“Baby. . . please. . .put it down! Come on now, let’s talk about this!”
I jolted, felt like I just woke up out of a deep sleep. But I hadn’t been sleep. I was wide awake, in a real life nightmare. I wish it would’ve been a bad dream, wish I could’ve shaken this off and started my day all over. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case.
“Ppput it down. . .we can talk about this. It’s not what it seems.”
I finally was able to react to that last statement. I couldn’t believe this man, my husband, uttered those words while he lay in our bed next to somebody else.
“It’s not what it seems?” I said, finally able to speak. I thought my tone would have been more of a yell or even a scream but it was barely a gasp. I cleared my throat and a deeper, more raspy voice spit out, “What the hell am I supposed to think while you’re laying next to this bitch?!”
My husband looked at me dumbfounded. Whenever he was trapped in a lie he reminded me of a teenager that got caught coming in after curfew by his parents. The way his big hazel eyes were round and had a dazed look. The way his forehead creased in a thin line, and how the crease got deeper the more he tried to think of another lie to cover the one he’d just told. How his deep sensual voice that used to turn me on just by speaking one syllable is now high pitched and unrecognizable.
Bzzzz. Bzzz. I felt my purse that was still on my shoulder vibrating. My cell phone had been ringing since I got home but I couldn’t force myself to answer. My thoughts were going a mile a minute. I was scared to move or even blink, thought if I took my eyes off of this extra-marital crime scene I would miss every vital piece of evidence.
“What am I misinterpreting? Please explain to me, what this is.”
He rubbed his head and kind of let out a frustrated sigh. Then he looked over to his left, where his little mistress lay stiff. My wine-colored satin sheets that I bought last week from Macy’s were pulled over her head and she hadn’t moved since I made my grand entry into the bedroom. It seemed unreal that somebody was actually laying there. But I had been standing outside of the bedroom door looking through the crack. Saw him moving on top of her and heard her moaning. Heard him sound like he used to with me. It reminded me of those dreams you sometimes have when you’re outside of yourself looking at yourself. Instead I was standing in myself looking at my husband being inside somebody else.
My husband finally spoke, more nervous than when I first entered the room. “Baby. . .”
“Don’t call me baby,” I said through clenched teeth. “Don’t call me shit from now on.”
“This looks bad. . .but I can explain. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
I just shook my head. Then I raised my right hand to scratch my temple when I noticed the weight I was holding. I had our .9 millimeter gripped so tight my knuckles were completely white. I loosened my grip. I was a little confused because I forgot that I grabbed it after witnessing what I saw going on in my bedroom.
“Baby please. . .”
“I AM NOT YOUR BABY!” I screamed at him. I was shaking now, something I hadn’t noticed I was doing either. “After all of these years and this is what it comes down too?”
“No bab….I mean sweetie it doesn’t. I messed up. I know I did. I’m sor. . .”
“Don’t you even form your lips to say sorry because I swear those will be the last words you say to me.” My tone had gotten deeper and I think it scared him. It wasn’t what I was trying to do but I’m glad to see that he was starting to take me serious.
Still staring at my husband, I started to feel my eyes moisten. I had to close my eyes and take a deep breath to gather my thoughts. Everything was starting to come back to me on why I came home early in the first place. The news I was preparing to tell my husband once he got home from work. The excitement that was almost unbearable.
My phone buzzed again, bringing me back to the present. I knew it was my girlfriend from work wondering how I was planning my evening with my husband. How I was going to tell him that the rest of our lives were about to change. Didn’t expect my husband to beat me to the punch.
“Hey slut!” I yelled at his mistress. She still hadn’t moved. I wanted to see her, see what made her so enticing that he was ready to turn his back on our marriage. “Show yourself! You were bold enough to come in my house, in MY bed and fuck my husband. Be a woman about it now!”
“Leave her alone,” my husband said nervously. “It’s not her fault. This was all me.”
“Are you defending her?!” I snapped at him. “You’re in my house defending this tramp bi…”
The house phone rang and startled us all. I didn’t know who that could’ve been. Maybe my girlfriend trying to reach me again. Hell, it could’ve been a bill collector. Didn’t matter, I wasn’t answering. There’s nothing anybody could say to me right now that could take my attention off of this.
My husband squirmed towards the edge of the bed like he was about to get up. He heard the gun click and changed his mind.
My thoughts were racing even more now. I was getting even more aggravated and anxious the longer I stood here and looked at them both. I wanted so bad to make this end, to turn back the hands of time and start all over. Start it all the way back to the first time I met him. If I’d had known then what I know now, I would have never given him a second thought.
