Unsure Balance

Would you want to know what's going on in there?

- Sophie, did you cheat on him? - I asked again as she didn't answer at first. She looked in my eyes long, as if she tried to read my mind. Like if she was trying to decide whether she can trust me, whether she can tell it exactly to me. Would it change in our relationship if she told me her secret? Would it change the worth of our common past?
- No - she finally uttered.
She didn't convince me.
- Would you tell if you did?
- No.
- Well great. You just easily say no, and when I ask back, you admit that you won't even tell if it was a yes, putting that whole no into parenthesis.
She shrugged and with that she considered the topic closed. I didn't ask any longer, I didn't really want to know. I asked if anyone was following her.
- No, nobody - she answered troubled. - I just don't know anymore whom I can trust.
- In me – I said, putting my hand on her shoulder again.
I only learnt it way later, from her diary, what happened on that weekend.

After the official program I excused myself out. John, my boss was not happy, but he accepted the situation. "See you at dinner" - he said and left for the wellness center. I bumped into a few of the partners at the hall. There were a few women amongst them too. They didn't seem to care at all that the meeting continues in the pool.
I called the kids from my room. I learned that Peter passed them on to his parents. At that point I was sorry that I didn't join the others, but it was too late to reconsider. I laid down on the bed and I was thinking what we could have done wrong and how could we get over this whole thing.
Dinner turned out great, the two sides got closer to each other and the initial distrust seemed to melt away. We drank champagne and chatted. The boss of the advertising agency asked a lot about my job, but he wasn't too pushy. Then they went back to the pool and I retired to my room. I was clicking around on the TV, but I found nothing I would like. I didn't think of bringing a book with me, so finding nothing better I was leafing through the next day's presentation. I turned my cell phone off, I didn't want Peter to reach me. I simply had nothing to say to him. I didn't want to admit that he won, I again met his expectations, even if nobody meant a meat market here.
I was just dozing away when the hotel phone rung. „Peter, so he did reach me” - that was my first thought, so I didn't take the call. In two minutes, somebody was knocking on my door.
It was John. He asked me to talk over the next day's to-do list. I stepped in his way.
- I got a few important info tidbits. We need to change the strategy – he said, just as if we were in the office. - Come, I'll buy you a goodnight cocktail and we can talk it over – he stepped back from my doorway. - We are about to make the deal of the century.
I didn't move, I could just see the blame in Peter's eyes.
- Bring tomorrow's pressie too! - John smiled cunningly. And I followed him obediently. Peter's image disappeared into mist.

My father came around eleven for the kids. He didn't ask anything, I'm sure he saw I need to go. Father and son can understand each other without words. I went over to my neighbor and asked for my buddy's bike. He wasn't too happy to lend it, but I didn't care. I told Sophie myself to go with our own car. The long drive can give a lot of opportunities, and her boss would've only been too happy to come and pick her up. I didn't want to borrow my parents' car, until then I was too much in love with the thought of blazing down the highway on a bike. Sophie undermined my idea of commuting on a motorbike when we had the money for it.
- The kids need a father, not an organ donor – she said every single time when I mentioned my idea.
Victor is about the same size as I am, so I begged off his leather suit too. He was very close to saying no, but he could see that in this situation he just can't do it to me. I topped out at 150 kph on the highway (translator's note: legal speed limit is 130kph) and after long long weeks, for the first time, I was happy. It was mercilessly cold, but I didn't care. Finally I felt like a man again who can keep his and his lady's fate in his hands. I arrived at the hotel around 2pm. I let out a sigh of relief: our car was there in the parking lot. At least she didn't lie about where she was going. I parked the bike far away, even though I knew she would never recognize me in this outfit.
On the road I imagined it a hundred times or more to storm into the hotel and ask about Sophie. The receptionist is all confused, then he tries to keep me from rushing to the pool.
But I got unsure. I thought over what I could find.
1. I find Sophie in the pool, her boss yanking his paws out of her bra with a scared face. (This one I didn't want to see anyways.)
2. Sophie gets cheered up by my arrival and we end up in bed. (This one I didn't count on as it hasn't happened in so long.)
3. Sophie gets upset that I'm spying after him. (This one was the most likely, but understandably I didn't really want to go through that one.)
So I left for home, but after a few miles I reconsidered: if I came so far, I really have to investigate it.
In the hotel parking lot I got unsure again.
I tried to decide what would be more cowardly. Going in or not going in, this is the question. I was staring at the windows, I tried to guess which one is Sophie's.
Finally I didn't go in, but it wasn't all my decision: the security guard pointed me out, I guess he found the helmet-covered biker staring at the building. I didn't wait until I got kicked out, I just hopped on the bike and rode home.

All the way home I was thinking whether or not I would want to know what's going on in there.

Walls of Blames

Words have their weight. Those never uttered even more so.

