Wednesday, February 25, 2015


I was feeling pretty wired now. The alcohol mixed with adrenaline soared through my body. I figured it was as dark as it was going to get. I got out of my car and crossed the street. The street with the driveway with the red car was lit by streetlights, but all those weeping willows didn’t allow much useful light. The wind picked up and the rain kept falling. It was one of those nights when people snuggled in their beds early with Stephen King novels. I made my way up to the red car. The rain pelted against my baseball cap.

Brazenly, I walked up to the driveway as if I’d live there all my life. Alcohol will do that to you, or was it the disguise I still wore? I walked right up the front steps and was about to knock on the front door when I noticed that all was dark inside. I checked the driveway, enough for two cars, but only the red one. I stepped back down and walked around to the side of the house. There was a door. I assumed it lead to the basement and that’s where the blond lived. There was no light here, but I could make out a gate leading to the back of the house. I looked around. Most of the houses were now dark. I fumbled for the lock, opened it, and went inside.

There was very little light in the back yard. I stood there for a moment, with my head buzzing and my heart pounding. I tried to make out the shapes and before me appeared a table with four chairs. I took a step forward and bumped into the barbecue shifting it a little and had visions of Pit Bulls and Dobermans running to eat my arms and legs. I froze. No dogs. No lights came on. No noise from the house. I looked down at the barbecue and saw that there was a little light coming from the basement window behind the barbecue. I gently lifted the barbecue up on one side and turned it so that I could bend over to see into the window.

I was not expecting to see what I saw. I wanted to believe that it wasn’t him. I wanted to run and go back to my cozy home and pretend like the day hadn’t started yet. I wanted to go back home and find him there and run to him and tell him I loved him.

The curtain was sheer. On each of the night tables candles were lit. And there, there he was on his knees pumping her with the fullness of himself, pulling her hair, smacking her buttocks, while she rocked back and forth on her knees, giving herself to him with everything she had, matching every thrust.

I couldn’t pull myself away. It was like a dream. I was drenched and shaking, but inside I was on fire. I watched as he plunged his hips in one final heave and let out a howl unlike anything I’d ever heard. She collapsed and he fell on top of her, his skin shiny with sweat.

I looked away. I didn’t know how to feel. I didn’t know what to do. I was lost. I sat there in the pouring rain with the wind cracking tree branches and tearing leaves away from their roots. I had to get away from that window, so I crawled to the farther corner of the yard and hammered the muddy turf with my fists. I bawled on my hands and knees in the dark for what seemed like eternity while the lightning flashed across the sky and the thunder clapped, and the rain became torrential. I was devastated. I was in shock. I saw it with my own eyes but I still couldn’t believe it. I had never felt so much pain. I couldn’t breathe. I felt like a piece of trash someone propped up in the corner waiting for garbage day so it could be tossed and gotten rid of forever.

Just as I thought I was going to go mad with the agony of what I felt, I heard the basement door. It was him. He was leaving. It was still pouring rain. I got up and ran over to the gate.

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride home?”

“No, it’s okay, you get back inside. I have to make it look like I was outside waiting for the bus.” He kissed her then walked away.

She went back inside. I opened the gate and stared at the door. I went over and checked the knob, unlocked. I gently turned it. A set of stairs led to another door. I couldn’t help myself. I went in and tried the door at the bottom, open. I listened. I heard the shower running. I was just about to open the door when I heard a car door slam from above. I booted it up the stairs and back into the yard. I had just closed the gate when I saw a guy come around the house and go down the stairs. My heart thumped in my chest. Could he be her boyfriend? I bent down at the window and looked inside. The guy was undressing. She entered the room in a robe and a towel on her head. He grabbed her and pushed her on the bed. She laughed as she untied her robe. She spread her legs while he pulled the towel off her head.

I got up. I went back to my car and headed home, wondering if my husband knew about the guy. Well of course he must have known. There must have been evidence of his habitation there. Or if he didn’t live there then something of his would be lying around. Wouldn’t it? He must have lived there, he just walked right in, or was she expecting him?

I raced home. The rain was still heavy. The wipers did a poor job of keeping the windshield clean and the lines on the road kept disappearing. My mind was a shattered mess. I banged at the steering wheel with fists of rage. “You lying, cheating, sack of shit!” I screamed and swore and ran his name through the dirt. Condensation developed on the window, I couldn’t see. The sound of a horn distracted me and I turned to look. When I looked back at the road, I was driving through a red light. Brakes jammed, tires squealed, horns blew. I turned the wheel to avoid the car ahead of me and spun into circles. I hit my head and blacked out.

When I came to horns were blaring.

“Are you all right?”

“What happened?” I said, tasting blood in my mouth.

“Apparently, you followed another driver through a red light.”

