Just Cut the crust off

January 6th. Wednesday night is church night. My youngest daughter and I headed into town that evening so she could attend her confirmation classe. As the confirmation coordinator, I was there to help out. Then, I received a text message from my middle daughter. She mentioned that Dad was driving her into town to drop her off at the church so I could assist her with a paper due the next day. My first thought—literally the first thought that crossed my mind—was, "That's strange; Jon never drives the girls into town at night." He was usually home in his sweatpants, watching TV.

I checked his messages on my phone. Nothing. A short time later in bounce my middle daughter. Smiley as usual and ready to work on her paper. She joined me in the church library, and we sat down to discuss her paper. Suddenly, my phone dinged, and my stomach sank. My daughter was sitting right next to me. I wanted to look, but I didn’t want to look. I looked. The message read, "Hey, I just dropped my daughter off at the church. I have some free time; what are you doing?" I recognized the sender; she knew my kids, she knew me, she knew our entire family. I felt such rage inside but yet I was completely frozen as to what to do. I felt trapped, trying to pretend nothing was wrong while helping my daughter with her homework, all the while struggling with the urge to jump in my car, drive over to that woman's house, and confront them. I told my daughter I needed to check on the other classes and would be right back. I walked down the hall to the dining hall, where my sister was helping her kids. I motioned for her to come over. I showed her the text. She suggested we get in the car and catch him in the act. I followed her, feeling anxious since there hadn’t been a reply yet, and I wasn’t sure what was happening. We both knew where she lived, but there was no car in sight. We drove around the neighborhood looking for his vehicle, but found nothing. I finally said I needed to get back to help with a paper. My sister was angry on my behalf, and I needed that. I wanted to be angry too, but I was also deeply hurt. After 27 years together, I had just taken a second job at the local hospital to save money for a trip for our 25th anniversary in November. We were also preparing for a birthday party in two days for his grandma, for which I was making the cakes and cupcakes. The conversations in my head continued: What will I do? Where will I go? How will I tell the girls? This wasn’t a good time. Jeez, Jodi, when would there ever be a good time for this? Then I began to shift my thinking. He could tell the girls. He could explain that he did the exact thing he had threatened all their boyfriends not to do. He could move out and figure out where to live while I sorted things out. I didn’t choose to ruin our family, our life. But… when? How? Where? Again, I didn’t want to deal with the unpleasantness, but was I finally going to speak up about it? I needed to cut my own crust off this time.