Confusion and tension mounts.
The next day we got a call; they'd taken Aaron to the emergency room. My one shot had cracked open his skull. He not only needed stitches, but they'd taken him to Salisbury where they'd performed emergency surgery and had to insert a plate in his skull. They told me the police had tried like crazy but they couldn't find anybody who saw anything. Aaron, when he came around, bless his heart, refused to say who'd done it. I knew I'd have to stay indoors for a few days. I didn't want anyone to see me, plus I didn't want the police coming after me.
+++++++++++
All in all it had been a hell of a way to end the week after Easter. I was several days getting better. Caprice played Clara Barton and acted like I was some kind of hero. I guess in a way I was. I knew when I got back out in circulation nobody would bring Caprice's past up; at least not in front of me. About the Clara Barton thing, I mean it, she really doted on me. There wasn't any sex; but I sure got a lot of just honest to God down home tender loving care. I loved it. She even put Neosporin around my black eye; talk about a turn around.
The couple weeks turned out both good and bad. There was a lot of good. Emily had fallen in love with her pony. Aubrey visited the bar with his other brother, and they sort of suggested nobody should try for a payback against me. Angie wasn't really nice to me, but she stopped going out of her way to be mean. Dr. Deane sent over Caprice's medical report; she was clean. I managed to get the glass with Caprice's fingerprints sent off, but nothing had come back yet. The dentist had done Caprice's two cavities, and he'd glued in her temporary caps. Her real caps were still a few days away.
There was some bad too. Angie had started her job, and some of the library patrons had been teasing her about the way she looked and the work she had to do. From what I heard the worse thing for her was the way her old friends, her 'good' friends, from high school mistreated her. I thought that was tacky. Devereau refused to intercede; what a prick! I saw her uniform; it was an ugly blue nylon thing with a white nylon apron. I didn't like it. I told her I was proud of her. She ignored my praise.
Pastor Cook had been seeing both Angie and Caprice, and I got a whiff of what he was trying to do. Man, to me it was like a whiff of gunpowder. He wanted them to be more assertively independent; that meant one thing, no more Cayden.
I got a little jealous, actually more than a little jealous; Angie and Caprice have become more than just extra close friends, they're friends with benefits. Sometimes Caprice will pick Angie up after she gets off work and they overnight in my house. I'd sleep in the downstairs bedroom across the hall from the master bedroom. Late at night I can hear them. That coupled with the fact Caprice stopped showing any amorous interest in me made me feel more and more like I was the odd man out.
By amorous I mean sexual interest; Caprice hasn't shown any interest that way. On all the other levels though, like talking and quiet sharing times, and just general warmth she's been wonderful. When Angie isn't around in some ways it's like we're an old married couple. Sometimes I put my head in her lap and she rubs my back. Sometimes she leans forward to whisper something and I can feel her boobs press against my ear; they're real soft. Caprice is just...well I mean...she's just...I guess... she's just a nice person.
I've been trying. I think, or thought, I was doing all the right things, but here I was becoming even more of an outsider in my own house. Can a man be a cuckold in his own house. Can he be cuckold by two women; women he cared about more than anything? It sure seemed like it.
++++++++++
Devereau's observations.
Angie had a tough time her first few days at the library. I watched it. I'm new to the area; I only moved here a few weeks before Mr. McLeish called me about Angie so I had some catching up to do.
Let me say people are cruel no matter where they live, and it wasn't too long before I had the complete story about Angie and Cayden. My guess is both of them deserve everything they get.
I'd moved down from Philadelphia where I'd gone through a pretty tough time myself. I'd married my college sweetheart right after graduation. She belonged to one of those prestigious sororities where the girls got just about everything they wanted. I had an off campus apartment I shared with two other guys. My future wife, her name was Gloria, went to school, and thanks to her father's wealth, she had no financial concerns. I on the other hand had to scrape and save for everything.
Gloria had gone to college to have a good time; to find herself is what she called it. She played and partied her way through four years. She majored in English Literature; she agreed it was a largely worthless area of study, but she told me she wasn't interested in a career, only in finding a man. To my delight, and later to my chagrin, she found me.
I majored in business administration, but along the way took an interest in Library Technology, or Library Science, call it what you will. It looked like an area where fewer people ventured; in short a place where I could find a niche and move ahead. I'm Matt Devereau by the way.
I got moving, and started to make my way. I finished my four years, got a grant and some help from a distant relative, and was able to hang on and get an M.A. in Library Science. Upon graduation I found out pretty quickly this field was jammed as tight as everything else. Still I got lucky and found work in the Philadelphia Public Library.
Gloria found me at a summer mixer. I had been there finishing some preliminary course work for my masters. She was there playing catch up on classes she'd avoided. I fell for her like a ton of bricks. She was a gorgeous blond haired blue eyed Norse Goddess. Popular didn't describe her; she was every guy's fantasy. Unbelievably she took an interest in me. I thought it was true love; later I found out I was her 'cover' when she wanted to go out and get it on. For sure, all through her senior year I was her dutiful, loyal, and incredibly dumb escort.
Man I really loved her; she was good in bed, and I believed loyal to me. Of course, I put in a lot of time on my graduate studies and the menial work I had to perform for some of the professors. I had to teach the 'pick up' classes they missed, and in one case I found myself doing most of one professor's research for a book he was writing. All this time while I was obediently and lovingly playing escort for Gloria and busting my ass in graduate school she was either spreading her legs or chewing on some fraternity boy's dick. I didn't have a clue.
I finished graduate school and she finished her senior year. Right away we got married. Since we'd attended the University of Pennsylvania, and I'd found a job at the Philadelphia Public Library System once married we were never far from the scene of Gloria's social activities. I married her, worked hard all day and started investigating doctoral programs, while she played nighttime homemaker and daytime whore. Sooner or later something was bound to happen.
Honestly I never had a clue. I thought she was being faithful until one afternoon I came home early. Isn't that the way these things usually work? Well I found her as she was finishing up. She was walking around in her bra and panties, while this guy, a jock of course, was sitting in my living room in his jockey shorts drinking one of my Coors. First one look at the giant in jockeys, I'm a boxer shorts man, and I nearly lost it. I didn't have to ask what had been going on. We lived in an apartment; one trip to the bedroom told the story. I didn't argue, or cry, or ask any questions; the look on her face finished the story. I packed up a couple suitcases and was gone in twenty minutes. The guy drinking my beer didn't even get up.
I moved back to some ratty old off campus housing and set up housekeeping with a couple other nerds. Gloria found me a few days later. She apologized, she cried, she promised it would never happen again, but by then I'd found out a little more about her extra-marital activities as well as some very unwanted and unsolicited information about what she'd been doing before we were married. It's amazing how the roaches crawl out from under the eaves with bad news once they find out somebody's down.
She called constantly, so I finally gave up and answered my cell phone. I listened to her. I really loved her. I wanted to pretend I could go back like nothing had ever happened, but I knew who I was. I might not have been a jock, and I might not have been the most popular guy on campus, or now at work, but I was still a man. Broken marriage vows were to me like a broken egg; it was like taking a raw egg and dropping it on the floor, once the shell was cracked it was over, ruined.
