Chapter 4 (3/8/16)

Per a request on the last post, I updated the Blogs I Love page with inactive blogs that I love as well!  Thanks for the feedback!
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          Kelly texted me her realtor brother-in-law’s email address the next morning, as promised.  I wrote it down, but I didn’t email him.  I felt almost hungover from crying myself to sleep the night before.  I had--of course--dreamed about Kevin last night.  A vivid, realistic dream of one of the events leading up to the end.  The dreams always played out just how the real life events had.  It was something that happened once or twice a week since I found the condom wrapper that had ended our marriage.

A February blizzard.  Not unusual here in northern Minnesota.  We’d gotten over 20 inches of snow in a little over 24 hours.  It was warm enough that the snow was wet, heavy.  It was taking down power lines, and we’d been without power for about an hour at this point. 

Kevin was outside snowblowing.  It was his job.  I did the laundry, he did the lawn and the snow.  It worked out well.  I’d offered to help this time because there was so much snow, but he’d said no thanks.  Instead, I was cleaning before it got too dark to see. 

I was moving Kevin’s phone off the kitchen counter to wipe it off when it startled me by vibrating in my hand.  The text preview popped up.  I immediately noticed that he had his settings so that it only showed he had a text, not who it was from or a preview of the text.  That was odd, because I was pretty sure he used to have the preview up.  I couldn’t help the suspicious, sinking feeling I got. 

Kevin had cheated on me once.  Once that I knew of, anyway.  A long time ago.  We had been dating for less than a year, and he’d confessed.  He said it was stupid and he regretted it and he was sorry.  He’d cried.  I’d felt bad.  Me.  I felt bad, because he was upset that he cheated on me.  I forgave him and we rebuilt our trust.  I thought it was over.

I don’t know what pushed me to try to unlock his phone.  I tried the code that I knew he used for everything, and it didn’t work.  The pit in my stomach grew.  I tried a couple other things, until I finally got it with the combination 10910.  Our wedding anniversary.  I went to his texts, and the top conversation was with someone whose name read “Nurse Betty”.   Seriously?

I opened the thread.  The message he’d just received said, “Can’t wait to see you again.  Let me know when you can get away.”  Nurse Betty had ended it with three kissy face emojis.  What was she, 12?

As I scrolled through the text thread, I felt like I was going to throw up.  It was perfectly clear from the content of the conversation that they were seeing each other regularly.  There were allusions to sex.  I hit the back button, exiting the thread before I saw something that sent me over the edge.  I scrolled through his other messages, finding a couple vaguely flirty texts to other women I didn’t know, but nothing as blatant as his conversation with Nurse Betty.  In that moment, I was livid that he used our wedding anniversary as a passcode to protect his adulterous conversation.

I heard the snowblower stop.  I set his phone down and stood on shaky legs, walking to the door to the garage.  I pushed it open and saw him refilling the snowblower’s gas tank.  “Can you come in here for a second?” I asked. 

“I’m not done yet, honey,” he told me.  “Can it wait?”

“No,” I said back.  “It can’t.”  I shut the door, not giving him a chance to argue.

About 90 seconds later, he was inside, pulling off his hat and gloves and leaving his snow covered boots by the door.  He gave me a slightly confused, slightly irritated look.  “What do you need?”

“I need you to tell me who ‘Nurse Betty’ is,” I said bluntly.

He froze.  The guilt was all over his face for a half second before he forced his features to a neutral expression.  I could tell he was desperately trying to figure out how to get himself out of this one.  “Don’t lie to me, I read your texts,” I informed him.  “I have some questions, and I want honest answers.”

He walked over the table and sat down, waiting.  “Are you cheating on me?” I asked.  He only hesitated a second, and then he nodded.  “How many are there?”

“Just the one.  The one you saw.  Her name…well, it’s Elizabeth. I work with her.”

“How long?”

This time he hesitated much longer.  Finally, he said, “Since September.”

I almost choked.  “September,” I repeated.  “So, while we were on our trip to Colorado together, you were what?  Texting her from the bathroom?  Telling her you couldn’t wait to get back to fuck her again?”

He didn’t respond to that.  He didn’t need to.  Instead, he started to cry.  I watched him with disgust.  This time I wasn't going to feel bad.  “Go finish snowblowing,” I said.  “Or something.  I can’t even look at you right now.  We can figure this out later.”

He didn’t say anything.  Didn’t apologize, didn’t beg for forgiveness, didn’t tell me she meant nothing.  He just stood, sniffled, and walked back towards the garage door. 

The apologies came later.  He cried some more as he apologized over and over.  “You want to save this marriage? We’re going to counseling,” I told him.  My words sounded cold, but I was crying too.  “You’re going to therapy.  And you’re going to figure it all out without me harassing you about it.  Because you fucked up this up, so you’re going to fix it.  And if you don’t want to fix it, then tell me now so I can get the hell out of here.”

He’d assured me that he wanted to fix it.  Told me over and over how much he loved me.  That she meant nothing.  All the things I’d wanted to hear before.