The night before the trip I was laying on the bed, staring into the darkness with my eyes wide open. Our lives reached a turning point, and I knew I had to decide. If she goes, everything will change. Doesn't matter if anything happens or not. I felt that even if it's just a harmless presentation, I will still be branded by the doubt forever... Sophie and her boss, in two, in a hotel... I couldn't bear the knowledge. Around 1am I got to the decision: she will cancel the trip. We will say it was some sudden illness. From that I felt better and I finally fell asleep. But at five I was up again. I couldn't rest my brain, I thought Sophie has to decide. On her own. If I force her to, it's not worth a damn thing. She has to know what pain she causes if she goes.
But Sophie got up and started to pack her suitcase. I was watching silently, and I was waiting for her to suddenly stop and announce the no. Even the kids were rowing my boat: they were openly begging their mother to stay. But she just kept packing. I almost said I WON'T LET YOU GO when she started to sort her make-up things.
- I hope at least you take a few condoms? - I let it slip.
- Go f**** yourself! - she burst in front of the kids. - I go there to work, understand? Even if YOU don't know what that's like.
I let the irony pass my ears. I stepped towards her and tried to hug her, but she turned away and started to sort in her bathing suits with large, theatrical moves.
- You know, at first I thought I would say I'm on period and I won't go to the pool party, but after this I'm not so sure I'd do that – she hissed with her lips tightened, and tossed her tiniest, barely covering bikini in the suitcase

- Well if you won't even do so much for me, don't even come home! – I answered quickly and tried to snatch the bikini from her luggage.
She was faster than me and slammed the lid of the suitcase.

- Well then I won't! - she said pouting.

- Mom, come home! You will come home, won't you? - the girls were begging.
- Don't worry, there won't be anything wrong. Mom goes to work. Be good!
She said goodbye to them - not to me -, and she rushed away.
- Daddy, what's gonna happen now? - my younger daughter asked, distressed.
- Nothing – I said, then added: - She goes just to work..., at least so I hope.
Ten minutes later my phone was ringing:
- If you want to swill, ask my father to take the kids! - she said coldly.
- I won't! - I answered and hung up.
„But not because I want to be a good babysitter” - I told myself, and I called my mother that I have a work meeting, Sophie is WORKING too, would she take the kids.
I had a better idea then sitting at home, chewing myself on what Sophie may be doing at the moment...

She arrived late to the cafe at Franz Liszt Square. She wore dark sunglasses, even though it was nasty and rainy outside. She didn't come to me immediately, first she carefully checked out all the locale. Maybe another two or three people were sitting there aside from us. First she looked through me as if I wasn't even there. I was about to stand up when she gave me a barely visible hand motion to stay still. She suddenly walked back to the door and looked back on the street. Just after this she sat down to the table. She looked worn, she must have lost a few pounds. The grey suit she wore to work was way loose on her. She had thick makeup on, but it still couldn't hide the bags under her eyes.
She called me an hour earlier, that we need to meet immediately. I asked her on the phone, but she wouldn't tell me why. I would've had an important meeting, but she begged me so hard I cancelled it.
That's when she told me about the morning of her trip:
- He watched me with blame in his eyes, I knew he was waiting for me to stop packing and tell him I'm not going anywhere, I won't leave you here. But then I had already decided: I only go to the official presentation, from the rest I will just pull out because of feminine problems.
The waiter came and Sophie went silent. She only continued after we ordered:
- He was watching with a keen eye what lingerie I take. It angered me to no end that he even thought anyone would see it, but still I tried to find my least sexy pieces. I don't know if he noticed it or not because he just kept staring with a blank face, never saying a word. Once I was done with the underwear, I asked him to bring me my towel. "You have to solve that yourself” - he answered, not clearing what he means on purpose, and he didn't move. But I didn't want to take the towel because of the wellness things. I always take one, because I had ended up without one before in a hotel, expecting they had one but no. I went out and grabbed one, about the size of a hand towel. I even laid it out so he can see it. No reaction. When I started to sort my makeup, he suddenly ordered me to put in a few condoms too.
Something broke. How can he be so profane?
She started crying. I put my hand on my shoulder and I tried to comfort her, saying that I know of a lot of people who always keep one on them. If it does happen, at least it won't have those kind of consequences.
- If it happens, it's all the same anyways – she said darkly and looked at me. I tried to read her eyes – not much luck.
She told me how bad a fight they had, and that Peter told her if she doesn't fake period, she shouldn't even go home. Sophie didn't even want to answer that then she won't, but she said she was unable to control herself. After this she couldn't reverse it in words, but she still tried to send messages to Peter on a level of gestures. She theatrically checked her bikini line in the mirror, and then she just flicked her hand and left it as-is. (I remembered from our old times that Sophie has always been maddeningly accurate about this, she wouldn't even wear a swimsuit in front of me if everything wasn't in its proper order.)
So I asked her, why is she telling it to me.
- Don't you see?
I didn't, but I didn't want to go into the spiel. Instead I gave the question straight:
- Sophie, did you cheat on him?

The Hell of Jealousy

Business meeting in the jacuzzi. Survivor camp with the co-workers. How much of you do you give to the company?

