It was around the second anniversary of our divorce, (not that I was keeping track) when I came home, after taking Gail home, to find a miserable Connie sitting on my stoop.She had her head buried in her crossed arms, and looked up when she heard me approaching.I took her hands and pulled her to her feet.She threw her arms around my neck, buried her face in my chest and just started sobbing.Through her sobs, she gasped out, “Oh, Henry ... I’m so sorry ... I just ... never really ... really understood.”“Understood what, Connie?” I asked.“H ... How you must have felt seeing me with Mark.”“How could you not, Connie?” I asked, “I left you, divorced you, wouldn’t even talk to you.”“Oh, of course I knew that you were upset, no, angry, but I never really understood the depths of your pain until I saw you with those other women; and I never even saw you having sex with them, even though I knew you were. I thought that if I was in such pain from seeing you with other women, even though I have. ”“I know...”“No you don't!” I was taken aback. He had never raised his voice toward me before, but when I saw the tear fall from his eye I knew that he wasn't truly angry with me. He took a deep breath, wiping the water from his eyes, and looked at me. “I'm sorry.” Jack move toward me and shifted himself around so that he sat directly next to me, his back and mine sharing the headboard of the bed. There was nothing else to be said at that moment. So we sat in silence. I looked down and noticed that I was half under the covers of his bed. Strangely enough, I had no recollection of pulling them over myself. I hadn't even time to begin laughing at myself before Jack's voice cut off my thoughts. “You're staying tonight, right?” Again my stomach lurched, though I tried to give nothing away in my face. “I mean, for old time's sake.” He qualified. This only slightly lessened the excitement going through me at the thought of him wanting me there. “I guess I can do that.” We sat up for nearly.
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