Surviving the Scarlet Letter

Now, on this December night in 2001, Ethan asked me to meet with him because we were experiencing some difficulties working together. Earlier in the week, Ethan had said he couldn’t work with me because I was a woman. On that momentous evening I confronted him on his statement because there were other women in the office with whom he had to interact. His claim seemed inconsistent. I pushed back in my chair, crossing one leg under the other in an attempt to get comfortable in the canvas director’s chair placed strategically at the side of Ethan’s desk. If I sat naturally, I would be facing out toward a wall; if I turned completely to my right, I could look Ethan in the eye. I turned to face him directly. “I just don’t get it. You work with other women. What’s the problem with me?” “My problem isn’t that you are a woman. My problem is that you are you.” Perplexed, I pushed for more, “What do you mean? Is there something wrong with me?” “No.” His “no” hung in the air, lingering like there was more to follow, but for the first time in his life he didn’t want to speak. He pushed his chair away from his desk and rolled it out until he was directly in front of me. “My problem is that I like you.” Then slowly, “I’m attracted to you.” I swallowed hard, trying to seem composed, like this revelation was commonplace in my life. My peripheral vision got cloudy. I felt as if the room was closing in on me. Did I just hear that correctly? He’s attracted to me? To me? Ethan had entered my warehouse and not only discovered the hidden Ark of the Covenant, but opened it as well. He went on, “Remember when we were coming back from Chicago and we got stuck in Nebraska? I didn’t come out of my room for two days. Do you know why?” I shook my head, too shocked to speak. “The time we spent talking and laughing as we drove across the country was more than just fun. I am drawn to you. I admire you. You possess amazing talent. Your heart is tender toward God and those who don’t know him. There are parts of me that come alive when I’m with you. That’s a problem. I had to hide, to stay away from you. I told my roommate, ‘Don’t let me leave this room or I might do something risky.’ I didn’t trust myself with you.” I sat back in my chair, trying both to process what I had just heard and simultaneously appear as though I wasn’t in shock. I was flattered. Ethan was the most important person in our organization and he was attracted to me! Suddenly that very knowledge became quite intoxicating. I liked how it felt. I bathed in it for a moment, soaking it in as the one ingredient my soul longed for but had never experienced. I felt as though I was immersed in a gorgeous soaking tub surrounded by rose petals; the focus was entirely on me. It was surreal. Somehow, reason began to swell to the surface in my head, past the rose-filled soaking tub and the longing to be admired. But my reasoning was slightly altered. It had, after all, experienced that sensual soaking tub and enjoyed the unfamiliar, exhilarating feelings. So reason sounded like this: I confessed to him that I also was attracted to him. I told Ethan that although quitting seemed appropriate in this context, I didn’t want to because I loved what I was doing. The Chicago road trip connection had been boxed up and effectively ignored for four years, so I sincerely believed I could continue to keep it in check. Ethan didn’t like the idea of not working with me and, illogically, reasoned as well that the best thing for us to do was continue working together. We both believed we could keep our feelings for each other under control and inconspicuous. At that point neither one of us had any desire to leave our spouse and upset the balance in our carefully measured lives. Our jobs were high profile in our community and neither of us would jeopardize them. That was that. I can hear you saying something along the lines of, “You foolish woman. What were you thinking?” Believe me, I frequently revisit this scene and ask myself the same question. Admiration is intoxicating. I have not come across a single person who doesn’t want to be appreciated. The countless dollars that have been spent on hours of therapy to heal the wounds left by caregivers who failed to encourage or praise a child are a testament to this. Hardwired into each of us is the desire for love and acceptance, praise and adoration. Children will do whatever is necessary to receive even a grotesquely twisted version of these if that’s all that is offered to them. I drove away from work that night in a fog. As I meandered my way off the main highway heading west, my thoughts drifted far off the rural roads. I knew the roads well, and thinking about where I was going physically was of little importance. My emotional journey required my full attention. I was on a road I had never travelled before, and I had no idea how to navigate it. Up to this point in my life, I had taken pride in knowing: knowing where, knowing how, knowing who, knowing why--basically knowing it all. I loved being the go-to girl. This night I found myself in unchartered territory; for what seemed like the first time in my life, I had no idea what to do. …As I sat pondering in the garage, I had a clear vision of my husband weeping. I chose at that moment to keep the revelation of Ethan to myself. In my “enlightened” mind, I concluded this was the best thing to do. This is how I would protect my husband. With this resolve set firmly in my heart and mind, I walked gingerly into the darkened home. I quietly took my place under the cozy comforter next to my husband without an exchange of words, just a silent resolution to keep everything under control… … One aspect of my journey that I find intriguing is that when I turned my back on God with regard to my affair, I did not shut God out of my life. I very much clung to Him as I careened out of control. I prayed daily. I sought His help to overcome my addiction to Ethan. I never yielded to Him though which explained why the clinging and prayer just never seemed to be enough. I know now that what I was trying to do was overcome things on my own, in isolation. Remember the women’s study group, the ones with whom I was reading and discussing “Waking the Dead”? I was meeting with them during the worst part of my affair. One of them knew what was going on because an Elder had told her and asked her if she could talk to me. That must have been a tough situation for her. She never told me to stop, never condemned me. I appreciated that at the time. Now, I wonder why she wasn’t more aggressive. Maybe she feared a negative reaction from me. Maybe she had never dealt with a situation like this and had no idea what to say. I think there was a risk she wasn’t willing to take. Although Jane knew my situation, she told me that sharing it with the rest of the group was up to me. I was welcome, even if I wasn’t completely transparent. That I chose not to be open with the entire group was part of my downfall. I think if I had, I might have had a fighting chance to end my affair and save my marriage. That is, if they could have handled my honesty. Their response is another unknown. Based on my experience, I don’t think the women would have known what to do with me. Regardless of these unanswered thoughts, I had not reached a comfort with transparency in my life. I look back at that lost opportunity and I realize I just didn’t trust them.