Chapter 1
My wife, Juanita, set across the breakfast table from me, just as we had for the last twenty-four years of our married life. It was a Thursday morning in late September and the leaves of the trees in our backyard had begun to turn various shades of yellow and tan. She was enjoying that view through the window of our breakfast nook, while I read the morning paper. It was a familiar scene in our empty nest for the last two years since our youngest daughter got married and moved out.
Occasionally, we'd discuss an interesting news story as we ate, so when I flipped the page and saw the article about a man being found dead in a local cheap hotel, it intrigued me. I read it, noting an all-to-familiar name. I read all the details with an intense fascination to see if it could be the man I thought it was. It did seem possible; however he was a former coworker of my wife, so I needed to ask her if it was possibly him.
"According to this article, a man was found dead in a hotel room last night. His name was Darren Scott; didn't you used to work with a Darren Scott, dear?"
Juanita made a noise as she took a sharp intake of breath. "Yes, a few years ago, but it might not be the same person," she forced herself to be calmer.
"The paper says he was thirty-four and lived across town on Drury Lane, with his wife and three kids. Does that sound like him?"
"Yes...yes it does," she replied a little more nervous. "Does it say how he died?"
"Yes, he was in room thirty-two of the Seaside Motel—you know that sleazy rent-by-the-hour motel. He was tied to the bed, castrated, and had his dick shoved into his mouth. The police think it may have been the work of a jealous husband, but are not ruling out..."
Juanita had covered her mouth with her hand and ran from the kitchen towards the bathroom. I had a satisfied smirk on my face, because Darren had gotten his, and now Juanita was reaping the emotions that run through your mind when it seems that a former lover of yours was brutally murdered by someone thought to be "a jealous husband."
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My mind rolled back over our life together; we met just out of college. I was hanging with some friends in a bar and she was there with some of her friends. Juanita wasn't the prettiest one of the bunch, but by far not the ugliest. My buds slowly paired up with her group, and we ended up chatting and one thing lead to another. Seventeen months later, we were married.
We had a normal marriage, a few ups and downs, a son, Bryan, after a year and a daughter, Amber, two years after that. They are both married and one lives in a town an hour away, while my son lives about three hours away in the other direction. We lived our lives making time for baseball games, basketball games, piano lessons, and other after school activities. Neither of the kids were good enough to get a scholarship, so we were still paying off their student loans (and would be for the next seven years) which kept us on a fairly tight budget. Neither Juanita nor I worked jobs that required much travel nor overtime, so we knew where the other one was, because we were usually at home with the kids, doing things as a family. So, there we are, I'm Jack and 47 to Juanita's 46, and we're still in decent shape. She says I look better now than I did when we met; I think the same of her, as the few pounds she added to the curves in all the right places.
It was only a week ago on Wednesday, that I was rummaging through the "junk drawer" in my wife's dresser, looking for the sewing kit to fix a seam in my lucky bowling shirt, when I saw a red leather bound book. It had the words "Dear Diary" on the front and I couldn't believe that Juanita still kept her old diary from when she was young. I wondered if it covered the time when we met and what she had to say about me. I cautioned myself that it may not be very flattering, as I was more infatuated with her, than her with me, at first.
I was shocked when the date on the top of the first page was March 15, 2011, only two and a half years ago! My curiosity piques, I began to read how a younger English coworker of hers, a Darren Scott, had begun to flirt a lot with her. She was concerned that he may be trying to seduce her, but wrote "that will never happen." She noted that as a mid forties woman, it made her feel young and attractive again, and she didn't realize how much she missed that kind of excitement in her life.
She wrote that the reason for this diary was that she was bursting at the seams to tell someone about this, but she couldn't tell anyone because several of her girlfriends had bragged about over the boundary flirting to her, and she always chastised them severely for even considering to flirt back, knowing how easily these things get out of control and end in a messy divorce. Obviously, she couldn't confide in her husband on this subject, hence the diary. She promises herself to keep it light and never let things go too far.
Over the next few weeks, she laments that her children don't need her anymore and it was only going to be worse after Amber got married and moved away. She also commented that I'm as boring as staring at a picture of an albino cow in a blizzard. She notes that I joined a Wednesday night bowling league recently and she hardly notices when I'm not there. She complains that if this is all she has to look forward to in life, she'll just go crazy!
I looked up from the book, and rhetorically asked aloud, "Why didn't she say something to me? I had no idea it was so bad for her? I'll have to think of something to spice things up a bit..."
Then I went back to reading and my mood went from sympathetic and sad, to angry and hurt. She began to rationalize how having a one-time fling with Darren would add a little spice to her life. She added that I could benefit as well. She had other reasons, which were all bullshit of course, why she should do it, but just once.
Finally, she decided that if she was very careful and discrete, she could do this dastardly deed "for our benefit," and not get caught. They planned and agreed to meet at the Seaside Motel, room thirty-two after taking the afternoon off. She had all these romantic notions of how this and that would be, after being lead down the path to marital destruction by a silver tongued, experienced player and wife-seducer.
Reality had a rude awakening planned for her. We don't live in an immaculate home, as we were the neighborhood home where all the kids came over to play. Our home was usually cluttered with toys, video games, sports equipment, or whatever they were doing that day. The kids would pick it up, of course, but keeping the "neighborhood playhouse" spotless would've taken too much time from being with our family. We were clean, but not "Mr. Clean" clean. Room thirty-two of the Seaside Motel, which was about thirty years past its prime, was far below even our definition of a clean hotel room. Juanita immediately began to worry about bugs, and if the sheets were replaced after the last occupants. She was very detailed and descriptive of this event.
Lust pushed all those thoughts form the forefront of her mind as Darren began his physical seduction. Soon, they were naked and doing the horizontal mambo. When she started to get fully aroused, Darren began to talk, "I bet old Jack can't fuck you this way, can he?"
She didn't know how to respond, so she ignored him, concentrating on acting more aroused to help Darren's ego. "That feels so good...keep doing it!"
