This story doesn't have any sex in it. It is more a story about cheating and it's consequences and it's implications.
Again, I did my own spell checking and editing (because I'm impatient), so lay the blame on me. This story is dedicated to Little Debbie.
It was with that damned knot in my chest that I drove into the Glen's Pride Apartment Complex that evening. It was a low priced facility, needing a new coat of paint and with grass starting to grow in the cracks of the parking lot pavement. In contrast, there was an impressive stock of cars in the lot. There were numerous Lexuses, Beemers, a few higher end pick ups. Heck, I even caught sight of a primo yellow Mustang around one corner.
Most of these cars had one thing in common: they were older. A very few looked new, but the rest had some 'english' on them; scuffs, dents and dings as their owners tried to milk some years and miles out of the automobiles bought in better days. I considered this as I parked my 2 year old Toyota Avalon near the building number Ed had given me.
A knock on the door and the occupant opened it. His face was unshaven, but it was the weekend. He wore a clean but worn tee shirt, and a pair of faded jeans. Comfort clothing. The man looked about 40, but he could have been a worn 35 to a healthy 50. Somehow I didn't think he was 50. He held a Diet Pepsi in his hand. "You Ed's friend?" he asked suspiciously.
"Yes. Keith." I held out my hand and he gave is a wary shake.
"I guess you should come on in then." His face had a pinched look of pain. I don't know if that was how he normally looked, or he just had the expression because he knew I was coming and what we were going to discuss.
Entering, I looked around. There was a sofa against the wall; the cushions compressed and worn. A recliner sat next to the outside door. Beside it, a side table held a set of remotes and a stack of well worn westerns, spy fiction and historical books. To the right of the door was a small dining table, big enough for two and a kitchenette. There were a few dirty dishes in the sink and the garbage probably could have been taken out, but otherwise it was neat. The carpet was a faded rust color with a few stains in it.
He saw my glance. "It ain't fancy, but it's cheap. And when you're deevorced that's the name of the game unless you're rich and ain't nobody rich after they deevorced. Lots of deevorced guys here. Some of them are cheating bastards. Some of the didn't get along with their missus. Some of them married slut who-ers like I did."
"Can you tell me about what happened? Ed said I should hear your story. He didn't tell me anything else."
"Married that bitch for 12 years. Thought I'd live with her forever, the cunt. We had our two kids. We had our jobs. Life wasn't perfect. Money was tight, but when isn't it? I thought things were good. Then that who-er fucked around on me."
"Why?"
"Why?" he said outraged. "Who cares why? Ain't it enough that she did it?" He stewed a bit and then said "Besides, I never got to hear why."
"Really? Why not?"
"Cause of what I did." He got a grim half smile on his face...then he winced and it was gone. "The bitch hurt me. She cut me bad and I wanted...needed revenge! That lying who-ering slut thought I was an idiot and that she could do whatever she wanted and get away scot free. Well, not on my watch! I had to be able to look in the mirror. She took my balls and I wanted 'em back!" He leaned forward in his recliner and put his elbows on his knees as I could see his mind drift back to memories of long ago. I could tell by his body language that that recliner was his 'home base'.
He spoke slowly. "I just couldn't live with myself to see her walk away without getting my pound of flesh. So I planned and I waited and I got a detective and some pictures. Then Thanksgiving, we had a big dinner with a lot of the family. I got the kids out of the dining and set them up with a movie while we poured the champagne and...I took out the big folder and pulled out the 8x10 glossies. They cost an arm and a leg, just like the detectives and I tossed them on the table and told them exactly what that fucking cunt bitch had been doing!" He laughed a bit meanly. "You should have seen her face. All their faces. Wish I'd done it a little different. The pictures flew all over the place and a couple landed in the potatoes and gravy. It was a big mess...but it wasn't the only one. Sent a fucking mailer to her work. She was schtuping some guy in the office."
"What happened afterward?"
"Those fucking assholes blamed me!"
"What?!?" I said outraged. "Why would they do that? Did you beat her or fuck around or something?"
