He Said He Was My Friend

"No."

"Well, I am." With that, he took the ramp off the highway and we found a family-style pub where we got two big cheeseburgers. When I ordered a beer, David interjected and told the waitress, "He'll have an iced tea!"

I looked at him like he was nuts. "Don't you think I've earned a beer?"

"You'll need your wits when we get there." And he turned to the waitress and repeated, "He'll have an iced tea and so will I."

I looked at the waitress and shrugged. We spent our lunch discussing the questions I had for Marie. I wanted to know why and how long, and I figured she probably knew at least one of those answers to some degree. Then most of all, I wanted to know how she could lie to me for so long.

It's no exaggeration that Marie was like a second mother to me. When your wife betrays you, it's devastating, but you know it can happen. Marriage vows are a promise not to betray, but it's no guarantee. Mothers are supposed to be something better than that. Mothers are supposed to love and stand by you no matter what, and always be true.

That's when David gave me the second worst news of the day, "Maybe that's what happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe she had to stand by Ariel even though she was ashamed of what her daughter was doing?"

It was at that moment that I realized Marie could never choose me over her own daughter. It didn't ease the pain, but it told me what to expect when we got to her house. There was no longer any question; I had lost a wife and a mother in the same day.

It was four in the afternoon when we pulled into the driveway of Marie's home. Nobody came to the door as we pulled up; so maybe Ariel hadn't called, and Marie wasn't expecting us.

"Should I stay here? Maybe you should talk with her alone?"

"You've been with me through all of it. You're up to your neck in this now, so you might as well walk the last mile with me."

David helped me out of the car and then we walked to the door and rang the bell. It wasn't Marie who answered. It was George Jr. He stepped out and onto the porch, and then he closed the door behind him. "Henry, am I ever glad to see you! Your wife called mom a couple hours ago and she's been crying ever since. She's a basket case, Henry. I haven't seen her like this since dad died; and even then, she held it together better than she is now."

"Yeah, well, Ariel was found out and your mother is a part of it."

"Found out? What are you talking about?"

"Ariel has been cheating on me and mom was covering for her."

George's back straightened and he looked me in the eye. "Bullshit!"

"It's true. Mom lied to me last night and claimed Ariel was here all weekend. Did you see her?"

"I only came over to take mom out to brunch, but Ariel wasn't here when I arrived."

"That's because she's been on the coast in Portland all weekend. She was staying with a guy she used to work with down in Connecticut. Both Ariel and mom lied to me repeatedly and I'm here to get some answers."

George looked back toward the door. "She's in bad shape, Henry. I don't think..."

"I won't be rough on her, but she owes me some answers."

George hesitated and then repeated himself. "Okay, but she's in bad shape right now, Henry. You have to go easy on her."

"I'll do my best."

As I stepped toward the door, David spoke up. "I think I'll stay here. This is a family matter now."

Reluctantly, I agreed.

As I stepped into the house where I had felt so much at home, it struck me that I would never enter this house again. Ariel and I were through, Marie and I were through, and George wouldn't like what I was about to say to his mother. In just one day I'd lost half my family and my life was changed forever.

As I stepped through the door, I heard Marie sobbing, but when she saw me, she whaled out loud as the pain and guilt of her own betrayal hit home. I walked toward her as she held her face in her hands. Standing before her, I could see her pain and all the questions I wanted her to answer melted away with her tacit admission of guilt. I no longer cared about the answers and it was impossible for me to hurt her more deeply than she already hurt.

I took a breath and exhaled. "Goodbye, Marie." That was all I said. I turned and left the house as I heard Marie screaming in pain. I guess maybe I had been a son to her after all. I'd lost my second mother, but she had lost her second son and now we both knew the other's pain all too well.

I left the house and David said, "That was fast."

I just nodded to David, and said, "Let's go." Two minutes later we had pulled out and were driving south to Connecticut. We rode in silence for a time and as the fog in my brain began to lift, I thought about where I might be if it were not for my brother, David. I thought back to those early days in fourth grade and then going through grade school and high school, and finally our reconnection after college and the years since. Where would I be today if my brother had not transferred into my school that year and sat behind me in class? Who would I be without a brother to share the journey with? Who else would have my back through it all?

