American Outlaw Part 38

Before I met Sandy, I'd romanticized the stable, calm married life: the idea of me finally growing up. But now I missed leaning up against the fence at the dragster races in Pomona, laughing, talking s.h.i.t, cracking jokes with my no-good friends. Too many people knew me now. I couldn't escape. Not even for an instant. h.e.l.l, I didn't even have most of those old friends anymore. They all thought I'd p.i.s.sed on them, gone Hollywood. h.e.l.l, I didn't even have most of those old friends anymore. They all thought I'd p.i.s.sed on them, gone Hollywood.

Mentally at a loss, desperate for something to make me feel like I had some sense of freedom, I ran through the list of things I could could do to a.s.sert my independence over my life. Infidelity, unfortunately, was at the top of the list. do to a.s.sert my independence over my life. Infidelity, unfortunately, was at the top of the list.

s.e.x is strange. For men, it's on our minds every minute of the day. It's what gets us out of bed in the morning; it's the gold at the end of our rainbow. s.e.x is part of what makes us fall in love with a woman. It's also part of what keeps us perpetually alone.

Ever since I had gained even a moderate amount of fame, I'd had women offering themselves to me-online, in person, and over the phone. I say that not to brag, but to tell you the truth about what fame does. I'm not special, by any means: the same thing happens to every man who makes his living in professional sports, music, television, movies, or politics. It's part of what motivates men to strive to be famous in the first place. After all, when you take money out of the equation, what's the point of being famous besides besides having your pick of attractive partners? having your pick of attractive partners?

Throughout my life, I'd always had opportunities to hop on the train. But from the groupies at the concerts to the biker chicks who crowded our booth in Daytona, I'd mostly said thanks, but no thanks. It's not because I was a great person; it's just my nature to get emotionally caught up with the women I'm involved with. I'm into s.e.x, but contrary to whatever biker stereotype got built up around me, s.e.x is mostly a cerebral experience for me. If there's no personal connection there, then it's sort of pointless.

But with that said: I still did it. I screwed around behind Sandy's back, and the whole world came to know about it.

I can't go back, and I can't save my marriage. What I can do is try to understand why I did it.

When Sandy and I first fell in love, I was so overjoyed to be with a woman who was obviously a superb person. And on the flip side of that same coin, I think part of what got her excited about being with me was my "bad boy" image. Opposites really do attract. During the initial period of our romance, we were carried along on the wave of the good we so clearly saw in each other: kindness, a willingness to give affection, our physical attraction, and a strong feeling of safeness we got from each other. But as we got to know each other better, I think we both came to realize that we really were were a bit oddly matched. Sandy wasn't rich, but she came from a stable, middle-cla.s.s family-she'd grown up singing in a choir with her mom. I'd grown up with a dad who sent me a hooker in the middle of the day. a bit oddly matched. Sandy wasn't rich, but she came from a stable, middle-cla.s.s family-she'd grown up singing in a choir with her mom. I'd grown up with a dad who sent me a hooker in the middle of the day.

After Janine and I had split for good, a whole bunch of my friends had commented on how rash my decision to marry her had been. "Man, you thought you and Janine Janine could make it work? You must have been could make it work? You must have been high. high." But weren't Sandy and I almost an odder combination? I mean, I knew I could count on Sandy not to punch me in the face for snaking her parking s.p.a.ce. But that didn't mean we liked to do any of the same activities, or that the things that motivated me would do the same for her.

The more important factor, though, was the fact that I'd grown up in an environment where love hadn't been shown to me on a regular basis. My dad had torn me down every time he could, and my mom had been pretty absent. Now I had a great great woman who was telling me she loved me, but that didn't mean I was in any shape to believe her. Sandy was an actress, after all. I think in the back of my mind, I always told myself she was pretending. woman who was telling me she loved me, but that didn't mean I was in any shape to believe her. Sandy was an actress, after all. I think in the back of my mind, I always told myself she was pretending.

I never really trusted Sandy. It's shameful to admit it, especially considering how hard she tried to let me know that I was accepted, and that she saw the good in me. But no matter how many times she told me, it just didn't take. I nodded when she said she loved me. Inside, I was always thinking to myself, Sure. We'll see. Sure. We'll see.

I guess I always felt like sooner or later, she was going to see the real me. And then she'd leave me. Well, I figured, if I was going to be left, then I wanted to make the first break. I'd reject Sandy before she could reject me. I'd expose myself as broken and incapable of love before someone else could beat me to the punch.

