A Simple Case of Infidelity

It didn't take long; the following Wednesday I was out on the sidewalk when the Lexus pulled up, and the guy got out. It was him; shaggy blond hair, tall, well built, the same man. I watched him walk up and ring the doorbell. I saw Leslie come to the door. She kissed him on the cheek. He took her arm and walked her to his car. She was wearing a light weight suede coat I'd never seen before. She looked good. She was laughing and smiling. She was happy. I got several pictures. I had all I needed.

~~v~~

So Leslie and I were seated there on 'our' sofa. She and I nearly completely unclothed. Her ready for a raucous time. Me something else. I kissed her one long last time, "Darling can you wait just one second?"

She squeezed my penis, "Just a second now."

I smiled, "I have to get something," I quickly rose, slipped to the stairs, and dashed up to what used to be our bedroom. I found the white envelope with the pictures I'd downloaded, and went back. I sat back down and dropped the envelope on her lap. I could already see the moisture oozing from her nether lips.

She took it and held it, "What's this?"

I said, "A present. Open it."

She did. There were only three pictures; one of the Lexus clearly parked in front of her parent's house, another of her walking to his car, and a last showing her giving him that little kiss.

Leslie didn't say anything. She put the pictures back in the envelope. She turned and looked at me. I knew the look. I wasn't buying it anymore. She said, "I can explain..."

I interrupted her, "His name is Richard Weatherby. You knew him before you met me. You'd just stopped dating him before you moved to Western Maryland. In fact I have a hunch you moved away to get away; he'd broken things off with you."

Leslie looked stupefied; no she looked guilty. She had the look of someone who knew they'd been caught and knew they couldn't get around it. I went on, "While you were in college he was too. You and he dated off and on all through college. He went to Wake Forest, then he got a job selling insurance. I was told his first wife was the daughter of one of the partners. That marriage lasted a few years. They divorced, he remarried, but his second marriage went down the tubes last September."

I summoned my courage, "When did you start acting differently Leslie; wasn't it shortly after Thanksgiving. I guess that was about how long it took him to find you. Is that how long it's been going on? Since Thanksgiving? Makes sense to me. Richard and Victoria see it that way too.

Leslie why is my son named Richard? Why isn't he named after me? It was your idea. Remember?

You know what happened. When our son, my son, found this out he almost broke down. He and I got a DNA report. He is my son Leslie. Were you still seeing Weatherby after we were married? Had you named him Richard because you thought maybe...well you were wrong."

All her sexiness was gone, she said, "No Francis. That's not..."

I said, "It doesn't matter," I got up and went to where her coat and purse were hanging, "You better get dressed Leslie. I have to go to my parents. They're all expecting me. We're having dinner, my mom and dad and my son and my daughter."

She got up as she redressed, "I'm sorry Francis. Can't we get past this? I love you."

I was heartbroken. I really loved her, "I love you too Leslie, but no we can't. You have to leave now," I handed her the coat and purse she'd brought. I'd never seen either of them before this day.

She took her apparel, "Francis...I"

"You're sorry, I know. I'm sorry too. Go home Francis. Your mom and dad love you. They'll take care of you. They'll understand. They never approved of me anyway. Go find Richard Weatherby. Give it a go."

She stepped to the door, "What about you? My children? What am I supposed to do?"

I smiled, "It's all right Leslie. Wait a few weeks before you call the kids. They'll forgive you. They'll get past this. Me? I'll be all right. I'll find someone."

She turned dark and started to say something, so I stopped her, "Not Venica. She's never been more than a friend. There'll be someone though. I'm only forty-five. People know me."

Leslie broke into tears; they were real tears this time, no subterfuge, no sexy innuendo. I felt sorry for her. I thought she'd been happy. I believed she'd had a happy life, a happy home. She threw it all away. Through the tears she murmured, "Oh can't it be me? I'll be good to you."

I just shook my head no.

I watched as she trudged down to her Avalon. She looked back twice, shoulders stooped, she was crying. She got in her car and left. I cried a little after she left, but I got past it. I had to. I went inside, pulled my clothes back on, went out and got in my jeep. I had two kids to take care of. I had to get on with my life.

