Chances - Wife takes a chance; what were the chances he'd take her back? by PumpajPumpajPumpaj on ImageFap.com

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	Chances - Wife takes a chance; what were the chances he'd take her back?
	I hated these Fridays and the long drive home. My job as a sales rep for a Fortune 50 food distributor earned a good living wage for my wife and me, but the monthly sales meetings meant I had to drive to the main office, two and a half hours away, on Thursday. I'd spend the night at a hotel and then make the long drive home when the meeting ended around three in the afternoon. The Friday traffic made it a three-and-a-half-hour trek. My territory in Temecula was ripe, being outside the big city of San Diego. There were fewer businesses to sell to but also fewer competitors. My wife, Lara, worked for a mid-size accounting firm that had their Pacific headquarters about half an hour from our home so she did a fair bit of driving as well. I, Chris Tester, met Lara in college. We became quick friends, dated, and found ourselves quickly falling for each other. It wasn't even a year before we took the other to meet our families. My Mom and Dad lived on the East Coast and to me, anyway, had always been a bit stuffy. Dad was a corporate lawyer with a major firm in Boston. They liked Lara well enough but didn't overtly show it. Lara's parents liked me more, I thought. My degree was in marketing and since I'd worked a bunch of restaurant jobs, I knew after college, I'd need to go to work in food distribution if I wanted to make good money. I never considered sales until I found that was where most people started these types of careers. Our wedding was a mixed bag. Lara's folks weren't rich and Lara quickly got way over budget in the planning. By the time she and her bridesmaid, along with her mother, figured it out, things had progressed to the point that she'd either be very disappointed or I'd need to kick in. I had just started my first sales job and money was tight, so I decided to ask my parents to subsidize the wedding and I would pay them back on the QT. Dad lectured me about the importance of future budgets but finally relented and gave me an extra ten grand. The next major issue was the guest list. Jami Bates was Lara's best friend from high school. She was a bubbly-faced, blond-haired, blue-eyed work of true art. While Lara was beautiful in her own right, Jami had that natural, girl-next-door beauty. She was short and petite, whereas Lara was tall and slender. I paid little attention to her side of the guest list and realized later that I should have. While I grew up in a Boston suburb, Lara's childhood home was twenty-five minutes away in Escondido. We met at UCSD (University of California, San Diego). It was one of only two schools that offered me a business major scholarship focused on marketing. All of Lara's high school friends were invited. That was fine by me until I learned by accident two weeks before the wedding that Lara had invited her high school sweetheart, Tristen Knowles. When I entered the kitchen to grab a beer, Lara had Jami and three other friends sitting at the table, going over plans. I overheard one of them ask if I knew. "Know about what?" I said nonchalantly as I passed. The room fell deathly silent with all the ladies staring at me and then at Lara. Lara meanwhile shot daggers at her friend. "Oh, we're just talking about some of my friends, is all," Lara tried to hide it. I stared at her. She became more nervous the longer I did so. "Ladies, can you excuse us a moment," I asked politely. The four of them filed out of the room, looking like they expected a war. "Okay, Lara," I stared hard at her. "Spill it." She thought it through for a moment. I could tell she was tossing it over in her mind. Finally, I guess she decided honesty was the best way to go. "I invited Tristen to the wedding," she said with an edge, then she waited. I was trying to comprehend what I was looking at. It was a first for Lara. "And why would you do that?" I decided questions would serve me better in that instance. "Because he's a friend," she would make me draw all the rest out of her. "Okay, Lara, I'll bite," I took a seat across from her. "You're inviting your old boyfriend to your... our... wedding. Now that I know, it appears you've got an attitude about it. Was it intended to be a secret or is this something else?" That threw her off balance and she didn't answer right away. "No, it isn't anything else," she said in a humbler tone. "Look, Chris, he's a good friend. I want him to share our big day with us. I'm getting married to you, not him. I'm in love with you, not him. We split amicably when it happened. You know the story; he went in the service." "I don't want him there," I stated emphatically. "Have you already sent him an invitation?" "No, we're working on them now so we can take them to the Post Office tomorrow," Lara replied. "I made out the invite for him and a guest. Please try to understand. There's nothing to be jealous of, Honey." The conversation wasn't going how I wanted so I changed tactics. "And after the invites were