February Sucks -- Big Time

I wondered for a moment how he got my number, then figured he must've gotten to Linda's phone while she was in the bathroom, then sent the images and video to me. I slammed my phone down, then had an idea.

Oh yeah, divorce was a no-brainer at this point. I was done with Linda, now and forever. But Asshole would pay. I swore he would pay for destroying my happy life and my family. I went to my computer and copied the images and video to it. Then I composed an email to all of our so-called "friends" -- the ones who enabled this and covered for her as she trotted off with the Asshole. I attached the videos and the photos, and sent the email with the subject, "Happy now?"

I went berserk over the next several hours, tossing all her clothes and belongings into trash bags and cramming them in her car. By the time I was finished, there was barely enough room for her to sit and drive. I took her car out of the garage and changed the code so she couldn't get back in and pulled the garage door opener out of her car.

I wasn't finished yet, and turned to all the things that reminded me of our marriage -- the portrait that hung over the fireplace, our wedding album, her wedding dress, the bride and groom glasses that sat on the mantel -- a crystal vase that sat on the opposite end of the mantel, a piece she loved -- everything. By the time I was done, the inside of the house looked like a war zone, with pieces of portraits, doo-dads, glass shards and silk scattered throughout the place.

At some point, I had the urge to take a crap, and had another thought. I took my wedding ring off and dropped it in the toilet along with the urine and feces. I nearly flushed it right then, but had another brainstorm and chose to wait.

I was mentally drained, my body running on Adrenalin, when I sat down with a cup of coffee. I heard something hit the door and realized it was the morning paper. I had no idea I had been at it for so long. I opened the door and grabbed the paper, then sat back down at the kitchen table.

I got my next shock when I opened the paper and saw a teaser about Asshole. I turned to the sports section and there it was -- giant headlines asking, "Who is Marc LaValliere's New Girlfriend?" WHAT?

Below the headline was a series of color photos, showing Asshole and Linda coming out of the club. The only thing I could figure was that some paparazzi spotted them and took pictures of them leaving the club. Linda clung to his arm the way she used to do with me, and she was looking at him with adoration -- the way she used to look at me. One photo showed them kissing before she climbed into his Jaguar without a care in the world.

My humiliation was complete. Now the whole goddamn city knows about it. I read the article, but it was full of generalizations and speculation. Apparently, no one had spoken to either of them yet. I went to the paper's website where I found an online version, which included not only pictures, but video. I copied the link to the article and sent it to our alleged "friends," with the subject: Fuck you ALL to HELL!

I looked at my watch and saw it was 5:30 am. I knew Linda's mother would be up, making breakfast for her husband, since he was an early riser, so I called.

"Hello," she said when she answered. "Is everything okay?"

"No, it's not, Mom," I said. We got along well, and I always referred to them as "Mom" and "Dad."

"What's wrong, dear?" she asked. "Is it the kids?"

"No," I said. "Have you seen the paper this morning?"

"Not yet," she said. "Alfred likes to look at it over coffee. Why?"

"He may want to avoid the sports section," I said. "There's an article about Marc LaValliere he may not like."

"Alfred just thinks the world of him," Linda's mother said.

"He may not when he sees this," I said. "Linda left me high and dry at the club we went to last night with him, and they were spotted by some paparazzi getting into his car."

"Oh my God," she said. "Where is Linda now?"

"She's still with the jerk," I said.

"What? Did she stay the night with him?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said. "There's more to it, but that's pretty much what happened. I don't when or if she's coming back, but I can't have her here. If she ever comes back, I'm kicking her out and she'll need a place to stay."

"Okay," she said. "Alfred is not going to be happy about this. I'm not happy about it. Is there any way you can get past this?"

"No, Mom, there isn't," I said. "She deliberately turned her back on me and left with him. And our so-called 'friends' covered for her."

"I'm so sorry, Jim," she said. "We raised her better than this. Of course, she can stay here if she needs to. What about the kids?"

"They're at a baby sitter for the night," I said. "I may have to get my folks to watch them for the rest of the weekend."

"Okay," she said. "Let me know if there's anything I can do, Jim."

