With a deliberate casualness I opened the envelope and pulled out half a dozen sheets of paper. They were photographs, printed off a digital camera or cell phone, taken in what appeared to be a massage room in a gym. There, in all his arrogant glory was Devin Tinian, sweaty and smug and smiling into the camera, as he took his latest conquest from behind.
But, it wasn't Devin that caught my attention. It was the woman, situated in front and under him while leaning against a massage table, her elbows holding her up a half foot off the surface. She was naked, wearing only a thin film of sweat, her breasts hanging down freely, partially obscured by her arms and her long brown hair tied in a ponytail falling off to one side of her perfectly recognizable face. Her eyes were closed and she wore an inscrutable expression, a cross between a grimace and a sad smile and the vision of her struck me like a knife to the chest.
It was Rosie.
--@--
I honestly don't remember much of what happened for quite some time after I'd seen the pictures. I know I didn't say anything immediately and I do remember Teri looking at me triumphantly for a moment and then becoming suddenly nervous when she saw my expression. I know she abruptly gathered up her things and left quickly after that, leaving me to sit, not moving or thinking or, perhaps, not even breathing much for quite some time, staring numbly at the offending photos.
But, I don't remember picking up the prints, leaving the office, walking to my car or even the drive home. I have no idea if I went straight home or not. If someone had told me I'd run a dozen red lights or that I'd stopped at an intersection for a half hour I'd have believed them.
My recollections only started again when I found myself sitting in my car, parked in my driveway nearly 2 hours after Teri had dumped the pictures on me. My fists and my teeth were clenched tight and my eyes were stinging and unfocused, apparently from unnoticed tears. I numbly got out of the car and made it to the house and through the front door, staggering like a zombie though the entry hall to our living room couch. I flopped on the couch and stared at the large grandfather clock that was ticking out the only noise in the otherwise silent room. I felt like my family, my marriage and my happiness had all been given a death sentence, and I was just waiting for the execution.
Time ticked by-it could have been a few minutes or even a few hours-until Rosie came home with the boys, who, thankfully, ran out to play without noticing that I was home.
Rosie normally came home with a lot of energy, but she'd talked about a rough time at work lately, and hadn't been in a very good mood, so it wasn't a surprise that she didn't call out for me in her usual excited tones . Instead, she entered the house quietly, slowly and I could barely make out the sounds of her opening the closet door to put her coat away and hear her walk to the den where my computer was set up, evidently looking for me. I heard her call my name softly and then a little louder but I didn't answer, unsure if I even wanted to talk to her at this point. She checked the bedroom and knocked on the door of the bathroom, still calling out my name without result until she came into the living room and finally noticed me, lying with eyes wide open, staring blankly at the ceiling.
"Grant? Are you ok?"
I still didn't answer and she approached me quickly and her maternal fever-checking-reflex took over as she put her hand to my head. Her touch somehow brought her betrayal into clear focus to me and I roughly pushed her hand away as I sat up, looking at her harshly.
"Don't touch me Rosie."
She fell back a few steps as her mouth fell open and her eyes narrowed in puzzlement and concern. She looked at me for a few moments, apparently too surprised or worried to ask any questions. I looked back, quietly fuming, nostrils flaring, trying my best to burn a whole in her forehead with my gaze. It must have been clear I wasn't going to speak and, so, finally her mouth started to move.
"What...what's wrong Grant? Are you...are you ok?"
I answered with a bitter, angry, hiss, my mouth barely opening, my teeth clenched together.
"No, Rosie I'm not ok. I'm not ok at all and I probably never will be."
She moved toward me again, her arms starting to open as if to give me a hug when I raised my hand and stopped her short with another declaration.
"I said don't touch me Rosie. I don't want you ever touching me again."
Her eyes started to well up with tears and she began to nervously shake her head. I wasn't sure, but I think it was that moment that she began to worry that somehow I knew about her affair.
"Grant...Grant I'm sorry..."
I snorted bitterly, sarcastically, shaking my head in disbelief while she continued on.
"...sorry for whatever...whatever I've done to make you so...so angry and upset. What...what have I...what have I done?"
With abrupt, angry movements, I lifted the manila folder and reached inside, pulling out several of the photographs.
"I think you know what you've done." I said as I balled up the first copy and threw it at her, striking her midsection before falling to the floor. She looked down at the wad of paper with fear in her eyes and then more tears. She didn't move to pick it up, looking at it fearfully, like it was a poisonous snake.
"You're just a lying, cheating bitch..." Another wad, another throw, this time striking her in the chest. "...who couldn't keep her legs closed..." A wad to the face. "...for the first guy that made the moves on her."
Her look had turned into one of abject horror, sorrow and disbelief, tears running down her face while her chin wrinkled up with her already swollen lips pressed together. Somehow her discomfort made me even angrier and I picked up the last photo, one of Devin smiling at the camera , fully penetrated into Rosie from behind while she clenched the sheet on the massage table, her eyes shut and her expression, again, inscrutable. I stood and held the picture up, less than a foot from her face, spitting my words out like bullets.
"Or maybe he wasn't the first guy...maybe he was just the most recent one of many..."
Rosie screamed as she looked at the picture and fell to her knees, sobbing and choking.
"No...no...no...no...oh God...no..."
Looking at her, I felt a brief surge of compassion, but I fought off the urge to comfort her and easily replaced the tender feelings with the anger and disgust that her infidelity had created. I moved away from her and, without saying anything, walked purposefully to the bedroom, pulled down a suitcase and started throwing clothes into it.
When it was almost full, she appeared at the doorway, still crying, still only marginally coherent.
"Grant...please...Grant...no...please, no..."
I continued to pack wordlessly, filled the suitcase and an overnight bag and then brushed by her to gather a few things from the bathroom. She tried to reach for me, but I firmly pushed her away and she started sobbing even louder. Within a few minutes, I was at front door, getting my coat out of the closet before leaving. She'd followed me out and braced herself at the front door, blocking my exit.
I looked at her shaking my head slowly and bitterly spit out a single word.
