The High Price of Kim's "New Me"

From there, I went to the bank and took care of all those arrangements, bifurcating everything. Upon returning home, I cancelled all of our joint credit cards with zero balance. Only two had a balance on them, and I paid those off from my money market account. Kim had three cards in her name, most of it for all of her "new look". The rest of the stuff could wait until I filed for divorce, if indeed I did. Next, I got the GPS trackers set up and downloaded the program to my laptop. I only needed to attach them to their vehicles.

When Jill came home, I told her what I was doing, and she offered to go with me, but I declined. "Baby, you don't need to see this stuff, and it might be nothing. Mom might just be going through the middle-age crazies, you know?" I held her in front of me, and said, "Right now, you just need to try and understand and love your mother."

Because my green, Ford F150 is recognizable, I borrowed Jill's little white Corolla, and waited by the park just down the street from the middle school. From there, I could clearly see the faculty parking lot with my binoculars. I watched Jill as she got in her car and left. From where I was, she'd have to drive past me to go to the gym, and as she passed, I pretended to be reading, head-down. I followed her at a discreet distance. Instead of stopping at the gym, she continued on down Mercer, past Overton Parkway and turned into a large apartment complex.

I stopped about 120-feet away and grabbed my camera. As big as life, Jill got out of her car, walked unhurriedly across the parking lot and entered an apartment, using her own key! I was snapping photos, nice close-up ones! It was apartment 1401. I parked and moved near an oak tree, now in deep shade. This was just across from the apartment.

In about 15-minutes, a black, late-model Lexus SUV pulled up in the spot reserved for 1401, right in front of the unit. I snapped more photos of the guy I recognized for his official school photograph: Nick Smith. As he was about to walk in the door, my wife, dressed only in a short nightgown, met him with a drink and a kiss. More high-quality photos. With each click of the camera, there was a knife-like stab to the heart. Only the urgency of the task at hand kept me from losing it.

There are not words to describe the bitter well of emotions and feelings that rose within me. There's this hot, sick feeling that starts right on top of the stomach and climbs upward. My breathing grew ragged, and the world seemed to stop sending light or sound waves. An hour ago, the concept of trust was different, the city we drove though felt different and the word love had a whole different context. Now, all that and everything else I was too stunned to remember all flowed through the unalterable filter of calculated, cold-blooded, marital betrayal by the person I most loved in the entire universe. Part of me died for all time. What was left was slowly being encapsulated in a hard shell by the shred of me bent on self-preservation.

This was the son-of-a-bitch who had abandoned Kim at their wedding. If anyone would know how it feels to be humiliated, betrayed and stabbed in the back, it would be Kim! Why him, of all people! That was when I questioned everything over the past 21-years. What could I do? It's not like I could rush in there and save my wife's virtue. No, this had been going on a while.

Just as it turned dark, I decided to act. I drove Jill's car across the street and parked it behind an Ace Hardware. There, I bought a 5-pound sledge hammer, made in America, too. I also bought an awl and a can of bright, safety orange spray paint. I wore a ball cap pulled low, sunglasses, and walked with a bad limp (put a sharp rock in your shoe). I paid cash that I handed over between by fingers, and I never spoke.

Back at Jill's car, I locked Larry's camera in the trunk and idly wondered if I could get my money back on the GPS trackers. I also grabbed the digital video recorder that I used in my work for job research. It was ready to record. Three or four times, I had to stop and visibly calm myself. Shaking that spray-paint the required 2-3 minutes (Come on, I'm an engineer!) helped settle me down. As an afterthought, I pocketed my daughter's pepper spray.

I stopped curbside by the apartment's parking lot, and donned a flesh-colored ski mask and surgical gloves. First, was Kim's car, a dark-blue Impala. I flattened all four tires by putting holes in the sidewall, where they are irreparable. I painted "Cheating, Married, Whore, Slut!" down both sides. On the trunk and hood, too. Yes, I included the commas; under stress, you always revert to your comfort zone!

Ditto to lover boy's pretty black Lexus SUV. I painted, "Fucking A Married Woman". Then, the first blow of the sledgehammer took out the apartment dead-bolt. The second one busted the door-knob, broke the safety chain and flung in the door. I rushed in with my camera rolling, yelling: "You cheating motherfuckers!" I caught them trying to get out of the bed, and I called him out by his name. "Hey, Principal Nick Smith, why are you fucking one of your married teachers?" As he charged at me, I hit him with a hefty blast of pepper spray, and he was further dissuaded. Kim was screaming, and I told her, "Don't bother coming home, because you no longer have a home, except here, with him!"

