How Do I Write the Next Line?

I'd heard the phones--both cell and landline--ringing during my bender but I had ignored it. I glanced at the messages. Most were from Josie or Vi. I deleted them all without listening. One was from Clarissa, who asked me to call her. I texted that I would that evening, since I didn't want to bother her in class.

I copied all of Carolyn's messages, both by forwarding to my own email and in screenshots, and put those away on detached media, so I would have a record, in case anyone tried to gaslight me into thinking I hadn't seen what I had, or had misinterpreted it. As I did, I read through them again, with a colder, more detached eye. There was nothing to indicate who this "B" was, or how to find him.

One thing I learned in business is that you can't be the best at everything, and if you need expertise on a specific subject, you hire the experts.

Donovan Investigations was able to squeeze me in that afternoon. I offered them the laptop but they said the email address would be enough to start. I didn't want surveillance. I didn't want film. All I wanted were his vitals. That alone would be pricey enough but I had a settlement sitting in the bank that would pay for it.

I did finally call Josie, though I did it through Lucas. I wondered how he would take it ... I mean, would he be mad at me and defend his wife? But he just asked if I was all right and handed the phone to my daughter. I wondered how much she had told him.

Her voice came on the line, tentative and frightened. "Dad?"

"Josie."

"Are you okay? I've been worried."

I almost laughed, asking her why she'd bother to be worried now, but I contained myself. "Fine. Josie, I called to apologize for scaring you with the coffee cup and for yelling at you. That was wrong and I'm sorry."

"I ... okay." She hesitated. "Can I come over?"

"Not now. I did mean what I said. I really don't want to see you for a while."

Her voice cracked and the tears started. "No, don't say that."

"Josie, it's better if we don't." I kept my tone calm. "I can't look at you without thinking that you knew your mother was betraying me and you justified why it was okay not to tell me. I don't know when you lost respect for me as your father but clearly, you did."

She cried.

"Give me space, Josie."

"I love you, Dad."

I hung up without acknowledging her. It wasn't done to cause pain but I was so disappointed with her that I just couldn't bring myself to say the words.

My call to Clarissa went about as well. She was crying so hard she couldn't speak. Fortunately, David was there. He came on the line, his voice raw. "Dad? Is it true?"

"I don't know, son. I don't know what you've been told."

I heard him take a deep breath. "Josie said Mom was ... that she had been for like ten years."

"And?"

"That was all she said. Is it true?"

Interesting. She didn't tell him about her prior knowledge. Was she protecting him and Rissa ... or herself? I sighed again. That was probably something else I'd never know the answer to.

"Dad?"

"It's true, David."

"What does it mean?"

"That's what we have to sort out. Look, I don't want you and Clarissa dwelling on this. It's in the past and there's nothing we can do about it now. Just try and concentrate on school, okay? And remember whatever faults your mom had, she loved you guys very much."

It didn't feel right trying to talk up Carolyn but I knew I was doing it for their benefit, not hers. It still left a sour taste in my mouth and the more I thought about it, the more disgusted I was with her.

I said my goodbyes to David and Clarissa, putzed around for a short time, then went to bed--because the clock told me to, more than from feeling tired. I lay on my back in the dark and stared into the gloom, my thoughts growing as grim as the pitch-blackness surrounding me.

#

The bloodhounds at Donovan Investigations were as good as their word. Just off "B's" email, they were able to give me a pretty extensive dossier on him--paperwork I now held in my hand.

I glanced out the small porthole that passed for a window on this cattle car. As before, there was nothing to be seen but the sprawling green and brown landscape far below.

This is crazy. My nostrils flared. So what if it is?

I scanned the report again: Brady Ortega. Forty-one. Married, with two pre-teen children. Wife Andi with a degree in fashion. Owners of a chain of seven clothing stores in the Dallas-Fort Worth area. No publicly-available criminal record. His picture filled the rest of his page, along with an address, more emails, and a cell phone. The second page listed his social media and business locations.

What I could see of his social media painted the picture of a successful businessman with a happy family. Ortega evidently didn't engage in politicking or arguments online; rather, everything was geared to show him as responsible, family-oriented, and upwardly mobile.

