The first time I saw her on that train, my first thought was “Wow,’ my second was ‘She’s way out of my league,’ and my third was ‘Why am I even thinking like this? I’m married!’ I was sad, I was lonely, I was riding the train aimlessly in a city that was foreign to me, with no destination in mind. And then everything changed, everything was different, because she was there. I had to get to know her. I had to. It didn’t feel like a choice.
So I did. I must have seemed silly, pathetic that day, trailing her around the city, although she seemed happy enough for the company. We kept in touch. I started coming up with excuses to fly to her city to see her. Then I gave up making excuses. At some point I made a decision, although really it felt inevitable. I’d never had an affair before, never even dreamed of it. But there I was planning to start one. Sure, my marriage was in shambles, but that didn’t mean I didn’t still feel loyalty to my wife, still care for her. But there it was again, that pull, that feeling of what was happening between us as being inevitable. So I made my choice.
I flew her to NYC, because she’d never been, and I kissed her for the first time on the street in front of a book shop. She was angry with me, she cursed, and she called me horrible names, and she asked me how I could try to turn her into ‘that girl’. I apologized. She kissed me again. That night I heard her crying.
It’s been a month and a half. I’m in love with her, and she with me. But the guilt is killing her. I can see it on her eyes. One minute she’s happy, she’s laughing, or we’re curled up in bed together and then she remembers and a shadow passes over her face and she goes quiet. I can’t stand seeing her hurting so badly, and knowing that it is my fault. Sometimes I wish for her that she had never met me, but I am selfish. I was stuck in a rut and now my life is bright and beautiful because of her. I don’t know what to do, how to proceed. I want her to stop hurting.