As I retreated into the night, a crowd of the surprised and curious was gathering. I said, "If your kids go to Trail View Middle School, that cheating cunt might be their teacher, and that married guy fucking her is their assistant principal!" There were some cat-calls, an applause or two, and one guy gave me a high five. Trotting past, I handed my new, American-made sledgehammer to a guy. "Keep it!" As I ran across the street to Jill's car, I hollered, "Tell the cops that the guy what done this is at least 6'5" and walks with a lisp!" I roared at my joke; adrenaline is a potent drug, and I was running at full throttle.

On the way home, I ditched the hat, the gloves, ski-mask and the sunglasses in a dumpster. When I arrived home, Jill met me outside, and said breathlessly, "Mom called! She said you tried to kill her! She's been calling you but..."

"Jill, baby. Calm down. I just surprised her and her lover." Jill's mouth fell open. "Come on. Follow me into my office. My phone's locked in my desk." She looked at me strangely when I removed it. There were six missed calls and two text messages. All from Kim. "Honey, anywhere you take your phone, they can check your phone records and track you."

"So, you found her with someone." It wasn't a question. Jill's eyes widened in fear.

I nodded but couldn't speak. It just hit me, and the tears began to pour. I was crying hard, just like Jill was Monday. I tried to send her away, but she just held on and cried with me. My phone rang again, and I sent Kim straight to voicemail.

When I calmed down, I asked Jill to make us some coffee, knowing I needed to do some things before Kim and/or the police got here. I downloaded the images from the SD card and put them in a folder on my computer. Then, I downloaded the video, which took a little longer. While I did this, I pulled up a file with my draft email text and started pasting then into a pair of Scud Missive emails, soon to be delivered in a preemptive strike. Damning photos were included with each. Their school board and principal also received the video.

The first, I sent to the school board and to the principal at Trail View MS. The next one, I sent to Nick's wife, Dr. Trudy Smith, MD. Facebook and the Internet are such good sources. I mentioned that I also had more photos that would be provided on request.

Sadly, in reviewing that video, I had turned the camera slightly askew when Nick came at me, and there, in the lighted closet, you could clearly a quantity of women's clothes on hangers, shoes below them and plastic tubs of what was probably lingerie, pantyhose and other things my wife used to hide her treachery. I made several screen-caps. One was enhanced enough so it showed the evening gown my wife wore for our anniversary dinner last year. I sent those to Dr. Smith, as well.

I became aware of Jill standing in the door, looking over my shoulder. My daughter looked lost and that tore anew at my aching heart. I created back-up copies on a DVD and put it in my home safe, along with the original media. The last copies went on a memory stick for my lawyer.

We were in the family room, and Jill was sitting in my lap in my recliner. Since she was a baby she wanted Daddy when she wasn't feeling well, and I spent many hours in that old recliner with her. This time, we were both sick. That's when Kim hit the door, screaming like a banshee, and through the door, I saw the Yellow Cab pulling away.

Kim shoved her face close to mine and Jill's and screamed, "Kevin! What the fuck gives you the fucking right to bust into his fucking apartment and do what you did? And our fucking cars!" She shook her fist in my face and said, "You motherfucker, I'm going to..."

Jill flew off my lap and slapped her mother into silence with two sharp blows! "Mom, if the word FUCK comes out of your lying mouth again, it needs be remembered you are FUCKING a man who is not my father!" Jill trembled in rage. Her mother stood there, stunned, hands rubbing her burning cheeks. "If you want to have my father arrested, take me too! If you need me to slap you again, to convince you I'm serious, I will! I'm 17, and in this state, I won't go to juvie! You're move, dear, sweet mother!" Jill stared down her mother and headed for the stairs. Through tears, she said, "I'm going to my room, Daddy, and calling the sick line at school."

Kim sat down on the sofa, her head in her hands, weeping. I noticed that was not the dress she left in that morning. I closed the front door, and when I sat again, I said in a firm but low voice, "Kim, I asked you to talk about this. I knew what was going on, but I didn't know that it was so blatant and obvious. Please, don't tell me it's been just a couple of times, because you've got clothes, shoes and other stuff over there."

She talked though her hands. Kim wouldn't even look at me. "Yeah, we need to talk. I just don't know where to start."