"Thanks, Mom, I appreciate that," I said. I had another idea and went back on my computer. I grabbed the link to the article about Asshole and opened up Linda's Facebook page. Before now, we never had any secrets from each other, so I was able to log in as her. I posted the link to her timeline with the caption: "Guess what? I made the front page of the Sports section!! Went out with my limp-dick husband, but ended up spending the night with a real STUD! Lucky me!"

I figured that would get some tongues to wagging, but I wasn't finished. I found the email address of the reporter who wrote the article. I figured I had already been humiliated in front of the whole world, so I threw caution to the wind.

I sent the reporter a short email briefly explaining what happened, then included the video of Asshole telling me he was going to fuck Linda some more. Then I included the video of him smearing his cum on her rings. I left contact information so the reporter could call me back. I sent the email and let loose with an evil laugh worthy of Snidely Whiplash.

At 8:00, I called Mrs. Porter and asked if it would be alright if my parents picked the kids up that morning. She assured me it was and asked if I had seen the Sports section of the paper.

"I have," I said.

"Was that really Linda?" she asked me.

"Sadly, yes," I said. "That's why I'm having my parents get the kids. I don't want them here when she get back."

"She's still out with him?" she asked, shocked.

"Yes," I said. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything to the kids about it just yet."

"I understand," she said. "I'm sorry, Jim, you don't deserve this."

"Thanks," I said, ending the call. My next call was to my mother.

"Jim, is everything all right?" she asked when she picked up the phone. "Your father just read the paper and he's fit to be tied right now. Was that really Linda?"

"Yes, it was, Mom," I said. "She's still not home yet. Would you mind picking the kids up from Mrs. Porter's place this morning? I think they should stay with you for the rest of the weekend. It's not going to be pretty around here."

"Of course, son," she said. "I understand completely. What are you going to do?"

"Unleash hell, Mom," I said.

"Look, son, whatever you do, think of the kids first, okay? They're the most important things in your life right now," she said.

"I know, Mom," I said. "But thanks for reminding me anyway. And thanks for picking them up and letting them stay with you." We ended the call and I grabbed a cup of coffee. I felt the urge to smoke a cigarette, but I fought it and kept going. About 9:30, my phone rang. I saw it was Dee and answered the call.

"WHAT?!" I barked.

"Jim, it's just me, Dee," she said.

"I know it's you," I said. "What the fuck do you want?"

"Jim, I saw the paper this morning and wanted to apologize. I never knew it would get this bad," she said.

"What the fuck did you think would happen?" I asked. "My wife takes off with a star football player, a well-known community 'hero' after a night of dancing. Surely you knew someone would be watching him. And by the way, it's a whole lot worse than that," I added.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"You'll just have to wait and see. By the way, have you looked at Linda's Facebook page?" I asked.

"No, I haven't," she said. "Why?"

"Take a look," I said. "And have you looked at your email?"

"Not yet," she said. "I always like to get my morning coffee first."

"Well, the answers to your questions are right there," I said. "I hope you're fucking happy." I ended the call before she could say anything more, but I figured she would call back.

I got a couple more calls after that. One was from Jane, who was thoroughly disgusted with the videos and pictures Asshole had sent.

"Why are you so surprised?" I asked.

"I never thought he'd actually do anything like that," she said.

"What, you mean, fuck my wife, or send pictures and video?" I asked. "Some pillar of the community, wouldn't you say?"

"Jim, what are you gonna do?" she asked.

"What do you think?" I asked. "You all should be very happy. Now goodbye. And fuck off." I ended the call, and sat down to drink some coffee, but my phone rang again. I didn't recognize the number but I answered it anyway.

"Mr. Thomas Carlisle?" a female voice asked.

"This is he," I said.

"Mr. Carlisle, this is Audrey Tanis from the Daily Record. I received an email and a video from you earlier. Is your wife the woman seen with Marc LaValliere last night?" she asked.

"Yeah, she's the one your photographer captured with Asshole last night," I said.

"Who?" she asked.

"Sorry, that's just what I call him," I said.

"I see," she said. "And you say the woman he's with is your wife?" she asked.

"My soon-to-be ex-wife," I said.

"So, you're getting a divorce over this?" she asked.

"Absolutely," I said.

"You said in your email you have other videos and some pictures?" she asked.

"I do," I said. "Would you like to see them? They're pretty graphic."