I looked over at David as we drove the highway back to Burlington. "Thanks, man. I don't know where I'd be right now without you."

Without taking his eyes off the road, he said simply, "What's a brother for?" After a pause he added, "You know, this isn't over by a long shot."

"I know. It isn't over, but the marriage is."

We drove on in silence, each with our own thoughts. I would need to find a lawyer. There would be accusations, denials, and tears. We were DINKs (dual income, no kids) and young, and we didn't have much in the way of property or investments. We rented and didn't own. The division of property would be easy.

We'd both been quiet for about an hour when David broke the silence. "What cha thinkin'?"

"Whether I'll need to see her again, who gets what, the usual crap."

"So who gets custody of me?"

I turned to see my friend, still looking at the road and beaming like the Cheshire Cat. "Me, I guess. She's going to suffer enough."

Anyone seeing us driving down the highway, laughing like two fools, would think we were just two old friends out and about on a Sunday afternoon, telling jokes and throwing insults. He once told me he was my friend, but he was much more than that. God only knows where I would be without my brother.

Epilogue:

Needless to say, the marriage didn't end that easily or that quietly. Ariel wasn't home when we got there. In fact, she took the next week off and finally did spend that time with her mother. I got the obligatory phone calls and text messages. I read them all and learned nothing. She came back and asked for forgiveness, but I had none to give. Her betrayal wasn't a one-time drunken mistake; it was a systematic and well-planned program of betrayal and deceit that had begun while crap sack was working in Hartford. She had her excuses, but I wasn't accepting any of them. She even tried that old chestnut, "I didn't take anything away from you." Bullshit! She eventually moved out. The judge ordered counseling and I went, I participated, and it didn't do anything to change my mind. Nine months after catching her, the divorce was final, and she transferred to Portland. Doubling down on a bad decision, she married the guy. Her second marriage lasted less than two years. He was an unrepentant cheat, and she was the only one that didn't see it coming.

David and I never did make that drive back north to get that much-needed closure. By the time my leg was healed, and I had my strength back, crap sack no longer seemed worth the effort or the risk. I wasn't going to do time for that worthless excuse for a human being.

Marie calls from time to time and I make the effort to be civil with her. Every call includes an apology and I've taken to saying simply, "I understand, Marie." Maybe someday I'll be able to say honestly that I forgive her, but that day hasn't come, yet. The love I once felt for my second mother isn't there like it once was, but I've learned to appreciate that Ariel put her in an impossible position. Marie's lies were intended to save my marriage with the hope that Ariel would come to her senses; but in the end, it was a failed deception to reach an unachievable hope. She did do me one small favor, but I suspect it was more for herself than for me. Marie never allowed Ariel to bring that crap sack into her home and she never slept in theirs. Even after the marriage, she treated him as if he were still just the interloper in my marriage, and she wanted nothing to do with him. You can say it was too little too late and you'd be right, but I know it took a lot for her to do that. It made her daughter a virtual exile within her own family and it may have contributed to the death of her second marriage.

As for me, life goes on. It's been almost two years since that fateful day and I'm starting to think I should dip my toe in the dating pool. That may sound like a long time to some but change comes slowly and with great effort for me. Trust comes even more slowly now.

David still drops by regularly, but now I'm free to go to his place just as easily. He's dating a lovely girl with an infectious laugh. She knows my story and has told me in no uncertain terms what she thinks of cheats. The table is turned now, and I find myself jealous of my friend and thinking, "Someday, this is what it'll be like."

They say that divorce is like a death in the family. They're wrong. Divorce is like half the family dies and the other half limps along as best they can.

+++ +++ +++

Some will say that Henry never got the revenge that he deserved. Liars and cheats create their own suffering and the fist seldom inflicts the lasting pain that the heart and mind endure. The heart knows pain because the love that was freely given is withdrawn and the brain knows that they have only themselves to blame. As for the kind of men that seduce other men's wives, I can only say that karma is a bitch. They suffer every day in a hundred different ways they will never understand because their own values deny them the greatest experiences that life has to offer until one day they cross the wrong man with less to lose. Let Henry and David get on with their lives without the need to answer for those actions that feel so good for a moment, but never provide lasting satisfaction.