sent, I was what? Going to find out on the day of the wedding?" "No, I was going to tell you," she stammered. "Just not tonight." That outwardness surprised me. "Alright then," I made a sour face. "Let me be as clear as possible. I'm really upset about this. You're playing a dangerous game, Lara, not to mention near our wedding day, the most important day of our lives together except maybe the birth of our children. Not telling me now, well, it's a lot like not telling me period. Regardless of your rationale, as much as I object, it is perhaps this subterfuge, this attempt to conceal that has my antennae sky high. He's not invited, end of story." I got up and walked back into the living room. I'd been more animated and louder with that last part so there was little chance that her friends hadn't heard us. I went to bed early that night while the women were still in the kitchen. Much later, Lara climbed into bed and snuggled to my back. Eventually, I dosed off. In the morning, I woke from a restless slumber and went for a run. That wasn't something I often did but I needed a clear head before we faced off again. She was in the kitchen sitting in the same chair as the previous night when I arrived. It didn't look like she slept much. I poured myself a fresh coffee and sat across from her. "I'm sorry about last night," she stated in a small voice. "Chris, let me explain, okay?" I nodded as I watched the different emotions cross her face. "Tristen was special to me," she began. "He was my first, you already know that, but we were very much in love. I..." "Then why are you marrying me instead of him," I cut her off. That caught her off guard. I... What?" her expression changed again. "I don't understand your question." "It's a simple ask, Lara," I calmly stated. "You just said you were deeply in love with him, and I suppose, he is with you. I'm pretty sure what you were going to say next before I interrupted." "No. No!" she became dramatic. "You've got it all wrong! He was gone, you and I began and I love you! Surely you know that?" "I do," I told her, "but he's back now, isn't he? He may have been gone physically but it appears that emotionally, he never left and that is troubling. Last night, you were defending him over me, even when you and your friends knew I'd be pissed to find out about his invitation. I should be the only one in the pecking order not one of two or more." "First of all," she said as she stood to come and join me in my chair. "I love you. I love you most. I love you enough to want to be married to you, not him. I thought I could maintain a friendship with him but I can see that was a foolish notion. There is no pecking order. Tristen won't be invited to our wedding. Please forgive me." It wasn't the end of the conversation. Her tone was more of surrender than true conviction to the words she was spouting. I brought it up a lot over the next few days to ensure that I wouldn't have problems down the road but the doubts continued to nag. I didn't want to be stuck in a marriage that would need to end because Lara wasn't honest with me or herself. >>>> "Hey honey," I said to her voicemail. "I'm still on the road. Should be home in about two hours. I've made plans for us tomorrow since Valentine's Day is Sunday. I thought we could just relax and stream a movie tonight, after my long drive." I suddenly felt like something might be wrong. It wasn't like Lara to not answer my call. I'd called three times since getting in the car and then leaving a message. I was paying a Circle K clerk for my gas and soda when my phone vibrated. Lara's picture was on the screen. At least she was okay. I sent it to messages and texted that I'd call right back. Five minutes later I was pulling out of the gas station and touched her missed call. "Hey, I was worried about you," I told her as soon as she said hello. There was an uneasy silence. "Lara?" I asked. "Hello." "I'm here," she replied with an eerie tone. "Where are you right now, honey?" "I just left Circle K off the 15 in Poway," I told her. "I'm about halfway home. What's up?" "Chris, I won't... be here when you get home," she said facetiously. I knew there was a problem instantly. "I have to... go away... for the weekend." "Lara, what are you talking about?" My tone probably gave away the panic I felt then. "Where are you going?" "I can't tell you," she replied. "There's something I have to do." Her emphasis on 'have' told me I was right about the panic. "No, Lara," I tried a calmer approach. "What you have to do, is tell me what's going on and what's so important." After a pause, she tried again. "Baby, I can't. I can't talk to you about it now. It's something I have to do, and I need you to trust me." "Can't or won't?" I snorted. She was starting to piss me off. "Both, I guess," she answered honestly. "Just know I love you, with all my heart, and I'll see you Sunday night." "Sunday night?" I asked in a higher octave. "We have plans tomorrow. It's Valentine's Weekend. Lara, you tell me what's going on right now!" that last part I said as a command. "I'm sorry, Chris," there was a finality to her statement. "I can't explain. Not