My flight landed with no issue. I had only brought my carry-on, so I skipped luggage and went straight to the rental car counter. I'd already programmed his address into my phone's GPS ... and that was pretty much the extent of my plan. If I was stupid to find myself half a continent away from home, to confront a man I had never met, then I was even more foolish to do it without any solid notion of what I really wanted to do.

All I knew was that the anger was growing in me by the hour, and had been for the last three days. Sleep was hard to come by. I ate because I had to, not because I had any appetite. I couldn't sit still and the overpowering urge to do something pervaded my mind until Carolyn's betrayal was all I thought about.

I figured the next hour or so would tell me if I was insane or not.

The Ortega family home was just like the others in the upper-middle-class suburban Dallas neighborhood: two-story, painted a sandy tone with brown trim, big windows. Two cars rested in the driveway. I pulled to the curb.

When I started this journey, I figured I'd be nervous or maybe even afraid to approach the house. But I was out and moving without conscious thought, angling to the front door. I rang the doorbell, stepped back, and tried, for the eighth time, to figure out what I really wanted to say.

The door opened and there he was.

Brady Ortega was about the same height as me, though a little broader through the shoulders. He wore his dark hair short and his face was open and honest--a good businessman's face. I suspected a mixed parentage, which had gotten the best features of someone White and someone Hispanic.

He was a handsome fucker, to be sure ... and that realization made my blood boil.

He cocked his head at me and smiled. "Can I help you?"

I punched him.

I'm in good shape but I'm not much of a fighter. I haven't been in a scrape since before high school and certainly never as an adult. Not an MMO fighter or even an amateur boxer. So I wasn't expecting to knock him cold.

I was surprised and disappointed that all he did was stagger back two steps. His hand flew to his cheek--not his chin, where I'd been aiming. The friendliness in his eyes morphed to anger and pain in a flash. His voice rose. "What the fuck?"

I found my voice. " 'Fuck' is right. The name Carolyn Kellogg ring a bell?"

Just as fast, as it had come, his anger vanished, replaced by trepidation. "You're--"

"Yeah."

Brady glanced inside. "Look, can we not do this here?"

He was too slow, apparently. A petite blonde woman, whom I recognized from his social media as Andi Ortega, came around the corner. Her eyes widened and she ran to her side, her hands on his back and chest. "Brady! Are you okay?" Her eyes focused on me and narrowed. "Get out of here before I call the cops."

"Before you do that, ask your husband about his affair."

She blinked. "What?"

He tried to turn her away. "Honey, don't listen--"

"Shut the fuck up!" I yelled. "Your husband has been carrying on an affair with my wife at their industry trade shows. I've read years of their emails talking about how much they loved one another. You don't believe me, go ahead and ask him."

Andi swiveled her head toward him and took a step back. "Brady?"

He lowered his eyes.

A range of emotions passed across her face: disbelief, betrayal, sadness, and finally rage. I recognized each one, since I had seen them all in the mirror. Her voice quivering, she said, "How long?"

"Ten years, at least."

Her lips trembling, she looked back at me.

I sighed. "I'm sorry you had to find out like this. I just wanted to see the chunk of shit my wife threw away twenty-five years of good memories for. And you don't have to worry about him running off to her. She's dead."

His head shot up. "What?"

"I didn't kill her, asshole. She died in a car accident in February, right before she was supposed to come to your little week-long fuckfest. If I hadn't been cleaning out her laptop to give to our daughter, I never would have found out. Bad luck for you, so I guess the universe hates you as much as I do."

Brady's face crumpled with every word. I was stunned to see he really did care. He looks like he's about to break down and cry. I ... fuck ...

I pulled from my pocket the slim monogrammed metal case I used to carry my business cards--a case Carolyn had surprised me with years before. I plucked one and offered it to Andi, who took it with shaking fingers. "You can call or email if you want more details. Otherwise, I'll leave you to this. And I'm so sorry."

She nodded. The tears had already started to fall.

I took one last look at Brady Ortega, who looked miserable for several reasons. A dark splotch was forming on his left cheekbone. "I'm not going to wish you well, Brady ... and I have to say, if I ever see you again, I will do my best to fucking kill you. Good luck, because I think you're going to need it."

