Real Men Don't Dust

You may have noticed that there are a few places around your house where dust gathers and gets overlooked by the person (i.e., wife/girlfriend) who normally does the dusting. Examples include places like high shelves, behind the TV screen, fragile antiques, the lower rungs of chairs and windows. I know a lot about window dust since I run the window replacement department of a large construction business. Even though I am chauvinist enough to believe 'real men don't dust,' there are some times when I get disgusted enough to betray my gender and I dust. This story starts with a dusting incident that changed my world.

I don't brag about it to my male friends, but one household chore that I tolerate performing is changing sheets on our bed. Hey, I do some of my best work on clean sheets. In the process of putting on new sheets one day, I got too flamboyant with throwing the sheet up in the air to get it to lay out on the bed just right that I wound up knocking off one of my wife's ceramic angels that are on the high shelf above our bed's headboard. Don't ask me why she wants them there. Luckily, the mattress kept the fallen angel from breaking. After standing on the bed in my sock feet, but before I replaced the angel, I noticed that the shelf was covered in dust. Since no one was around to see me, I got a rag (okay, I used one of our good washcloths) and returned to the shelf.

Just prior to wiping any dust, I saw that there was an area around another angel that was fairly clean. That meant someone had been doing something with that angel recently. My wife probably can't reach the shelf even standing on the bed, so it couldn't have been her by herself. Plus, if she had been there, she wouldn't have neglected dusting the whole shelf. I got the angel and looked at it. To my surprise, I saw that it had a camera lens in one of the doll's eyes. All kinds of ideas popped into my head, some of which were potentially devastating, so I put the angel back and got down, leaving the dust right where it was.

I went downstairs, poured a cup of coffee, and turned my thinking cap on. Why would Cynthia have a camera put in our bedroom? I came up with these possible answers: to spy on me to see if I was having an affair, to make a video of our lovemaking to have to watch and pleasure herself when I was gone on out-of-town installations, or to make a video when she and her lover were using our bed so they could enjoy seeing themselves. And, no, at the time I did not really suspect she had a lover.

Knowing very little about such technology, I called the guy who does the security installations for our business who also installs home security for private homes on the side. He is often hired by private investigator agencies. Paul told me that I needed to IMMEDIATELY find the recording device the camera was linked to. I asked if he could help. He said he would come right over.

"Paul, what's the deal on finding the recording device right away?"

"Well Ryan, your image was probably captured on the device when you examined the angel. Assuming the image wasn't live streamed, as soon as someone checks the recording, they will know you know. That could make it hard to impossible to find out who put it there. Isn't that the first thing you want to know after seeing what has been recorded?"

"Gee, I hadn't thought about all that."

After searching around, we found the device in our basement hidden behind some old paint cans on a shelf. He took out the disc and we went upstairs to put the disc in the DVD player. There were a couple of nights showing me and Cynthia going to bed. One of the nights we were making love that would barely qualify as pornography. Then came the scene where I had discovered the camera.

After checking the disc, Paul remarked, "Good news. It does not look like anyone has checked the latest video and it does not look like a device that is live streaming on anyone's computer, but I can't tell for sure. We can mess up the recording on the disc so that someone will think it was a bad disc and not see your image or suspect you found the camera. That gives you some time to figure out what's going on."

"Do you need my help?"

"No, why don't you go make yourself a cup of coffee? I'll come up when I'm through."

While Paul was finishing up his work, I went back to the kitchen table, coffee, and thinking cap. How should I approach letting Cynthia know I found out about the camera? I could ignore it and see if she ever brings it up. I could do some foolish things for the camera to see if that provokes a comment from her. I could just confront her. I did not like the last option because Cynthia has been extra grouchy lately. If I did anything to accuse her of something improper without proof, she might go ballistic on me. Maybe her grouchiness is related to the camera. Hmmm? As soon as Paul finished, I took him out for a beer.

After much thought, I decided to go with acting foolish. There was a new girl, Terri, in our sales office that was close to a ten on most men's lust scale. She had been able to handle all the leers and suggestive comments from the men with rejection yet without making them angry. Usually she was fun loving and enjoyed a good laugh. I approached her at lunch to tell her my scheme. Terri smiled and agreed to help me.

