Cheating Wife, but So Much FIXED!

"One, I live here."

Blink.

"Two, you will show Steve and I respect. He is in my life just as much as you are."

Blink.

"Third, we will all move forward, together, with our lives. It's not just Noah and Heather, it's Noah, Heather, and Steve."

"Hey, I have a question. Does he get a ring? Did he give you another ring, so you've got two? I didn;t notice. Did you two do the whole ring thing out in the cow pasture? Do Steve and I exchange rings and get our own bullshit witchcraft ceremony like yours? How does that all work? And, Skipper, do your parents know you are destroying another man's marriage by fucking his wife?"

"Noah, I love how funny you are, but right now you are using humor as a sword and a shield. I need you to drop it and be here, HERE with me. With us. We aren't attacking you, and you don't need to attack us."

"I'm really not feeling that last one. This all still feels very much like a sustained, premeditated, six-month long attack."

"It's not. You are the one attacking, Noah. Please stop. If you love me, and I know you do, you'll stop."

This bullshit went on a while longer, and I felt... disappointed? Disgusted, more like it. Disgusted with myself that I let her talk at all. She went on and on about her vision of our future, how this would all work out in the end to be the perfect love story.

Throughout her fountain of fantasy, my guts had been rolling in turmoil. I felt sick, horrified, ashamed, enraged, a caravan of wild emotions flowing through me. But as she continued, as I really heard her recount the same insanity over and over, it started to sink in. Shame burned away in anger's flames. Horror died at the hands of hate. Fear of the consequences of my next move fled in the face of the fierce retribution I required. Sickness subsided and gave way to a flat, stony resolve. Sacrifices needed to be made.

"Stop!"

"Fine. I've been saying the same thing in different ways enough. The fighting must end, Noah."

"It just did. Listen, I want to apologize to you, Heather." God, her face when I said that. Her big brown eyes went wide and swelled with tears and her face... fuck me, she almost unmanned me there. That was the face she made when I asked her to marry me. But anger, hate and disgust propelled me forward.

"This has all been a hell of a lot to take in, and it's had me off balance. I haven't been rational. I see that now. And that has caused me to be... inconsistent. In one breath I tell you to get out and in the next I demand you be intimate with me. That was inconsistent and confusing, and for that, I apologize."

"Oh Noah! You get it! You finally see it, don't you?"

"I do. So, from here on out, there will be no more misunderstanding. No more weakness. No more indecision. I see my future now. And, while it's not exactly what you envision... well, let me paint you a picture." I paused for dramatic effect and took a deep breath.

"GET THE FUCK OT OF MY HOUSE YOU DEGENERATE FUCKING MORONS!"

I went to the front door and threw it wide, then went to the pile of boxes still sitting in the front room. I picked one up and chucked it out the door, letting it tumble down the half flight of steps and onto the walkway.

"Noah!"

"Feel free to help out," I said as I went for another. Unfortunately, that one was mostly clothes and didn't make any crashing sounds as it landed next to the first one. Maybe the next one would sound better.

"Dude! Stop it!" Steve tried to intervene. Thank God.

He grabbed the box and tried to wrestle it from my hands, and while his strength was superior to mine, I had him my size and weight. I moved to my right, putting his back to the doorway, and shoved, hard. I had visions of him cartwheeling down the stairs, landing in a broken pile of blood and bone, but all I managed to do was get him a couple of feet past the door frame. It was enough.

I dropped the box and he took the weight of it, throwing him off balance just enough to slow him down while I slammed the door in his face. A flick of the deadbolt and he was locked out.

He quickly started kicking at the door, hard, while I whipped out my cell phone.

"Noah, what the hell?"

"Shut up, slut." 911 picked up quickly.

"Hi, I've got some guy trying to break into my apartment... yeah, that sound is him kicking my door! I need police here now!" I thumbed the mute button and spoke loudly to the room.

"Get out, slut!" And I slapped my own arm, hard. The slap sound rang out and I know Steve heard it because he redoubled his efforts. I turned the volume back on and gave my address.

