Arm Charm
By Doreen Lewis
Dedication
To women who’ve lost and learned to love again
- including loving themselves.
Chapter One
Rena expected James home around 11:00 PM, but he didn’t show up or call.
She wriggled out of her tiny leopard print negligee - the one she’d picked up through an overpriced mail order
catalog. It was a bad idea, anyway. This silly welcome home costume. I’m too old and tired for these games.
What AM I thinking? She crumpled up the nightie with one hand and shoved it to the back of her dresser drawer,
where it would probably stay forever - untouched. She put on her ratty blue flannel robe and fuzzy slippers and
then tied her long brown hair into a ponytail.
She was annoyed -- at him for being late again, at herself for actually waiting around and watching the clock
impatiently, as if he were the center of her universe (which sadly and undeniably, he was). I won’t call.
James Sutherland had spent the past two nights in D.C. at a convention for city administrators. He promised he’d
come right home. He swore he was through with the bars, the late nights and hanging with the boys sipping
scotch and water.
And he’d been so good for so long. If she called him on his cell phone, he’d sense her distrust. So she didn’t.
His plane is probably late. That’s all it is.
She was wrong.
She lay in bed a long time waiting for him. Minutes turned to hours. She knew in her heart that it was too
irresistible for him to pass by ‘Old Smuggler’s’ alone at night. Always was. Damn. Should I make it an issue? Or
let it slide this time? She wasn’t up for a fight with a drunken husband. She drifted.
By the time James got home, Rena was already asleep.
He flipped the light switch on and dropped his suitcase near the closet. The thump awoke Rena and when her
eyes focused, she noticed he was standing at the foot of the bed with a strange glaze over his watery eyes. The
disheveled look didn’t become him: rolled-up sleeves, untucked shirttail from his pleated black dress pants, and
mussed hair. Even the expensive tie he wore draped loosely around his neck.
“Oh, you’re home. Hi. I’ve missed you. You must have stopped off at the ‘Old Smuggler’s.’ It’s OK, James. I’m
not mad,” she lied. “Come to bed.”
He stood there, saying nothing.
“What’s wrong? You OK?”
He took a breath. There was a tear in his left eye.
Something is really wrong. My God. “Talk to me, honey.”
She sat up and patted the bed for him to come sit.
He covered his mouth with his hand. He began to cry, sobbing like a little boy.
“Oh my goodness, something is terribly wrong. Oh, please, please, whatever it is, we’ll be OK. Honey, come
here.” Rena reached her hand out for his. “You’ve got to trust me, James. Whatever it is, it’ll be OK.”
Did he lose his job? She considered that something may have happened in D.C. that was a work problem. Did
he have an argument? All of that she could deal with. He ignored Rena’s extended hand and, instead, walked
over to the bed and lay on top of her. He put his head in the curve of her neck and wept. “I don’t know how to tell
you this. Oh, God forgive me. I’ve done something terrible.”
Rena’s mind went many places. Maybe he’s been in a fight and hurt someone? Maybe he hit an animal on the
road and killed it?
She gently pushed him off her to the other side of the bed. They lay face-to-face, heads on their pillows. She
looked at him, confused. She put her hand on his shoulder. “I love you. I love you. I love you. No matter what, I
love you.”
He closed his eyes hard and tight and pursed his lips.
“Please tell me. It’s OK. It’s OK,” Rena said.
He sat up in the bed and put his face in his hands.
“I’m going to hell, Reen. I’ve done something terrible. I’ve ruined my life and now yours.”
Rena didn’t say anything. She tensed her body, fearfully waiting for his next words.
He looked into her eyes for what seemed like a long time. Then, he just said it straight. “I slept with another
woman.”
“You what?”
He nodded. He was choked up. “Fucked someone. Spent all last night with her.”
“Who? Who did you sleep with, James? Tell me right now!”
Rena got out of bed and walked over to the chair where her robe was. She put it on, then stood over James. She
was robotic in thought and actions. Numb. Logical.
He shut his eyes tight again. Without looking at Rena, he admitted, “Charlotte Devon.”
“Who? You mean that child working for you? Have you gone completely mad? Someone drugged you. Oh,
mother of God, this is bad, James. This is really, really bad.”
She didn’t cry. Not yet. She kept her composure, wanting more details. She sat at the foot of the bed, her back
to James. She couldn’t look him in the eyes.
“This can’t be happening.” Her head hurt. She finally faced him. “There’s only one question, I have for you,
James. Do you love her?”
No response.
“Do. You. Love. Her?”
Tears streamed down his cheeks. Still too choked up for words, he raised one shoulder up, ever so slightly and
slowly, then down.
“You don’t know? What the fuck? You don’t know?”
He shook his head no. “I’m confused. I need some time.”
“What about us? You and me? Our vows?”
He reached for her. He begged her to hold him. She didn’t budge from her place.
“I love you. My beautiful, wonderful, sweet and innocent Irene, I love you with all my heart. I don’t want to hurt
you. I’m so, so sorry. I feel like a heel. I’m confused. I’m embarrassed. Help me. Help me, please.”
She sat there in silence for a long time. So did James. He closed his eyes and laid his head down. His breathing
became heavy. He fell asleep. She turned off the light and returned to the spot on the bed where she had been
sitting.
The moon shone through the slats of the window blinds. She could see a silhouette of him as a shadow on the
wall. She watched him sleep, wondering what to do, sorting through a million feelings and thoughts. He slept
uneasily, wincing, as if he were having a nightmare.
Feeling the quiet of the night, knowing James was asleep, Rena allowed herself to break through her protective
wall of numbness. Now – emotions came, along with silent tears.
She thought perhaps many women in her position would have packed a bag and left. Or, maybe they would have
kicked their husband in the ass and made him go. But after a long while, Rena’s heavy head wanted to sleep.
She lay on top of the covers, still with her robe on, next to James, who was fully clothed including shoes. And in
his sleep, he wrapped his arm around her, pulled her in close to him, and held her tightly until she, too, dozed off.
And they slept, embraced – the way they often slept together.
She wept most of the night, and slept some of it. So did James. They kissed in the darkness. He whispered, “I
love you,” and “I’m sorry,” countless times. He held her so tight, she thought he’d never let go, and a part of her
didn’t want him to. But she knew in her heart, the strength of his human arms was far less strong than the wedge
of another woman between them.
I love this man with all my heart, but I’ll never, ever be the same. My marriage is dead.