My loving wife dropped what she was doing and sat down at the table across from me with an expression of total incredulity.
"WHAT did you just say?"
Guess I had her full attention now. Good. I drew a silent breath and repeated my question.
"Are you having an affair Ruthie?"
A simple six-word sentence but loaded with potentially life altering implications. A sentence that is all too often a precursor for heartbreak and pain.
My dad - blessed be his memory - often said that, if you can't handle the answer don't ask the question. His years as a successful lawyer in the small town where I grew up had provided him with a keen insight into human behavior and I learned a lot from him. He had also taught me to never ask a question without knowing the answer in advance. This slice of wisdom would soon become relevant too.
"Oh my GOD! Are you serious Steve? Have you lost your mind? Why on earth would you suspect me of such a thing?"
"Just humor me Ruthie. Please. Are you or are you not? It's not an essay question. Yes or no?"
"Of course NOT! Seriously Steve. I can't BELIEVE you would even entertain an idea like that. What on earth has gotten into you?"
She was getting angry now and I could understand why. Infidelity is probably the single most serious allegation you can make towards a spouse. Throwing around accusations of that nature frivolously can kill a marriage faster than George W. Bush killed the American economy.
Which brought me to my dad's other advice.
I handed Ruth the thin brown folder adorned by a well-known PI firm's logo and rose to procure a cold beer from the fridge. When I returned to the table all color had drained from her face and her eyes were full of tears. She looked like somebody who had just been handed a death sentence, and in some way I guess she had. At least concerning the part of her life that involved the family.
I fought a sudden urge to rush over to comfort her. I was the victim here goddammit! So instead I just looked questioning at her.
"I will ask again Ruthie, and this time please have the courtesy to be straight with me. Are you having an affair?"
"Oh honey. It's not that simple..." she began in a weak voice.
"Then let us look at it from the side of the evidence, shall we? What were you doing at this place for instance?"
I pointed at a photo showing Ruth getting out of a limo in font of what was obviously a large upper class mansion of some sort. She was wearing her long red coat and was easily recognisable.
She just looked at me, silently crying like a lost child. I pretended not to notice or care and continued.
"And is that you in this picture Ruthie?"
I pointed at another photo showing a woman sitting naked astride a man on a bed, her eyes closed in an expression of intense passion. Her features were slightly blurred - probably caused by her movements combined with the fact that the photo had been shot with a powerful tele through a set of blinds - but the resemblance to Ruth was striking.
"It that you Ruthie? Did you have sex with that man?"
She still said nothing, but her silence spoke volumes. I had to get away before I did something I would later regret.
"I am going out," I stated and left without looking back.
**********
This early in the day the bar was almost empty, which suited me perfectly. I needed to think, not socialise. I had to consider the future of my marriage, if indeed it had any.
"Draw me a cold one Charlie," I growled and a cold beer appeared before me, almost as if by magic.
I took a swig of the bitter ale and felt the cobwebs clear from my head. Beer - what would civilisation do without it?
Thus invigorated I sat back and carefully contemplated my options.
Was I happily married to Ruth?
Yes I was.
Our love-life had gradually tapered off over the years, down to a few times a week. We no longer went at it with the same energy as we did at the beginning of our relationship, but I never saw that as anything unusual. It was simply complacency born of familiarity. Ruth had never rejected me nor refused to try new things in bed. Even when she wasn't in the mood I could always count on a quickie whenever I wanted sex. Hell, I could probably have it twice a day or more if I let I know that I really wanted to.
No, I could honestly say that I missed nothing in the coital department.
And that was what made this whole business so strange. There had been absolutely NO indication of Ruth having a cock on the side, nor that she felt neglected or unsatisfied in our relationship. Quite the contrary. She had clearly been happy as a clam until I set off my little bomb an hour ago. If Dave hadn't spotted her in town with that stranger and tipped me off, I would never have suspected a thing.
Make no mistake though. Kicking Ruth to the curb and filing for a speedy divorce was definitely high on the list of possibilities. Unfortunately I still loved the dumb bitch and we had two great kids plus a lot of history together. I was hurting and I was angry, but twenty good years had to count for something. I might be able to forgive a minor slip.
Provided of course that she agreed to come clean and tell me everything. And I meant EVERYTHING. Including the dude's name and address. Not that I planned on hurting him physically, but if the asshole was married - and people who lives in big mansions tend to be - I planned on seriously messing up his happy home. And if Ruth even TRIED to protect the son of a bitch in any way, our marriage would be cancelled faster than a quality series on the Fox network.
In short, I needed more information before deciding what to do next and I knew just where to get it. At the source. I pulled out my phone and composed a text message to Ruth:
"Ruthie, you have hurt me deeply and I am very angry with you right now. If we are to have any chance of getting past this, I need answers. I will be home in two hours with questions. Some of them will be hard, but if you refuse to answer anything or I catch you in a lie we are done. If these conditions are unacceptable to you, please start packing your personal stuff and make arrangements to move out today. Otherwise I will see you soon. Love Steve."
The reply came almost immediately.
"Ok pls come home. Luv R."
I whipped out my notebook and began brainstorming for questions.
**********
Two hours later we were sitting in the living room. Ruth with her hands in her lap looking like she had cried a lot while I had been gone. I fought an impulse to comfort her. She was the cheater and had no right to break down. Her job was to face the music and I was the band-leader.
I consulted my notes.
"Ok Ruthie, this is it. Ready for some Q and A?"
"Yes Steve. I will answer anything to the best of my ability."
"Did you cheat on me?"
"No."
A bad start. But I moved on in my questionnaire.
"Was it you in that picture having sex with somebody else?"
"Technically yes, but..."
"And how the hell is having sex with some guy behind my back NOT cheating?"
"I didn't do it to have sex with anybody Steve."
I took a deep breath. Ruth was a smart woman and I could tell when I was being given the run-around.
"Ok, lets be explicit then. Did another man beside your wedded husband - that's me, in case you forgot - move his cock back and forth inside your pussy?"
"Well, yes but..."
"Then it WAS extramarital sex Ruthie!"
"If you see it that way."
"Did you orgasm?"
"Sometimes yes, but that is not something I can control."
"Yes you can! By... like... y'know... maybe NOT spreading your friggin legs for the guy in the first place?"
"I had to. I was left no other choice."
"Were you raped?"
"Oh God, no."
"Then WHY? For crying out loud Ruthie!"
"I had no choice Steve," she sobbed. "Please believe me."
Talk about being stone walled. I was boiling with rage, but I sensed my line of questioning was getting me nowhere fast. So I changed the subject.