I woke up when he was begging for forgiveness.  My cheeks were wet.  Can you cry in your sleep?  I mean, I just did, so I guess that answers that stupid question.  We’d gone to counseling.  He’d gone to therapy twice, then plead out based on his work schedule and paying for couples counseling.  We’d gone to our counselor 6 times before collectively deciding we didn’t like him.  We never found a new one.

I also never quite regained my trust in him.  I snooped regularly.  He kept his passcode the same.  I never found evidence of wrongdoing.  But I couldn’t shake the feeling that he hadn’t actually stopped, he’d just gotten smarter about it.  I had no proof, and any accusations or questions were met with such skillful manipulation that I ended up feeling like I was the bad guy.

I was deep into feeling sorry for myself when my phone lit up with a new text, distracting me.  I was surprised to see it was from my friend Jamie.  I hadn’t talked to Jamie in years.  We’d been good friends (maybe even with a few benefits thrown in) a long time ago, prior to my Kevin days.   He moved to Seattle about a year after I started dating Kevin, and our friendship was limited to the occasional Facebook message or text after that.  We’d seen each other once when he was back for Christmas and it had worked with my schedule (since I was usually heading down to Rochester for Christmas) but that was it.

I opened the text.  “Heard through the grapevine, I’m sorry,” it said.

“What grapevine?” I asked back.  “Hardly anyone even knows.”

He didn’t respond for several minutes, then said, “Well, you may not be telling many people, but it seems that your ex has less propriety than you.”

I sighed.  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Same shit, different day?”

In a moment of weakness, I had confessed everything that was happening to Jamie two years ago—when I’d originally caught Kevin cheating.  I generally tried to keep other people out of our business, but I was drunk and he had texted, and the rest was history.  “More like same shit, every day,” I replied. 

“Damn.  That’s not what he’s telling people.”

“Don’t tell me.  I don’t want to know.”  I had assumed he wouldn’t be telling people the truth.  Why would he?  The truth looks pretty bad on him.  I wasn’t ready to hear what lies he’d concocted to save face, though. 

Jamie spared me the details and we texted back and forth for awhile.  It had been ages since we’d caught up, and eventually he revealed that he’d recently broken up with his long-term girlfriend as well.  When I found that out, I texted, “Going to be around for Christmas?  We should get together and catch up if you’re around before I take off.”

Cutting right to the chase, he replied, “By ‘catch up’, do you mean hook up?  Because I’d be down for that.”

I rolled my eyes and laughed as I responded.  “Not what I meant, but I’m not saying no either.”  Was it what I meant?  Maybe.
          We chatted for about 15 more minutes, managing to find a day of his trip that overlapped when I would still be here prior to heading home for the holiday.  I was excited to catch up with him (and probably hook up with him), but also a little anxious.  If we hooked up, he would be the first guy besides my ex-husband to see me naked in 9 years.  I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that, but I guessed I’d find out.  And anyway, I had over two weeks to prepare myself.

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Chapter 3 (3/6/16)

I'm posting early because I have two posts ready to go for this week!  Come back around Wednesday for the next chapter!
          Also, please direct your attention to the left side of the page.  You can click the "New here?" link to take you to the first post at any time.  Right under that, you'll find something I just added: "Blogs I Love."  Unfortunately, the format of this theme doesn't allow for a blogroll like New Beginning, New Adventures had, but if you click that link it will take you to a page where I have links to the blogs I love and read regularly.  Right now it's limited to blogs that I personally read and love and have posted at least once in the last month.  If you guys want links to blogs that are inactive but still had good stories, let me know and I can add those.  Under that, you've got options to follow this blog via email or Bloglovin'.  As I have a tendency to post early or late or give random bonuses, those are going to be the best ways to know right away when I've put up a new post!
          I'm glad you guys are enjoying the story so far.  There's a lot more crazy to come!
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          Luckily, I got an almost immediate response from Erica: “Dinner, then drinks at my house? John is out playing poker tonight.” 

“Yes!” I sent back. 

A few minutes later, my phone buzzed again.  “I’m in.”

We picked a restaurant and settled on a time.  I trekked back into my bathroom to dry my hair now that I was going out.  I did my hair and makeup and picked out an outfit, then settled back in front of my computer to wait until Kelly arrived to pick me up.

When she texted me that she was out front, I shut my laptop and jogged up the stairs.  I almost ran right into Kevin, and he leaned against the wall in the hallway and watched me pull on my knee-high boots.  “Where are you going?” he asked curiously.

I snorted and didn’t respond.  When he repeated the question, I said, “Sorry, you’ve lost your right to that information.  Have fun with your whore!” and disappeared out the door. 

I breathed out a sigh of relief when I climbed into Kelly’s passenger seat.  “Is he really having a girl over to your house?!” she shrieked in disbelief as she pulled away from the curb.

“He really is,” I responded.

“I might kill him,” she warned me.  “We’ve got to get you out of there.  Why don’t you come stay with me until you find something else?”

