"I won't do it. I don't care," the words floated from my lips and my heart struggled to believe them. "I need to get to the core of the issue and I can't do that if I kick him out of the house!"
"But he cheated! How can you even stand the sight of him?" Jennifer countered.
"I don't know that for sure."
"Kim, you can't be so blind. The emails, the photos... they all point in the same direction."
"I don't know if he actually acted on it."
"What does your heart say?"
That's the problem. My heart loves him. We've been together for 14 years. We decided against having children from the start. We were enough for each other. I'm hitting my mid-30s, but 5 trips to the gym a week have reaped rewards. I'm tiny up top, but you could bounce quarters off my pristine tush. I get a lot of looks but I'm largely impervious to them. I'm human and I enjoy attention at times, but George is more than enough man for me.
I wish I'd never befriended Jennifer. I mean, I don't blame her for George's infidelity, but I would rather be in the dark. Does that make me a bad wife? Should I care about my husband's extracurricular activities? Yes, the answer is obvious. But how much? How much care should I put to it and should I take Jenn's advice and kick him out of our happy home? She says its not a happy home if he cheats. I think that's bullshit. Men cheat for a variety of reasons and it is not always linked to inadequacies at home. I've faced temptations in the past myself, though I'd never act on it.
George is my special guy. He works very hard at his job and he's done very well for us. He's an amazing provider. I couldn't ask for stronger spousal support. We met in college and we've been joined at the hip ever since. Our nights of shared passion are numberless.
Yet, Jennifer brought the proof to me with her disingenuous concern and her gossipy attitude. I should have shut her down.
"I have something really important to tell you," she said. "Can I pop by?"
I glanced at the clock. I was free until the early afternoon, so I had few reasons to say no. Jenn and I used to be much closer, but after a falling out a year earlier, she hadn't come by at all. This was unusual and it got my attention. I agreed.
Less than an hour later, she was spilling the dirt. Her new group of friends, typical desperate housewives, saw George and 'not-his-wife' together on the town. The virtue flagging bitches took it upon themselves to investigate. I'd like to think they had my best interests at heart, but I know that isn't true. We live in a smaller center and since I landed George, many women have been jealous of me. Initially, I thought they made it up to drive a wedge between me and my husband with the hopes of dissembling our marriage. There are a tons of single gals that would target George the minute he slipped off his ring.
I didn't believe it, but I needed confirmation. I needed to quiet the voices from outside our marriage that were condemning George's actions. So I started my own investigation, a decision I regret. The first emails nearly drove me to my knees. I felt the sour taste of vomit fill my mouth. My vision went bleary with tears and I contemplated some horrific knee-jerk reactions. I suffered in those first few hours.
But then I delved deeper into the conversations. There was an obvious omission that gave me hope; there was no love in the messages. There was no kindness and no tenderness. George's communication with this woman was purely lust fueled and banal. There was no talk of being together forever or even a whiff of jeopardy to my marriage bed. They were graphic in making obtuse references to prior sexual escapades. I couldn't tell how many times they fucked, but it was at least a handful.
Two weeks passed and I didn't do a thing. He was with her twice. He came up with believable excuses each time, but I see more clearly now.
I didn't want to leave him. I wanted to keep my life going along the smooth trajectory I enjoyed prior to discovering his infidelity. I was angry at him. I felt deeply betrayed. My trust suffered a significant wound.
But I needed closure. I couldn't continue to wrestle with the unknown.
I committed to confronting him. The only way we had any chance of getting past this is if I met it head-on. If it is over and I'm getting replaced, he needed to tell me that to my face.
I hated myself for doing it, but I tracked him. By virtue of his laissez-faire attitude toward keeping his emails concealed, I doubted that George would use his android to scan for an Apple tag. I sunk it under the spare in the trunk of his car.
I didn't have to wait long. Lame excuse, quick exit and he was on the road. I still held out hope that I was wrong. Even after witnessing the dirty picture exchange, I was still rooting for us.
The tag led me to a cheap motel on the seedy side of town. He probably thought that there was far less chance of running into someone we know in this hood. He was right. My stomach churned as I surveyed the area.
I tried not to follow too closely, so I nearly missed him when he ducked into a room. It was on the ground floor and I just caught the flash of his blue jacket as he closed the door. His car was parked right outside the door, next to a liberally dented Cherokee. The SUV was an older model, but my eyes zeroed in on the decals on the back window. The stickers included a mommy, a daddy, 3 kids, a dog and a cat. The SUV screamed soccer-mom. I took relief from the fact that I didn't recognize the vehicle.
The air took on a dreamlike quality and time slowed. I recall stepping from my vehicle, but I don't recall parking and I don't recall walking to their room. I passed his window and peered through a crack in the drapes. On the other side of the wall, less than minutes after his arrival, I saw them together for the first time. A blurry female wearing red lingerie was in the process of disrobing my husband. My heart sank and I felt a reinvigoration of my nausea. I'm not built for confrontation and it was the last thing I wanted to do.
I turned away in defeat. I think I even walked a little way down the sidewalk before stopping. I considered my options and tried to keep my anger out of the equation. I wanted to hammer on the door and rush in there delivering kicks and punches. George is a giant and that would have zero effect on him. I felt ambivalent towards the woman. I didn't know if she came to this innocently. Maybe she borrowed her sister's car and she was single and thought George was too. That was too much to swallow, even for me, but I was grasping at any thread that could alleviate the pain.
Ultimately, it was the pain that resolved my course of action. George had hurt me. I wanted him to know that he had. I needed him to know that his actions carried consequences. I didn't know what this meant for our future, but I needed him to know that his betrayal sickened me and more than likely destroyed me.
