The next night, I 'went out with the girls from work'. In truth, he took me to a very expensive restaurant on the other side of town. It was to celebrate the victory he had in court and to thank me for everything I did to help. It probably won't be a surprise to tell you that the restaurant was inside one of the fancier hotels. It probably also won't surprise you to know that he had already booked a room in said hotel. Two hours after walking out of the restaurant, I rode the elevator back down to the lobby. Yes, I made use of the shower in the room. I was careful to not get my hair wet, though. He used condoms, so I didn't need to worry about cleaning anything inside of me out.
We got together two or three times a week. Typical clichés, long lunches in a motel room, working late on the conference room table, 'girls' night out', bent over his desk with the door locked for a 'meeting'. He wasn't any bigger or thicker than Mark. The only thing about him was that he was younger, more fit, better stamina, and a quicker recovery. Mark kept himself in good shape. He was an attentive lover as well. It wasn't his fault; it was just that age was beginning to catch up with him.
I really don't know how he found out. He never told me. When I asked, he just said that if he told me, I would change that and make it harder to for him the next time. Unfortunately for me, he meant the next time when I cheated on my next husband.
The confrontation happened when I came home from work one evening. It happened to be a day that I hadn't even seen my lover. I knew something was wrong when I walked in the door. Heather, Connor, and Mark were sitting in the livingroom waiting for me. I noticed that they all had angry looks on their faces. It was bad. It was worse than bad. There were photos. There was documentation. There were even high definition and in living color videos. I had thought, stupidly, that we were somewhat discrete. Nope. There were even signed testimonials from several of my coworkers and bosses. Even Sarah wrote and signed one. The last folder contained the divorce petition. Included in the paperwork for that was the prenup.
Oh, yes. The prenup. Remember how I mentioned that the lawyer was concerned about the harsh penalties? Perhaps I underplayed that a bit. Although it was basically a moot point now, the injured party got full custody of the children and could dictate the terms for visitation. Even though that would no longer apply because the kids were now adults, the kids made it clear that I would be eliminated from their lives. The injured party would get 100-percent of the assets, minus what the other party brought into the marriage. What I brought in was a decrepit car on its last legs, two suitcases full of clothes, and $203 in my checking account. There would be no spousal maintenance. I was about to leave the house with just over 200 dollars in cash, two suitcases of clothes, and driving a beater car with just over a quarter tank of gas. Since I couldn't take all my clothes, I had to decide on functionality over anything else. Sure, the $4,000 designer gown was awesome, but how often would I wear it? OK, I could sell it for about a quarter of its value, but was that worth taking up valuable space in my suitcase?
At least I still had my job. Sure, my lifestyle would be taking an abrupt hit, but I was still making enough money to afford a small apartment and survive. Sarah's letter about my affair should probably have given me a clue. Seriously, who reads the company manual regarding workplace romances? No, there wasn't anything there about any fucking morality clause. It was a law firm; morals are large paintings on the walls. What there was in there was a paragraph about sexual harassment. OK, I was not being sexually harassed, but he was technically a supervisor. He was a lawyer, and I was a secretary. He held power over me. As soon as I arrived the next morning, security escorted me to HR. Following a very unpleasant meeting, security escorted me to my desk and watched as I packed up my personal belongings. I have no idea if it was a coincidence or not, but my lover and I were both escorted out of the building at the same time. I can now laugh about that. Not only did the four security officers see him punch me in the face, but it was also caught on the security cameras. He did 6-months in lockup and lost his license to practice law. I didn't bother to sue him. There was nothing to take. He wasn't rich yet, and he just lost everything he had. Anything I would have managed to win would just be taken by the lawyer anyway.