My wife is friends with one of the secretaries in the office because the secretary, Harriet, used to work where Cynthia still works. I know she and the secretary talk on a regular basis. I further know that my behavior towards other women in the office is a frequent topic of their conversations. Cynthia has always been suspicious of me and other women I guess because she knew she was my second choice for a wife. She found out during an incident at my ten-year high school year reunion.

Dale, my old rival, let Cynthia and everyone nearby know that he had bested me for the hand of his now wife. We both had dated her. Unfortunately for me, she was my first choice, but I was her second choice. Shortly after their engagement, I met, dated and married Cynthia. Some people assumed it was a rebound situation, but, despite the circumstances, I loved Cynthia and have loved Cynthia very much for over ten years.

The new girl and I stationed ourselves out of sight but within hearing distance of the secretary.

"Ryan, I can't wait to try the new game in bed. When can we do it?"

"I think I can take a long lunch break tomorrow. Can you?"

"No problem. I'm so excited. I've never done that in bed before."

"Me either. There's no one I would rather do it with for the first time than you."

"Thanks, that means a lot."

The seed was planted. Now to see if it would be harvested.

When I came home, I saw Cynthia in the kitchen. She did not have a happy face on. "Ryan, I have some time free for lunch tomorrow. Do you want to have lunch together? We haven't done that for a while." I could tell she was trying to read my physical reaction.

I stammered, "Well, . . . uh . . . I kind of . . .uh . . . have lunch plans already. Sorry, can I get a rain check? You know that normally I would not pass up a chance to have lunch with you but . . . it's an old client that owns an apartment complex and I don't want to disappoint her, I mean him." I was pleased with my acting job.

She gave me an all-knowing look and said, "Oh well, another time I guess."

The rest of our evening, we kept both a physical and emotional distance from each other. I read a sports magazine and watched a TV show. She did some laundry and worked crossword puzzles. We both turned in about regular bedtime. Neither of us initiated any physical contact.

The next day, Terri and I made our secretive getaway known to Harriet and headed for my house. We went straight up to my bedroom and plopped down on the bed directly in view of the angel with the camera.

I asked, "Are you ready for the best time of your life?"

"Yes. Who goes first?"

"You're my guest so you get to." I pulled out a deck of UNO cards and gave each of us seven cards. I turned over the starter card and off we went playing UNO in bed. After several hands we decided it was time to go back to the office.

Once again, we passed the secretary. "Thanks Ryan, that's the best time I've had in bed in a long time."

"Me, too. I just wish I had had enough time for a cigarette afterwards."

Once we were out of hearing range, Terri told me that she was dying to hear tomorrow how my conversation with the wife went tonight.

It was hard to work the rest of the afternoon not knowing what I would be facing tonight. Finally, work was over, and I headed home. I didn't try to rush home as I wanted my wife to have enough time to view the video. I couldn't help grinning from ear-to-ear.

When I got home, I was surprised to see Cynthia sitting on the couch crying. Her sadness turned to anger when she saw me. "You bastard. How could you? And with a girl almost half your age. How could you? Doesn't our marriage mean anything to you?"

I was perplexed but played dumb. "What are you talking about? What girl half my age?"

"Don't give me that. I heard all about it. Bringing that girl into our home, cheating in our marital bed no less. I saw the messed-up bed. I want you to leave, NOW!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You could not have seen anything that would make you think we had sex. What are you talking about?"

"I didn't say I SAW anything. I heard from Harriet about your liaison with the new girl. You were almost bragging about it. I suppose you think you got away with it because I don't have any pictures or video, but I know . . . "

"Wait a minute. You do have a video. You mean you didn't watch it?"

"What video? What are you talking about?

"The video from the camera you hid in our bedroom."

"What are you talking about? What camera?"

"The camera in the angel."

"What camera in what angel? What ARE you talking about?"

"Why do you keep repeating yourself? You know damn well what camera. You put it there!"

"I didn't put any damn camera anywhere. If I did have a camera right now, I'd put it up your ass!"