"I would," she said. "If we use any of them, we'll blur out the bad parts. Is there any way we can meet and discuss this? I'd like to get your story if I may." What the hell, I thought.

"Sure," I said. "I'd like to wait until after she gets back home first, though."

"She's still not home yet?" Audrey asked.

"No, she's not," I said.

"Okay, listen, why don't you call me when you can meet with me and we can discuss this," she said.

"Sure," I said. We ended the call and I put my phone back in my pocket. Curious, I pulled up her Facebook page and saw a number of comments of the post I put up earlier. It was about 50-50, with half of those commenting calling her a lucky woman and asking what it was like being with Asshole. The other half excoriated her for dumping me the way she did. Several of her male Facebook friends called her a whore and said they'd kick her ass to the curb if their wives did what she did. I couldn't help but notice that she had lost a number of Facebook friends over this and smiled to myself.

It was close to 11:00 by the time Linda walked through the door. I looked up from where I sat at the table and saw a Jaguar pull away from the house.

"Jim, it's me," she said as she pulled her key from the lock. "I'm home," she announced, as though spending the night with a lover was a common occurrence for her. "By the way, why is my car in the driveway and not in the garage? And what's all that stuff in it?" Her eyes grew wide when she saw me at the table. I knew I must've looked horrible. Her face turned white as she looked around the house. The place was an absolute disaster.

"Oh my God," she exclaimed. "What did you do? Everything is destroyed. Our wedding portrait, my vase, our glasses. And what's that smell?"

"I just finished what you started last night," I said.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" she asked. I shrugged my shoulders.

"What do you care?" I asked her.

"Look, I'm sorry about the way that happened last night," she said. "But I'm here now. And I'm still your wife." I shook my head. She came to me and tried to kiss me on the cheek, but I stopped her.

"Don't touch me," I said. She looked startled, as if I had slapped her. "And no, you're not my wife. Not anymore. That's what it says in the paper, anyway. It's gone out on the Internet as well. I guess it's to be expected, given Asshole's status." I opened the paper so she could see the spread with all the color photos.

"Oh no," she said, shocked. "How did they get those photos? I'm not his girlfriend. I don't care what the paper says."

"What difference does it make?" I asked. "You had your one and now we're done."

"I have to go to the bathroom and then we need to sit down and talk," she said. I followed her into the master bathroom and watched as she recoiled from the mess still in the toilet.

"Is that your ring in the toilet?" she asked, her eyes wide. I nodded my head.

"Yep," I said. "I figured that since you threw our marriage in the crapper, I'd make it official." I grabbed her left hand and took a close look at her rings.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"What's this?" I asked, indicating a dried blob on her engagement ring. "It looks like cum."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said.

"Bullshit, bitch," I said, pulling my phone out of my pocket. I went to the text messages Asshole sent me and pulled up the video where he smeared his goo on her rings. Her face drained of color when I played it for her.

"You not only disrespected me in public with our so-called 'friends,' you humiliated me in front of the whole city, and the entire freaking world, and then you do this to the symbols of our love," I said, getting angrier by the second. I shook my head, grabbed a tissue and pulled her rings off.

"What are you doing?" she asked. She yelped as I tossed the rings in the toilet. Then I flushed the toilet and watched as the rings, along with the feces and urine, went down into the sewer. She screamed, her eyes wide, her mouth open wider than I had ever seen before.

"My rings!!" she screamed, tears falling down her cheeks. "You flushed them down the toilet! How could you? You gotta get them back."

"No, bitch," I said. "How could you? I loved you exclusively for more than a decade, and this is the thanks I get? Fuck you."

"But it was just one night," she said. "We'll have the rest of our lives in front of us." I pulled up my phone and played the video where Asshole said he'd continue fucking Linda, perhaps even as I watched.

"Was he telling the truth?" I asked. "Is that something you really want to do? Fuck him in our bed while I watch?"

"It may have come up, but I didn't think he was serious," she said. "Besides, it was just pillow talk."

"You mean, like this?" I asked, pulling up the video where she demeaned me as Asshole fucked her. She shook her head.

"I didn't mean that," she said.