Leslie's last departure happened in April. The kids admitted they'd rigged the camera that caught me with Venica. I guess they really did want to get things back to the way they'd been. They even left the camera running after I'd showed them the pictures of their mom with Weatherby. Hope against hope I guess.

I guess I let her run on a little longer than I should have when she came back armed with her little DVD of me and Venica. I already had the goods on her; it was me I suppose just trying to exact a little pay back, maybe I let her go on so I could see what new subterfuge she'd try. She was really good; she played out the string like a pro.

What Leslie never understood and nobody else got was the affect my second discovery had on me. My first awakening back in the wintertime; the chasing around Martinsburg, buying little gadgets at Radio Shack, arguing with motel clerks, and following a black Lexus around West Virginia had this surreal quality that lent the whole thing a dreamlike deniability. But standing on the sidewalk on the same street as Leslie's parent's and watching him pull up, go to their door, get that peck on the cheek, and seeing her delightedly skip down to his car like some carefree schoolgirl was like having someone plunge a knife in my chest and just reach in and tear out my heart.

That second sighting; the whole thing in front of her parent's, right in Baltimore, just blocks from where we were married, in the bright sunlight of a vivid spring day gave the whole thing a heartrending new clarity.

Leslie really had left me. I saw all the posturing, play acting, and denying back in Oakland for what it really was; a tawdry sham, a cynical trick a rich city girl was playing on her stupid trusting husband so she could continue to see and keep 'getting it on' with her old boyfriend.

All the questions, the unmentioned insecurities either surfaced or resurfaced. Was I really that inadequate? Had our lives together been that unfulfilling? Were my children even mine? Had she been seeing him, and others, all along? Had her prior trips to see her parent's been deceitful excursions, escapes back to the life she really preferred. Was I really that stupid? That blind? Was I that naive?

I couldn't trust myself. I began to doubt my worth as a father, as a husband, as a man. Leslie had destroyed me.

The epilogue:

Richard was a senior and would graduate the end of May. When the time came we sent his mom a card and a ticket. She did come, but there was no reserved seating so she ended up in another part of the auditorium. She found us after the ceremony. She was dressed very prettify in a beige suit and extremely low cut heels. I thought she looked beautiful; a little subdued, but beautiful just the same. We were all polite, but it was very awkward. No one asked what she'd been doing, and she didn't volunteer.

Leslie was invited back to my parents for the graduation party. She declined. That was the last I saw of her. The kids hear from her every now and then. They tell me she's dating, but there's no one in particular. They tell me they're afraid she's getting in over her head. I don't even know what that means. There'd been a time that would have led me to rush to her side. I just don't know anymore. I do know Weatherby went back to Richmond alone. He was nobody really. If it hadn't been him it would have some-one or some-thing else. Leslie had just...I don't know. It doesn't matter, not now, not anymore.

Do I hate her? I want to. I want to blame her for what she did, but it isn't easy. I know her parents never approved of me. They never really accepted me. I tried to include her mom and dad in everything we did. I wish I could say the same for them. I remember taking her dad hunting. We went canoeing once and I know he had a great time. Her dad and his friends used to hunt down on the Eastern Shore. He had a boat. He never invited me to go hunting, not once, and I never stepped one foot on his boat. I know he invited some of Leslie's old beaus, just never me. I know they talked with Leslie all the time. I guess they wore her down. That's not an excuse, but they could've...well.

I do miss her terribly. I haven't taken any pictures down. I can still smell her perfume. I've been to see a lawyer, had the paperwork drawn up, but nothing's been submitted.

Would I ever take her back? If she ever came back I just don't know what I'd do. It's hard letting go.

It hasn't been that long, only a few months. The anniversary of her bee sting is coming up. My friends...they say...I just wish. I mean why? Was it me? Was there something I could have done? Was there anything I could have done differently? She never said.

I do know this; when it comes to something like this...it's sad...no one wins. I just feel so bad.

~~~~v~~~~

At last...

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