I had terrific editing help from a wonderful Montreal lady writer. Thank you N.!
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The Final Betrayal
She walked into my office just as I was preparing to go home. It had been a long day, and every inch of body ached from exhaustion.
Sex on heels.
It was the only way to describe her.
Sky-high stilettoes, pointed red nails, a skin-tight dress that barely covered her rounded bottom or her too firm, too perky breasts. One perfectly drawn eyebrow raised condescendingly, she gave me a quick once over making me feel acutely aware of how frumpy I must look in my dull, but serviceable navy-blue suit in a size twelve, my black square-toed pumps and my hair pulled into a tight bun at the nape of my neck. Not a trace of makeup on my face, whatever lipstick I had put on earlier in the morning long faded away.
Her brilliant, glossy red lips stretched into a thin, subtly menacing smile.
With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I knew what she was going to say. Sadly, it wasn't my first encounter with one of my husband's vamps (as I liked to call them) and if I was honest with myself, I knew it probably wouldn't be the last either. I found myself standing up straighter and curling my hands into fists, unconsciously bracing myself for a fight.
Her voice drawling and irritating she spun her story, going into vivid details that seemed plainly unnecessary. She rattled on about how many months they had been sneaking around behind my back, meeting in hotels, at his office, even at our home. With a conscious effort, I forced myself to betray no emotion, taking a subtle joy in discomfiting her with my lack of reaction. The truth was I had heard similar stories numerous times before; nothing she said could or would shock me.
If my math was correct, the vamp body count was now up to half a dozen. But this time, unlike the last five occurrences, I had no intention of taking it quietly. My voice firm and steady, I told her to leave my office at once. For good measure, I picked up my phone and dialled the number for security. Taking the hint, she withdrew from the office with one final taunt.
"He's going to leave you, I just thought you should know who he's leaving you for."
Her words made me want to laugh. Leave me? No Scott wasn't going to leave me. I knew my husband well enough to know this.
Once the bitch on heels - as I renamed her after our very brief conversation- left, I sat back down on my chair. Elbows planted on the table, hands twisted into a knot staring blankly ahead at the white wall. Was our life together so dull he needed to find entertainment elsewhere? Would I spend the rest of my life having these conversations with women young enough to be my daughter?
29 years was a long time to be married to the same person, I knew that. Our sex wasn't as exciting as it used to be or as frequent. A man has needs I got that. But why couldn't he talk to me about it? Why did he keep promising he would change if he had no intention of changing?
Apparently, he no longer found me attractive... did he still even love me? The thought made me sad. Picturing Scott having sex with that woman made me feel nauseous. This vamp was by far the boldest and sexiest out of all the other women Scott had cheated with, and she had made me think the worst. She had taken a perverse pleasure detailing her affair with my husband, and she had made sure to paint a very graphic picture with her words. It hurt my head just thinking about it, and I couldn't get rid of the vision of her long legs wrapped around his face as he ate her out on our bed.
On our bed!
He had never done that before. Bring one of his skanks to our house and in our bed. He had crossed a line with that, and I didn't know if I could forgive him for this betrayal.
Damn him.
Damn his roving penis.
Damn me for still loving him, philandering ways and all.
But no more being the understanding, supportive wife.
This time I was pissed.
This time he was going to pay.
The only question was how?
The Plan:
Just then an incoming text message beeped loudly, intruding into my troubled thoughts.
"You can now check in for your upcoming Air Transat flight to Costa Rica."
Costa Rica?
Costa Rica!
Absorbed by my husband's infidelities I had completely forgotten that in less than 24 hours I was leaving for a long-awaited, much desired for, a solo vacation to Costa Rica! I sent up a silent prayer of thanks for the unexpected reprieve. Feeling humiliated as I was, the last thing I wanted was to see Scott right now. I didn't have the energy in me to fight this out, to listen to his litany of excuses and promises to behave better in the future.
What I wanted more than anything else in the world was to be left entirely alone. And sulking next to a stretch of pristine white sand and endless blue water would be much better than sulking in the confines of my office.
