Brisket

I listened without expression. I was almost certain that she was telling me a bunch of inventive lies, but I was going to hear her out. She had no idea I'd already "spoken" to Mark.

"He called last week and said he was coming over again today at 10:30 am, and that I'd better be ready for him. I was terrified about the pictures, so I...I let him. I mean, he came over and we...did it again."

I sighed. "Helen, why on earth didn't you tell me after the first time? Don't you know we could have had your blood tested for drugs, and then had him arrested for raping you?"

She looked down. "I can see that now...I guess I wasn't thinking clearly. I was just terrified about what you would do! To me, and to him! Oh Rob, I was so afraid...and so confused!" She started to cry again. "I'm so sorry, baby!"

What a nice tale, I thought to myself. Highly unlikely, yet not completely out of the question—if you could believe that Mark Malchek would be dumb enough to drug and rape a policeman's wife! But the story he'd told me when I'd beaten the crap out of him seemed far more believable, even though it contradicted everything I thought I knew about my wife.

Then there was the most damning thing of all: the sound of Helen happily singing in the shower, only minutes after Malchek supposedly forced her to have sex with him again.

I thought some more, gazing out the window, listening to Helen as she sniffled and wiped her eyes.

"You've been really stupid, Helen. I would have thought you would trust me more than that, after 25 years together."

She looked at me meekly and said again, "I'm so sorry, Rob!"

"I'm going to think about how to handle this, and it may take me a few days. In the meantime, don't talk to Mark again, or to anyone about this, all right?"

"All right," she agreed, suddenly full of hope. "Please, Rob, don't do anything that would get you in trouble!"

I leaned forward, looking intently at her face. "Helen, please tell me the truth now. Is this the only time in our marriage you've had sex with anyone else?"

She tried to look back at me, but I saw her eyes dart briefly away from mine before returning. I'd interrogated a lot of suspects in my life, and I pretty much knew what that meant.

"There's been no one, honey. No one but you, until...until Mark..." She broke into tears again, and didn't bother to finish the sentence.

The obvious lie enraged me all over again. I got up and started pacing around the bedroom.

"In case you can't tell, my dear wife, I'm not exactly too happy with you right now. You're sleeping in the guest room tonight, so take your things and get out of here.

"Rob, I..."

"Did you not understand me?" I said, more forcefully. "I'm done talking with you tonight! Now get the hell out of here."

"But baby, I..."

"GO!"

With a little gasp, she grabbed her bathrobe and left the bedroom. I settled down in bed to watch a football game for an hour, then went to sleep.

***************

I was surprised that I actually slept well, despite not having Helen by my side as I usually did. I guess draining my balls a couple of times must have helped!

When I got downstairs I could smell the coffee brewing, and when I came into the kitchen I saw that Helen had gone all out with breakfast. There were pancakes, sausages, scrambled eggs, even freshly-squeezed orange juice.

Helen was standing at the counter, pouring my coffee. She looked wan and frightened. "Good morning, sweetie," she said timidly, handing me the cup.

"Hello, Helen," I said neutrally. "This looks like a nice breakfast."

We ate together, talking about safe subjects, and I watched as Helen gradually relaxed a little bit. When I was full I slid my chair back from the table and stood up.

There was one way to find out the truth about all this, and I wasted no time in getting to it. I told Helen I needed some time to myself, and after a quick stop in my basement workshop I drove straight over to Joe Olderman's house. He was just walking towards his front door with the mail as I pulled up.

I asked him to join me for half an hour to check out a new car I was thinking of buying, and off we went. I drove out towards Forbes Ave. where the car dealerships were; but I pulled off onto a quiet side road and into a sheltered parking lot behind a soccer field.

Joe had been gazing idly out the window. Now he turned to me in confusion, saying, "Rob, why are we....what the fuck?"

I was holding my service revolver six inches from his face.

"You motherfucking son of a bitch! We've been friends for more than fifteen years, but that didn't stop you from fucking Helen, did you?"

His face went white, and he leaned back as far from me as he could. "Rob, I...I...what are you...I never..."

"Can it, you prick! I confronted Helen and she told me the whole damn story! I'm about one inch from putting three bullets in your head and burying you where you'll never be found again!"