We’d been married for 5 years, and for the most part they were happy years. We knew each other from college but never dated. We were both caught up in doing different things and different people but once we graduated we found ourselves running in the same professional circles. I was reluctant on getting to know him because we were so different. He was an engineer and I was a journalist. He was a sports fanatic and I was a shopaholic. He loved to work to save money and I loved to work to enjoy the money.
Somehow we dated for the next three years and to my surprise I really fell hard for him. He couldn’t get enough of me and I couldn’t stand being away from him, so when he proposed I was ready to get married that night. He was, up until this morning, the only person that I couldn’t see myself without.
Our marriage was like any others, days we loved each other and days we hated being in the same room with each other. We were normal. We had a beautiful home and we both agreed that we wanted to become more established before starting a family. He went back to school to get his Master’s degree so he could get a promotion at work. I was so proud of him, supported him in all of the progressions he made to further his career and surprisingly he was the same way with my personal ambitions.
Our intimate life had become somewhat bland after a couple of years. It felt like a chore more times than I’d like to admit. What used to be a couple of hours of endless passion on a daily basis was now a few minutes of awkwardness that only happened twice the week. I didn’t even kiss my husband anymore. After so long I noticed I could still be intimate with my husband but still sexually frustrated afterwards. I would attend a few toy parties that my girlfriends hosted and started using alternative objects to take the edge off. It may not have given me the foreplay that I longed for but it hit my erogenous spots just fine. My husband hadn’t hit or thought about brushing against my spots in a long time.
I’m not sure when we found each other after that period in our marriage but gradually we started doing new things to ignite that fire again. We started being more spontaneous and romantic with one another. It’s like we had found our groove again but this time it was better. He was more attentive to my needs and if we stayed away too long from each other he was calling me or texting me like crazy. Every day I couldn’t wait to wake up just to be with him again.
That’s why this morning was not really a surprise. I had even rescheduled my normal OB appointment a week early because I already knew what the results were going to be. In approximately thirty-two weeks we were going to be proud parents of a beautiful little girl or boy. This couldn’t have come at a better time in our marriage. Everything was so right, so perfect.
After my appointment I went to the hospital pharmacy to get my prenatal vitamins suggested by the doctor. Then I found a card to give my husband that was perfect for the occasion. I thought finding you would be the best thing that could have happened to me. But knowing that our love has given us both a gift has made it that much better. Congratulations, you’re going to be a great father. I anticipated the look on his face when he read those words. I played the evening out over and over and tried to imagine how excited we both would be. This was our next milestone and I couldn’t imagine anything else deterring that.
I called one of my closest friends who happened to be a coworker and told her the great news as I drove home, still in a fog. I didn’t bother to pull into the garage, I just parked in the driveway. I got the mail out of the mailbox and walked through the front door. I immediately turned the alarm off and looked around. Our home was a two story, 2700 hundred square foot single family home. It was nice and open, with an earth tone color scheme. I had vanilla scented air fresheners throughout the house which I noticed was more intoxicating than normal. I walked to the back of the house, towards the kitchen and placed the mail and my bag containing the vitamins and card on the counter. I went to get me some water out of the fridge when I heard something upstairs. The alarm was on when I walked in so I knew no one broke in the house. I hurried up the stairs, hoping that I hadn’t left the water running in our bathroom when I left for work this morning. When I reached the landing, I looked down near the top step and saw my husband’s leather jacket laying in the middle of the floor. I picked it up absently, trying to remember if it was lying there this morning when I left. Then I heard the sounds again. Downstairs it was muffled but standing in the middle of the loft, it was very recognizable. Moans and heavy breathing, followed by the steady thumping of a headboard. I looked in the direction of our bedroom and noticed that the door was closed. We never closed our bedroom door and I know I hadn’t closed it this morning.
Then I heard the moaning again, not clear if it was the sound of a man or a woman. I walked slowly and quietly up to the room and cracked the door open slightly. There he was. . .on top of somebody else. . .who wasn’t his wife. . . or carrying his child. I wanted to scream but I couldn’t find my voice. I stumbled back, catching myself before I fell into the wall, wanting to cry but I was in so much shock the tears wouldn’t come.
My first reaction was to go downstairs and leave. But I couldn’t run away from this. They were in MY house after all. He had done the ultimate disrespectful thing a husband could do. No, I wasn’t going to let him get away with this. I stepped away from the door and found myself rummaging through our upstairs loft. I knew we had stored one of our two guns within our TV entertainment center in the loft area. Because we didn’t have kids around, it was never a big deal where we stored our guns. I was especially glad at this moment to have easy access to a weapon. I picked up our .9 millimeter and headed towards the bedroom. I didn’t intend on using it, it was just a scare tactic, I reasoned with myself. I edged back to the door. They had gotten quiet which made me nervous that I had made too much noise and they knew I was home. But then I heard my husband talking to her and saying how glad he was that he met her. How happy he was when he was with her. How he hadn’t been this happy in a long time. Then I opened the door and the screaming started. . .