"No, no. They were angry at me for...what did that prick Jim say? 'Making a scene.' Making a fucking scene? You want a scene; look at your wife bent over a couch taking in up the ass by some dickhead. THAT'S a scene! Some of them were mad I ruined a nice holiday. Some of them were mad because I made it public. Others were mad I was so 'mean' to her. Fucking assholes." He sighed. "It was ugly. Most of her family won't talk to me of course and my mom was mad as I'd ever seen her. My own mom! All women are bitches, I guess. She said I made it so we couldn't get past this, like it was a fucking burnt roast or something. It isn't a burnt roast. It was a burnt marriage."
"What did your wife say?"
"She didn't say anything. Bitch wouldn't talk to me after that. Heard from some family that 'I hurt her too bad.' La dee fucking DA! I hurt HER? That unbelievable cunt had the gall to say I fucking hurt HER too bad? I trusted her. I loved her and she did that to me? Obviously we got a deevorce. And she fucking counter sued or whatever they call it. Who-er!"
I winced. "Was it bad?"
"Ever hear of a good one? Well, I got her ass fired cause of the pictures I sent to her boss and that cunt of a Judge; I swear all them bitches are in it together; made me pay max alimony since it was my fault she didn't have a job. And child support. I don't mind the child support so much. They're my
kids
. I don't want to ruin their lives. Not like their mom did by fucking around. But writing her that check always pisses me off."
"They awarded her the house?"
"Yeah." he sighed, deflating. "I don't mind that neither. I mean, it was hard enough on the kids, but that slut brought some guy in there to live with her. That I do mind!"
"She kept seeing that guy?"
"No." His face took on a funny expression. "She...I asked a few friends. The few I still had left. She'd broken it off with that fucking scumbag from work a couple weeks before November. Wasn't seeing him no more."
I considered this for a few moments. "If she broke it off...did you ever consider, you know...reconciling?"
He gave me this look of withering scorn. "What kind of a man are you? What do you take
me
for? Didn't you hear a word I said? She was
cheating
on me! She was fucking some other guy! Do I look like a fucking wimpy ass, cream pie eating cuckold to you? She could have crawled on her hand and knees and I still wouldn't have taken her skank ass back." He leaned back as he seemed to relish the image in his head. "Once a cheater, always a cheater." he said slowly.
"Cream pie?" I asked.
"Yeah. Maybe some guys like lapping the cum of their wive's lovers out of their snatches, but not me!" I shuddered at the image. "And if she cheats on you once, she'll cheat on you again! No ifs, ands or buts."
"How'd you catch her?"
"Douchbags!"
I waited for a second, thinking this was more of his Tourette style of speaking. When he didn't go on, I looked at his quizzically. "Douchbags?"
"Yes. She was a real careful cunt. She took showers. Had good excuses. Made sure I didn't find out. Stayed a fucking fool. But I took out the trash, like a good wimp husband should. We bought those cheap ass clear garbage bags and I noticed that suddenly, we had a hell of a lot of Summer's Eve boxes in the trash. No cunt needs washing out that often unless she's doing something she shouldn't, so I started to watch her. I caught her ass."
I considered this. If she was taking shower and douching so often to avoid getting caught, what the hell was his obsession with cream pies? I shook my head mentally and changed gears. "Your kids...what's going on with them?"
He deflated. "My 'Becca. She was smart as a whip. Always was. Right after the deevorce, her grades went off the fucking cliff. I did my best, hired tutors, spent as much time with her as I could. Fucking custody rules! I really tried. She's doing better. Jeremy is better now, but he was depressed for a long time. They aren't the same. Not really. Even after four years." We lapsed into silence as he contemplated his kids and I respected the pain I heard in his voice.
After a short time, he said "Ed sent you here. He said you're going through the same thing."
I nodded. "Yes." It felt like the knot I was carrying around these past few weeks tightened in my chest when I admitted it..
"Deevorce her ass. Don't suffer. Cause she'll do it again and bring you sloppy seconds. There's good wimmen out there, but once she slips, she'll do it again. Bob in apartment 3B. Fucking fool took his wife back. She hung the horns on him a bunch of times till he finally got smart. Don't go taking any cream pies. Because she's already cut you bad. Don't let her take your pride too. It's all you got left." He was sympathetic.
"I don't know...I have a baby..." I stumbled on the words as I stood up. "Thank you for your time..." I started for the door.
