Unbelievable

I enjoy fishing. It's my primary hobby and I'd say I am quite an enthusiast. Some close friends and I had leased a cabin in the mountains for us to fish at the nearby lake for the weekend. Unfortunately one of them had suffered a minor stroke on the way up and we rushed him to the emergency room. He was fine but our nerves were frazzled and no one felt like doing much of anything afterwards. So I found myself pulling back into my driveway about 11 pm on this Friday evening.

My wife and I are empty-nesters. We live a good life and have nice things due to both of our lucrative careers. I have made plans to retire in the next year or so and enjoy the remainder of my time on Earth traveling and sightseeing with her. She has told me on several occasions that she was unsure about retiring early, as we are both in our fifties. I reassure that we are more than comfortable and we should relish these years and our grandchildren.

As I wheel up to the house I notice that she's left the garage door open and I pull up beside her expensive SUV. It was one of those prestige things that she just had to have, but we could afford it so que sera sera. I think about unloading the camping and fishing gear from the rear of my truck though I'm really pooped and decide to put it off until the morning.

I enter the house through the garage door, passed the mudroom and into the kitchen. I call out but hear only the television in the living room. I assume she's fallen asleep on the couch, and as I enter I notice it's on one of those inane meatless brain-rotting programs she enjoys like Real Wives of So and So or 90 Day Fiancé. She's no where to be found though. It's at this point that I hear a noise coming from upstairs.

I make my way up the stairs and as I do my stomach drops and the hairs on the back of my neck are all standing on end. I hear the unmistakable sound of flesh slapping against flesh and the guttural, primal grunts and moans that accompany the procreation process. I quietly make my way to the master bedroom, of which the door is wide open. There's no one there, but I find a full overnight gym bag and a man's jacket on the bed. The sounds I'm hearing are apparently emanating from the guest room down the hall.

I stalk as softly as I can down the hall to the door. It's slightly ajar, and I damned sure don't want to peer inside, but I have to. In retrospect I don't think it'd have mattered if I'd had a brick of fire crackers and a megaphone. There, on the guest bed which at one time had been our daughter's, was my wife of almost thirty years laying on her back, legs spread obscenely wide. She was being railed by a young man who was probably very close in age to our own son. It's odd what things you notice in traumatic moments like this. In this case I saw that he was very fit and muscular, something I've not been since college, and he hammered away at her with what appeared to be the largest male member that I have ever seen. He was grunting and she moaned and was mumbling semi incoherently to give it to her.

I retreated. I almost literally cast myself away from the door. Was I angry? I was furious! Was I hurt? Beyond belief! The predominant feeling I had was akin to stepping off a curb and narrowly miss being struck by an oncoming Metro bus. Not relief of course, just pure shock.

I stood there for what seemed like an eternity hearing my world crash down around me, though I'm sure it was probably no more than thirty or forty seconds. What to do......what to do.......

The thought of retrieving a firearm and ending their little party flashed into my mind, but from deep somewhere inside I talked myself out of that. I made my way, nauseously, back down the hall and the stairs. I passed photos of family and memories and a life built together. It was all garbage now. Just lies. How long had this been going on? Was it the first time or perhaps just the one time I was fortunate, was that even the right word, to have caught her. Who was the young man? Someone she worked with or more correctly someone who worked for her? Someone she'd met at that damned gym she was addicted to going to? She went four times a week religiously. She took great pride in how she looked, especially at our age. She'd even gone so far as having breast augmentation about 5 years ago. And here all this time I thought I was the sole beneficiary to her temple of a body.

All of these crazed, incongruent thoughts raced through my head as I found myself back in the kitchen. I had to get out of here, I thought. For the first time I noticed a sack from a popular national sporting goods store lying on the table. I opened it to find a very expensive reel I'd mentioned I'd like to have. My birthday was in two weeks so this must have been for that. There was also a card in the bag, and she'd already written in it. "My Darling, I love you with all my heart and hope that this small token makes your life as pleasurable and happy as you have mine. All my love, Your Wife" ALL YOUR LOVE?!! ALL YOUR FUCKING LOVE??!!!! Are you kidding me??

My eyes glazed over as I looked at the bag on the table. I still felt as though I'd be sick. I was numb, and angry. .............fuck this. Fuck all this! I pried the gold band from my finger, and set it on the table. I stumbled like a zombie back out to the garage. Go through the motions....open door...seat belt...key in ignition....foot on brake.....reverse...backing out.....

I'm on the highway, the glare from headlights and interstate signage blurred by tears. I'll have to make arrangements.....call the kids at some point. I can't believe this is happening to me. Somebody was going to eat shit over this, and it wasn't going to be me. Up ahead in the distance, silhouetted in the night sky are the mountains....