Cheaters Never Win Ch. 02

Still no noises from our bedroom. Even the toilet had not been flushed though it would have been hard to hear.

Moving from the dining room table to the kitchen, my hands full of dishes, I slipped the silverware and dishes into the dishwasher and closed its door gently. Pushing it fully closed would start it. Sherrie always reset it upon opening it as she put the dishes away.

I walked up the two steps entering the hallway to the bedroom.

Testing the door, I found it was still locked.

"Sherrie?" I called out and listened for any rustling indicating she was getting up.

Nothing.

"Sherrie?" I called out much louder and rapped on the door.

Nothing again.

Lord, I thought. She must be angry with me.

"SHERRIE" I called out as I pounded on the bedroom door.

Desperately I called out yelling, "Open up, Honey. We need to talk this out, get counseling and see if our marriage can survive. LET ME IN, HONEY!"

Nothing

I began to worry. She had to be in there as she could not have left and the door be locked. Or could she? Strange, I could not remember how the door locked. I never used that door's lock, I think.

I ran to the garage. Maybe she had sneaked out while I was sleeping. The cars where in the garage. The garage doors were closed.

Beginning to panic, I quickly searched the rest of the house. I even went out side thinking she may have fallen while climbing out the bedroom window. I knew I wasn't making sense but I had to think of everything. My anxiety level was over the top. I thought to my self, is the way I feel now what patients tell me a panic attack feels like? I was desperate. I was confused. I panicked! My heart raced.

Looking back, I now see that my thinking was not entirely logical. Where had my dispassionate cool ER doctor demeanor gone? My stress level was way out of logical range and increasing by the second. Where had she gone? How had she gotten out of the house without my knowledge? Why had she left me? What had I caused?

She left no goodbye notes and everything seemed in order. This was so not like her.

I noticed that she had left her purse by her favorite chair in the great room. It had not gotten up and moved since she came in last night. Usually she takes it with her to the bedroom at night but I guess, in the heat of last nights "battle" she had forgotten to take it with her to our bedroom and wasn't going to come out to retrieve it knowing I was there to confront her. Even as disturbed as she had been, I feel sure if she had left, she surely would have taken her purse.

Now I was really worried. She was in the bedroom and not responding. I really panicked now.

Running to the bedroom door once again, I pounded heavily on the door using my knuckles and slapping the door with my bare hands with all my strength. I remember calling out as loud as I could but!

Nothing.....

I stepped back and kicked the door in; it fell half off in a loud crash against her dresser.

With a thump of my foot, I smashed the door flat to the floor, as I raced the final steps in to see her calmly sleeping on her back in bed. There was a faint smile on her face.

She was very pale, even bluish. I watched very carefully for signs of breathing but she was not moving even the slightest. Her eyes were closed and there was drool from the left side of her mouth as her head was turned slightly towards me.

I rushed to her but I knew it was too late. The bed was neatly made with the bedspread covering even the pillows under here head. She was dressed to the "T". Her lipstick was impeccable. She had done her hair her nails and face in preparation for this. Her dress was her Sunday best. She even had her special hose and heels on. Her beautiful body lay on its back and her hands folded across her upper abdomen. She was already cool and that awful pale gray color of death. Her body was already stiff. Indicating she had been dead at least several hours. No breath. No pulse. The unique smell of death pervaded the room. How well I knew that terminal odor. It was putrid bowel gas odor from a relaxed anal sphincter.

A pill bottle, rested on her bedside nightstand along with an almost empty glass of water.

I called the coroner. We had interacted many times because of bodies being brought to the ER for me to pronounced them dead.

He called the fire rescue which was totally unnecessary but it was city protocol. I hated it. A doctor could not pronounce death outside the hospital setting. I knew an autopsy was likely mandatory as she had not died of known "natural" causes and I was the last to see her alive.

The house was soon buzzing with activity. The Fire Rescue squad was sending an EKG to a colleague in our ER. They then stopped CPR after speaking with an ER doctor on duty. (My word was not good enough for them...The bastards had foiled my wife's attempt to stay dressed for her final trip but I guess her trip had ended sometime during the night.) Then the police showed up to determine if this was a crime scene. They found a suicide note, which had been trapped under the bedroom door, which they had discovered while searching the room. I had not seen it. Initially, I had all but collapsed, on the bed next to her lifeless form. I asked to see it but the kindly cop had it already in a plastic bag for "evidence". Nevertheless, he relented and allowed me to read it but only after, I put on gloves to prevent my fingerprints from contaminating the crime scene.

Here is her final note.

"Jon, our marriage is over. I knew it was over for the last week but I played the final part well, did I not? My Ex is an evil man yet I, like the proverbial moth, was attracted to his light (His cock). He and I were toxic to each other. We ruined our daughter. He sired your son and I hid it. I deserve to burn in hell and will undoubtedly do so but I am taking a very restful ride on the way there.