He caved. I could see it in his face, all in an instant. He figured, if Helen had already told me, what was the point of trying to deny it? Instead he frantically tried to cover his ass.

"Rob, I swear, it wasn't my fault! She came on to me, I swear, over and over! I kept telling her we were friends, it wasn't right, but she wouldn't leave me alone!"

I lowered the barrel a bit, away from his face, and watched him take a deep breath. He was sweating, and his eyes were terrified.

"Tell me the whole story, you cunt. Very slowly, very carefully. And don't leave out a single thing—because if it doesn't match exactly with what Helen told me, I'll shoot your cheating ass and make it look like an accident."

He was only too eager to tell, eager to do anything that would keep me from following through on my threat. And the story he told was a lot like Mark's: Helen had been the aggressor. Our two families spent a lot of time together, and about a year earlier Helen had taken the casual flirting that always went on between her and Joe up several notches. She'd even started grabbing his crotch or putting his hand on her breast when no one was looking.

Finally she called and propositioned him; and while he refused her at first (so he said), she kept after him and he finally gave in.

"Rob," he said warily, "you wanted everything, so I'm going to tell you. Just don't shoot me, OK?" I nodded, and he went on.

"She was the hottest woman I've ever been with. She loved to go down on me, especially after we'd done it and she was trying to get me up, you know, for another round. She almost always wanted to do it doggie-style, and a few times she had me tie her up to the bed.

"And she was always so WILD—well, I guess you must know. The way she talks all the time, dirty things, and says 'fuck me harder' and all that?" He was still looking nervously at my gun.

"How long did it go on?" I growled.

"About eight months. We'd see each other once or twice a week. I was always terrified you'd find out. Then Stephanie started to get really weird, all suspicious, like somehow she got the idea in her head that I was stepping out on her. I finally convinced Helen we had to stop. That was last June."

"How did she take it?"

"She was annoyed, but she agreed with me because she didn't want Stephanie to know. She even joked to me, 'well, I guess I'll just have to find somebody to replace you, Joe'."

"Did you ever ask her why she was fucking around on me?"

"Yeah, a bunch of times. Even at the beginning, before we started, I said, 'why do you want to do this?'

"What did she say?"

"Nothing that made much sense. Just that she loved you, you were a great guy, but she needed something extra—that this was more exciting and fulfilling. I have to admit, it was the best sex I ever had."

"Do you think you were her first affair?"

"No—she mentioned a couple of other guys she'd been with. I didn't know any of them, I think one was a client she met while catering a party or something."

I sat back and looked at him. He looked away, out the window.

Finally I said, "you really are a piece of shit, you know that? I don't care how hard she came onto you—there was only one right thing to do, and you fuckin' did the opposite."

He hung his head, not looking at me. I figured he was secretly jumping for joy at the thought that I wasn't going to shoot him.

"Our friendship is over, asshole. Get out of the car."

"Here? But it's probably ten miles to..." His sentence died in his mouth when he looked at my face. Silently he climbed out of the car and walked several steps away. Without another word I turned the car around and drove back to town.

***************

I went straight back to Joe and Stephanie's house, and was lucky to find Stephanie at home.

"Hi, Rob! Uh, weren't you and Joe together just now?" she asked, peering around me to look at the empty car.

"Yeah, but something came up. Listen, can we talk for a few minutes?"

Puzzled, she led me to the kitchen and we sat down with cups of coffee.

"Steph, we've been friends a long time, and there's no good way to say this. Joe and Helen had an affair."

"What?!" She stared at me. Finally she shook her head. "Rob, I could almost believe you, if you said Joe and someone else. I had a feeling last spring that something was going on. But Helen? No way."

I pulled out the mini-recorder I'd stuck in my shirt pocket before leaving the house. Without saying another word I rewound it and pressed Play. We sat in silence, listening together to my whole conversation with Joe.

Several times I wanted to cry—and I knew the tears would come later—but I kept myself under control. I watched Steph as her face hardened, her lips drawing tight in an angry frown. I figured her and Joe's marriage was probably as dead as mine was.

When the tape was finished, we sat without speaking for a few minutes. Then I asked her whether any of this made sense to her.

