Chapter 5

I'd heard enough. I wasn't sure I could take any more. I think I'd hoped this had been a one-time thing but now I knew better. This had been going on for years – since she was 17, she'd said, so at least 13 years. And he'd spent the past week with her, having sex with her. I couldn't take any more.

My hand wasn't very steady as I wrote the note. My mind was clear but my body wasn't listening to it too well. Luckily it was a short note.

"I can't deal with this."

I put the box in the middle of the hallway about 4 feet from the door, the note under it. I walked back slowly and quietly and picked up my luggage and walked through the mud room and into the garage. Both Amber and Dave's cars were inside and I resisted the urge to hurl large, heavy objects through their windshields. I closed the door quietly, pulling my keys out of my pocket and carefully selecting my car key. Then I activated the garage door.

I wanted them to hear me and the garage door would make sure of that; I'd hooked the doorbell to the garage door so it would chime when it was opened. I'd thought it was a clever safety feature since we didn't always lock the mud room door at night and this would give us a warning if someone broke in.

Now, it would serve as an entirely different kind of warning.

I rushed to my car and threw the bags into the back. I wanted them to know I was here but I didn't want them to catch me. I couldn't stand that kind of confrontation just now. Not now. I wasn't sure what I'd do. I needed time to think. I needed time to try to put some semblance of my heart back together again.

I hit the garage door button as I started the car and drove out of the driveway quickly. I'm glad that there wasn't any traffic; I didn't look as I pulled into the street.

I drove away quickly but followed the speed limit. As I was turning the corner away from my house, I saw Amber and Dave running out into the street. I know they saw me. I wanted them to.

I drove to a bar; my cell started ringing but I didn't want to deal with it so I shut it off. Normally, I didn't drink. I'd never really done any drinking. Even at the frat party's I'd observed a two beer maximum, nursing the beer all through the night. It'd always been one of my rules because I'd seen how some of my fellow halfway house graduates had let their lives come from the bottom of a bottle.

I ordered a shot of whiskey and downed it. I'd never had whiskey before and it wasn't nearly as good as I'd imagined. It burned going down but the pain was really just what I needed. The pain woke me up. It brought me back to reason.

I ordered a beer and walked to a booth, sitting down away from the television. I didn't want anything distracting me. I just needed to think. I needed to keep my head clear and decide what exactly I was going to do ... because I had to do something. I just wasn't sure what.

I closed my eyes for a minute, breathing in and out slowly and steadily. This had always managed to relax me before but it was doing nothing for me now. My heart was shattered. I couldn't relax. My life had become one long, dark, unending tunnel.

I fell back on reason. It had never failed me before. I just needed to identify the problem. Look past all the minutiae and determine why this had happened and what I could do to fix it. How had my perfect life gone so wrong so quickly?

Well, first of all, it wasn't quickly. It had never been perfect, evidently. My wife had been sleeping with her brother since she was 17 and that had never stopped. At least, it had never stopped for very long.

I still loved my wife. Even after this. Even after I felt so betrayed, felt my heart breaking in my chest, I loved her. Had I just not processed everything? I knew enough to know I was in shock, at least a little. Maybe her betrayal hadn't made it to whatever center of my brain was responsible for my emotions.

She said she still loved me. Strangely, I believed her. I believed that she loved me. I believe that she loved her brother. I believed she was having sex with both of us. No. Strike that. I knew she was having sex with both of us; there was no belief involved any more.

In the end, I still wanted her. I still wanted to be with her. I still loved her and she still loved me; wasn't that enough? Could I convince her to give up her brother? Could I handle it if she said she couldn't? Could I ever forgive her for breaking my trust?

I believed I could. I wanted to believe I could forgive her. I wanted to believe we could go back to our perfect life. I loved her. That was the simple truth. I loved her and I needed her and I couldn't imagine life without her. She was everything to me. She was my sole reason for living; the reason I got up in the morning and the reason I came home every night. She was my life.

I closed my eyes and reached for my cell phone and turned it on. It rang almost immediately. For a second I hesitated, my finger above the buttons. Then I pressed the end button and sent it to voice mail.

Instead I dialed my lawyer. He could give me a referral for a good divorce attorney.

I loved my wife. My wife loved me. She'd betrayed me and lied to me for our entire lives together.