"Oh, that's the way you're going to play it, dear. You probably took the camera down after you saw what I had done. Now you're accusing me of making up a story so you can finger me to be the bad guy."

"If you are saying I had anything to do with a spy camera in our bedroom, you bet I'm saying you're making it up or you're the one who did it, asshole."

"It probably won't do any good now, but I'll go check to see." Cynthia followed. I went upstairs and saw that the angel in question was missing over our bed. The dust around it was still there but the angel was gone. "See. The angel with the harp is missing."

"I don't have a fucking angel with a harp!"

"Not now. You took it! I should have figured as much. I'll go check to see if you took the recording device just in case."

"What recording device?"

"Really, Cynthia. Are you just playing dumb, or are you . . ."

"You finish that sentence and you better sleep with one eye open, mister."

We went down to the basement and I looked behind the paint cans. No trace of the recording device. "Nope, you got rid of it too."

"You better stop accusing me of stuff and tell me what the hell is going on."

"Let's go upstairs, have a cup of coffee and talk."

At the kitchen table I told her the story of the sheet, the dust, the angel, and the security expert. Since I knew I hadn't put the camera there, I thought she had to have done it.

"We'll get back to your false assumption that I put some cameras in our house later. Right now, explain to me how this has anything to do with you and that . . . that 'Lolita' in our bedroom!"

"Since I thought you had planted the camera in our room maybe was to catch me in an illicit affair, I figured I would get back at you by having a girl from our office pretend that we were going to have a noontime quickie in our bed. We deliberately let Harriet overhear the made-up conversation so she would get you to watch the video of last night. The video would have shown the girl and I playing UNO on our bed. That's why the bed was messed up. It was supposed to piss you off that you caught us playing cards instead of screwing."

"What's messed up is how your perverted mind works and the state of our marriage. Playing UNO in our bed? Do you think I'm that stupid? Oh yeah, you've already come to that conclusion."

Cynthia took a breath and continued. "Ryan, if you thought I had placed cameras in our house, why didn't you just ask me?"

"Because I thought you were trying to catch me having an affair."

"You idiot. I would have just asked you if you were having an affair. I can tell when you're lying."

"You wouldn't have asked me about an affair if the reason was you were trying to cover up you having an affair. By catching me, you could justify the affair you were already had or planned to have." I winced in anticipation of her response.

"ME HAVING AN AFFAIR? That takes the cake. You honestly believe I am having an affair? With who?

"That's whom?"

"Who, whom, what species or gender does it matter? What the fuck does grammar have to do with what we're talking about. You're trying to get me distracted from the fact that you just admitted that you think I am a cheater, an adulteress, and I'm unfaithful. I swear no other man's penis has been in my vagina since we've been married. Is that clear enough for your addled brain?

"Ryan, there is only one thing going on here as far as I can tell. You're trying to prevent me from believing you're not having an affair by accusing me. I can't believe you would treat me that way. I want you to just go away. I can't stand the sight of you. I don't want to have anything more to do with you and your ridiculous allegations. Go. Now. You can call me in a few days. I may talk to you as long as you are ready to kiss my ass and beg forgiveness."

I slinked away in some degree of shame and lots of confusion. I headed for the motel near the office. I didn't even take anything from home. I went to Wal-Mart for what I needed for a few days. I also stopped at the liquor store for my favorite bourbon. The next morning, I called work and took the day off. After some more sleep and plenty of headache medicine, I did my daily review of the things I tracked on my tablet. I found out that Cynthia had already taken half our checking and savings already and our joint credit card was cancelled. There were no calls from her on my cell phone. I turned it off anyway. I didn't want to hear from anyone other than a mad scientist who had invented a time machine that would allow me to go back and get out of this mess.

I'm not sure how many brain cells were working, but the ones that showed up for work still couldn't figure out "Who put the damn camera in our bedroom?" If I didn't do it (believe me, I was considering I might have amnesia or something at this point) and Cynthia didn't do it, who could have? Well, it had to be someone with a key to our house. No one else has a key, not even our kids. We give the neighbors one when we go on vacation, but they give it back each time. Ugh. I just had a thought of our neighbor Frank and my wife doing the dirty. Surely, she wouldn't stoop that low. I was stumped.