I said, "Why, Kim? Why? Start there! This is the guy who dumped you at the altar. He broke your heart and rubbed your face in it. And who came along and helped you mend that broken heart?"

No response. She just sat there, lifeless, sobbing. Then, she asked, "How did you find me?"

"Honey, you were arrogant. I followed you right to his door. I saw you greet him, drink in hand and wearing the little shorty nightgown I bought you at Victoria's Secret. You've got to know what I'm feeling, because that bastard did it to you! Now, I'll ask you again...," I shouted, "...WHY? I DESERVE THAT MUCH for twenty-one fucking years of loving, loyal, faithful marriage, don't I?"

Kim looked up, fearful. Yes, she'd pushed Kevin Armstrong about as far as he'd go.

"Give me a minute," she said. "I need to pee."

I went and got two cups of coffee. If she didn't want the other one, I'd drink the damn thing.

She'd cleaned herself up, and sat down, visibly more composed, but her face was mottled and swollen from the Jill's slaps. Her eyes were puffy and red. Taking the coffee mug from me, she said, "Thank-you, Kevin." I stopped and stared at her. "What? What did I do?" she asked defensively.

Still angry, hurting, jealous, humiliated, wounded, sad and afraid (did I miss anything?), I remarked, "Shit, Kim. That's the first nice thing you've said to me in...weeks. Unless that little scene at the table was meant to be nice, and I just happened to take it all wrong." The bile welling up in my throat would qualify as toxic waste, the dioxin of deception!

Kim looked up shamefacedly. "Yeah, I guess I deserved that. I've been a bitch.. I'm sorry. I really am."

"Let's either get this out in the open, or I'll call you a cab and take you back to lover boy. Why, Kim? Start with why."

She embraced a sofa pillow, almost as if she was trying to hide. "You know Nick stood me up on my wedding day. Instead, he married that cunt Trudy Geier because he knocked her up. She trapped him, and her daddy backed her play.

"Anyway, that has hurt me my whole life. Every day I've felt it. I always felt like I wasn't good enough. Trudy got off the pill so Nick would get her pregnant. So, here I was, the love of my li..." Kim's mouth flew open and she gazed at me in horror. "Kevin! That came out wrong!" She began crying again.

Acidly, I said, "Okay, dear Kim. You were mentioning losing the love of your life. I can certainly relate, my darling. So, please continue..."

"Kev... I just... I mean..."

"Oh, fuck, Kim! Just get on with it! Your lying mouth can't hurt me as bad as your sorry cheating cunt already has!" I didn't even try to hide the angry bitterness. "So, why the fuck would any sane woman, who'd had her heart broken and had been humiliated in the worst way possible on her wedding day, even piss on the bastard who did it, even if he was on fire? WHY, godammit!"

"BECAUSE I LOVE HIM, AND I ALWAYS WILL!" she shrieked. Spittle was running down her chin. "He said that Trudy never loved him, and that she always reminds him that he's just a school principal. She's a fucking doctor and has a fat trust fund, and she treats him like one of her boys. They haven't had sex in three years." That out of the way, Kim looked at me like a petulant child.

"Makes sense to me, Kim. Guy fucks you, abandons you, humiliates you in front of everyone significant in your life and runs off with another woman, whom he has impregnated, so you just run into his arms 20-something years later. Meanwhile, you're making changes to your life for him, that you've never made for yourself or your husband, but then your lawfully-wedded husband loved you just the way you were. Worshipped your sexy body! Loved you unconditionally!

"And with your husband, you never had to be better than Trudy Geier to please him!" I was crying again, but they were tears of rage. "So, when were you going to announce the wedding? Or were you guys just going to keep fucking indefinitely. I mean, Trudy is 500-miles away, and good, old, sweet, dumb, easy-going Kevin, well, shit he's your sweet little cuck hubby. Hell, if he catches on, he won't do shit."

Kim shrugged. "Yes, I'm pretty fucked up, but I can't undo this, Kevin. What do you want me to do?"

"I don't think 'eat shit and die' is an option you'd consider, so I'd like you to think about what you and Nick did to a lot of people, including yourselves! What about our families? His family? Your colleagues? Your friends? Our friends and neighbors? Hey, how about your husband? How about your fucking wedding vows, especially the 'forsaking all others' part?

"The scariest part of this is you should know how I feel, because of what he did to you! Just multiply that by 21-times, then multiply times two-kids and that's what you did to me! But you just don't care what you've done, only that you got caught, right?"

