Don Prescott sat at his desk at home staring pensively out of the window. It was very early on a Thursday morning, it was still dark out, and he was physically and emotionally drained after his return flight home. He again attempted to force his mind back to the events of the previous evening. He again attempted to make some sense of what he had witnessed.
He knew that he had decisions to make. After watching his wife have sex with a total stranger (at least to him) at that conference, he knew that he had two options open to him. One: he could confront her when she returned on Saturday and tell her that he knew of her cheating, engage in the emotional turmoil that would elicit and attempt to resolve the causes that led her to her infidelity. Or, two: he could pack and leave. He could pack up and leave now. He had to decide what HE wanted to do
He smiled bitterly to himself: there was no doubt as to what he was going to do. The scenes of Marge's adultery were burned into his mind and they would probably never be fully erased. Was this the first time she had cheated? He doubted it; he strongly suspected that she had cheated on numerous occasions, but that really was now irrelevant. She cheated last night and would, in all probability, cheat again tonight and, perhaps, even tomorrow night. Whether it's once or a dozen times is really not all that critical. Adultery is adultery, whether it happens once or a hundred times.
His mind traveled back in time, over the past few years. He remembered the small slights, the off-hand putdowns, her preoccupation with her jock friends at those parties. He also remembered her expression when he attempted to cut in while she was dancing with her "friends." By word and deed she had attempted to undermine his sense of himself as a man, to emasculate him. No more, those days have ended.
The trauma of witnessing his wife's betrayal caused something to change in Don. He had always been a retiring type of guy, a little shy and withdrawn. It wasn't a lack of confidence, it was just that he didn't have an A type personality. It was always easier to go along. He now realized that "going along" was yesterdays Don Prescott. He knew that he had changed inside, a deep and wrenching change.
He was angry, bitter and vindictive. These were emotions that he would nurture and expand. He would no longer allow anyone to belittle him, to patronize him, to minimize who he was. He should thank Marge, her actions last night precipitated this change. He would now take charge of his life. No more Mr. Nice Guy.
He had plans to make. He would go to the bank and withdraw half of their savings . He also had to contact their broker and cash in half of their mutual funds. They didn't have a huge amount of money put aside, but he would take what he considered his. He also had to look for a place, a new home. He couldn't stay in this house with her, he knew that he would not be able to do that.
He saw that it was now light outside. The sun had risen as he had sat and contemplated his future and the tentative plans that were percolating in his mind.
He picked up the phone and punched in a number. The call was answered on the second ring
"Wilderness Trail, can I help you." a female voice answered.
"Yes, Mr. Carl Fellows, please."
His call was transferred, "Fellows here."
"Hi Carl, this is Don Prescott, I......"
"Donny, hey, it's good hearing from you. What's up?" a booming voice inquired.
"Carl, remember that position you tried to talk me into accepting awhile ago? In sales?"
"Of course I do, Don. I still think that you were nuts not to have at least considered it. You would easily double what you're making now. Wait, are you now considering it? Tell me you are," pleaded Carl.
"Damn, Carl. Why are you having such a problem filling that position? What's the catch," asked Don?
"Donny, no catch. There aren't that many people around who know the wilderness, that are familiar with our products for hiking, climbing, canoeing, etc. At least not nearly as capable as you are."
"Carl, I told you the last time we talked that my problem was that I would have to relocate to your Maine office and that kind of upheaval would not be good for me or my family. Marge, wouldn't even consider it at the time we talked. Well, things have changed. Let me get some things settled here and then I'll fly up and we can talk again. Is that ok?"
"You bet, Donny. Look, buddy. You know me. We've been friends since college. This is really a great opportunity and you would be working in a field that you love., and by the way, you don't have to fly up here. I'm flying down tomorrow to the branch office in your area for a couple of weeks. We can meet whenever you say. Also, for the first six months or so you would train down there. You wouldn't have to move until then. Please try to talk Marge into this, Don."
"Yeah," Don replied. "I don't think that'll be a problem now, Carl. I'll get back to you."
