PART THREE
THE EX
The bitch.
I knew something was going on with her and Troy, but I never thought she would leave me for him. We have been together nearly ten years, and then this bastard walks into her life, and she leaves – no explanation except for, “I’m sorry, but I’ve been having an affair with a man I fell in love with. I want a divorce.” We have two kids: what about them?
No, this isn’t acceptable. I’ve worked too hard to see my family destroyed. I will end this.
Now, I know I can’t force Melanie to stop seeing him since she’s a grown-ass adult, but if he disappears, well ….
And no, I won’t kill him. I’m not a sadist or maniac. I need to buy him off. I had to think strategically about this. I knew she would be at a conference in Florida, and Troy would be at the cabin for a week. She asked if I could take the kids while she was gone – a whole week without seeing them. I guess it doesn’t matter since she rarely sees them now. I care for the kids, prepare them for school, do their homework, and take them to soccer and ballet classes. Our son is 9, and our daughter is 6. We got married soon after college; I was 24, she was 22. I turn 34 next month, and Melanie will be 32 in December – Christmas Eve.
Anyway, he will be at the cabin, so I will stop by to get his price, and that will be it. Yeah, I know, if he really loves her, he will tell me to go to hell, but not if I tell him the secret I’ve had about her for over ten years. You see, Melanie did something that could be considered unforgivable, but I did forgive her because I loved her, and it was partly my fault. Still, Troy doesn’t need to know that.
I’ve spent too long mending fences and building our family to let it all be torn down. Once Troy’s gone, Melanie will be heartbroken, yes, but it will give me the opportunity to get her into therapy. She has refused to go for years, and it’s taken a toll. Her paranoid schizophrenia is worsening, and it’s been hard on the kids – and me. She tells me at least every week that someone is out to get the family. She won’t let the kids play outside or sometimes even on their phones unless she monitors everything. But they only have games and YouTube Kids. Still, she thinks some predator is out to kidnap and kill them.
We live in a safe neighborhood in Long Island, New York, and I’m sure you’re wondering how Melanie even met Troy, who lives clear across the country in Utah, of all places. Well, he’s a mason and travels for work. I hired the company he works for to build our new home. Their reputation was stellar, and the company was in Grantsville, the city where my good buddy, Grant, lived and where I grew up before moving East to pursue my career. I knew the family who owned it and knew they were top-notch.
Well, one thing led to another, and I knew something was going on, but I couldn’t prove it until I hired a private detective and confirmed my suspicions. I didn’t know how long it had been going on until she told me – over a year. Her conferences to Utah three times last year were supposedly for her job, as she’s an account executive for a top ad agency in New York. But I’m not stupid. I hired Detective Rangely for a pretty penny, and he followed her to Grantsville and took some pretty damning photos of the two of them. I knew in my heart it was true, but seeing them together broke my heart.
Now, I thought about the possibilities of things going south while at the cabin, so I enlisted some help from Grant. If Troy threatens or attacks me, he will be waiting near a grove of trees. I don’t want to hurt him, but I won’t let him hurt me, either. The cabin is mine and has been in the family for decades. She gave him the keys to MY cabin.
It’s half past 8:00 Wednesday morning when I get out of the shower. It’s getting warmer from the wet and cold winter we’ve had. May is my favorite time of year. It’s the time when I can start planting my gardens. I’m a horticulturist; well, it’s my hobby, not a career. I work as a stockbroker on Wall Street, taking after my father and grandfather. Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. I’ve made a lot of money investing in other people’s money. What’s not to love?
I wipe the steam from the mirror and look at the man staring back. His dark brown hair shows signs of aging, with a few gray hairs at the sides and mingled with the rest. His jaw is strong and chiseled, and the abs are finally starting to pack on some muscle – not quite a six-pack – but if he continues working out and hiking every week, he’ll get there. He’s nearly 6 feet tall, not bad, and his sea blue eyes he got from his mom are his prominent features – at least, that’s what the women all said. Still, he doesn’t consider himself a “pretty boy” or “hot.” He has a long nose, small lips, and some annoying tics he’s had since childhood, diagnosed as mild Tourette’s. It means there are no yelling profanities or other major symptoms. He sometimes cricks his neck, constantly clears his throat, and twitches his eyes – something he lives with and tolerates, keeping things under control in social situations and at work.
The kids are getting out of school next week, and then in late August, we all go on a Disney Cruise before they head back to school in early September. By then, Troy will be out of our lives, and Melanie and I may have mended a broken relationship. At least, this is my hope.
I check my watch after slipping on my Christian Louboutin shoes I got from Saks; well, I didn’t buy them. Melanie did it for Christmas last year. She had never bought me expensive shoes, and looking back, I should have known she was being nice to me to assuage her guilt of having an affair. I take one last look in the downstairs mirror, patting down some strands of hair that seem to pop up daily due to my circular cowlick in the back of my head. My mother would get so frustrated trying to get it to stay down.
I check around the house, ensuring the security system is ready, and head to the garage where my Lexus crossover sits. It’s perfect for four people, and since I’m the one who takes the kids everywhere, it has room for soccer balls, uniforms, a cooler for treats, and blankets. Melanie is always working and can never attend practices or even games. I once asked her why we even had kids if we weren’t both there for them. Her response: It’s MY time to play. Women have had to stay home for hundreds or thousands of years, and now it’s the men’s turn to stay home. I wished I had known her feelings before we had two kids because now, they have one parent and are always asking when mom will be home. What do I tell them, that they’re not wanted because it’s HER turn?
I push the button on the side of the wall that opens the garage door. The sun is shining, and I feel warmth flood the garage when I step inside the Lexus. It will be nice to get away for a week with the kids; it seems like I haven’t had a vacation in years, and now that I think about it, the last time we went anywhere with them was to Disneyworld when Kirsten was 2, and Jayden was 5 – four years ago.
I head to lower Manhattan about 9 miles west, but with traffic, it takes at least 35 minutes to get there. I’ve made this commute for over a decade now. Sometimes, I listen to a podcast while driving; other times, I put on Spotify and jam to my traffic playlist. (Yes, I do have one)
Ten minutes into my drive, I get an alert on my GPS monitor from Apple Maps that traffic is backed up a few miles. Welcome to my life. Melanie leaves early for her office to miss it since she said it stresses her out to sit in traffic. She took the kids to school this morning since they missed the bus. I had worked late the night before and wanted to avoid getting up at 7:00 to get them to school. The bus comes right at 7:45 for the 8:15 bell, but sometimes, they play around and miss it. Melanie gets quite upset because she must be at her office by 8:30, her words, which is 30 minutes away. But she is the account executive, so coming in a few minutes late isn’t a big deal.
She’s been at Top Quality Advertising in Brooklyn for over seven years now. We used to meet each other for lunch in Times Square. That all but stopped a few years ago. Our offices are about 10 minutes from each other, and we could carpool, but she goes in earlier than I do and stays later. It’s not a stretch for her to be gone by 7:00 a.m. and not home until 7:00 p.m.
I often think about what went wrong. We were so in love, and then the affair happened.
Well, I will rectify the situation, and Melanie will be mine again.
It’s only a matter of time.
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