. . .and now here we are, me standing in the middle of my bedroom and the adulterers still in bed. MY bed! The way my husband looked at me now was like he didn’t recognize me. I’m sure my facial features showed him the same.
“Please put down the . . .” he started.
“Do you know why I came home early?” I cut him off. My purse was buzzing again so I flung it to the floor.
He looked at me puzzled and then his gaze turned grim. “Is…is something wrong?” he actually tried to sound concerned.
“I’m pregnant,” I said, barely a whisper. When I wanted to cry, I couldn’t. Now the tears, that I tried so hard to fight back, wouldn’t stop flowing. This was not the way I was supposed to tell him this.
My husband’s mouth dropped open. His expression was that of embarrassment yet excitement. I think if he hadn’t been too scared about me putting a slug in his ass he would’ve jumped out of the bed, ready to hug me. But since I was still holding the gun that wasn’t going to happen.
“You’re. . . having my baby?” he managed to say. He looked like he genuinely was excited and happy. For a split-second I almost felt compassion for him but then the anger caught hold of me again.
“And here you lay with somebody else,” I said. The shaking had subsided and calm had replaced it. I would later learn that was not a good sign.
“This should’ve been the happiest day of our lives but instead you made it the worst. . .”
“Baby I am so sorry. . .”
“. . .and all you can say to me is you’re sorry,” I said. “I gave you everything I had to give. I put you first so many times, just to please you. . .”
“Can we please talk about this? We can move past this. . .”
“I gave you my life and all you gave me in return is. . .this. I never gave you reason to do this.”
“I know you didn’t. I screwed up okay? I did this, but let me fix it.”
“Kiss my ass. You’ve done enough! I allowed you to waste the last 8 years of my life but believe me when I tell you, you won’t be wasting anymore.”
He was crying now. I’m not sure if it was fake or real and at this point I could care less.
“Just listen to me. Listen, please. All we need to do is talk about this. We can get past this, I promise,” he continued to beg.
“Can we get past this? Really? It’s amazing that when it’s you with your back up against the wall, we can all of a sudden get past it. But let the shoe be on the other foot. . .”
“I would listen and forgive you.”
“YOU ARE A LIAR!” I had stepped closer to the bed now, waiving the gun. “Let it had been you catching me with another man you would have my things packed up and burnt in the driveway before I could begin to explain.”
“N-n-no, I wouldn’t. I would listen and try to understand, I swear on my life. Yes, I would be hurt but I couldn’t lose you. I don’t want to lose you now. What can I do? Tell me what I can do.”
“Nothing. You can do absolutely nothing for me.”
“Don’t say that, please don’t say that,” he pleaded. He looked desperate now.
“Were you worried about losing me when you decided to screw her?” I asked, pointing to the still stiff figure. “You just told her you had never been this happy. How you’re so glad she’s in your life. Still wanna make it work?! I wouldn’t want you to remain unhappy with me.” I mocked him when I said that last statement.
“I said things, that I didn’t mean,” he said dryly, looking over to his lover.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” I said shaking my head. “Our vows meant absolutely nothing to you but meant everything to me.”
“I meant everything I said,” he said sounding like he was straining to speak.
“I’m sorry, but your actions are saying something else.” I trained the gun directly towards his head now. His eyes grew huge and his body stiffened.
“Don’t do this!” he screamed.
I closed my eyes. I felt like I had lost control over myself and that was scaring me so much right now. I tried to think of anything that could calm me down. I tried to remember how he used to look at me. How he looked the day he proposed to me and how he told me how much he loved me when he said his vows to me. The way he made me feel when he made love to me. Remembering how almost two months ago he surprised me one evening by cooking dinner for me and how I spent the rest of the night being his dessert. The night we conceived our baby. Just when I started to back away and realize what I was doing, I remembered again what I came home to. How he sounded with her. How he was making love to her and making her feel what I used to feel. The way he looked right now at me. How when he was with me he was thinking of her. When he touched me he was really touching her.
My husband was back talking again but this time I couldn’t hear him. His tears were streaming down his face now. He had edged half way off the bed now, revealing his naked lower half. I noticed he at least had enough consideration to use protection as the tip of the condom stuck to the inside of his thigh. He was almost up now, still talking. Still pleading. With his hand outreached to me. . .
. . . and then the gun went off and it dropped to the floor.
May God have mercy on my soul.