Rising from Down Under

We first met at work, where we were both supervisors in the banking industry. I was 35 years old, divorced with two girls: Zoe, age 10, and Rachel, age 6. Ed was a year younger and married with two boys: David, age 5, and Adam, age 3. Our love story evolved slowly through meetings, courses that we taught together, and phones calls during which we learned more about one another. We became good friends and had a special bond that only exists between best friends. We were living in two different cities, a 45-minute drive from each other, so we met only at work.

I didn’t know much about his life at home, except that he felt miserable and stuck. Yet, being a responsible and honest man and not really knowing any other way, he thought staying with his wife was the only way to live. Gradually he confided in me, revealing his emotions, and started to question himself for the very first time.

Our talks became longer and deeper and something very gentle began to develop. I felt deeply attracted to him and was slowly being pulled into his charm. He was admired and looked up to by all company employees as well as top management, but no one knew about our budding relationship, which we were keeping secret.

One afternoon, while I was in a meeting at the CEO’s office, his secretary came into the room and handed me a short note. In Ed’s special and artistic handwriting was a message: I’m waiting for you at the café downstairs.

As soon as the meeting was over, I hurried downstairs to meet him. His face was radiant, and his eyes were glowing, but all he said was, “I came to drink orange juice with you.”

He had driven for 50 minutes just to see me for a few moments and then drove back to work.

Orange juice will reappear in our life, but that story will have to wait 13 years.

A year later, he moved in with me and the girls. He’d drive to pick up his boys for the weekend, from where they lived with their mother, 50 minutes every other weekend. The children formed a special connection right from the start and they would happily play and spend time together.

Ed had strong feelings of guilt after having left home and breaking up his family. His sons, who were under the influence of their mother, had become aggressive and demanding, which made things worse for him.

My first divorce had been a peaceful one. My ex and I remained friends and shared mutual custody of our daughters, who never encountered any hostility, hatred or anger between their parents. They were now stunned to watch the fierce battle that the boys waged with their father. I too, couldn’t bear it, and the tension between Ed and myself was rapidly growing.

With time, I felt that I had to detach myself from the warzone my home had become on the weekends, and found myself often escaping to the gym, driving to visit my parents, and doing everything I could to get away from the tension at home.

I felt helpless watching this tender man be crushed to pieces.

We were both working in highly demanding jobs. Meanwhile, he was promoted to Branch Manager and I to Training Manager. We were still a great team and thought we could win any battle, no matter if we had to face the whole world; except the battle his children were fighting against him

The tension intensified, and after a while, I told Ed I couldn’t bear it anymore. The only solution we could come up with was that he would take the boys to his parents’ down south every other weekend, instead of spending the weekend with us. So, for the next two years, the poor guy had to drive from our home to fetch his sons from his ex-wife’s home, drive on to his parents’ home, a 3.5-hour drive in each direction, and finally drive back to our home. At the end of these weekends, Ed was crushed and devastated.

Apart from the tension with his sons, our life seemed like a fairy tale. We went skiing in Europe once a year, traveled to different countries, spent weekends at various bed-and-breakfasts around Israel, and frequently met up with friends and family. The only black cloud that covered the sky was every second weekend, when the boys came to stay with us. They grew up and things were improving, up to a certain point, yet, for me it was still a heavy burden.

I started studying for my doctorate at Ben Gurion University. Ed was working crazy hours as well, and we didn’t have much time to spend together during the week, so our conversations were limited to the weekend, but only every other weekend, when his sons weren’t with us.