now. I will when I return and I promise to tell you everything. I love you, Baby. Promise me you won't stress all weekend." What a stupid request. "That's a stupid thing to say, Lara," I admonished. "You know me better. You're off on some Mr. and Mrs. Smith weekend, all secretive and telling me not to lose my shit? This is bullshit, Lara. At least tell me who you'll be with and where." "I'm sorry, honey," she immediately responded. "That part will need to wait until I get back too. I'll be close by, in Southern California. I'll be safe." My mind was in turmoil and we weren't getting anywhere in our dialogue. I felt like I was losing her, somehow, and Tristen lurked in my thinking. In my slight pause, Lara finished the conversation. "I need to get going, Chris," she at least sounded apologetic. "I love you." I didn't say anything back to her and the call dropped. Just like that, she was gone. >>>> I found a few tidbits during those subsequent conversations in the days following our wedding invitation blow-up. Tristen, the ex, had enlisted out of the blue, without any discussion with Lara, which really hurt her. I also learned that they'd made commitments to each other. One was to always remain friends. He'd told her not to wait for him to return, mostly because if he liked it, he might stay in longer than four years. He said that wouldn't be fair to her. They also made a pact to be there for each other, no matter what, in times of despair or health; sort of a 'better or worse' scenario. What absolutely didn't happen between them was either one or both losing their feelings for each other. I asked plenty of questions about that and, although her responses were genuine and open, I still couldn't toss my bad feelings aside. I'd gotten his invite out of the garbage the morning after our talk, which led me to his address. Four days later, I was parked in front of his apartment complex, waiting. I watched as a young guy got out of an older Honda Accord and I followed him to the gate. "Tristen," I said as if I knew him. He turned around studying me for a moment. "That's me," he jovially answered, "what's up dude?" He was a typical SoCal boy, with blonde hair and blue eyes, not a lifter but muscular and fit, probably from surfing. His confidence ran deep and he reminded me of the California quarterback transfer from the movie, "Friday Night Lights". "I'm Chris Tester," the name meant nothing to him. "Lara's fiancé." That got his attention but again his reaction was unexpected. "Oh, right," he finally offered recognition. "I've been expecting you, brah. Well, not exactly like knew you'd come but, yeah, I sort of figured you'd find me. Come on up, and we can chat." I followed him up the outside staircase after he'd unlocked the gate surrounding the building. San Diego is a pretty nice place but that didn't mean there aren't unsafe parts of town, and this place definitely looked unkept and run down. On the inside though, the apartment was meticulous. I'd expected nothing less from an ex-military man. "Want a beer, brah?" he asked with little to no concern in his voice. I accepted and sat on his sofa. He came back, handed me an unopened brew, and sat across from me. "I hear I'm uninvited," he said with a chuckle. "Have to say, I'm not surprised." He took a long pull off his Corona. "Hell, if I was in your shoes..." he left the rest hanging. "Being a fellow dude," he sat straight and looked me in the eye. "I'm pretty sure I know why you're here, so I'll get to it. Look, I love that girl, Lara - your girl. But I've got to say... " "If that's true," I interrupted, "why isn't she marrying you instead of me?" "Easy, brah," he interjected, "I'm getting to that. It's a story but the short answer is because she found you." He paused to let that sink in and then went on. "We became friends during our freshman year," he said. "She was nice to me and that was exactly what I needed. My father was a beach bum who struggled to make ends meet with my mom, but apparently, he didn't know how to use a condom. After my big sister was born, Dad subsidized his bartending job by running drugs for the cartel guys. That's a big deal here in San Diego, in case you didn't know. Anyway, I was four when he crossed the border into Tijuana one night to do a job and never returned. Mom never found out if he was dead or what but she filed for abandonment a year later. "For some reason," he continued, "that really fucked with my confidence. I can't remember much of him but I became shy and withdrawn, Mom tells me. She's since told me, if she could've afforded it, she would have put me in therapy. Lara was like a beacon of light for me, dude. I could even say she saved me. I never felt judged when I was around her." "So, again," I responded. "Why not ask her to wait for you to return? Why give her up?" "I'm sure she told you why," he shrugged. "We were friends for a little over four years. We only ever messed around and we didn't, you know... do the deed until she turned eighteen in April of our senior year. Right after graduation, I enlisted. She was pissed that I didn't talk to her but I knew she'd given me just enough