"Not really, Rob. For so many years the four of us have just been friends, you know? And we've always kidded around a little—a few times I remember you pinched my butt or leered at my boobs in a bathing suit, but it was always harmless and we all knew that.

"But this.... Like I said, Joe was acting strange enough last spring that it's easy to believe he was screwing around on me. But Helen is the absolute last person on earth I would have guessed he was doing it with."

She looked at me, suddenly suspicious. "Jesus, Rob, you didn't come over here to hit on me, did you? A little 'revenge fuck' or something?"

"Christ, Steph, I thought you knew me better than that! We have been friends a long time. You know I care for you—do you really think I'm that big an asshole?"

She started to cry, and said, "I'm sorry, Rob! I guess I'm kind of a mess right now, not thinking too straight. At this moment it's hard to have a very good opinion of men, if you see what I mean."

"Please, Steph, remember that you and I are the victims here. Of course you are a beautiful woman, and you know I'm attracted to you. But that's not what this is about. I needed you to know what a scumbag you're married to.

"I'm going to throw Helen's whoring ass out of my house, and if there's any way I can help you in dealing with Joe I'll be happy to do it. I wanted you to know the truth, and to know that I'm on your side. That's the only reason I'm here, believe me."

Still crying, she came over and sat on my lap, right there in the kitchen. She put her arms around me, her head on my shoulder, and sobbed. After a few minutes we were both crying. We probably sat like that for half an hour.

***************

It was nearly six hours to Chicago, and I had plenty of time on the way to think. I simply could not imagine a more complete betrayal than what Helen had done to me. She had obviously had a series of lovers, at least some of whom she had taken the lead in seducing. Her affairs had gone on for weeks or months.

Above all—topping everything on the old betrayal-meter—was that she had been a wildly, openly sexual partner with these other men. All the inhibitions in her sex life with me, the reluctance to try anything new, the refusals even to let me touch and caress her before we screwed—I had lived with those, suffered them and endured them for years. And at the same time she'd been an enthusiastic slut with Mark, with Joe, and obviously with some other guys as well.

I didn't know exactly how I was going to play it, but as I walked out of Stephanie's house there were two things on my mind. The first was that my marriage was over, and that Helen would be pretty damn sorry for what she did! And the second was that I had to talk to my daughters first.

I reached Linda by cell phone and she was delighted I was coming for a "surprise visit". We ate at a diner around the corner from her apartment. She chatted with me for a few minutes about her new job, and the ups and downs of life with her on-again/off-again boyfriend Chad.

Then she said, "okay, dad, what gives? It's great to see you, but I know you didn't drive all the way up here for no particular reason. And you've been on edge ever since you got here, like you had four too many cups of coffee this morning."

I leaned forward and said, quietly, "sweetheart, you needed to hear this from me first. Your mom and I are splitting up. I found out she's been having affairs behind my back—with more than one man. It's been going on for a couple of years at least."

The next couple of hours were pretty rough. Linda absolutely didn't believe me, and I had a tough job of persuading her that I was certain about Helen's cheating while at the same time sparing my daughter the most damning details of what I knew.

When we were back in Linda's apartment, and she'd finally come to believe the truth of what I was saying, she cried and cried. I could feel her pain at having the illusion of her parents' secure relationship coming apart, and I cried with her for a long time. This seemed to be my day for tears!

I slept on Linda's couch, and when I left the next morning I asked her to do something for me.

"First, please don't talk to your mom for a couple of days, or until she calls you. I need to go see Veronica today, and then get back home and get the divorce started. After that, whatever relationship you want to have with her is between the two of you. You know your mom adores you, and I don't think she was ever less than a loving mother to you and Ronnie. What she did she did to me—not to you, sweetie."

I got to Kenyon about 9 pm on Sunday night, and my visit with Veronica was a lot like the one with Linda. Painful, full of tears, full of questions that could be asked but not answered. I left for home early on Monday morning.

***************

My cell phone had been off since I left town, and I turned it on now to let the Precinct Captain know I was taking a personal day. There were eleven messages from Helen, ranging from the tearful and apologetic to the increasingly worried, even frantic. I deleted them and kept driving, working out in my mind how to play the final scene of our marriage.

