To Tell The Truth

My wife worked at the computing center for a major international bank and her employer lived by the age-old adage "Trust, but verify." She moved millions with a keystroke and her codes ran out of sight in the heart of the machine. She was watched, they all were, but there was so much complication in the work that it would be easy to cheat the firm and get rich. All she would need to do is tilt the fractions of a cent on every transaction and throw the pennies into a dummy fund. If she took her time, she could get rich and get away with it. At least, that's what some people in her industry thought. Just ask them. Visiting hours are the second Wednesday of the month.

She never did it. She was a loyal employee day in and day out and she took pride in the fact that her employer could always trust her. She never, ever considered cheating. Well, that's not true. She never cheated her employer. I was another matter entirely. Twelve years of marriage makes a man blind, but it didn't make me stupid. I saw the signs, but I didn't want to believe them. I talked with her, asked if anything was wrong, tried to engage her in our shared life, but nothing seemed to work. She was distracted, distant, and at times downright unpleasant.

She started dressing better for work. She still looked professional, but sexier at the same time. She worked late more often, and she didn't return my calls. Either she had a boyfriend on the side, or she just couldn't stand me any longer. Maybe it was both. I worked on our marriage, but I was working alone. So, on an impulse, I parked across the street from her office at lunch a few times and every day she walked out of the building with the same man. I'd met him before and I knew who he was. There was no touching or hand-holding as they walked, but I could see the way she looked at him and I knew. Since she was working late more often, I parked in that same spot and watched her leave at the usual time with that same man. I didn't risk following them. I wanted to see, but I didn't want to see. His look and her behavior told me enough. Well, maybe not "enough" to decide, but enough to know. I was convinced, but I knew I would need more before I torched fifteen years of marriage.

I considered doing all the spy stuff, but I'm a carpenter. I don't know anything about spy software on cell phones or little black boxes in the car trunk. If I tried that, chances are she would find it and I'd be undone. I thought about a phone tap, but she was too smart to use the family phone. I don't have technology, but I do have friends and I'll pit friends against machines any day. You see, everyone needs a carpenter at some point in time. I made a good living, so I didn't charge every Tom, Dick or Mary for a quick thirty-minute job to repair a railing or fix a step. I had friends everywhere I went because for every little old lady that just needed a quick fix there was a thankful son or daughter who recommended me to every friend and coworker who needed real work done. It turns out that being a nice guy actually is good for business.

Where I built a business on trust, my wife built her career in an environment of suspicion. At random times and without reason or notice, employees at her office had to undergo lie detector tests. Her employer really was a SOB, but I guess he had to be in that business. The temptation must be overwhelming. The company believed if you stole from them you'd be caught sooner rather than later and that was all that mattered to them. At least, that is what they intended. Any lapse in moral judgment was a character flaw that worried them because if you would lie you would steal. Pondering that fact, I realized that I could use it to my advantage.

A year ago I got a call from this sweet old lady who had a rotten board on her front porch. She was all worked up and afraid she'd fall through, but it was just one little floor board. I had it out and the new board in place in about fifteen minutes, and I told her to hire a neighborhood kid to paint the porch. She tried to pay me, but I just smiled and told her to have a nice day. That's how I met her son, George Adams. George is the owner of Adams Security and they run the best lie detectors in the state. Adams Security handles employee security for my wife's bank. They do background checks and administer lie detectors to employees.

I gave George a call and we sat down over a beer where I explained my problem. He said, "You know the bank worries about embezzlement. We mostly ask about personal finance like "Have you bought a new car?" or "Do you live above your means?" We're asked to look for any ethical lapses that might point to stealing, but that's the only focus. I can recommend a good private investigator if you want."

"I had something different in mind. Is there any chance you could change up some of the questions the next time she takes a lie detector test?"

George is a friendly guy, but I've never seen a smile that big before! "I think we can work something out."

Three weeks later Adams Security called my wife to their offices. Employees are told on day one that when Adams calls, you drop what you're doing and you go. She'd been through it many times before and she wasn't worried. She sat down, they wired her up, and the questions began.

"Please answer yes or no to the questions. Is your name Karen Davis?"

"Yes."

"Do you reside at 1410 Mulberry Street?"

"Yes."

"Is your husband Jack Davis?"

"Yes."

"Do you have any reason to be worried about this test?"

"No."

"Have you ever betrayed the trust of your employers?"

"No."

"Have you ever betrayed anyone's trust?"

She hesitated.

"Have you ever betrayed anyone's trust?"

"No."

"Do you smoke?"

"No."

"Do you shoplift?"

"No."

"Do you cheat on your husband?"

"What the hell kind of question is that?" She was getting angry now, or was it defensive?

"These are our questions, Mrs. Davis. May we continue?"