"Please hurry! His name is Steve Asher and I think he wants to kill me! Hurry! Please!" It hurt my pride a little to squeal like such a bitch, but I had to play the part. As expected, Heather went for the door. This was the dicey part.

She flipped the deadbolt just a half second before another heavy kick broke the basic latch out of the door frame, sending the heavy door flying open and right into Heather's face. The force pushed her away from the opening and she fell to the floor, and in came Ripper. He had blood in his eyes and came after me like a man possessed, not even noticing that he knocked Heather out of the way to get to me.

I won't lie, the next few minutes were terrifying. I let that first fist land square on my face, just below my left eye. I didn't lift a hand to defend myself, just tried to manage where he hit me. The second blow came from his left hand and I managed to take that one on the nose. My face exploded in a fountain of blood, and I won't lie, about that time I thought my plan was fucking ridiculous.

Steve was cursing me out the whole time he let his rage rule him, and I started just trying to not take any more damage from him. I deflected some shots, took some body hits, and never took a swing back at him. I started wondering how long it takes the cops to show up after a 911 call. I had lost my phone in the fight but last I knew it was still on with them.

Heather managed to get in front of him and he was an inch away from knocking her right the fuck out when he pulled the punch.

"Stop it stop it stop it! Jesus Christ, stop it!"

"That motherfucker hit you! I'll fucking kill him!" He looked at her face and saw the bruise already forming in the red spot on her cheek from the door hitting her.

"He never hit me, Steve, YOU did!"

"What? No! Never!"

"You knocked me down when you kicked in the door, asshole!" Oh, that was sweet! I was still on my feet, just barely, looking around for my phone. I hoped to God they got all that recorded.

"Get out of my apartment! Get out! Leave me alone!" I yelled.

"Steve, you need to go! Look at what you did!" I felt like I was a wreck. My left eye was half swollen and my nose wasn't working. I tasted blood and my arms were bruising up from the pummeling I had taken defending myself. I smiled, knowing he had given me exactly what I wanted. He met my eyes and I think he saw it too.

"Motherfucker..."

He turned and fled, headed out to the parking lot. Heather came to me, her face caring and concerned, all worried about her beat up husband.

"Oh my God, are you OK?"

"You and your boyfriend just need to go, OK? Get out! GET OUT! Leave me alone!" I tried to get some weepy pleading into my voice and I'm not sure how well I managed, but it worked. She looked torn for a moment, not sure which of her 'true loves' needed her most, then made a decision.

"I'll be back." Then she left after Steve.

It took me a minute to find the phone as it was half under the couch. 911 was still on the line.

"Sir? Are you OK? Do you need an ambulance?"

"I'll live. Might have a broken nose. But they left. You heard that, though, right? She said they'd be back!"

"I heard. I have units on the way. Get to a safe place, a neighbor's unit or a public place."

"They are out of the apartment, but the door is broken open. I'm... I'm going to a neighbor's place, I think."

"Keep yourself safe. Do you know your assailant?"

"Yeah, Steve Asher. I know where he lives, too." I gave them the address and stepped out on my porch. Some neighbors were out rubbernecking from the ruckus. Carla and Jim, and older couple just to the south of us, came over and fussed over me a bit. Both Steve and Heather's cars were gone. Maybe five minutes later a couple of squad cars rolled in, lights flashing and drawing more spectators to the lot.

I told them the story, most of it anyway. I explained how my wife brought her boyfriend over and he took a disliking to me. With the damage to my face and the door and the story they heard from the dispatcher, I was well and truly the victim. They took my statement and some pictures, and an ambulance did show up a few minutes later. I let them do a little first aid but refused a ride to the hospital. They said my nose was probably broken but that was likely the worst of it.

It didn't take long. I heard it come over the radio before the cops told me -- they had him in custody. Sounded like he gave them some trouble too -- I head the word 'subdued.' I was asked if I wanted to press charges and I said hell yes, I damn well do.

That whole mess took a while, but eventually the ambulance and cops left, after checking to make sure the dead bolt would still lock securely. I slumped into my easy chair and groaned. It was late and I was tired. I texted my boss and let him know I wouldn't be in on Friday, then let my head fall back and fell asleep. I heard my phone chirp at me as I drifted off, but didn't check it. Some hours later I woke and relocated to the bed for the rest of the night, nothing the flood of texts on my phone. From Heather. I smiled as I drifted off again.

