Candles.
He came.
I approached him, kissed him and tried to remind him of those years when he couldn’t even cross paths with me in the kitchen without drawing me to him.
Robert just kissed me on the forehead.
I’m tired, honey. Tomorrow.
But that “tomorrow” never came.
Then another one happened tomorrow.
And another.
Finally, I stopped trying.
And the worst part was that I started to hate myself.
When I changed from clothes, I stopped looking in the mirror.
I started to think that part of my life as a woman was just over.
Until I met Eric.
He was thirty-four years old.
I was in a bar with a friend when I realized I was looking at myself.
At first, I even turned around to check if there was another woman behind me.
There was no one.
He was looking at me.
A few minutes later, he came over.
Can I buy you a drink?
I laughed.
I am old enough to be your mother.
He didn’t even babb.
I’m not looking at your age.
That phrase remained in my head for days.
Eric gave me his number.
I promised myself I would never use it.
I held out for three days.
In the room, I sent a single word.
“Hello.”
That word became the most dangerous word of my marriage.
At first, we were just talking.
Then she started telling me she was beautiful.
When I sent him a picture, he never said:
“You look great for your age.”
He simply said,
“You are beautiful.
I got my makeup again.
I bought a dress new.
A new perfume.
And, most dangerous of all, I started waiting for his messages.
One night, Eric wrote:
“I want to see you. Alone.”
I knew exactly what I meant.
I left the phone.
Robert was sitting just a few feet away from me.
I looked at her gray hair, her tired face, those hands she had held for nearly four decades.
And I thought:
No. I’m not doing this.
I tried it one last time that night.
I got closer to Robert in bed.
I leaned my head against his chest.
I kissed him.
He gently turned away.
“Linda, please. Tonight I’m really tired.
Something inside me broke.
