Claim It

This story is fictional. The events, characters, and locations are fictional, any resemblance to real life people and places is purely coincidental. I have taken certain liberties at some points in the story concerning the technology in use, otherwise, all other 'tools' are factual.

*****

"Hi, Babe! How was your day?" Don asked his wife in greeting, removing his heavy winter coat as he entered the living room.

Donna looked up at her husband, glistening tears welling out of her red eyes, her cheeks already streaked with trails of wetness.

"Honey! What's wrong?" asked Don, sudden concern evident in his tone, moving to her while carrying his jacket and lunch box.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" screamed Donna.

Don was stopped in his tracks, a step away from reaching his wife, by her angry screech.

Don looked at Donna in surprise, confusion filling his face at her reaction.

"What's wrong, babe?" asked Don. "What's going on? Why are you angry?" His voice full of worry for his wife.

Without replying, Donna sniffled a couple of times, wiping her eyes and her nose with a wad of tissue, before getting up from the couch, and walking into the kitchen.

"Donna! What's wrong?" Don said, his voice quickly growing in volume by the inanity of Donna's behavior.

Don followed his wife into the kitchen, where he found her standing by the sink, motionless, gazing out the window.

"Honey. Please tell me what's wrong. I'm sure whatever it is we can..." began Don, in a calm and placating tone.

"No! We can't! We can't put this behind us. No, we can't make it work! No, I'm not going to be the dutiful wife, dumb to the reality and pretend nothing has happened!" Donna said, interrupting Don, as she rattled off her heated words.

Don looked at his wife in dismay. Don suddenly felt as if Donna had grown two heads. One head was the nice one, the one he had grown to know and love, and the other was a new one, full of hate and spite, and spitting fire. He'd heard Donna's words, but they made no sense to Don, however, it was obvious Donna thought Don had done something horrid.

"What did I do? Or didn't do? Did I forget something? Your birthday? Our anniversary? Your mother's birthday? What? What is it I've done that has you so upset?"

"Oh, fuck you! You asshole! Don't play dumb. Just admit it. Okay? Just say it! Be a man and own up to it. Isn't that what you tell your employees when they fuck up? Well, now it's your turn. Follow your own advice, Don!" grated out Donna, as she continued to stare out the window.

"What the hell has got into you? As for owning up to it, if I don't know what it is, I certainly can't claim it. Now, can I?"

"Fine!" clipped out Donna, finally turning to face him. "You want to play dumb. Fine. I'm talking about you and Michelle."

Nonplussed at Donna statement, Don didn't immediately respond.

Jumping on his hesitation, Donna exploded. "I knew it! You did fuck her! You goddamn motherfucking asshole. Get the fuck out of my house! NOW!"

Taken aback by his wife's uncharacteristic vehemence, Don could only look at Donna in stupefaction.

"I mean it, Don. You need to leave. Go stay with friends, or in a motel. I don't care. But, you are not staying here."

Don shook his head, still having trouble comprehending what he'd been accused of.

"No, Donna. I'm not leaving. This is my house. I bought it before I even knew you. Your name is not on the mortgage. And, I never fuc-"

"YOU MOTHERFUCKER! You want to play it like that, okay, but two can play that game! Just remember, Don, you started this shit!" yelled Donna, with a righteous fury that immediately set Don's nerves on edge, before she turned away, and stomping quickly out of the kitchen.

Don was beyond stunned. He and Donna were married a little less than five years, dating two years before tying the knot. They'd had numerous minor disagreements, and even a couple of heated arguments, but nothing at the level and intensity just displayed by Donna.

Don Hudson had always been an even tempered man, it was almost a requirement in his trade as a custom home builder. The long-term and constant dealing with the obtusity of his well-off clients regarding the finer points of home building had honed his patience and tamed his temper to the point he was able to maintain a calm demeanor. Most times. This was not one of those times.

As Don reviewed what had just happened with Donna, as blurred thoughts cascaded through his mind, the anger, a bare flicker in the beginning, exponentially grew in the matter of a few blinks of an eye, into a raging inferno.

Don wasn't sure what was going on, only that he'd been accused of something he hadn't done. The fact is, Michelle, a childless divorcee, and a good friend of Donna's, was a person that Don couldn't stand to be around. He didn't know Michelle's story, other than the little he'd been told by Donna, but the little he did know only served to solidify his dislike of her. He was pretty sure the feelings were mutual.