I'm jealous of Sophie's success. Finally I dare to say it. I know it sounds bad, but I don't care anymore about the silenced half-truths and the soul-killing lies. Think what you want to, that's the truth. At least I say it. This is the first step. The next one will be to tell her too. I have a hard time handling it, because whilst I have to face rejection from every direction, that no one wants my work, she gets wings. Or maybe she's being flewn? Or being run? Okay, just leave that one. The next step will involve clearing up all that too.

I needed days to finally give birth to all these thoughts. I retired into and live an ascetic life inside the guest bedroom, so there won't even be an accidental little fight, so she won't see that I can't be unconditionally happy about her successes. I just have to get over this crippling feeling so our life can get back on track.
Obviously, being jealous of her success can not be apart from being jealous of my woman. I know she jumped so high on the ladder because her boss wants something from her. I only don't know if he's good with just the body or if he wants her soul too? And I can't talk to Sophie about it, because as soon as I mention it, she snaps.

No, I don't think that Sophie abuses the situation, nor do I think there's anything between them. I trust Sophie, but not the guy. I'm going crazy from not being able to do anything if fate or if his maneuvers would move them into each other's arms, because we need that damned money Sophie makes, we would croak without that. Even though I would love to just go up to the guy and yell into his face that he can't buy Sophie, because I don't let her, I won't give her.
A line from a novel is in my head: "man doesn't give another man an opportunity; not even from laziness, carelessness or lack of attention." But in our case it's not laziness, but money, and it's wrong. I have a feeling that we sell our relationship because of this damned recession!
*
I wrote all the above in the afternoon. Now it's night. A night of hopelessness. She came home only at eight. I didn't say a word. We talked about neutral things, and about the weekend. And then she mentioned it: she's leaving on Saturday for two days, to some wellness resort where they will do a presentation for the strategic partners. I only asked:
- So they want you to show off around in bikinis? In front of your boss, your colleagues, all those perverts of partners? Let me guess, they are all men! Do you think it's normal? I hope you sent them to Hell?
She said it's embarrassing to her too, but she couldn't say no. If they want new partners in these hard times, they need to do something memorable.
Yup, serving up my naked wife! What a genius!

It wasn't in Peter's blog where I first heard of these "business weekends". I have to say, I don't think these "creative meetings" are so great. Meetings are for offices, maybe for dinner tables. Since it's questionable whether an employee can say no to the offer.
Employee. Many use this term as "be a slave!" We bought you by the pound. Because in today's Hungary, for many corporations that's what employees mean. They ask for unconditional accommodation. Teambuilding in the weekends, get-togethers, psycho-dramas, role-playing games, meetings in the jacuzzi. Doing your job is not enough! Give all of yourself! You can't have a weekend, a private life. Don't have doubts or questions! Throw in everything, seduce the possible partner if the sales graph is not rising well enough. Throw yourself in! Do everything for the company, and believe in it. Your office is the temple where you have to make the due sacrifice for the Greater Brand. If you ask questions, if you have doubts in the latest corporate bible, if you don't trust the visions of the head priests that by 2018 the concurring companies won't even see your backs and you will become the monopoly, you're misbehaving, you're disrupting the ritual. If they notice you don't give yourself so easily, if you stick to individual thoughts, if you don't believe unconditionally, they will fire you. You don't belong with us if you don't worship the Greater Brand, you're not "brandy"! They will excommunicate you and in a moment they will escort you out of the temple. They will erase your name from the list of brand-believers, and write you up in the book of enemies instead. It will all happen so fast, that even after months you mistake the pronouns: our brand... at our company... we invented... we wrote it too... we built that house. You realize, cough quickly and disturbed, and correct yourself: they built it, they wrote it, they showed that movie.
Whilst you're a good follower, instead of ME, HE, YOU, it's US. If your loyalty is not self-surrender, in moments YOU will be out, outside of THEM, where you can be ME again, though without money. Trap.
How much of yourself do you give to the company?

The ramblings of my first love, Sophie, about jealousy:

"I got caught between crossfire, I have to accommodate to the standards of my company and my husband. I can't say no to the weekend trip, because the ink hasn't quite even dried on my promotion yet, and they do really need me for the meetings. However, I'm also a married woman, they can't expect me to act as a hostess. I didn't even think of this whole bikini thing until Peter pointed that question at me. Afterwards it did shine up that John mentioned something that if we can't win them over at the presentation, we can work on them during the evening relaxation.
For one thing, Peter's stances absolutely upset me, but on the other side I can completely understand him. Do they really expect me to slip into my little bathing suit and splash around together in the pool? Is it my duty to do so? On the other hand, why does Peter think that if I go to the wellness center with my colleagues for the weekend it automatically means I want to sleep with them? I guess Peter doesn't even think with one, but all of them whilst I'm there... Why doesn't he trust me? Why did his jealousy become unbearable, whilst he's emailing with fifty other women? If I ask anything, he just yells it's business mailing, and attacks me for digging into his mail. But I don't dig, it's only the computer being shared, and he always keeps his inbox open. And what's seen can not be unseen.
I know he's in a really rough place now, so again it will be me compromising, even though I can bear the cheap little compromises less and less. How long do I have to bear? Will it ever be better at all?"