Strong?

Sunday afternoon while Linnea was napping Sheldon took my hand and led me to a chair.  It was a warm day for January, and comfortable in our little front room.

"I need to talk to you," he said, and I realized he was nervous. 

"What in the world?" I wondered.  Sheldon never was nervous about anything.

"I stayed and talked to the Bishop after our meetings," Sheldon continued.  "He's going to release me from being a Ward Clerk."

"Good," was my first thought, and I immediately felt guilty.  After all, I'd been super proud when Sheldon was given the calling of being Ward Membership Clerk a few months earlier, but lately it had been really bothering me.  Every Sunday he stayed after church for two, maybe three, and once even four hours after Sacrament Meeting.  He said he had to drive around, trying to find people who's records had been sent to our ward but no one knew them.  That explained an hour or two, I suppose, but really?  Our ward wasn't that big, and how many new people could there be?

"Bishop said I should talk to you," he went on in an low voice, looking at the ground.   "He says you are one of the strongest people he knows, and you'll be able to handle it."

"Handle what?" I wondered in surprise.  And what did he mean by being strong?

Life hadn't been exactly perfect for us since we got married, but whose life was?  I suppose I was sort of strong, putting up with Sheldon's eccentricities and selfishness, but wasn't that what every wife was supposed to do?

Life was nice, living in the little house that dad owned, renting it from him and mom.  We'd been here for almost a year, and while things weren't perfect, they were pretty darn good.  Linnea was the sweetest, best baby in the world and we had all kinds of fun with her. 

The previous Sunday, during Stake Conference, I'd felt a sharp pain in my side that took my breath away.  When we got home I'd discovered I was bleeding, not a lot, but enough to make me wonder if I was having a miscarriage.  I'd only just begun to think I might be pregnant.  The following day I went to see my doctor and he confirmed my suspicions.

"It's called a spontaneous abortion," he'd explained.  "Sometimes there's something wrong with the baby and you will lose it early on in the pregnancy like this.  That way you can get pregnant again with a healthy child and everything will be OK."

He'd sounded like he was worried I'd be really upset, but I understood.  It wasn't like we'd really been trying to have another baby, and I was sure I'd have another chance soon enough.  Probably Heavenly Father just thought the timing would be better later on.  So not being devastated about a miscarriage didn't make me strong.

Sheldon and I were pretty happy together.  I mean, we had disagreements like everybody else, but usually they weren't that big of a deal.  I hated it when he watched certain shows on TV, but I'd learned to just go somewhere else rather than fight with him about it.  He hated it when I tried to tell him what to do. 

Every weekend Sheldon took me out somewhere on a date.  Often it was to dinner, sometimes to the movies, and he'd learned pretty soon I wouldn't go see most of the shows he wanted to see.  That caused contention, but we got over it.

We always had a tough time when it came to money.  There wasn't very much of it, but Sheldon had a way of wheeling and dealing and getting pretty much whatever he wanted.  The trouble came about once a month when I had bills to pay and no money to pay them with.  Then he'd yell and huff and puff and get really angry and want to know why I couldn't take care of our finances better, and I'd feel like an idiot and wonder why myself.  It seemed like I was always robbing Peter to pay Paul, but there it was.  We simply didn't have enough money to go around.  Probably we shouldn't have gone out on the weekends, but that wasn't something Sheldon would give up, and I enjoyed it too so I let him talk me into it, then had to figure out how to pay the bills later on.

Besides that, we really didn't have many disagreements.  I'd wished Sheldon would buy me presents, for my birthday, anniversaries, valentines day and stuff like that, but we really didn't have the money for them anyway so it was probably just as good that he wasn't a present giving kind of guy.  He made up for it on Christmas, anyway.  In his family Christmas was a time to give huge gifts and go into debt for the following year.  He always said he would never do that, but he did make an effort to give me something nice each year, and I appreciated that.

I had been pretty miffed when Linnea was a brand new baby, mom and dad  gone on a trip back east for a month, and suddenly Sheldon decided to spend a week at scout camp with the boys in our ward.  I'd thought he should do like the other leaders and just spend a day or two at camp, but he wanted to go for the whole week.  I felt really selfish about being upset over having to stay home all by myself with a tiny, new little baby, but I still was.  In the end I packed a picnic lunch one day, picked up Sheldon's grandma so she could have a little outing too, and drove up to the mountains to visit Sheldon at Camp Geronimo.  I thought he would be pleased to see us, but I was disappointed.  It took forever to find where he was in that huge camp, and when he finally got word that we were there he walked over to our car, said hi, gave Linnea and me and his grandma pecks on our cheeks, then went back to do whatever fun stuff he'd been doing before.  Oh well, at least it broke up the week for me and gave me something to do other than sitting in our hot little house, feeling lonely.