When he met Michelle at his and Donna's wedding it was readily apparent that she didn't care for him. Stupefied by Michelle's instant dislike of him, he, in turn, didn't care for her. They tolerated each other for the sake of Donna, but since the wedding Don doubted he'd said ten words to Michelle. He would certainly never touch Michelle. The mere thought of doing so made Don feel queasy. Donna was well aware of his feelings toward her friend. So it was with some confusion and anger that Don found his wife's accusations ridiculously Incongruous.

Trying to control his near exploding emotions, Don dropped his things atop the kitchen counter, and went to find Donna.

She was in their bedroom, walking to and fro, from the closet to the dresser to the bed, where several suitcases lay open, rapidly filling with hastily tossed in clothing.

He watched her for a moment before taking a deep ragged breath to further gain a hold on his anger. It failed, so in a tight harsh tone he explained, "Donna, I didn't fuck Michelle. You know how I feel about her so I don't know why you would ever think that. Where did you get such a fucked up idea?"

Her lithe body, small, but exactly proportioned to elicit attention from even the most sexually inured man, was a wonder to behold. Don knew that body very well. He knew every sweet crevice, every titillating curve, and every soft plane of skin. The thought that that body was packing to leave, sent a spear of pain into his heart. Yet, his face carried, or he hoped, an indifference to her current actions.

Donna continued to pack the suitcases, acting as if she hadn't heard her husband.

Forcing calm where none existed, Don said, in a more even, carefully controlled tone of voice, "Seriously Donna, what is going on? This... Your behavior- it's so unlike you."

She came to a stop, clothing draped over her arms, "Are you serious?! I told you exactly what is going on!"

She peered at him through slitted eyes, her face set in a hard grim expression, waiting on his reply.

Don shook his head, denying her accusation, backing it up with, "And, I told you that I have never fucked Michelle."

"Then why didn't you say that right away? Why did you hesitate? That's a sign of guilt and a way to buy time to come up with a lie!" yelled out Donna.

Drawing another breath and exhaling slowly, Don calmly replied, "You did not ask me anything. All you said is that you were talking about me and Michelle. And, that did not make sense to me. So yeah, I was caught by surprise. I did not know what you meant. Not until you specifically accused me. So now, I am telling you, that I have never fucked her. I have never spoken to her outside of your presence. And, when I have spoken to her, it has been for the briefest of moments. But, you know all that. So my question is why you do you believe I fucked her? Why, Donna?"

Don had annunciated his words carefully, taking his time, insuring that nothing was misheard or misunderstood. His trying experiences with some of his clients was paying off.

For a moment, Donna's expression became thoughtful, but only for a moment, before returning to the same bitter and hateful expression of before.

"Now you're talking to me like I'm a child! You think you can explain yourself out of this with your, oh so, calm and demeaning sarcasm? Think again, asshole! Just admit it and maybe, just maybe we can get through this. But, first you have to acknowledge and accept what you've done. Until you do that, we have no future as a wife and husband. I won't live with a cheater."

Sarcasm? Don hadn't expected his wife's response, he thought his measured reasoning would disabuse her belief.

His anger arose once more, with a vengeance, and before he could shackle it, it escaped.

"GODAMMIT! DONNA! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? HUH???"

Startled by his unexpected and wall shaking outburst, Donna took a step away from him. She had never seen him so angry. Again, just for a moment, Donna wavered in her resolve, as doubt set in. Then remembering what she'd knew, she steeled herself once more.

"Nothing is wrong with me, except I have a cheating husband who continues to lie about what he's done." With that said, Donna began to pack the suitcases once again.

Don, mustering a deep will, forced himself to a calmness that wanted to stay just out of reach, rather than to react at her statement. Instead, he looked at his wife thoughtfully, he thought he'd known her, but it was now obvious he really didn't know her at all. His thoughts jumbled by what was transpiring and his heart aching from her accusations, he came to realize she'd made up her mind and nothing he said was going to change that. Someone has been whispering things in Donna's ear, he was sure of that. There was no other explanation for her behavior.