It would be two years later that I would find out that he was arrested for trying to rob a convenience store. He used a gun that he somehow managed to acquire. Unfortunately, that gun had been used in a drive-by shooting previously. He was sentenced to 20-years. Naturally, the gang members of the banger that was shot wanted vengeance. In order to protect himself from retaliation, he had to make a few deals with his cellmate and his cellmate's friends. I should probably mention that he was completely straight and just the thought of homosexuality made him sick. He wasn't the husband in the relationship, and his cellmate had no issues with allowing his friends access to his 'wife'. No, he wasn't killed in prison, at least not to this date. There was a riot at the prison a few years after he was sentenced. Apparently, a deal was made between his cellmate and the gang after revenge. Sometime during the riot, the gang managed to grab him. He was found about an hour after the riot was quashed. They used a rubber band and wrapped it around the base of his testicles. A tin can lid was used to cut them off below the rubber band to keep him from bleeding out.
It took two weeks of living in my car to break down. Yeah, taking a couple of those expensive dresses to try and sell would have been a good idea if I could actually get on the internet and list them for sale. Yes, I did try the public library, but you need to have an actual checking account and a way for someone to pay you in order to sell them. It also takes a week or two in order to sell them. I would be out of money long before I could get any money for them. Even then, that money would not last very long. Forget even thinking about another job. 'You probably shouldn't use us for a reference.' As I was being escorted out of the HR office pretty much told me everything I needed to know. How do you explain to a prospective employer working for one company your entire adult life and having them give you a reference stating that they would rather hire a drunk monkey with extremely poor hygiene and a bad temper before they even considered your application? Then, they would just laugh and move to the psychopathic serial killer with a penchant for bringing guns into the workplace. The skinny, acne-faced manager at Taco Bell laughed in my face when I presented him with my application.
I was camping in my car down by the lake when I made the decision. Why not? I had nothing to lose. The worst case was that the answer would be some form of FUCK NO! All that would do is just land me in the exact position I was already in. Having made the decision, I used the cover of darkness to slip naked into the water to bathe. I took the small piece of soap that I managed to take with me and washed as best as I could. I even took my best dress into the water with me to wash it. I then hung it out under a tree to dry.
The beater car that I was given to drive away in must have belonged to a woman. I found a used lipstick and a couple other almost used up cosmetics in the console. Not my colors, but it was better than nothing.
Dressed in my best dress and made up as well as I could, I rang the doorbell. It was about 10:00 at night on a Friday. I figured that the kids would be out, since they didn't have school the next day. With the kids out, it would be the best time to grovel and beg my ex-husband for mercy. I had begged and pleaded before, but it had done no good. I was more desperate now. I hadn't eaten in two days. It was now autumn, and I could feel winter coming. Sleeping in the back seat of my car, while uncomfortable laying on the bench seat meant for sitting, not laying, was bearable so far. Once winter hit, it would be below freezing. I doubt that I would survive a week.
I didn't even have the chance to ring the doorbell. The door opened just as I stepped up onto the porch. I should have figured on the Ring camera. Mark had probably pulled up the video feed on his phone the moment I stopped my car in front of the house. The real surprise was the person who opened the door.
"What the fuck are you doing here, Slut?"
"Please, Heather. I'm desperate. I know you all hate me for what I did, but I need to speak to your father. Please, just give me 15-minutes. I'm begging you."
She looked at me as she thought for a minute. "Stay here. I'll ask dad if he has any interest in listening to anything you have to say."
With that, she slammed the door in my face. As I stood waiting, I could hear voices inside. After a few minutes, I heard laughter. Well, at least they seemed to be in a good mood. That was a positive. If they were happy, there was a better chance that they would let me in and at least listen to me. I waited for about five minutes before the door opened again.
"Good news, Slut." Heather said. "Daddy is in a good mood. Besides, there isn't really anything good on the TV tonight, so he is looking for some entertainment. We could use a good laugh as you regale us with whatever bullshit you need to spout."
I almost broke down as my formerly loving daughter spewed such hatred at me. I knew that she was angry at me for cheating on her daddy, but the vitriol in her voice was much more than I had expected. True, she was always much closer to Mark, but we still had a great relationship. I thought of all those trips to the mall clothes shopping, teaching her how to fix her hair, how to apply her makeup, coaching her through her first period and subsequent puberty, shopping for her prom dress, talking to her about sex, and all the other intimate moments that a mother and daughter share throughout a lifetime. The depth of the hatred she was showing astounded me.