Friday morning, I called some lawyers back and got an appointment for the next week. After that I packed up the boxes still in my living room and took them across the state to Heather's parents place, almost two hours away. Betty and Jim looked like they wanted to hate me when they came out of the house, but when they saw my face, they softened. Heather had called them and told them God knows what. I told them the truth. Most of it, anyway. Jim couldn't face me after I explained Steve and the wedding in Colorado, and Betty just covered her mouth with her hand as tears rolled out of her wide eyes. I thanked them for being so good to me, but told them we'd likely not see each other again as I would absolutely be divorcing their daughter.

Then I went to an urgent care clinic. I was in a hell of a lot of pain. They did what they could and set me up with an appointment with a cosmetic surgeon to see if they can keep me from becoming a horrifying bridge troll like the little fucker who hit me.

Heather had been calling and texting all day and I ignored them all. I didn't want to go home because I was a sitting duck there, so I called a friend from work who I knew had recently bought a big house to renovate. I asked if I could crash in a spare room if I helped him swing hammers and push saws for a while. He readily agreed and I swung by the apartment to pack a few bags.

Heather was there.

She looked like she hadn't slept and was in the same clothes as the night before. I even saw some of my blood on her blouse. The bruise on her face was halfway nasty, too. I can only hope she was with Steve when the cops arrived and she had to explain how she got that. She was lying on the couch as I entered the apartment and sat up to face me. Her lovely face was stained with tears, her eyes puffy from crying, her whole demeanor wrecked with worry. I smirked wickedly at her.

"Why, Noah?"

"Heather, you are truly lost. Get some help."

"He's in jail!"

"Where he belongs, yes. Maybe he can teach his giant rapist cellmate the whole tantric thing."

"How can you be so cruel? I love him!"

"And I once loved you. But you killed that love. Tell me how RIGHT this all feels now, idiot."

"My parents think I'm some kind of freak!"

"They aren't wrong, Princess. Hey, quick question. That 'marriage' you had in Colorado... did you sign the paper? The marriage certificate?"

"Of course. We got married."

"Wonders never cease. That's bigamy right there, an actual crime."

"No, Steve said it was OK."

"Sure. Looks like you believed a lot of bullshit Steve had to say. Let me lay it out for you; conviction of an actual crime leads to loss of security clearance which leads to you losing your job. In the last week you've lost your real husband, illegally gained a new one who is right now in jail, and committed a crime that will destroy your career. You are so fucking stupid."

She deflated, her little show of anger flowing out of her. I thought she might cry, but I didn't stick around to find out. I went to the bedroom and pulled my suitcases from the closet, then filled them with a couple weeks of necessities. A quick pass through the bathroom and I had all I really needed. Anything left I had to assume would be available for her to steal or destroy and I mentally let go of it all. Better to start fresh, and if I was able to retrieve it someday, fine.

I headed for the door and she was still on the couch, slumped down and looking defeated, destroyed, desolated. I picked up my work backpack with my PC and important documents from the kitchen table and threw it over my shoulder, then headed for the door.

"I'll see a lawyer next week and have them send you the info. Anything you need to say to me, you say to the lawyer instead. Bother me again and I'll have a restraining order on you in a flash. Keep your mutt away from me, too."

"You can't divorce me, Noah. I love you." She said it with such a small, pitiful voice, like she could barely push the noise out of her mouth.

"Fuck you, Heather." And I left.

I headed back to my friend's place, unloaded the car, grabbed a beer and set up my laptop, then got slowly drunk and wrote this all out. I don't entirely know what's next, but I know I am done with that shit-show. I expect it will take a while and cost a ton of money, but I'll be damned if I spend one more minute listening to that raving lunatic cheating whore. I am entirely committed to divorce, like I should have been the very second I found out she had cheated on me. I admit, I faltered, I stumbled, I was confused and I suffered a moment of weakness. That will not happen again.