Don thought it might be Michelle, but he didn't think she hated him, or hated him enough to destroy his marriage. Then again, he'd never thought Donna would ever behave as she has. So maybe Michelle did have something to do with all that was going on.

"Well, Donna, at least tell me who filled your head with all that shit about me and Michelle. Can you do that?"

Without stopping her packing, and without looking at him, Donna replied evenly, "Why do you want to know? Are you going to try to shut them up? The cat is out of the bag and even if you do know who they are, you can't change the truth of what they've said."

"No, Donna. But, I do want to know why they've told you a lie. Why this person is so intent on destroying our marriage?"

"They are not destroying our marriage! You are! The only lie here is your continued denial of having sex with Michelle." Drawing a shuddering breath, Donna continued on before Don could respond. "Was I not enough for you? I never denied you sex! Not once! I did everything in bed with you, anytime you wanted it! And, I took care of our home. I did the shopping! I cooked! I cleaned! I dressed to look beautiful. For you! I was even ready to have our children. All the times you worked late, if that is what you were even doing, I stayed home. Alone! Wonderfully secure in the belief that you loved me. That building your business was securing our future. But, it was all just one big lie."

Don didn't care for what Donna had just said, but at least she was talking, even if she still hadn't budged from her notion of his cheating.

"No, Donna, it's not a lie. I love you very much. More than I ever thought was possible. That's why I wouldn't do the horrible thing you're accusing me of. With anyone! It's why I want to know who lied, and find out why they are doing this to us. Also, if you love me as much as you say you do, then why won't you at least give me the benefit of doubt?"

As Don spoke he had slowly eased himself closer to his wife, he was going to hold her, embrace her lovingly, to show her that he did love her, to somehow, with his touch, prove to her that he had never cheated on her. But, Donna picked that moment to turn and face him.

"Get away from me!" shouted Donna. More calmly, she added, "I don't want you touching me."

"Okay! Okay, fine." Don quickly replied, raising his hands, palms out, in an attempt to placate his wife, as he stepped back to the doorway.

Taking a moment to scrutinize her husband's face, trying to gauge his mood, Donna said, "Don, I want to believe you. I really do! But, the evidence- what I know, it won't let me."

"What evidence do you have, Donna? Photo shopped images? Spliced audio? Fake video? Or, is it just hearsay? Let me see this evidence. If not, then let me talk to the liar. I'll prove I haven't cheated on you."

"I don't have it with me. Why do you want to see it, anyway? So you can make up some story?" asked Donna accusingly.

Ignoring his wife's accusatory tone, he explained woodenly, "Nearly every photo shopped image has some tell tale signs of editing. It might even have something in the photo that doesn't belong in there. No one is perfect, and I'm betting whomever edited the photos, like adding me or Michelle into the image, made some mistakes. Finding any of that in the photos would prove they're fake and prove the person a liar."

"I never said it was photos. How do you know it's photos? Unless you were there and took them!" Donna said in a rising voice.

"I don't know what the evidence is you claim you have or seen, but I guessed it was probably images. Unless you're going by the word of one person, then that's another animal altogether. But, I think you just confirmed it's images." said Don in a heated tone of voice.

"I know what I saw! Look, forget all that for the moment." said Donna in a pained tone. After a moment, where she took time to get calmer, she continued, "Please, if you love me, you'll own up to what you've done, claim it and I promise you, I will try to work past it. We can even go to counseling. We won't ever be the same as we were before, but maybe we can still be together."

Shaking his head in disgust and sighing deeply, Don replied, "It's already changed, Donna. We will never be as we were. It's not because I've done anything, but because the mutual trust we had is gone. You don't trust me because you believe I've cheated, and I don't trust you because of how you have reacted to somebody's lie about me."

"And honestly, Donna, the mutual respect we once enjoyed is also history. So, yes, things have already changed between us, things that will never return to what we had before. No amount of counseling is going to fix that. So if you leave, it will only serve to cement our new dynamic. And, it isn't a good one, Donna. If you stay and we work together to uncover what is going on, then maybe we will have a chance at a new beginning. But, only if you stay and work this through with me. Once you walk out that door, I won't know what you'll be doing and with whom. Which will just add further problems to our relationship."

Donna glared at her husband. If looks could kill, he would be in his death throes.