CYNTHIA

"Thomas?"

"Talk quietly, my wife is nearby."

"Damn it, Thomas, did you put a camera in my bedroom?"

"Well . . . uh . . . I. . . Oh shit, yes. I guess your husband confronted you?"

"You knew he knew? It would have been nice if you had told me. Evidently, he hasn't seen any tapes that had you and me on them. Do you have any tapes with us . . . you know."

"Yeah, I already took the tapes of you and me from the last time we got together."

"How did you get in my house? How did you know he had found the camera and why the hell were you recording my bedroom?"

"One day I borrowed your office keys to unlock the storage unit. I made a copy of your house key. Actually, I had two cameras in your bedroom. One went to the recorder and one was for live streaming. I happened to be watching when your husband acted out the scene with the pretty girl. I assumed he had found the camera and the recorder too. I came to your house after he left, and I went in and got everything.

"As far as to why, I was hoping to catch your husband having an affair. I hoped that would encourage you to move faster on getting a divorce. I also enjoyed seeing us in bed together."

"You imbecile! I never told you for sure that I was ready to get a divorce. Damn it. Now, I may have to scare him into thinking I am so he will drop the issue, assuming he doesn't really want to get divorced. As long as he has not seen any videos of us, I may have a chance. Please tell me, you have destroyed any old videos of us?"

"Uh . . . sure. I wouldn't want any evidence of us, doing . . . you know."

"Well, we have to cool it for the time being. I am really pissed at you right now. It would serve you right to if I severed ties with you, literally and figuratively."

RYAN

I spent another day in isolation and self-pity. I was pretty well resigned to this being one of the great unsolved mysteries of our times. I finally went back to work after several days off. Hopefully, going back would bring sanity to my life. No such luck. "Ryan, you have a gentleman waiting to see you."

"Can someone else help him? I'm not in good shape and I have a lot of work to catch up on."

"I already asked. He says you're the one he has to see."

You know what's coming. I should have but didn't at the time. "Hello, I'm Ryan Cummings, what can I do for you?"

"Take this envelope, Mr. Cummings. You've been served."

Damn, Cynthia was fast. I sat down and looked over the terms she proposed. Nowhere near the standard 50/50 split. I'm sure she thought it was humorous that it stated she was willing to give me her ceramic angel collection. I imagined setting each of them on a fence post and shooting them with my gun. I smiled for the first time in three days. The next thought was how I could do damage control. I didn't want to go through a divorce over some cameras that didn't show anything.

Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, they got better! I got a call from Paul. "Hey man, where have you been? I've been trying to talk to you for days."

"I give. Why?"

"I have something to show you. You want to come see it, or do you want me to email it to you?"

"Email it. With my luck, I'll fall down and kill myself on the way to your office. Actually, that's not such a bad option right now."

"Call me after you see the video. Then you can take me out to my favorite restaurant."

I couldn't understand why he was so upbeat. I opened the video he had sent. It was showing my basement. What the heck? There was a camera in my basement too? The camera was pointing right at the paint cans where the recording device was hidden behind. In a few seconds, a man appeared and took the recording device away. The angel-camera and another camera was being carried in his other hand. I slowed down the video, but I had never seen the man before. The time date showed he came soon after Terri and I were there.

One mystery, however, was partially solved in that I knew there was a man involved. Now, who was the man? As far as I could tell, it was not anyone I knew, so it had to be someone Cynthia knows or hired. Who does Cynthia know that I don't? Neighbors were ruled out. If it was someone she knew and I didn't, it had to be someone from her past or someone she worked with.

I called Paul back. "First of all, how did a camera get into my basement? I assume you put it there."

"I did it after we found the recording device. Yeah, I always carry a camera with me. On one hand, I thought you might like to know who had put the equipment in your house if they tried to remove it. On the other hand, I didn't tell you because I was afraid you might be the culprit yourself. You know, the old 'I accuse you of what I did to throw off suspicion to me' thing. Sorry, but I didn't really know you or Cynthia that well."