The bottom line was, although I tried to be understanding and a good wife, I sure wouldn't call myself strong.  So what did the bishop mean by telling Sheldon I'd be strong enough to handle it?  Handle what?

Sheldon cleared his throat, gave me a quick look, then began,  "You don't know this, but when I was a teenager I had a problem with pornography and masturbation."

No, I hadn't known that.  To tell you the truth, I didn't even know what masturbation was, but I was too taken aback to ask.

"I saw some stuff when I was a kid, and got into the habit of looking at it," Sheldon continued.  "It led me to masturbating, and it became a habit.  I stopped doing it when I got ready for my mission," he added hastily, "and when I came home and we got married I was clean.  But then after we were married for awhile I started looking at again." 

I just sat there, staring at him.  "Play boy magazines?" I wondered.  "Is that what he's talking about?"

"After awhile I started wondering what it would be like to go to massage parlors, so I tried it and really liked it," Sheldon went on.  "One thing led to another, and I guess I wanted to see what it would be like to be with another woman, but I didn't want to fall in love with someone, so I just kind of did it with some of the women at the parlors."

Sheldon looked up at me to see how I was taking this, then quickly asserted, "I love you and didn't want to leave you or anything.  That's why I didn't have an affair or anything."

I just looked at him.  What was he saying?  He'd been with some other woman, but he loved me and didn't want to fall in love with someone else?   What?

"The Bishop says to bring you over to his house and he'll talk with us," Sheldon said.  "He said I needed to tell you about it first, but he doesn't think you'll divorce me over this.  He says you're the strongest girl he knows, and he thinks you'll be able to forgive me?" 

He said that last part almost like a question, but I just looked at him.  I guess I was kind of in shock or something, because nothing was really sinking in. 

We got the baby, then drove over to our Bishop's house.  He was waiting to talk with us, and I remember being very grateful to him for his kindness and love.  He assured me that Sheldon really did love me, and that he was really scared that I would divorce him over this.  He said it was really hard for Sheldon to admit what he'd done, and he thought he was really sorry and repentant, The Bishop said he knew it was going to be hard for me to forgive Sheldon, but he thought I had the strength to do it if I wanted, and he repeated what Sheldon said, that I was one of the strongest women he knew. 

That was great, a really nice compliment, but it sure didn't make me feel better.  Who wants to be strong?  I hurt!  I was in pain!  I was breaking up inside, and all I wanted to do was cry and have someone take care of me and make everything better.  I didn't want to be strong and forgive and be a good girl!  But I didn't say that.  How could I, when Sheldon was so sorry and worried I'd never take him back, and the Bishop was being so kind and sweet and thinking so highly of me?

So we thanked the Bishop and drove home, and I told Sheldon that everything was OK and I forgave him, and thank you for telling me.

Later that night he told me that he probably had got an STD (sexually transmitted disease) from one of the women he had been with, and he needed to go to a clinic in Phoenix and get it taken care of.  He said he had probably given it to me, too, so I would need to go with him.  I was still in so much shock it didn't really register what he was talking about, but the next day when we walked into the clinic I was mortified. Here I was, a nice little Mormon girl, wearing modest clothes, carrying my six month old baby in her car seat, walking into a place full of prostitutes and leering men, all staring at me and baby. 

"What ya doing here?" one slimy fellow leaning up against a wall jeered at me as I walked past.  "Did your husband get you infected?"

My face burned as I slipped by him and walked with Sheldon up to the registration window.  I had never been more embarrassed in my life, or more scared, but I wasn't going to give that man, or any of the other people watching me, the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

Strong?  No, I wasn't strong.  But I was proud, and stubborn, and just darned determined to keep my head up, my back stiff, and do what I was supposed to do no matter what anybody said or did to me.  And if that meant forgiving and going on like nothing had ever happened, then that was what I was going to do, come heck or high water.  But I sure wished I could wake up and find out this was all a bad dream.