remember, no one knew what I knew. Not even him.
What happened in the next ten seconds is still a blank red screen in my memory. Nothing but red.
I stood over his seized up body, watching the blood pool up around the back of his head. Blood from my clinched fist dripped onto his sweater.
There was silence. Slowly, I was starting to realize what I had done.
My friends immediately pulled me back by my coat with absolute disbelief. Obviously, we couldn’t stay there. The night had just been brought to an abrupt end 12 steps into our first bar.
As we walked back to the car, I said nothing. My knuckles still a tightened white, yet to be released. I still couldn’t hear anything. I couldn’t hear my friends scold me. I could see they were paniced and shouting questions at me, but I still hadn’t gotten all my senses back.
They dumped me in front of my house, reluctant to come inside. Those friends couldn’t be around me anymore. Around this patently insane man.
I sat on my front steps and slowly regained my senses. I watched the blood from my hand drip between my feet and the pain was starting to be evident.
It wasn’t long before the police arrived at the front curb and the cuffs were around my wrists.
They explained to me that I had hurt him badly. I removed his front tooth. His head struck the corner of the bar as his limp body careened toward the floor.
He lived. No charges were pressed. I always wondered why. I think he knew he deserved it.
Leaving for Ibiza couldn’t have come at a better time. I really needed to get out of there. Before I killed someone.
Stay tuned for Part 3…..