"I can't believe this! You sanctimonious bastard! You're accusing me of wanting to have an affair?!" yelled Donna. "I was told you might try to turn the tables! Everything you're saying just proves to me that you cheated! No! I'm not staying under the same roof as you, you fucking asshole! Now get the fuck out, so I can finish packing, and I can get the fuck out!"

"Donna-" began Don.

"Shut the fuck up and leave me alone. You've had your say and I have nothing else to say to you until you come clean." said Donna in a more controlled voice, but one edged with a hard unrelenting tone.

"Okay. If that is the way you want it, Donna. Then finish packing and get the fuck out of MY house!" said Don in a harsh steely voice. A voice usually reserved for those employees who badly fucked up a job. As Don turned to walk away, Donna took one last parting shot.

"You were obviously man enough to fuck my friend, so be a man again and admit that you fucked her! As you're so fond of saying, claim it! But, you won't, because you're not a man, so go fuck yourself!"

He'd had enough! He was fed up with Donna's shit. Without conscious thought, Don whirled toward the bedroom door. Donna saw her husband pivot abruptly, but it was his face that caused her concern. And his voice.

His body trembled with the sustained effort of remaining in control, but his eyes burned with a red hot furiousness, to the point they seemed to glow. He grated out in a low hissing voice, more like a steam pipe ready to explode than a human voice, "Get out! Now! Take what you've packed so far! And get out. Don't return! Give me a list of what you want! I'll send the rest of your shit to where ever you're staying"

For the first time since she'd known Don, Donna was frightened of him. She had never known him to be so cold, so uncaring, so intimidating, so scary. She tried to speak, but her voice caught in her throat. All she could do was nod. She stood there, like a deer caught in a car's headlights, unable to move.

"Now! Get out!"

His frigid, almost inhumane tone of voice broke her thrall. Donna quickly snapped the suitcases shut, grabbing as many as she could carry at once. She turned to to see if the doorway was clear, and it was, Don had walked away. She eased out of the bedroom, ready to jump back if need be, but Don was nowhere in sight. She slowly walked down the hallway to the front room, fear making her cautious, but the room was clear. Don wasn't in there, either. The path to the front door was before her.

Donna wasted no time getting to her car and loading up the suitcases she carried. She almost didn't return for the rest of the suitcases, but she needed her clothing, so with much trepidation she reentered what had once been her home. Now, suddenly, it felt as if she no longer belonged there. It was a stranger's home. The warmth, the comfort, and love that previously seemed to infuse all who entered had abruptly changed to a frosty, very disquieting, void. To her surprise, she found the couple of remaining suitcases set near the front door. Don was no where to be seen.

Soon she was driving off, heading to her parent's home, where she would stay until she found a place of her own.

~N~

"Dammit, Boss. You've bitched at the men all week long. They're about ready to quit. I'm not trying to get into your business, but whatever has you so riled up, you need to take care of it. Before the men do quit."

Don was ready to snap at his friend and foreman, Pete Santos, but he realized Pete was right. He had been taking his anger and frustrations out on the men. Not that some of the crew hadn't deserved it, but he had been heavy handed since his wife had left on Monday,

"Yeah. You're right. I'm sorry, Pete."

"It's not me you need to apologize to, but if you apologize to those bozo's you'll never hear the end of it." said Pete with a chuckle. In a more serious vein, Pete continued. "Look, we ain't working tomorrow, so they'll have the entire weekend to get over it. You on the other hand, whatever is bothering you, I get the feeling it ain't that simple to fix."

Sighing, Don looked at his foreman. Pete was a short but stocky man, with skin the color of old leather, he was of Hispanic origin, but spoke perfect English. He was also a great foreman. Not to mention, Pete was the guy who gave him his start at the construction company they'd first met, and later helped him start his own company.

"She left me, Pete."

Pete looked at his boss' face, and for a moment he wondered who Don was talking about. "Who? You mean your wife left you? Donna left you?"

"Yes, Donna. She left."

"Madre de Dios! What happened?"

At first, Don told the story hesitantly, almost reluctantly, but as Pete simply stood and listened, nodding occasionally, Don became more at ease in the telling. When he was finished, Don felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his soul. He was still angry, but the anger was no longer threatening to spill over and burn everyone else.