I have no problem admitting that I f.u.c.ked up. I cheated on a woman I cared deeply about and I am so regretful. If there was any possible way to undo my actions, to communicate instead of cheating, to be able to say to her, "Hey, I think we need to change some things about our marriage, because I'm losing my mind in this world we've created for ourselves," then I would. But I can't. I transgressed against the vows of my marriage, and it doesn't really matter whether I did that ten thousand times or just once. Once you've lied, there's no taking it back. There's no way to erase the deceit that you've created.

Instead, you have to live with it.

I probably almost blurted out the truth to Sandy more than a hundred times.

"How's the steak taste to you, Jesse?"

I f.u.c.ked someone. I didn't mean to, but somehow it happened and I can't take it back.

"Jesse? Anybody home?"

"Yeah," I said, shaking my head. "Sorry. I'm just tired."

"Well?" Sandy said. "Everything taste okay?"

"It's great," I said, stiffly. "Just like always." And also, do you have a moment while I admit something that will end all happiness as you know it? And also, do you have a moment while I admit something that will end all happiness as you know it?

Being around my kids was almost as bad as being around Sandy. I'd always prided myself on being straight with them. I wanted to earn earn my kids' respect, not demand it, and I knew that the only way to do that was through honesty and by being a decent person. Now my kids' respect, not demand it, and I knew that the only way to do that was through honesty and by being a decent person. Now I was caught up in this big lie that followed me around from room to room like a dark cloud. I was caught up in this big lie that followed me around from room to room like a dark cloud.

I'd never lived as a liar before. It was something to get used to.

I couldn't look in the mirror for too long. I didn't want to examine myself too closely.

I couldn't listen to the lies I told Sandy, my weak cover-ups. I pretended that my voice was coming from someone else.

All the self-respect I'd acc.u.mulated over the years, through seasons of hard work, through refusal to quit even in the face of hardship, it was all gone, because I was full of s.h.i.t and I knew it. My confidence was at an all-time low. And ironically, the s.e.x that I'd sold my soul for wasn't even good. There was no relationship and no personal connection. I was just there coldly, for myself, and even though I figured that detachment would make me feel less guilty about being unfaithful, that that made me feel like a heel, too. made me feel like a heel, too.

Months went by like this, the guilt mounting and my loathsome behavior making me feel like the lowest rat in the world. Then, one morning, I stepped out of the shower, and caught a good look at myself. I was a fully-grown man, complete with graying temples and a few wrinkles across the forehead. I wasn't a child any longer. I had the power to stop what I was doing. I'd acted mindlessly. If I continued down this road, I'd lose everything, starting with my self-respect.

And so I stopped. The decision, arrived at in a moment, was final, and my execution of it was cold and definite. It was just like turning off a switch. Bam. Bam. It was all over. Several weeks after the fact, I realized that I'd quit drinking in precisely the same way. It was all over. Several weeks after the fact, I realized that I'd quit drinking in precisely the same way.

It took a good long while before I began to feel better about myself-not to mention secure enough around Sandy to act like a normal human being.

"Want to go take a walk on the beach? It's so beautiful out tonight."

"All right," I answered carefully. "That'd be great."

We strolled along the beach in the evening air, arm in arm. Sandy was a trusting woman at heart, and that made me feel even more guilty. She'd never suspected a thing. Sometimes, I awoke sensing I loved her even more now, having gone outside of our marriage and finding no happiness there. I wished I could tell her. There was a story inside of me now-maybe if I phrased it right, I could share it with her.

I strayed, but realized that no one could replace you.

"Look up at all these stars, stars," Sandy exclaimed. "They're so incredibly perfect. I mean, are we the luckiest people on earth, or what?"

No, I realized. I couldn't tell her the truth.

"We are," I agreed, gazing up at the black, quiet sky that loomed over our private stretch of beach. "We're very, very lucky."

That evening, as I walked along the beach with Sandy, I knew that I'd have to swallow what I'd done. I had no choice. It was the only plan that made any sense to me.

As time pa.s.sed, strangely, our marriage began to gel again. I felt satisfied with my wife, and far less constrained by the specter of being known as Mr. Sandra Bullock. So what if I had to act in a certain way? So what if I couldn't go to the racetrack anymore? Wasn't being with a remarkable woman worth that much? In the grand scheme of things, was that really much to ask?

My creative lull also seemed to be on its way out, and that helped a lot. We'd developed a new reality show called Jesse James Is a Dead Man, Jesse James Is a Dead Man, where I performed challenging stunts. The show premiered on Spike TV, a new network for me, where it enjoyed moderate success. We didn't break the world in two, exactly, but then, audiences were a little harder to overwhelm these days. More important was the fact that I'd created a show again, and I'd expanded my horizons for what I could do creatively. It opened the doors for future projects and gave me ideas about what more I'd like to do. where I performed challenging stunts. The show premiered on Spike TV, a new network for me, where it enjoyed moderate success. We didn't break the world in two, exactly, but then, audiences were a little harder to overwhelm these days. More important was the fact that I'd created a show again, and I'd expanded my horizons for what I could do creatively. It opened the doors for future projects and gave me ideas about what more I'd like to do.