My Ex has AIDS and far advanced Syphilis. He is a mad man. He never told me and never revealed my name to the health department investigators so I never knew until last week. Last week after having sex at the motel, he laughed at me and told me he had given me his AIDS and syphilis, or at least had tried. That is when Sammie, who had witnessed his tirade and had been molested for years as a child, attacked him. She somehow knew where to find us. I knew he had molested and raped her years ago but had I done nothing to protect her, as I feared him yet was drawn to him. Is that a psychiatric sickness, sin or just plain stupid?

That same afternoon I went to the health department to be tested. To my horror, I had a preliminary positive for both HIV and Syphilis. He had given them to me much earlier. That is why I have refused sex with you this past week. I know it might be too late but I was not going to endanger you once I found out the horrible truth of my condition. Fortunately, you never approached me for sex last week.

I really did love you but I had a dark side that I successfully hid for many years. It was my final undoing. Please remember me for the good times we had together. Tell the kids I loved them. Sherrie"

That was her end.

I redressed her body, best I could and we all wrapped her in a sheet. The funeral home attendants placed her in the ambulance and to be taken to the morgue to await autopsy on Monday. The policeman took my statement and advised me not to leave town. A search of our bedroom and bath revealed only the empty prescription bottle for sedatives. It was confiscated. It had been filled with thirty capsules just day before yesterday. I knew she had no chance if she took all of them at once, which she apparently did.

I thought to myself, "She took the easy way out." Then I thought, maybe she knew this was the easy way out for me also. Maybe she knew what my painful options were, and loving me and wanting to not hurt me even more, she took the easy way out for the both of us. Now I felt as if she had sacrificed herself for her family. I could not hate her now. I could not leave her now. We would not be divorced. She avoided painful counseling. I think she trusted me not to tell of her dark side to her family and friends. I kept her secret. Her Ex could no longer continue whatever evil hold he had had on her. She could no longer cheat. She was free and so was I. I hoped God would forgive her.

I was surprised at how I was managing. We had not had the big fight for which I had prepared. She had admitted to a lot. There was enough to satisfy me. I lost whatever need or interest I had previously had in the PI report.

Everything so important was now useless. I felt a great burden lift yet was unprepared for the silence at home and the great loss in spite of the terrible last week.

Epilogue

We buried her next to her mom and step dad.

Her life insurance of many years (which I had paid for since our marriage) eventually gave me what seemed to be a small fortune. The courts gave me full custody and then adoption of my son. This with the help of my lawyer, my mom's friend.

It was a bittersweet gift.

I never told my son who his biologic father was. He handled his mom's death in a more mature fashion than I thought possible. He and I are still tight.

I paid the PI but never accepted or read his final report. I suppose it has gone through his shredder. I thanked my lawyer and she never billed me. Seems her old friendship with my mom did have value. I suspect mom paid her somehow but I never found out if that were true or not.

Sammie and I have reconciled. Her mothers cheating on me and her not protecting her from her father's sexual predatory abuse and incest had destroyed their relationship. Her demons still torment her but through intense counseling and my unconditional love, she is finally making good progress toward normalcy.

We all three tested negative to all the STD's.

Sherrie's Ex died a gradual terrible death due to tertiary syphilis with syphilitic dementia complicated by AIDS. His demise was slow and agonizing. The excruciating, lancinating pains of Dorsal Thalamic Tract disease tortured him incessantly . He frequently screamed out in obvious pain and in terrible terror with the demons attacking his waning sanity. No medicine ever helped prevent or alleviate his pain. His doctors seemed rightfully frustrated with his unresponsiveness to their pain relief medicines.

Emaciation finally took its tole. He died alone as a known child molester and sexual predator. No one mourned the death of this evil, broken and tormented soul.

I paid for his cremation. At last the fire of Sodom and Gomorrah came to him at my hands, even though he was already dead.

To me, the disease, which inflicted the untreatable pain and torture along with a slow death, was an entirely appropriate judgment. He was dead by and at his own hands but the scars he left on us all would last our lifetimes. I could not have done it better. He had started his trip into hell well before his physical death. I wondered what could have caused him to be so evil. I lost no sleep trying to answer this question. He was dead and deserved to be gone and forgotten.

I escaped all the awful the options my lawyer had outlined. I saw that punishment including his final lonely prolonged death as justice. I had done nothing, yet perfect justice occurred in the end.

I guess God knew what He is doing. He told us the wages of sin is death. Sherrie and her ex did not take heed to the warning. I still harbor hope for heaven for her.

Sometimes it is better not to get involved in pursuing retribution.

Realdoc