of whatever was lacking for me to go in the service and get the rest. "I figured I'd let the military complete your training and knew that without meeting Lara or becoming her friend, I'd never have made it that far." "So, you have some special bond, more or less," I announced. "You still haven't answered my question." "I think you just missed it, dude," he tipped his beer bottle to me. "I had to let her go, man. Shit, I had to go become a man. I wasn't going to hold her back after all she'd done for me. Did I hope she might be available when I came home? Damned straight, but, by then, she'd found you. I was happy for her, disappointed for me. But the Marines squared me away. Sorted me out, more like it. I'll find a girl, no doubt. I have a girlfriend right now, who I'm actually kinda crazy about." I sat there processing. Growing up in Boston where everything is more... formal, I'd never taken to the surfer type. Hell, I'd never really taken to 'laid back'. Tristen looked about as sincere as a person could look. I did not doubt that he cared deeply for Lara and that in fact, he believed he had 'set her free' and wanted to be happy for her. "Tell you what," he offered. "Invite me to the wedding. I'll bring my girl. You can watch me interact with Lara and see for yourself. Put your mind at ease. I don't want you as an enemy; I'm a bit selfish on that front because I don't want to lose her as a friend." I ended up seeing his logic as sound and, I'll admit, as a 'dude' I was morbidly curious to see how things played out. Lara was certainly happy about my change of heart. I didn't tell her I went to see Tristen and, if he told her, Lara never brought it up. The wedding went off splendidly. Tristen brought a woman as engaging as she was beautiful. I might have been a tad jealous if not for my wedding day. He even danced with my new wife twice and there was nothing untoward. I was watching. Four years passed. Lara and I had what I believed to be a near-perfect life together. We never had a knock-down drag-out fight, not once. When we did quarrel, it ended quickly and with some great sex. Never did we go to bed angry with each other. When we'd been married two years, Lara's father, James Belvedere, died of a massive heart attack, not yet sixty years old. Lara didn't seem to take it as hard as I thought she should but I was happy that she was dealing well with the loss. I knew she kept in contact with Tristen by email. The day he got engaged to a woman he was dating, he was so excited, he texted Lara. That was against our private rule concerning her friendship with him, so my wife showed me the text as soon as she got home from her job as a bank teller that day. His engagement was a relief for me and life moved along. The fact that she reminded him how texting wasn't appropriate in the relationship pleased me even more. >>>> I arrived home an hour later to an empty house. Lara hadn't answered the four calls I made to her since we'd talked, and I was worried and pissed. As I headed up the stairs to our bedroom, I tried to call again. I found her phone vibrating in its cradle on the nightstand beside the bed. She didn't want to be contacted. I sat on the bed taking some deep breaths to relax and tried to think logically. Lara had to have some emergency to attend to but then why the secrecy? I changed into my sweats and microwaved some creamed chipped beef. Lara gagged at the smell of it so I always indulged when she wasn't around. I needed more information. My wife's actions were so foreign to me that I'd been in relative shock until then. I pulled out our personal laptop and started going through emails. We shared the computer and didn't partition it with his/her passwords. At first, I came up empty, seeing no correspondence that looked suspicious. I looked for the latest email between her and Tristen but the last was before Christmas and it was just friendly. I was at a loss. Then I noticed an email from someone named Anita Knowles. Paydirt! Anita, apparently, was Tristen's mother. Her email dated January fourteenth, informed Lara that Tristen's wife died in a car crash while visiting her family in Orlando. She went on to say that Tristen was chronically depressed and getting on poorly. She urged Lara to do anything in her power to help her son. Somehow, she knew about the promise, although she referred to it as a 'vow'. This revelation brought back loudly all the doubts and suspicions I had when we were arguing about inviting him to the wedding. It became abundantly clear to me that none of my concerns mattered to her and fell considerably short of their vows to each other. The revelation had me so pissed I couldn't see straight. So, Lara had left me high and dry to see her high school flame, which it now appeared was also her main man. I was the depressed one then. I was almost certain I knew how she'd be consoling him. I'd had a beer while snooping through the emails but the time had come for something stronger, so I could mourn the end of my marriage. There was also something about the wording or maybe the way Anita wrote to my wife, that seemed odd. I didn't want to dwell on that