I strode back to my car. Halfway there, I took out the business card case, removed the cards, and hurled the case as far from me as I could. It tinked off the distant sidewalk. I got in the car with a renewed sense of purpose.

Of every single thing in my life that reminded me of Carolyn, I wanted it gone.

#

I didn't even check into my hotel. I went back to the airport and brooded overnight in the terminal. I expected quizzical looks from the cleaning staff or inquiries from security personnel but I guess with financial times being what they were, they were used to people camping out near their gates in lieu of getting accommodations. I spent most of the time dozing. When I was awake, I kept cycling through what I wanted to do.

I wanted every trace of Carolyn out of the house. I'd give the kids one chance to take some memorabilia, and then it was gone. All the pictures, every trinket I'd kept to remind me of her. Whatever we'd had had been a lie and if I couldn't erase her imprint on my memories, I wanted her presence in my physical life eradicated.

I thought of the songbook and a red sheet descended over my vision. First chance I have, I'm burning that and dumping the ashes on her grave.

The flight to Portland at five-thirty in the weekday morning was half empty. The drone of the engines lulled me to sleep so before I knew it, we had touched down. Like a zombie, I shuffled to my car and drove home.

There was an unfamiliar vehicle in the driveway when I pulled in. I frowned, which only deepened when I saw her rise from the porch swing. I killed the ignition, grabbed my bag, and got out. "What are you doing here, Vi?"

"I want to talk to you."

"Well, I don't want to talk to you and since this is my house, my wants take priority. Get lost." I stepped around her, unlocked the door, and entered. My bag flopped on the floor as I looked around. Just in the entry, I saw a number of things that had to go. I started toward the kitchen for trash bags.

The door opened and I heard her footfalls on the hardwood. "Ted, please."

"Go home, Vi."

"Everyone's worried about you."

I faced her, noting for the first time how form-fitting her teal sweater actually was. As soon as I caught myself noticing, I got mad all over again. "Let me guess: Josie's been in your ear, whining that I won't see her."

She nodded.

"Well, boo-hoo for her, and for you. I'm the victim here and no one seems to care about that. Carolyn was cheating on me and neither of you thought I needed to know, so fuck you both. And you know what? Fuck Carolyn too."

I wheeled and snatched an old Polaroid from the wall showing Carolyn and me on our honeymoon in the Bahamas. Vi had commented more than once how happy Carolyn and I looked in it. A quick snap and the picture came free of the frame, which fell to the floor and shattered. I held up the picture. "I'm getting all remnants of that unfaithful bitch out of my life, starting with this."

I ripped the photo in half and crumpled the pieces.

Vi watched, her eyes wide.

I let the balled-up photo fall. "That's a good start. What else can go?" I spun, looking for a fresh target.

Soft hands touched my arm.

For one split second, I was as close as I had ever come to striking a woman. My fists balled and I started to shift my weight in preparation to turn and knock her filthy lying fingers away.

"Ted, please. This isn't you."

I hesitated.

"I know you're mad but don't act out of anger. Don't look back and regret what you did."

It hung there a moment ... and then I slumped, beaten, feeling like a failure. I can't even vent my rage without someone taking that away from me. I let Vi lead me to the couch. She sat with me and just held my hand for a moment while I stared at the floor.

She said, "I wanted to tell you, I really did."

"But you didn't."

"I know." Her voice was quiet. "I was wrong."

"Did you two have a good laugh at my expense ... a chuckle at Ted, for being a clueless loser? A stupid cuck she could dupe for years? It must have been hilarious." My words were bitter but they lacked any force.

"Ted, look at me." Reluctantly, I did. "I would never laugh at you. I didn't agree with Carolyn's affair. I hated it. Why do you think I haven't spoken to my best friend for three years?"

I blinked. "Was that what your fight was about?"

"Yeah. My phone was dying and I asked if I could look something up on her laptop. She was distracted, so she just kind of said, 'Sure, go ahead.' When I brought up her browser, it reverted to the last website she was on, which was her email."

"Basically the same way I found out." My laugh was barely more than a dry and dusty chuckle. "God, Carolyn never did listen to me about cyber-security."