I sent off a quick email to our two daughters, reminding them I was off to Costa Rica the next day and would let them know when I got there. Thinking of our daughters who were off and settled into their own lives always calmed me down; they were the best part of Scott and me.
Thankfully Scott was still out when I got home, and I remembered him saying he had a late work meeting that day which I'm pretty sure was a lie. If I weren't feeling so heartbroken I would have called him out on it, but at that moment, I didn't care whom he was with, I was just glad he wasn't home. I ordered some takeout, finished packing my suitcase and putting all my documents in order. By nine pm Scott still wasn't back which was perfect for me. I sent him a quick text saying I was heading to bed early and asking if he could sleep in the guest room. Without waiting for a reply, I locked the bedroom door, changed into a comfy pair of flannel pyjamas and settled into bed to watch reruns of Law and Order. By the time I fell asleep an hour later Scott still hadn't come home.
I slept badly. Visions of him and the vamp kept running through my head, and when I woke up at 6:30, I was groggy and still drained.
Pull yourself together Alexa, I admonished myself. Just keep it together until you get to Costa Rica and then you can let yourself feel as sorry as you like.
Through some careful timing, I managed to avoid seeing him in the morning. I got ready with the bedroom door still locked, and while Scott was in the bathroom taking his shower, I called a cab and left for the airport. It meant having a long wait there but better that than being at home with my cheating husband.
All subsequent calls from Scott were sent straight to voicemail.
He would figure it out soon enough.
When we boarded the plane to Costa Rica, I sank into my seat relieved I could finally let myself go.
The first few days in Costa Rica passed by in a blur of feeling sad and sorry, and I extended my trip by another week, unwilling to face the reality of home life. Then little by little I began to evaluate my life, my own worth and my marriage especially when I became friends with a couple who told me openly they were in an open relationship and were always looking for other couples to swing with. I marvelled at their ability to stay so connected, happy and in love even though they were regularly sleeping with other people.
It made me wonder if I would feel differently about Scott's misadventures if I had some of my own? And that's when I started to work on The Revenge List. By the time the trip ended I had decided that specific changes would need to be made if Scott and I were to stay married.
A Six Pack of Revenge
Ten endlessly long months had slowly crawled by since that fateful encounter with Miss Sex on Heels. My return from Costa Rica had resulted in a massive fight with Scott, and since then we had gone to marriage counselling (his idea), we had talked endlessly, and Scott was nothing but a devoted husband. But nothing seemed to be helping really. I couldn't get myself to trust him and felt a distinct lack of interest in our marriage or in Scott. Instead, I was spending most of my time at the gym or at work. Soon after coming back from Costa Rica a terrible bout of food poisoning kept me in bed for the greater part of a week. I came out of it ten pounds thinner. Seeing what a difference the weight loss made to my self-esteem, I was determined to keep it off and joined the gym. My body now looked almost nothing like my body from a year ago. I was thin, toned, muscular and looked years younger. My new body thrilled me, and I knew I looked hot, but I had no confidence sexually. Scott's transgressions had chipped away at that confidence.
Then one night as I was cleaning out my desk, I came across The List I had worked on in Costa Rica and just like that I knew exactly what it would take for me to get over Scott's betrayals.
The next morning, I handed him the list, neatly titled: The Six Pack Revenge Tour
• Tantric masseur;
• Rick, my ex-boyfriend;
• Sex with an anonymous stranger found online;
• Sex with a colleague at work;
• Brad and Jessie - the two brothers from our gym;
• Jason.
Six bullet points.
Six names and scenarios.
Six sexual fantasies I wanted to be fulfilled.
Setting up a real tit for tat for Scott's betrayals.
It was a pretty self-explanatory list, and Scott didn't bother asking me what it was for, but I clarified nonetheless, "I need you to suffer the way I have. We need to be equals."
He didn't say anything but did raise his eyebrows at the name neatly printed beside the number 6.
I had known he would.
A silent chuckle bubbled in my throat.