right then because the enormity of what Lara was doing was too much. As a normally light drinker, I awoke groggily. The sun shone blindingly through the east-facing window. While Jim Beam wasn't my preferred bourbon, it was what had been available in the pantry and I got familiar with about half the bottle. People always say, "Sleep on it," and I had to agree that in the light of a new day, I was calmer and thinking clearer. Lara and I were not going to survive this and that knowledge saddened me. I'd given my all to the relationship, I'd honored my vows and she'd trashed hers. She hadn't even given me a chance to try and stop her. No matter what excuse she gave about her 'friend's' state of mind, I'd never accept the betrayal. My mind started to conceive little bits of revenge but I kept pushing them aside. There would be plenty of time for that later. Now was the time to do all the things to protect myself from any fallout. For all I knew, Lara never planned to return. I started with the only credit card we shared and reported it stolen. She had one and so did I in our own names. The bank was next. I had a separate account for repaying my student loans, so I moved all of checking and savings to it. She could fight me to get her half back later in the game. We didn't have any kids so there was only a small chance we'd get to court. California was a hardcore 'irreconcilable differences' state and the couple rarely had to appear for the final judgment. It felt a little satisfying that she wouldn't be able to use her debit card over the weekend. Then I went onto the state's website and downloaded basic divorce documents that involved an even split with no alimony or child support. The court might require something from me due to the length of our marriage but, so what? Little did I know that my actions would trigger a response. At about eleven that morning, the doorbell rang. I half-expected to find a process server when I opened the door. Instead, standing there was Jami. "Hi, Chris," she said meekly. "May I come in?" It was evident that she knew something about my situation so I opened the door and waved her in. "I don't have anything except coffee to offer you," I said, matter-of-factly. Then I remembered last night and chuckled. "I can get you a cup or we can sip on the rest of my bourbon if you prefer. I assume you have some bad news for me." "It isn't anywhere near as bad as you think," she said and waved her hand at the coffee cup. That gave me pause. I wondered as Lara's best friend, what kind of web she planned to weave but I was interested since I knew nothing except who Lara had left me for. I set the coffee in front of her and the milk and sugar next to her cup. "I'm all ears, Jami," I told her. "I know where she is so don't start with a lie or out the door you go." Jami raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure you know and so does your wife," she tried the stoic demeanor. "She called me when her debit card was declined this morning." "And how long have you known, Jami?" I asked with a bit more vitriol. It was still too raw. "For two weeks," she admitted. "What I know or don't isn't why I'm here though. Why did you take all the money?" So, she wanted to play it that way. "Say what you came to say, Jami," I scolded. "If you've known for two weeks and I had to find out the way I did last night, then you aren't my friend." She looked hurt and confused. "Of course, I'm your friend, Chris. She's there to console a friend, just like I am here for you. His wife died suddenly and tragically. Nothing else is going on, I swear." "Don't, Jami," I was feeling tired already. "Neither of us can say that for sure. All you know is what she told you so I have no confidence in anything you or she may say. Did she spend the night with a man not her husband? If no other person was there, like Tristen's mom, for example, then no one can prove what you're saying." The mention of the mother seemed to freak her out. "She didn't go there to cheat on you, Chris. I do know that for sure. She loves you, and I know that too. She wouldn't cheat on you, sexually." Lara's friend inadvertently gave me some ammo. "Maybe not," I said nonchalantly. "Like I said, we'll never know for sure. What I do know is that she's been cheating emotionally and probably for longer than I suspect. Tell her if she can prove me wrong, I'll put the money back." I had no intention of doing that. Jami was stuck. The conversation hadn't gone at all like she'd planned and it was plastered all over her face. While she paused to try to collect her thoughts, I trudged forward. "What was the point of you coming, Jami?" I pushed it. "Soften me up, console me, maybe give me a little something, something to tide me over and even us out?" Regardless of your intent, you are delivering a message that my wife should be...and in person rather than phone or email. Did she tell you she dodged my calls and texts before she left?" "Screw you, Chris!" she lashed out. Just as quickly she reeled herself in. "Nothing like that; I wouldn't. She's only there to comfort... a friend who suffering a tragedy." She quickly realized