"Well, I'm sorry I hurt you, Kevin. But this doesn't have to get out there for the whole world to see. Nobody's calling the cops, and we can quietly divorce, make it an even, clean split. Nick's oldest is in college, and his other two kids - the twins - are juniors. When they're gone from home, he's divorcing Trudy. They're not leaving Central City."

"No, Kim! I want to see you and him suffer! This shit IS getting out there for the whole world to see. You aren't walking away clean. I've been funding your 'New Me' bullshit for your fucking boyfriend, and that stops today! The shit storm is coming, dear, and you don't have a good umbrella!" The blood was pounding in my ears.

"Kevin, no. Please. Does it have to be this way?"

"Yes, it does Kim! You delt the fucking cards, and now you're playing the hand you got!" I drew a ragged breath. "One last thing, Kim. When did this start?"

"We saw each other three years ago at a teachers' conference. And no, we didn't sleep together. Nick, and we just kind of, you know, reconnected. For a long time, we just talked on the phone occasionally, and we emailed a lot. About a year ago, Trudy really started fucking with his head, and treating him awful. I just kind of... you know, took him back."

I leaned in towards her and said, "You remember I told you my high-school sweetheart, Jacqui Lawrence, and I broke up when we separated for college? Remember?" Kim nodded. "She called me... oh, let's see... I guess it was about six months ago, in late July. Her marriage turned to shit, they divorced, and she was wondering what I was doing. Cheating husband, she said. Told me she's still carrying a torch for me. I told her that our ship had sailed, and I was married to the love of my life. Man, I hope she's still available!"

"Kevin, I'm so sorry about all this. You... you were just stronger than me." I was having trouble just looking at her.

"One last question. Be honest, if you still can. That's the least you owe me for twenty-one loving, loyal, faithful years: Did you ever love me, Kim? Or was I just a rebound, a place to salve your hurt?"

I got caught in those intense blue-violet eyes. "Yes, Kevin. I do love you. I did the first time I met you." She paused, wringing her hands in anguish. Then she said plaintively, "I love you both. Yes, Kevin, it is possible to be in love with two men, and I am. Please, try to understand."

I exhaled loudly. "I'm calling unequivocable bullshit on that dear. If you loved us both, why did you stop loving me physically and cut me out of your life emotionally and mentally? You checked out weeks ago, Kim, so please, pretty please, with sugar on it, don't insult my fucking intelligence or destroy any shred of credibility you might have left. You don't fucking treat a person you love like you treated me. And Jill, too."

"Well, I do love you, Kevin." Her voice was quiet and unsure.

"Kim? I think you've got some deep psychological issues. This is not what a sane person does. You need to get some help." I said. She looked away, clearly shocked.

I got a text message: 'This is Trudy Smith. Please call me at this number ASAP.'

I went to my office and called her. "Well, he's done it again, hasn't he? I've taken that cheating bastard back twice. I am done with him. His shit is going out the door, tomorrow!" She calmed down and said, "I knew when he took that job, he was going after Kim. I knew it."

I asked, "Why is that?"

"We were fighting over the last job he lost. And he said, 'I think I dumped the wrong girl back when we married'. You see, my dad keeps finding things for him to do at his company, but Nick's attitude is that my dad is wealthy, and well, you're my wife, so gimme-gimme-gimme. The only job he can keep is teaching or in school administration."

"When did you catch him cheating last?"

"Last summer. He was working in Sales and was screwing a customer!" Then, her voice became soft and sad. "I'm just sorry he wrecked your family, Mr. Armstrong. I've always considered Kim the lucky one, because he dumped her, but now, good old Nick's fucked up her life. And they both messed up yours."

I promised to FED-EX her a copy of all the evidence I gathered. And she told me that if I needed a friend, to just give her a call. Before we hung up, she laughed. "With the pre-nup Dad made him sign, Nick will be lucky if her gets to take his ass-crack and both testicles when he leaves."

We chatted a few more minutes and promised to keep in touch.

I returned to the family room and Kim asked me, "So, what was that all about?"

"It was Nick's wife." The color drained from her face.

"No! Kevin! How could you? That's just fucking vindictive!"

I nodded. "Yeah, she told me she's caught Nick twice. Says that her dad keeps getting him jobs, but her figures he married money, so he's entitled without doing jack shit. In fact, he took this job specifically to get back with you." I stated.