"Well, I mean this, bitch," I said. "GET OUT! And let your lover know that if he steps one foot in this house I'll kill him where he stands," I said. "Now, get the fuck out before I throw you out."

"But I live here too," she said. I shook my head.

"Not anymore," I said. "I'm going to see an attorney Monday for a divorce. You no longer live here. Your crap is in your car and your mother is expecting you. As of right now, you're dead to me. Got it? DEAD! I never want to see your face again as long as I live! Now, GET! OUT!!!"

"But what about the kids?" she cried.

"What about them?" I asked. "You didn't give a shit about them or me when you left to be with Asshole."

"That's not true. And please stop calling him that," she said.

"Fuck you," I said. "Oh, wait, he already did that. Any man who would just walk up and take a woman without any consideration is an asshole in my book. He knew you were married, and you're not the first he's done this to. You didn't even give a second look when he took you and now you're defending him against me. You got what you wanted. Now get out, bitch. Just get out of my sight. You make me sick to my stomach." She recoiled back, hot tears falling down her face. "GO, GODDAMMIT!"

She jumped as I yelled and ran down the stairs, wailing and crying. I followed her downstairs, and grabbed her purse before she got to it. I pulled out her keys and took off the house key, put the keys back and tossed the purse at her.

"Please don't do this," she wailed in the front room. "I'll make it up to you. Just don't throw me away like this. I'm begging you. I never meant to hurt you. I love you." I had never seen so much anguish in a woman's face before, but right at that moment, I simply didn't care how she felt. I pointed at the door.

"That's too bad, because right now, I hate your guts. Now, for the last time, get out," I said. Shaking and crying, she turned and left the house. I watched as she got in her car, then drove away, wiping tears from her face. The confrontation over, I collapsed on the couch, completely drained, and fell asleep instantly.

...

I awoke later that afternoon and managed to drag myself upstairs where I took a nice hot shower. So much had happened in just the last 24 hours. In that short space of time, I went from being a happily married man with two wonderful kids to ... what, exactly?

I got dressed and looked at the time. I decided to call Audrey. I was surprised that she answered on the first ring.

"Audrey, this is Jim Carlisle," I said.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Carlisle," she said. "You sound a bit better."

"Well, I got a bit of sleep so I'm feeling a little bit more rested. Is it too late to get with you this afternoon?" I asked.

"Not at all," she said. "A reporter's work is never done, you know." I chuckled at that. "Listen, it's getting close to dinner time. Would you mind meeting me somewhere? Maybe someplace quiet where we can talk?"

"Not at all," I said. "What sounds good to you?"

"Well, there's that new restaurant over by the mall, Sherry's. Would that be okay? I've been there, and it's pretty quiet. We can talk without being disturbed," she said.

"Yeah, I know the place," I said. "I'll meet you there." We ended the call and I made one more call, to my mother. I wanted to speak with the kids to make sure they were alright. They were busy watching "Frozen" -- again -- but paused the movie to talk.

"Where's Mom?" Emma asked.

"She's staying with her mother for now," I said.

"Why isn't she staying with you at home?" she asked.

"We're working through some things," I said. "It's alright. I'm sure you'll see her soon. Look, I have to go meet someone, but I'll call later, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy," she said. "Bye." My heart was breaking. Not only did Linda and Asshole fuck up my marriage, they fucked up the lives of my children, and for that, I would never forgive them. Sighing, I left the house and drove to Sherry's. When I got there, I was escorted to a table in one corner where a young pretty brunette sat with her laptop open.

She looked up as I walked over, stood up and introduced herself. We each placed our order and the waitress left the table.

"Mr. Carlisle," she said. "Good to meet you."

"Good to meet you as well, Ms. Tanis," I said. "Please call me Jim."

"Thank you," she said. "And please call me Audrey. I want to start by apologizing to you."

"Apologizing?" I asked. "For what?"

"Well, those were my photographs in the paper this morning," she said.

"You took those?" I asked. She nodded her head.

"I was in the club last night with some friends," she said. "Girl's night out. We were just blowing off a bit of steam, and I happened to notice Marc LaValliere. I saw him go to your table and come back to the dance floor with that woman. From the way they acted, I never thought that she might be married. When they left the club, I followed them outside and got some pictures and video. The photos you saw in the paper are nothing compared to what I captured."