the poor wording. "I don't know why she kept it from you until the last minute, you'll have to ask her about that. I didn't know that part until this morning. That's why I offered to come and see you. They're friends, Chris, that's all there is to it. I know for a fact that she loves you and only you, probably to a fault." Jami saw how badly she was failing. She stopped herself even though she had more to say and decided to drink her beverage. She studied my face trying to figure out if she'd done any good at all. I think she knew she hadn't. "Well, thank you, Jami," I said almost mockingly. "You've told me nothing more than I already knew. Now what? You call his landline after you leave and explain how bad things are, then she runs home to try and fix things? Or maybe, she isn't coming back." She knew then she'd wasted her time. It was a valiant effort, I'll give her that. I hoped Lara would appreciate what a good friend she had in Jami. She was going to need friends like that. Jami set her cup down and rose from her seat. "No, Chris, she isn't going to run home. Tristen is in bad shape so she'll take the weekend to try to help him if I know my friend. She will prioritize and expect to repair any damage here when she gets back. I think she mentioned returning Sunday night. Personally, I wish she'd stay with him longer, and I'm sorry about that, but I know them both better and I guarantee he needs the help." "Yeah, listen to yourself," I admonished. "She ran to him first, then she'll return home to her husband to repair the damage. Maybe you know both of them better and maybe even like them better, but ask yourself this: In what universe is a husband supposed to warm to that disrespect?" She thought she was done until I stood up and put my index finger up for her to wait. "Why did Tristen's mother contact Lara, instead of the sorrowful man himself?" I said it with venom and spite, hoping to throw her off or make her think I already knew more. "I have no idea about that," she told me. Everything about her tone and body language told me that she did. "One last question," I said as she was walking off the porch. "How long were you supposed to stay here and 'console' me?" Jami stopped and turned to face me. "All day, if I felt it was necessary. And no, before you ask, she didn't ask me or expect me to have sex with you. I was supposed to check on you again tomorrow morning to see how you were feeling." There was that pause again. "For what it's worth," she said with a stoic smile. "I'm not staying because I can see it's pointless and because I can see I've always been right about you. You see, I think she should have always been with Tristen, should be now, despite him being..." Her expression changed to something horrific like she'd barely caught herself divulging important information. She quickly turned and went to her car. "Jami," I called loudly after her, "don't you ever darken my door again. You're not welcome." Surprisingly, she flipped me the bird with her back still to me. I had a new purpose. Back to the computer with a fresh beer and an English muffin. I didn't really care about my eating habits just then. I went back to the email and read it over and over. Nothing was telling so I Googled Anita Knowles and added her email address. The usual basic info came up over and over again. I clicked one of the dozens of sites that would ask me to pay for the information. Anita Knowles, married to David Knowles, the site gave up her current address. I paid more for a deeper dive into her life: the high school she graduated from, her parents and grandparents, then her work history. One job, in particular, interested me. I pulled out my credit card again and paid for a background check on James Belvedere. I'd be damned. Lara's father, James, owned a landscaping business. As I learned long ago, they didn't have much money. Anita Knowles was listed as having been a 'secretary' there twenty-five years ago. Could it possibly be? I thought. I wasn't surprised to see two missed calls on my cell from Lara. Jami, no doubt, had called to give her the news. Surprisingly, Lara didn't leave some long apologetic message intended to placate me. I took myself on a nice date to Texas Roadhouse that evening, sat in the bar area, and enjoyed a filet mignon while watching a UCLA basketball game. It wasn't like I didn't have plenty to do, however, I'd spent the afternoon packing all the things I wanted and left everything else. Lara wouldn't have a chance to make things up to me, as the story goes. She could console Tristen to death as far as I was concerned. Depending on what I found out Sunday morning and how my unveiling plan went, she'd probably decide against trying to fix things. I was parked there for an hour and a half. Finally, Anita Knowles pulled into her driveway. She looked like she was getting home from church. "Anita Knowles?" I said as I came up the walk, not wanting to scare her. She didn't look scared as it turned out, but she did look apprehensive. "Who's asking?" she gruffly replied. "My name is Chris Tester," I explained. "You don't know me but I have a couple of important