"No. Anyway, I glimpsed her account and the first email from her ... boyfriend, I guess, talking about their upcoming meeting. I demanded to know what that was all about. At first, she denied everything but I've known her too well and too long, and saw through the lie. I finally got the whole story. She begged me not to tell you, saying it would only hurt you. I told her I couldn't promise that. Carolyn was my friend first but you are too and I love you just as much as I loved her."

She squeezed my hand and for reasons I couldn't comprehend, I squeezed back.

Vi sighed and lowered her eyes. "When I refused to promise, she told me that you trusted her more than me and that you would believe her. She said you'd turn on me. I told Carolyn she was a dirty cheater, just like my ex-husband. She started crying and begging again. I finally said that as long as she hid her affair from you, that she and I could no longer be friends. I resolved to tell you the truth, but what she said hurt and I thought she was right--that you would believe her and not me. I just ... I just moved on. I hated losing you both. I cried over it for weeks. Was she right Ted? Would you have believed me?"

"I ... I don't know." And I didn't know how I would have handled that. "So you cut contact?"

"It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, other than watch my son sail away on his first assignment in the Navy. I swore up and down I was going to tell you. Every week I built up my nerve, and then just as quickly backed away. I stalked your social media and you all looked so happy together. I justified it to myself that I couldn't ruin that for you, but that's a lie. I was really just protecting myself from a difficult conversation." She looked at me again. "I can't say it enough, Ted, but I'm so sorry."

I nodded, though I didn't know what to think.

Vi bit her lower lip. "Are you going to keep destroying things?"

"I should. It's no less than Carolyn deserves." I took a deep breath. "But no, I won't. I think really right now, I just want to lay down."

"Okay."

"You can see yourself out, Vi. We'll talk again, but later, okay?"

She nodded again.

I stood and trudged upstairs. I gazed at our bed--the bed where Carolyn and I had cuddled, made love, fucked, spooned, shared our dreams--and I knew right then that I could never sleep in it again. The bed in the guest bedroom was older but still comfortable. I changed to shorts and a tee shirt, crawled in, and faced the drape-darkened window.

I hadn't been there three minutes when the covers peeled back and a clothed body slid in behind me. I sighed. "Vi--"

"Shush." She curled against me and draped her hand over my hip. Her full breasts pressed into my back and that ... wasn't altogether uncomfortable.

"I said we'd talk later."

"We don't need to talk. You just rest."

"But--" I searched for some reason why she shouldn't be there. The fact was, though, having her molded against me was more comforting than anything had been since Carolyn's passing ... even if it was simply because both mind and body craved the steady contact with another person, which is something I'd keenly missed since Carolyn's death.

A small voice in the back of my head said it didn't hurt that Vi was warm, beautiful, and stacked like a wet dream. I told it to shut up.

"You're going to wrinkle your clothes." That was lame, even for me, but it was the best my frazzled mind could spit out.

"I don't care. You need me here."

As much as I hated to admit it, she was right.

I snuggled against her and almost immediately fell into a dreamless sleep.

#

When I woke, I sensed I was alone. The other side of the bed was empty, though there was a residual warmth in the sheets that told me it had been occupied not too long in the past. A folded sheet lay on the pillow. I opened the page and squinted at it in the dim light.

Ted-

I'm glad you got some rest. Again, I am so sorry for everything. If I had it to do all over again, I would have told you immediately. Please don't hate me. I hope we can get back to being friends. Call me whenever you want.

Love, Vi

I dropped my arm and stared at the ceiling for a few moments. Much as I wanted to stay mad at Vi, I couldn't muster the energy. Our friendship was just another victim of Carolyn's manipulation. Vi hadn't handled it well and while we might not get back to the closeness we once had, spending time hating her would be counterproductive.

I got up and noted the clock read two-ish, or about four hours after I'd crept in. Part of my ire flared as I walked through the house, seeing all the reminders of my wife and her treachery but unlike before, the concept brought cool resolution about what needed to be done, not white-hot anger.

I'd just ordered a new frame and mattress set for the master bedroom when my phone buzzed. Caller ID showed it was my son-in-law. I hesitated, then answered, deciding if it was actually Josie, I could hang up. "Hello?"

"Hey, Dad." Lucas's folks had both passed and he had taken to addressing Carolyn and me as Mom and Dad. "How are you?"

"Okay, I guess."