It just killed me. KILLED me. A marriage that I'd put my whole heart into, that I looked forward to enjoying right until the end of my days—gone. Destroyed. Shattered. And for what? So my wife could do some hot fucking, explore the sexual side of herself that she'd never managed to reveal to me?

I made a call to a PBA lawyer I knew and got a recommendation for someone to handle my divorce. When I reached town I went straight to the guy's office, spent an hour with him, shared Joe's tape, and got him started on the paperwork.

The girls were both out of the house, so there weren't going to be custody or support issues. I wanted the house, and if Helen fought me about it I'd do my best to publicly humiliate her. Beyond that, I didn't much care.

When I drove by the house around 4 pm, Helen's car was nowhere to be seen. Good, I thought. I put mine in the garage, went inside and called a 24 hr locksmith service. By 6 pm when Helen returned home I had made a few arrangements.

***************

I could hear her annoyance and frustration when her key didn't open the front door. I opened the door, silently, and watched her face change to an affectionate, nervous look.

"Rob, thank God you're back! Where have you been for two days? I've been worried sick—why didn't you call?"

I ignored her questions. "Come in, Helen. Please sit down in the living room," I said in a neutral voice. She tried to give me a hug, but I pulled away from her and walked into the living room. Confused, she followed.

"Rob, honey, what's going on?" Her voice was a little shaky, her eyes worried-looking. Without replying I pointed her to the couch and she sat, never taking her eyes off me.

I stood across from her, gazing at the troubled face of the woman I had loved so much for so many years of my life. I waited, letting the silence become heavy, before I spoke.

"Helen, you know that I would never hit you or hurt you physically in any way. You are a woman, and moreover I used to love you with all my heart."

She gasped. "Rob, 'used to'? I don't..."

"SHUT UP" I yelled at her. "I won't hit you, but that doesn't mean I don't want to. Now just shut your lying, cheating, cock-sucking mouth and listen to me!"

"Rob, I ..."

"Quiet, Helen," I said in a menacing voice. "I won't tell you again."

By now she was pale with fear and worry—I could see her hands trembling in her lap.

"We're going to have this conversation, nice and civilized," I went on, "and then you're going to go. I don't know where you're going to go to, and I don't particularly care. This marriage is over—our life together is over."

She gasped, then started to speak, but a look from me made her stop short.

"You have cheated on me with Mark, with Joe Olderman, and apparently with a couple of other guys as well. I don't know how many, and I don't give a shit.

"For months, if not years, you've been playing the whore with other men. Giving them everything I have begged you for, doing all the things with them that you would never do for your 'loving husband', despite all my requests.

"If having sex with someone besides your husband is a betrayal, you've managed to make yours an extra-big betrayal. Cock-sucking? Doggie-style? All sorts of foreplay? Bondage? Just fine for the asshole around the corner, and even for one of our oldest and best friends, but not for the man who has devoted himself to you alone for more than 25 years.

"I truly don't know who you are, Helen. I thought I knew, but obviously I didn't have a clue. I would have bet my LIFE on your faithfulness and your devotion to me. Good thing I didn't, huh?"

I looked at her—she was sitting frozen on the couch, tears on her cheeks. She was no longer even trying to speak. She looked mesmerized. I idly wondered what was going through her head. "Oh shit, I guess he found out"? Or, "maybe it wasn't worth it after all"?

"Here's the thing that really gets me—you love me. I know you love me. We've looked forward to growing old together, and I know you meant it.

"Well guess what? That's your punishment. You don't get to grow old with me. You don't get to live with me anymore, to see me every day and snuggle in bed with me at night. You don't even get to live in this house anymore."

I pointed to three suitcases standing in the corner. "In five minutes you'll be putting those in your car and driving away, Helen. And you're not coming back."

She cried out then, startling me. "No, Rob! No, baby, you ..."

"Yes, 'baby'!" I said savagely. "I can and I will. I am throwing you out. But first, a couple of little details."

I moved towards her until I was standing just in front of her on the couch, towering over her. She shrank back in fear, watching me. I pulled my wedding ring off and dropped it into her lap. As her eyes widened in surprise, I grabbed her left hand and pulled her wedding and engagement rings off. The wedding band I also dropped into her lap, but I put the engagement ring into my pocket.