questions to ask. I'm not selling anything; my questions are personal." She frowned but invited me to sit on the porch. "You'll understand if I don't invite you in." it was a statement, not a question. I did and acknowledged it. "Did you work for a James Belvedere?" She nodded, still unsure of my intent. "And is your son, Tristen?" that cleared it up for her. We sat and I asked my questions. As stand-off-ish as she was initially, she slowly began telling me the whole story, unburdening herself. "My husband gave up on me," she looked very sad recalling things. "His behavior did a one-eighty, selling and moving drugs. I'll never forgive myself for his death or the impact it had on my son." "When did my wife find out?" I asked, watching her eyes for changes. "I don't know, exactly," she sounded sincere. "I wasn't the one to tell her. Tristen admitted he'd found out just before high school graduation. Then he went into the service. I wasn't aware he knew until then." "I think he joined the Marines because he found out," I offered. "Are you leaving your wife?" she wanted to know. "I love my wife," I answered. "However, I'm unwilling to play second fiddle in this bizarre 'throuple' situation. If she really cared for me at all, she would have told the truth and I wouldn't be here now." It was as much a dig against her as Lara. "You know you're driving her into my son's arms, don't you?" "That's going to be their problem, not mine," was the last thing I said to her. The one part of my plan that I didn't think out too well was what would happen after I headed back home to gather my belongings. I was about ten minutes from getting out of there when Lara's car came squealing into the driveway. The rear doors of my car were open and she glanced inside at all my stowed stuff, as she was running up to meet me on the front porch. She didn't stop running but it was clear that whatever she'd rehearsed saying to me was out the window. She'd be adlibbing now. "Please don't leave, Chris," she begged, wrapping herself around my waist. "Please don't. Nothing happened! Give me a chance to explain." As badly as I just wanted to get out of there, morbid curiosity told me I might as well listen. It would also mean I never had to listen to her again. "Sure," I said without emotion, removing her arms from my midsection. We sat at the kitchen table where she couldn't touch me. That saddened her considerably. She quickly realized I had no inkling to speak so she nervously began. "I'm sorry," she said. "He needed my help; he was hurting badly. We'd made a promise to one another, Chris. You know that. I slept in the second bedroom. I was only there to help him over his..." "You made promises to me that should have been the only promises you owed." I lashed out. "Once you and I married, those promises to him...or anyone else...no longer mattered. Even if that wasn't true, you should have discussed it with me before going but instead, you were giving those promises priority over your marriage. "So, prove it," I continued. "Prove you slept separately and there was no sex." She'd spoken to her friend, Jami, and was quick to respond. "I can't prove it and you know that. You need to trust me!" she sounded a little desperate on that last bit. "Why?" I asked. "Because... I'm your wife and you love me." Tears were forming as it became clear that all of her excuses were failing miserably. "Explain what love and trust have to do with one another, Of course I loved you. I was committed as well, but all I got in return was disrespect." I was just fucking with her then. She wouldn't have been able to explain that if her life depended on it. She shut down for a long minute, her brain working overtime to come up with something... anything that could help her case. I decided to help the conversation along. "Lara," I said with more compassion than she deserved. "Let's say you could prove you didn't have sex with your old/new boyfriend. What good does that do me? You've been in an emotional relationship with him for a long time, certainly much longer than we've known each other." "That's not true!" she forged on. "You know it isn't. I love you! I married you! You even spoke to him before our wedding, remember? Why are you going to such an extreme? Stay here - with me - and I will prove it to you. Every day I'll prove it until you trust me again." "And just how do you plan to do that?" I kept at her. "If I'd gone to an old girlfriend, for whatever reason, and I did it in a way that gave you no say in the matter, how would you respond to that sort of deception and betrayal?" "But this is different!" she exclaimed. Suddenly, her phone pinged, and then before she could even look at it, it pinged two more times. 