The bigger event for our family, though, turned out to be Sandy's partic.i.p.ation in a movie about, of all things, football.

"I think this film is going to do really really well," Sandy announced the day she returned from filming. "I don't know, it's just a feeling I have." well," Sandy announced the day she returned from filming. "I don't know, it's just a feeling I have."

"Pretty much every movie you do does well," I reminded her.

"Oh, hush," Sandy said, smiling. It was obvious she was finding it impossible to contain her excitement about the difficult role she'd mastered. "I'm telling telling you, this story is really special. People are going to relate to it." you, this story is really special. People are going to relate to it."

The film was The Blind Side. The Blind Side. Based on a true story, it centered around a conservative Christian family in Tennessee who'd decided to adopt an exceptionally gifted, young black football player from an impoverished background. Initially, Sandy had turned down the role of Leigh Anne Tuhoy, the mother, feeling uncomfortable with the idea of enacting a woman whose philosophy in some ways ran counter to her core beliefs. But in the end she'd taken it on, and from the way she was acting now, she'd emerged gratified and energized by the challenge. Based on a true story, it centered around a conservative Christian family in Tennessee who'd decided to adopt an exceptionally gifted, young black football player from an impoverished background. Initially, Sandy had turned down the role of Leigh Anne Tuhoy, the mother, feeling uncomfortable with the idea of enacting a woman whose philosophy in some ways ran counter to her core beliefs. But in the end she'd taken it on, and from the way she was acting now, she'd emerged gratified and energized by the challenge.

"I got the chance to stretch a little bit," she explained. "I can't tell you how good that feels for an actor."

I just nodded, staying quiet.

Sandy's instinct turned out to be right: The Blind Side The Blind Side opened in mid-November of 2009 to great interest. It had a huge opening weekend, taking in more than $35 million at the box office. Through all of Sandy's success across the years, she'd never been part of a movie that had grossed that high in initial sales. opened in mid-November of 2009 to great interest. It had a huge opening weekend, taking in more than $35 million at the box office. Through all of Sandy's success across the years, she'd never been part of a movie that had grossed that high in initial sales.

The Blind Side kept rising. Incredibly, it made even more its second weekend, taking in sales of upward of $40 million. On its third weekend, it ousted the new kept rising. Incredibly, it made even more its second weekend, taking in sales of upward of $40 million. On its third weekend, it ousted the new Twilight Twilight movie, to become the number-one box office draw in the United States. movie, to become the number-one box office draw in the United States.

"This is wild," Sandy breathed. "I knew it was going to be good, but this this good?" good?"

But the film hadn't stopped yet. By January, it had grossed over $200 million, making it one of the most profitable sports movies of all time. And Sandy had earned strong reviews from critics across the board for her portrayal of Leigh Anne Tuhoy, the adoptive mother of Michael Oher. It appeared as if the award season might be a busy one for her.

"This really might finally be your year," I said.

Sandy waved me off. "People like to make fun of my movies," she said. "I'm just not the kind of actress who takes home statuettes. Which is fine! I don't need them."

"You're so great in whatever you do," I said.

"I do a certain thing," she said, reasonably. "Either you like it or you don't."

"People love love you." you."

"But the critics never have," Sandy said, with a wink.

This time, though, they did. Nominations poured in for Sandy: the People's Choice, the Screen Actors Guild, the Golden Globes, the Critics' Choice, and then, the most prestigious of them all, the Academy Awards. They all lauded her performance, and presented her with the opportunity to join the ranks of the best and most celebrated actresses of the last century.

Needless to say, our house was a whirlwind of activity that winter. Sandy was constantly doing press junkets for her movie, taking interviews, and planning for the next award show. On January 6, 2010, we attended the People's Choice Awards, where she took home the award for Favorite Actress. But that was just a warm-up. Nine days later, Sandy emerged victorious as Best Actress at the Critics' Choice Awards, and then, just forty-eight hours afterward, she took home the same honor at the Golden Globes. The Screen Actors Guild Awards were on January 23. She cleaned house again.

"I'm going to have to buy you a storage unit," I joked. "I'm not sure we have room for all this hardware."

"Quiet, you." Sandy laughed. She embraced me. I hadn't seen her this happy in a long time. "Thank you so much for supporting me through all of this. I know you don't exactly adore the red carpet."