"Time to begin the first day of the rest of my life," he thought to himself, as he rose and made his way to shower and dress. There were things that he had to do today, not the least of which was to contact a good divorce lawyer.
"My wife has cheated on me and I know exactly what to do" he said softly as he mounted the stairs.
*******************
The hours that Don spent in his preparations seemed to calm him, at least outwardly. He no longer felt overwhelmed by the sorrow, the sadness that had pervaded his soul. If there were vestiges of those emotions, they were buried under a layer of icy cold anger and bitterness.
Marge's telephone calls to him on Thursday and Friday evenings were full of her excitement and enthusiasm . She kept telling Don how much she was enjoying the conference and how much she was learning. Don was good, he was very good. He responded as he was supposed to, with happiness that she was having such a good time.
"I bet she's enjoying herself and I also bet that she's learning a lot more than she's telling," he thought to himself. "Well, it won't be long before she is going to realize that her life will be different. It could be that she will welcome my absence. That way she can fuck anyone she wants to without any worry about a husband getting in her way."
His plans took up the two days, but he had managed to get done what he had intended. He also managed to move much of his stuff to the Extended Stay Inn where he would reside until he could find more suitable accommodations. While these plans occupied his time, he had given very little thought to the conversation he would have with Marge after he picked her up at the airport on Saturday.
He would let that play out as it would. It really didn't make too much difference what her explanation would be, if she would even offer one. This was an act of unfaithfulness in which she actively participated. There was no reluctance, just the opposite, she seemed to relish fucking this guy. In fact, he could not even remember a time when she acted as wanton and aroused with him.
Saturday came soon enough and he waited patiently for Marge to emerge through the doors of the airport. She clasped him closely and kissed him.
"Oh Donny, I really missed you. It's so good to be home," exclaimed Marge.
"Missed you too, Marge. Let me get your bags into the car and we'll be on our way," replied Don neutrally.
Marge seemed a bit startled by Don's lack of enthusiasm at her arrival home. She tried to make conversation during the drive but was discouraged by her husband's lack of response. They both lapsed into an uneasy silence.
Arriving home, Don carried her bags into the living room and then turning to Marge, asked her to sit down. His serious mien frightened her. She began to wonder what, if anything, he knew or suspected.
"Marge, once you look around the house, you will notice that much of my clothes are gone. I've moved out and I've already filed for divorce," Don began calmly.
Marge sat very still, pale and resigned. He knew, she realized that. She would not deny. Her shoulders sagged as she prepared herself.
"It's very simple, Marge. You were unfaithful, you cheated, you've broken your marriage vows and you have to realize that there are consequences for that betrayal. I refuse to be a cuckold. I am not the kind of man, despite what you think, that can accept what you've done. I saw you, Marge. I saw you go with that asshole into the bedroom at that hospitality suite. I saw you suck and fuck his brains out. Did you really think that I would sit back and accept that kind of betrayal? You are not the woman I married, Marge. I never really noticed that that woman disappeared years ago." Don realized that his voice was getting louder. He caught his breath and sat back, getting his emotions back under control before he continued.
Marge Prescott sat, stunned and shocked , as Don subjected her to his anger, his bitterness. Her mind reeled at the realization that he had actually witnessed her adultery. She felt herself become nauseous, physically ill. "My God," she thought to herself, not for the first time. "What have I done, what have I become?"
"How many times, Marge? How many affairs have you had? How many guys have you fucked? Damn, I should have realized, I should have been more aware. The snide remarks, the little signs of contempt, the put-downs. They all showed how your love had changed to indifference, to disdain," Don continued now more calmly, but with a bite to his accusations.
"We both know, Marge. We both know what kind of man you really want, don't we? You want a jock, you want a Frank Morello type. Well, Marge, now you have the opportunity to get what you want. You won't have me around to get in your way," he concluded bitterly.
Marge sat, ashen faced and trembling. "Don," she gasped. "Please, wait. Don't go. Let me say something." Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. She vowed she would not break down into a sniveling mess.