'Oops,' I thought. I hadn't planned to be sitting in front of her when the final act of our broken marriage occurred. Out of sheer habit, she looked at the notification on the screen. At first, I thought she was going to put it back on the table and answer me but recognition overtook her in an instant. She reread the screen with a look of disbelief. I'd spent most of the night planning the coming out party of Lara and Tristen. I couldn't believe that Anita hadn't called her son the moment I left but it was clear that was the case, or she called not long after Lara left for home. Her phone had been with me the entire time. That worked out well because after I posted my soliloquy for all concerned to see, I'd purposely used ridiculous passwords to try and log into her social media accounts, which locked her out, for the moment. She could see the headline of our destruction though. Lara looked up at me. "What have you done!" her voice was no longer soft and reticent. No more pleading in there, either, I suspected. Since she couldn't log in, she used the 'forgot password' feature and opened her email app as I sat there silently. I presume the teaser she read was the first part of my prepared speech: "The story of my ex-wife And her baby brother AKA - love of her life." I went to the fridge and grabbed the last beer I'd ever drink in that house. She was in quickly and reading it as every bit of air left her lungs. The rest outed the entire family. Her two-timing father, the half-siblings who fell in love with each other, until they found out the truth. The deception; both theirs and the parents. The lies I'd had to endure and those propagated on Tristen's dead wife. All of the damage - laid out in full clarity. Her face was becoming more frantic by the second. I was sure she hadn't taken one breath since she started reading my new bio. Finally, she looked at me with rage and murder in her eyes. I had no idea what was coming but I was again surprised as something internal forced her to calm herself. "Why would you do that?" she desperately asked, knowing there was no way to come back from the nuclear explosion I'd caused. "Because I refuse to be the bad guy... the villain in your twisted love story." I flatly stated. "That's it?" she asked incredulously. "To save face? Did you ever really love me at all?" "I've answered that, Lara. Did you?" I answered the question with a question as I rose. "Promise not to fight me, or the sale of the house, and I'll put some of our money back in the account so you don't have to beg any of the people who now probably hate you." She couldn't believe it, that was crystal clear. I wanted to push her lower jaw closed but instead, I grabbed the last of my things and headed for the door. I had no idea nor did I care what she was thinking at that moment. I was pretty sure she thought she would come home to some twisted version of a happily-ever-after form of reconciliation. Lara didn't try to contact me again. About three weeks after that last meeting, I received the divorce papers by courier. With them, was a letter from Tristen but nothing from Lara...the final indignity among the litany, so it drove home that I was making the right move: "Hey, Brah, how's it hanging? That was a real shitty thing you did to Lara, you know? It's cope, though, dude, I forgive you! I now know that I should have never let her go in the first place. I've got her living with me, and I plan to marry her soon after the divorce. Anyway, no hard feelings, Brah." My parents were very supportive. Dad asked me to come home to Boston as he'd found me a better job. I think part of that was the fact I still owed him ten thousand dollars. Mom told me she had three, 'sweet-as-pie' Catholic girls lined up to date and help put the past behind me. I turned in my notice at work. There wouldn't be any windfall from the house, just enough to get out from under it. I wondered about some revenge or retribution against Tristen, and for that matter, Lara. What was the point? I thought. Well, it would have been satisfying, that's for sure. That led to larger, more relevant questions: What kind of man was I? What kind of man did I want to be for the rest of my life? Was I going to rebuild my life bigger and better or mope around about what had happened? If I was to improve, what lessons would I learn from my experiences? Could I do any of that where I was? I couldn't get out of California fast enough and give Boston a second chance. Chances. I'd given that a great deal of thought. Lara had had many chances to come clean with the man she claimed to love. She didn't though, whether out of embarrassment or plain cruelty, I didn't know. Her father had his chance too, before his ticker quit on him. A self-absorbed man, he destroyed two families and made two very fucked up kids. Anita certainly had a few chances of her own, and like all the rest, she chose to do nothing. It looked like the surfer vet was going to be the lone person in their sad little tale to take advantage of his chances or his new-found opportunity, either way. One thing was certain: the next woman I fell in love with would have to go through something akin to the Spanish Inquisition before I dropped to one knee. Fortunately, I'd gotten out before we made it to our fifth anniversary and exercised my chance gloriously. It was time for me to stop dwelling on my old marriage and start looking ahead to the future. I'd have plenty of chances to right my own ship and seize my life.

	Posted on : Apr 14, 2025

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