I frowned.  “Thank you, but I just couldn’t,” I replied.  “It would be weird.”

“Weirder than living with your ex-husband?  Your ex-husband who thinks it’s okay to bring other women home to your shared house to fuck?  Come on, Jen, it doesn’t get much weirder than that.”

 She had a fair point, and as satisfying as it was to take potshots at him like a child, I knew my life would be better when I had my own space and didn’t have to see him (and the evidence of the way he’d torn my life apart) every day.  “I know, and I appreciate your offer, but I need to do this right.  When I move out, it’s going to be into my own place.  Maybe I should find a realtor.”

By this point, we’d arrived at Erica’s house and our conversation paused as we both got out and slammed the car doors shut behind us.  Once we were inside the warmth of Erica’s house, Kelly said, “My brother-in-law is a realtor.  He’s good too.  I’ll give you his email later.”

“Does this mean you’re finally really trying to get out of that house?” Erica asked, looking back and forth between us. 

“Yes,” I replied, nodding. 

“Thank god!” Erica exclaimed.  “I don’t know how much more of his bullshit I can manage.”

“That makes two of us,” I said, rolling my eyes.  “Can we go?  I’m starving.”

We made our way to the restaurant, which of course had a 40-50 minute wait.  There were a couple random open stools at the bar, and with a little eyelash batting and finagling, we managed to get three open stools together to sit and enjoy a drink while we waited for a table.  One drink turned into two, and then three.  I had just gotten a fourth drink when we were alerted that our table was ready.

We stood, and I immediately stumbled over my own feet and bumped into Kelly.  “Maybe you should cool it, Jenna,” she said, steadying me.  “We haven’t even been here an hour yet.” 

I grumbled in response and followed them to our table.  We ordered appetizers right away and I drank a glass of water before I finished my drink.  Once I slowed down and got some food in me, I settled into a nice buzz. 

When we finished our dinner, we went back to Erica’s house.  She opened a bottle of wine for her and I and brought out a beer for Kelly.  We flipped through the channels until we found a terrible Hallmark channel Christmas movie to watch while we chatted and drank.

When Erica’s husband, John, got home at 11 with a sour look on his face, Kelly and I quickly decided it was time for our departure.  I was glad Kelly was driving me home, because I certainly wasn’t in any state to drive myself. 

Kelly dropped me off at home and I didn’t see any unfamiliar cars parked around our cul-de-sac.  I breathed a sigh of relief, assuming that meant that Kevin’s “friend” wasn’t here anymore. 

I was certainly surprised when I walked into the house and discovered Kevin and a tall, thin brunette half-undressed on the living room couch.

“Shit!” Kevin exclaimed, grabbing for the nearby throw blanket to toss over the girl on the couch.

“I’m going downstairs,” I replied quickly, already on my way down the hallway to the stairs to the basement. “I suggest you go upstairs!”  I heard him mutter something, then heard the higher pitched tone of the brunette’s voice answering.  Then I heard footsteps across the living room towards the stairs going up to the second floor.

Once safely downstairs, I started getting ready for bed.  I put on my pajamas, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and got into bed with a book.  I was there for about 20 minutes before I decided it was far too cold in this room for my liking.  I knew there was a space heater stored in the closet in one of the extra bedrooms upstairs, but I wasn’t sure if it was safe to go up and get it. 

I decided not to risk it and stayed in bed until I heard people clomping around.  Then I heard the door to the garage open, and then the garage door.  I waited until the garage door shut, then got out of bed and made my way upstairs.  At the top of the stairs, I ran right into Kevin. 

“Shit!” I yelped, startled.

“Goddamn it, Jenna,” he replied.  “Sorry.”

I shrugged and continued through the hallway and to the second set of stairs.  Kevin trailed me up the stairs and into the spare bedroom.  He leaned against the doorway and watched me dig through the closet.  “What are you looking for?”

“The space heater,” I said.  “It’s freezing downstairs.”

“Oh, it’s in my bathroom.”  I turned and gave him a “what the hell?” look.  He shrugged and said, “Alyssa said it was too cold in there.”

“Oh, poor Alyssa,” I muttered.  “Okay, thanks.”  I started to walk back downstairs.

“Wait, Jenna.  You can have it, just let me grab it.”

“I don’t really want it anymore,” I said back.  “I’m just going to go to bed.”  He reached for my arm as I pushed past him and I snatched it back.  “Don’t touch me,” I snapped.  “You don’t get to touch me anymore.”

He held both hands up in surrender.  “Look, I’m sorry you had to see that.  I don’t really know what to say, but I am sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I snarled.  “Seriously, Kevin, walk away.”  His lips formed a hard line, and he stepped out of my path so I could walk downstairs. 
          I stomped back down the two flights of stairs and fled into my room.  I slammed the door shut behind me and curled up in bed.  As if it wasn’t bad enough that his stupid whores had ended our marriage, I now got to see him mid-hookup on the couch when I came home from a night out.  Despite my best efforts, I started to cry.  I had to get out of here.

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