My husband suddenly started going to church every single day. I honestly thought hed found religion. Turns out, it wasnt prayer drawing him there.
Every day at half five, hed leave the house, saying he was off to evening mass. Well, thats a surprise, I thought at the time. People change once they hit their fifties, dont they? I never suspected the prayers were just a smokescreen.
It began harmlessly enough. After Easter, he started talking more about faith, saying things like lifes just weighing me down a bit or I need to clear my head.
I chalked it up to a midlife crisis. He was never overly religious, but if he wanted to find some peace in prayer, I thought, so be it. Id get dinner ready while he slipped out, and hed come home an hour and a half later looking calmer, as if hed just got something off his chest.
Then I started to notice small changes. Shirt always freshly ironed, hair neatly combed, a hint of cologne. He told me it was out of respect for the place and that God deserves a bit of tidiness too. It sounded a bit daft but I didnt question it. At least he wasnt drinking, shouting, or glued to his computer all day. It was just church.
Everything changed on a Sunday after lunch at his sisters. By accident, I picked up his coat instead of mine. I was looking for the house keys and found a receipt from a café round the corner from the church. Two coffees, two slices of cake, date and time: Thursday, 6:05pm. But Thursday was supposed to be rosary night.
I didnt say anything. Not yet. But the next day, I followed him. I took a seat at the back pew. Mass started, and there he really was, on his own, praying. After communion, he left first. I slipped out after him and thats when I saw her. Standing on the corner, all dressed up, smiling, like she was waiting for a date. They kissed. Not like friends.
I walked back home on shaky legs. My heart was pounding fit to burst. I felt embarrassed. Not angry, not devastated just shamed. How didnt I see it? How could I have been so blind?
The next day, I asked him outright:
Whats her name?
He froze. Didnt try to deny. Didnt dodge. He just sighed and said,
Claire. I met her at church. She helps organise the services.
And youve been helping too?
He didnt respond. His silence said more than a thousand words.
I didnt make a scene. I didnt throw him out on the spot. But I said clearly,
If youve grown so fond of prayer, you can start praying for a place to live. Because youre moving out.
He left a week later. Moved in with his church friend. Our children were in shock, but theyre grown up now they understood. One of my daughters said to me later,
Mum, better now than in ten years, when youre seventy and youve nothing left but tears.
At first, it was rough. I felt cheated and like Id lost the fight. I worried nobody would love me again, that Id end up alone. But, over time, I realised that this loneliness is far better than living in make-believe.
Its been six months now. Sometimes I see them together shes always clinging to his arm, he looks a bit lost, like hes not sure how he got there. Sometimes I wonder if hell ever come back. But then I remember the scent of unfamiliar perfume on him, and the way he looked at her when he left the church.
And then I know, deep down: I dont want a life with someone who needs church walls to hide behind. Id rather live honestly, even if the truth still stings sometimes.
