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Click hereShe woke up, barely, and snuggled against her husband. She brushed her hand on his hair, a gesture of love she'd made a thousand times before.
Something didn't feel right. She opened her eyes. This isn't my bedroom! What have I done?!
Last night's events came crashing into her consciousness. Her husband had finally let loose his jealous, alcohol fueled rage in public. At the high priced charity bash a handsome man her age kept touching her arm, flirting with her. She didn't encourage him, she never did, but it was her nature to laugh and enjoy herself. Her husband, perhaps fifteen feet away, lost all restraint and called her terrible names. Bystanders gawked. Some were friends. She was crushed, humiliated to the core. Slightly drunk herself, she screamed back at him, "I can't take it anymore! If that's what you think..." She led the man she barely knew toward the exit.
Now she was creakily climbing out of bed and gathering her clothes. Her mouth tasted foul, her head throbbed. She did her best to shower, but no soap could cleanse her soul. I love you, my old man. Why did you have to be such a jackass? And why, oh why, did I betray you?
~~~~~
He woke up from a fitful, drunken sleep. An empty bottle sat on his nightstand. He rolled over. She wasn't there. A mirthless chuckle dropped out of him. I always knew it. I love you, my trophy wife. But why did you ever marry me?
He oozed out of bed toward the shower.
~~~~~
She came back through the bedroom. The man said, "Hey, babe. Come back to bed."
"I've got to go."
Her car was at home. She couldn't stand to see the man again. She stood on the sidewalk and called a cab. Neighbors stared.
Can I ever make this right?! Oh please, my old man, please, we have to get through this!
~~~~~
He sat at the kitchen table staring at a cup of coffee. Did my jealous rages push her to this, or has she been doing it all along? She's so young and beautiful, can I even blame her? He recalled the night they met, at a charity event much like last night. He rescued a waitress from crude, drunken men. She was so grateful she made him dinner.
I should have known it was just gratitude. Or worse, pity.
~~~~~
During the cab ride her mind fought through the headache, desperate to find the path from this nightmare. Is he thinking about divorce? His lawyers will tell him to deny me every penny he can. I don't want his money. I never did. If it comes to that, I'll walk away and go back to waitressing. But please, give me one more chance, my old man. Please.
She began crying.
~~~~~
My trophy wife, he thought. He remembered the first time he called her that, on their honeymoon. She was such a shimmering, gorgeous creation inside and out, he just blurted those words at her. She smiled, pulled him close, and said, "I hope you always feel that way. But I know the real truth. You are the trophy, my old man."
Ever since, those had been their private terms of endearment. If she wanted to cheer him up she just had to smile and say "my old man".
~~~~~
To block out the memory of what she'd done, she filled her mind with their honeymoon lovemaking. He's the best. Always. Sincere, passionate, giving. How could I do this to him? If only he could have believed that he could trust me.
The ride was over. She stared at the giant house like she'd never seen it before. His house. Do I still live here? I feel so dirty and hollow.
As she trudged to her fate, shame descended. Will he pardon me, or crush me to dust?
~~~~~
He heard the front door open. His heart pumped furiously. Is she alone? Is this the end?!
She stopped in the kitchen doorway.
She still has on her party clothes. Beautiful as she is, she looks like hell.
Neither wanted to speak first. "You're back," he finally said. I didn't mean to snarl. Or did I?
~~~~~
She recoiled. She tried to read him. Normally, they orbited around each other, their own private galaxy. Now she couldn't see past the barrier of pain on his face.
"I'm sorry," she stuttered.
~~~~~
I can't make this easy. I have to know if there's any love left in her. "Sorry for what?" I snapped.
"I betrayed you. Can you ever forgive me?"
"It came awfully easy to you, and in front of all those people."
~~~~~
What should I say? The truth. It's all I have. It will work - or it won't. "I have no excuse, but all those unfair jealous accusations you kept making...and then you did it in public. With all the alcohol, I just reacted."
"You could have turned around at any time. You didn't come back until you had a full night of screwing."
She clutched her hands to her chest. There's a knife slashing my heart.
~~~~~
She's not answering. "So this is my fault. Well, maybe it is. Maybe I'm lousy in bed."
~~~~~
"No. No! Please don't think that. I...I..." She broke down in tears.
Finally she wiped her eyes. This is just getting worse. "I love you, with all my heart. I know you don't believe that right now, but I do. I'll leave if you want, until we're calmer." Please ask me to stay, please!
"I think you've already left." She felt faint. The world turned grey.
When she could speak again, she said, "I'll get my things." She trudged up the stairs to the bedroom.
~~~~~
There's a knife destroying my heart. I should never have shouted those jealous suspicions at her, even in private. She's so beautiful, and smart, and witty. I could never convince myself that she really wanted me. But I didn't have a shred of evidence that she was unfaithful. Until last night.
Well, I'll soon know. When she comes down with her most expensive clothes and jewelry I'll know where I really stand.
She returned in some old sweats, dragging two black garbage bags.
"What's that?"
"These are the clothes and things I owned before we got married. I'm only taking what I brought with me. All the luggage is yours."
Is her other man ready to take over so soon? "Where are you going?"
She stared at the floor. "I...I don't know. Maybe to Marie's house. I think I can walk that far. She can drive me to a shelter or something."
Can my heart break any more?
~~~~~
Her eye caught her wedding ring. Oh no! Do I have to give this up too?! She held out her trembling hand. Barely louder than a whisper, she said, "Do you want me to leave this?"
For the longest time he didn't move. If he attacks me I'll let him beat me to a pulp.
He finally rose, then collapsed at her feet, his arms wrapped around her legs. Sobs wracked his body.
She gently pried his arms apart and laid with him on the carpet, holding him, as they both cried.
"Please forgive me, my old man. I'm so sorry I hurt you."
"Please forgive me for not trusting you, my trophy wife. You were absolutely faithful until I drove you away."
"Never again."
"Never again."
"Never again."
"Never again."
~~~~~
A long time later he touched her cheek. "I'll help you unpack."
If she was a trophy wife to me that indicates he is well off so he can easily get another. I hope they have a prenup as she will change her mind about just taking the bags of cloths. Divorce her cheating ass.
This story got to busy with no body or sense of direction. And if I''m not to mistaken, I think I detected a fourth person in there. To short a story for so many narrators. The actual concept for the story was good, just to short and to many narrators.
Don't know if I like this or not .She cheated, there are plenty more trophy wives out there.
Very emotional story.
Both hurt their relationship.
Equally? Well?
For me the question is: do
you take a cheat back?
It's the million dollar question, isn't it?