"I don't mind it," I said truthfully. "It's good to be there next to you. I'm so proud of you."

When the day for the Academy Awards ceremony came, March 7, 2010, she was nervous as anything.

"Those other women are so so incredible," she said, as we dressed in the afternoon, readying ourselves for the long day ahead of us. incredible," she said, as we dressed in the afternoon, readying ourselves for the long day ahead of us.

"You're going to win it," I said. "This is your year."

Sandy looked at me. "Meryl Streep Streep is nominated." is nominated."

"Yeah?" I said, frowning. "I guess she's supposed to be a pretty good actress or something, huh?"

Sandy gave me an incredulous smile. "Yes, she's okay." She struggled with her dress. "Can you help me with this, please?"

I walked up behind Sandy and helped her struggle into her white Marchesa gown. "Man, you look amazing."

"It's not me. It's the gown."

"Sorry, but it's you," I told her. "You're breathtaking."

"Come on," Sandy said. "Stop complimenting me. It's bad luck. I'm nervous enough already."

"Don't be so nervous," I said. "This is going to be a cinch. Just remember, when you go up there to get that little statue, don't trip, okay? It could be embarra.s.sing."

We rode to the Oscars in style, in the backseat of a chauffeured Town Car. "I never got to do this in high school," I remarked. "Aren't you supposed to get all liquored up before prom?"

"You must have been quite an adorable little football player in high school," Sandy said, looking out the window distractedly.

"I had a lot of acne, actually," I said. "Man, maybe it was in the helmets we wore. Pretty much all of us had acne. Of course, if you really really want to talk acne, we gotta bring up my best friend, Bobby. He had a want to talk acne, we gotta bring up my best friend, Bobby. He had a ton ton of zits. Not just on his face. His neck, too." of zits. Not just on his face. His neck, too."

"Okay," Sandy said. "Very nervous. Don't want to discuss neck pimples just this minute."

I squeezed her hand. "Sorry. It's going to be good. I promise."

Though I wasn't much for award shows, even I had to admit that the Oscars was special. Just to be inside that room, packed to the gills with people I'd seen on big screens for my entire life, sort of blew me away. Even though I wasn't part of their clan, and probably didn't see the world the way they did, I recognized the magic of the occasion.

We waited for hours, patiently smiling and applauding through the endless awards: Best Sound Mixing, Best Original Score, Best Adapted Screenplay.

"You deserve an Oscar just for looking interested this whole time," I whispered. "Couldn't we have showed up a couple hours late?"

"Don't be bad," Sandy said, laughing.

Finally, the time arrived for Best Actress category. Sean Penn sauntered up on stage, and announced the nominees: Sandy, Meryl Streep, Carey Mulligan, Helen Mirren, and Gabourey Sidibe, from Precious. Precious. Then he ripped open the envelope. Then he ripped open the envelope.

"And the winner for Best Actress is . . ." he announced, "Sandra Bullock."

Around me, the entire arena exploded with applause.

"What did I tell you?" I said to her. "Congratulations. You deserve it."

She gave me a look that said, thank you. For just a split second, we shared that privacy, before she gave herself up to the rest of the room.

Sandy began to make her way down the aisle, and I rose to my feet, clapping loudly. The whole room followed suit. We watched as my beautiful wife boarded the stage in her elegant gown, her long hair dark, shimmering, and perfect.

I felt a knot rise up in my throat as I watched her clutch her trophy for the first time, knowing what it meant to her.

"Did I really earn this?" Sandy asked. "Or did I just wear you all down?"

We all laughed, and the tension was broken. How foolish I was to have ever risked hurting this woman, How foolish I was to have ever risked hurting this woman, I thought. I thought.

"I have so many people to thank for my good fortune in this lifetime," she continued. "And this is a once-in-a-lifetime experience, I know."

She's everything that any man in the world could want. Beautiful, talented, but somehow humble.

Sandy complimented each of the other actresses, then thanked the real-life Leigh Anne Tuhoy, after whom her character had been molded. Then she proceeded to thank her own mother, who had been gone for ten years: ". . . for reminding her daughters that there's no race, no religion, no cla.s.s system, no color, nothing, no s.e.xual orientation that makes us better than anyone else. We are all all deserving of love." deserving of love."

Then she pointed tearfully into the audience at me. "And thank you for allowing me to have . . . that."

It took everything I had not to cry. It was almost like a fairy tale. My heart felt close to bursting.

As Sandy held her Oscar in the air, the applause rose to a deafening peak. I clapped until my hands hurt. I suppose, at that moment, I was lost in my own fairy tale, the one in which my actions would never catch up to me.