“Is anyone hurt?” I asked the man.

“No, luckily, you spun out of control and the guy in front of you just kept going. Thank goodness it wasn’t rush hour. I don’t know if anyone called the police, but are you all right? Should I call someone for you?”

“No, no,” I told him. “I’m fine.”

My car had stalled and I was inches from the south-east corner traffic light pole. I started it up, thanked the guy, put on the four way flashers, and then slowly maneuvered my way into traffic.

I couldn’t stop shaking. I wanted to get home before my husband did, but I needed time to pull myself together. I pulled into a pizza place and turned off the car. When I looked into the mirror at myself I laughed. My hat had come off, my wig was askew, and a corner of the mustache had come unglued and was hanging off. I laughed so hard I cried. And cried some more, but they were no longer tears of laughter. I cried and cried until my eyes were so swollen that I couldn’t see. I cried until I couldn’t cry anymore, until there was nothing left. I took a few deep breaths and found some tissue and blew so much snot out of my nose that I thought I had a nosebleed. I sat there, dumbfounded. Then I grew a spine. I spotted a garbage can and got rid of the jacket and disguise. The rain had eased up a little and the wind had died down.

Despite almost killing myself and possibly someone else, I got home before him. I showered and was in front of the mirror tending to my head. It wasn’t a noticeable cut, my hair would hide it, but the cut on my lip was something else. The bleeding had stopped, but it was red and swollen. I got myself some hot chocolate and was sitting on the sofa clicking the TV remote when he came in soaking wet.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi, yourself,” I said. “Why didn’t you call me for a ride? I would have come to pick you up.”

“Well, I didn’t know how long it was going to take to do that order, and I didn’t want you driving on a night like this.”

“Yah, it was pretty bad for a while, but it looks like it’s clearing a little.” I sipped my hot chocolate trying to get the chill out of my bones, but that fire inside me kept raging.

He took off his boots and coat and went directly for the shower. I sat on the sofa, my heart still pounding; I was unable to calm myself. I felt nothing but hatred and anger. I despised him. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to kill her. I wanted revenge.

After his shower he made himself a snack and went right to bed. He barely looked at me. I didn’t mind one bit. I left the TV on and went to the bathroom. His clothes were still on the floor. I went through is pockets but his phone wasn’t there.

I checked my lip once more, the swelling had gone down. I pulled my hair up and examined my 46 year old face. I had a few lines around my eyes, some sun damage, a few lines around my mouth, but surely I was much more attractive than that burly girl he had been with. She looked no more than nineteen, just the same age as his daughter. I was perplexed. What did he see in her? What was wrong with me? Was I not interesting enough? Was I not fun? Did I not give him enough of myself? Why? Why?

I shook my head. No, it’s not me. It’s him. There will be no self-pity here.

“You are a wonderful, giving person,” I told the beautiful face in the mirror. Then I knew. I knew what I was going to do. I knew exactly what I was going to do.

I went to the computer and logged into my bank account. I checked my finances and found that I had a pretty good handle on things, little credit card debt, my car was paid out, and I had savings to boot. Then I logged into our joint home savings account. I had checked it a few months back and it was close to $125,000.00, now it showed less than $70,000.00, my hands started to shake and for a moment I felt like getting up, grabbing the biggest knife in the block, and driving it through his chest a dozen times. I transferred everything to my own bank account and requested the joint account to be closed. I then logged out and signed into my Hotmail account. I emailed my landlord the standard Notice to vacate letter giving only one month notice. I was sure it wouldn’t be a problem since my unit was one of the nicer ones, and people were always moving. My husband never spoke with the super and I told him in the email not to mention the move. He was a nice guy and I had confided in him a few times, so I was sure he would keep it to himself. I then emailed a storage unit facility, a moving company, and Canada Post to re-direct my mail. After that, I searched the storage closet for my old video camera.

I dozed off on the sofa with the TV still on. I woke up when I heard him leave for work around 4 am. My head throbbed, so I got up, took a couple of Tylenol, and made myself a big cup of coffee. I sat at the computer and worked on my blog. I felt good, like a big weight had been lifted off my shoulders. The manuscript that I had been working on was put on the back burner. There were some things that had to be done first to clear my mind before continuing.  I finished up, jumped in the shower, and ate a big breakfast. I went into our bedroom and started spring cleaning. When I was done there I went to every nook and cranny and by the time I was finished, there were about six bags of junk ready to be taken to the dumpster. I went to Staples to buy file folders and then came back to organize the rest of my stuff.

As I was going through the last of my things, my cell pinged. It was nearly 4 pm. “Going out with the salesman to talk about a customer, be home later.”

I smiled. It was an evil Grinch-like smile that went from ear to ear.