She took a deep breath. "Okay."

"Do you cheat on your husband?"

"No."

"Do you get along well with your coworkers?"

"Yes."

"Have you done anything that should concern your employer?"

"No."

"Have you done anything that should concern your husband?"

"No!"

"Do you know a coworker named Judy Barnes?"

"Yes."

"Do you think she is stealing from the company?"

"No."

"Do you know a coworker named Margaret Paterson?"

"Yes."

"Do you think she is stealing from the company?"

"No."

"Do you have a coworker named Craig Bartlett?"

"Yes."

"Have you been intimate with Mr. Bartlett?"

"That's it. This test is over! Unhook me now or I'll scream!" She was pulling at the wires to free herself from the contraption.

"Okay, Mrs. Davis, but I feel I should warn you that at this point it appears you are being deceptive. That means you have failed the test and we are obligated to report that failure to your employer."

At this point my wife was in tears. She knew the bank had a zero tolerance policy on failing these tests. "I haven't stolen from my employer. They have no reason not to trust me."

"Your employer is concerned about any deception on your part. If you want to clear the air, we can retest you to eliminate the conclusion of deception."

"Okay, okay, I've been having an affair with Craig Bartlett for the past six months, but I haven't done anything that my employer needs to be concerned with. I don't steal and we don't get together at work. It's nobody's business but mine."

"And mine." I said as I walked out of the neighboring office and stepped up behind her. "Is it my business, Karen? Does your husband have a right to know?"

"No, no, no! This isn't happening!" Karen fell forward off her chair and onto the floor. She was sobbing and gasping. She was a wreck. It seemed appropriate. Our marriage was in the same state. I tried to find sympathy for her, but I had none. Six months? She's been lying to me and cheating on me for six months? That's no drunken mistake at a party. That's cold, calculating deception and betrayal.

I nodded to my friend, turned and walked out of the building. Karen did not try to chase me. She couldn't if she wanted to. She was attached to all those wires and when I left she was still lying on the floor.

I headed home. I knew what I was going to do before I was half way there. I worked out of the house and my garage was my shop. I wasn't moving out. By the time Karen got home I had moved her clothes into the guest room. She begged, but I didn't listen. It was my turn to ignore her.

I agreed to counseling, but it didn't change anything. I ask you, if I walk up to you, distract you momentarily, and then deliberately punch you in the mouth just as hard as I can, are you going to forgive and forget? Are you going to trust me again? That's how I felt. This was a deliberate betrayal of my trust. How often did she flirt with him until she consummated the affair? How many lies did she tell me so she could spread her legs for that shithead? I asked our therapist point blank, "Is she mentally ill? Does she not know right from wrong?" He had to admit that she did.

That was all I needed. Six months of deception and betrayal aren't erased with an "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

I had her served at work and I didn't tell her it was coming. I didn't want to get George in trouble, so I never said anything to her employer. And I never went after the shithead either legally or otherwise. However, his car did suffer some mindless vandalism to the point it was cheaper to buy a new car than to fix it. It's a pity, really. Mercedes are so often the object of pointless vandalism.

Karen made more than me and I never had evidence that she ever brought shithead back to the house, so we agreed that I would keep the house and she would pay no alimony. I had dreams of being a kept man, but the truth is I wanted no more contact with her, ever! Being a carpenter, I gutted the house and redesigned the layout. I moved walls, rebuilt the kitchen and bathroom, pulled up carpets and refinished the floors. When I was finished, it wasn't the same house anymore. I erased my memories with a hammer and nails.

Oh, it turns out that shithead was married and my wife never knew! What's the world coming to when an adulteress can't trust her fuck buddy? I mean if you can't believe a man who screws married women, who can you believe? Somehow, and I have no idea how, his wife found out all about his innocent little tryst with my wife. She was not amused. Her daddy is a lawyer and he never liked the guy to begin with. She tried to get her cheating husband's balls to use as a key chain, but the judge refused it. She settled for alimony payments that would make a loan shark stand up and applaud.

Some will say that I let her off too easily. You know, the bitch really did love me. It sounds arrogant, but divorcing her gave her more pain than I expected. I still get calls late at night where she asks me to forgive her and take her back. She was bored and feeling old. He was an experienced predator. In time I understood, but it's no excuse. You don't let your insecurities drive you to hurt the ones you love.

There's just one more part to this story and then I'll let you go. You remember that sweet old lady with the rotten porch board, George's mother? Well, in about two more weeks she will become my mother-in-law and a sweeter, more loving woman you will never meet. You see, George has a sister and once upon a time his sister had a cheating husband. George is also a deceptive and scheming SOB with a heart of gold, which is probably why I like him. I got invited over for a perfectly innocent cookout and I never saw it coming. Thanks, George, for everything.