This little story was inspired by an article that I read online about a man who kept a family secret his entire life and it was only revealed after his death. I'm trying to give it a modern context and I have ignored the COVID pandemic implications going on around the world, as I work from my home, going out only when I need to. This is my escape from reality.
Many of you will see that I've recycled some of the names and places, so be it. Some of you staunch defenders of the humble comma, that commented on my vigorous use of commas in my last story, will be happy that I have worked to ensure that the comma is given its proper place and usage. At least I have tried.
This one is a bit shorter than some of my other offerings, I know that keeping some reader's attention is a task not easily met, thus I have worked to reduce my 'wordiness' as so-called filler. However, some fail to realize that the thoughts of the characters are important to the story being told; psychology and all that complex stuff.
Finally, I want to remind you that not all of you will be in favor of the main characters actions in this story. Some will decry that he is not 'man' enough. But what is a real man? Is a real man a stereotypical character inspired by bad comic book inspired movies? Or is a man someone that makes the hard decisions that puts others needs and welfare before his own? And, can people actually change? That's a big question that I have and have not been able to fully answer.
I leave you to form your own opinions on those questions. You will see my thoughts in the story; but I don't have any conclusions to share.
Enjoy.
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2014
Hello, my name is Cameron Donavan. I'm 34 years old and I live in Albany, New York. I'm married and have three children. I got up this morning thinking that this would be a different day than yesterday. I resolved to do something about a very difficult problem that had been bothering me for a while now. Today I had an appointment to see a lawyer to explore the options that I might have. I knew that there weren't that many options, but I had to have some recourse to deal with this issue. I mean, there has to be way to deal with her.
She's been bothering me now, for a while; and by a while I mean almost a year. That's how long she's been fucking around on me.
You want to know what the hell I'm blabbering-on about. I'm talking about my wife, Brittany. I call her Britt. It seems that she has been having a weekly rendezvous with a boyfriend. Or lover, or whatever the fuck you want to call him. You see, I figured out that Britt was having sex with some other guy quite by accident. A friend told me. Not a good friend, mind you, but someone who I realized was actaully a friend, nonetheless.
I was stunned when she told me. She told me because she was the guy's girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend, now. She came to my office. Was pretty straight-forward in what she said, and then after a brief discussion, whereupon she dumped this avalanche on me, she left. As she was leaving my office, she turned and said that she was done with her boyfriend and then she wished me good luck. I was going to need it. Was I ever.
I had no fucking clue what to do. My brain was in a flat spin. The pilots out there will know what I'm talking about. How to recover from that kind of information was the thing that I needed to figure out. Jesus.
So, I find out that my wife is having sex with some younger guy every week. Now what the fuck do I do? I went home that night not having a clue. My intuition told me to not confront her immediately, but to get a handle on the options open to me. I mean, was the girl that came to my office just a nut-job babbling nonsense, or was she real and credible. I didn't know.
I problem solve at my job. I'm a business consultant. I'm a CMA and CPA. I spend all day, almost every day, trying to figure out complex financial and management issues and organize solutions for multi-million-dollar clients. It pays pretty good and I enjoy the work. Some think that it's boring as dog-shit, but I find it a challenge. I like solving complex problems.
I know what you're thinking. The wimpy accountant is just some boring, balding, ugly fat guy that can't get it up any more and his wife needs to find a real man to satisfy her needs. That my wife is hanging on to me for the money and security that I provide. Well, that's isn't entirely true. I'm an inch shy of six feet tall and have a full head of dark brown hair. I wear glasses. I weigh-in at 185 pound and probaly have a few too many of those pounds around my middle, maybe ten or so, and yes, I suppose I could exercise more. I'm not an ugly asshole, if that's what you're thinking.
So, now I had the mother of all complex problems and it was sitting across the dinner table from me and telling me that the weekend was going to be busy with getting the kids to their activities and we had been invited to go to one of our friends on Saturday night for drinks and finger-foods.
I looked at her mouth moving and for the love of me can't remember one actual thing that she said. No matter. I'll talk to the kids and they'll tell me where I have to take them to, and when. My youngest, Davey, is the easiest, he pretty much sticks to me like flypaper; he's my pal.
Britt is always on top of the family schedule. Without her organizational talents the kids would be in all the wrong places at all the wrong times. Or so she says.
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I met Britt back in university when I was getting an undergraduate degree in business and accounting. I was about to graduate and she was a year behind me studying basket weaving. I call it that, but it was officially a degree in design; not building design but the interiors side of it. We dated, got married, screwed like rabbits and before you know it, we had three kids. Two girls and a boy. Laura is 10, Diane is 8 and David, we all call him Davey, is 5. They're all in school and they all have busier social lives than I ever did. What is up with programming every waking moment of kids' lives these days. When do they get time to play; go out and get dirty and have fun. Something is not right with that. But I digress.
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A week later, after the revelation by the very pissed-off young lady that came to see me, I was sitting in my office with my yellow legal pad and making copious notes about my 'problem.' I came up with an outline plan:
Step 1 -- Get a better idea of the scope of the problem.
That meant that I needed more information. That meant that information had to be gathered and sorted. That meant that I needed the right resources and tools. I didn't want to bug my own home or sit in my car trying to catch my own wife, so I hired the best people to do that for me.
I don't have a clue about how to do surveillance, so I made some calls and hired the appropriate person to get me the information that I needed. The agency is one that we use for other tasks from time-to-time but they do this kind of thing as well. Katrin Johnson was a very good investigator. She had been a police investigator for several years and then decided to move on to private enterprise and work for herself.
She came to my office and we spent an hour talking about what it was that I wanted her to do. I gave her a recent photo of Britt and as well told her where she worked. Britt is an interior designer, so is in and out of her office quite a bit. I suppose that gives her a convenient excuse to meet up with her boyfriend whenever she wants.
I told Katrin that I have not ever seen any outward signs that Britt is fucking around. She's always where she needs to be for our family at the right time. She never smells different, looks different or acts different. We have busy lives but we are intimate usually once or twice a week. I work hard to make sure that my wife is the focus of my attention both in our sex lives and everywhere else. My family is VERY important to me. Without my family, I would be a total wreck. Right now, I'm starting to doubt my ability as a husband. Why else would Britt go looking for sex with another man? Clearly, I'm not doing it for her. I guess it's simple. At least it seems that way right now. But I have to put my failings aside for now.
So, I passed over a retainer check for $2500 and asked Katrin to find out what the fuck my wife was doing.
That took two weeks. During that time, I stayed the course and said and did nothing that would tell Britt that I suspected something was wrong. That was an agonizingly tortuous two weeks. Katrin came back with her report. It wasn't good.
She had collected evidence that Britt was meeting up with a guy, once a week, from a wholesale furniture company that her company does business with. She got his name and some basic information about him. Dean Billings. The guy is single and doesn't appear to have a girlfriend to replace the one that ditched him, yet. They meet at his apartment and usually spend two to three hours together. When she leaves his place, she always goes back to her office. She works there until it's time to go home. She doesn't meet up with him on days when it's her turn to pick up the kids from school.
Was Britt in love with this guy? Was she planning to leave her family for this guy? What was her plan? Katrin was able to find out what Britt was doing, not necessarily why she was doing it. That was the harder question. Would I ever be able to get an answer to that question. That started eating at me.
Step 2 -- Get legal advice.