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Cheaters Never Win Ch. 01

By: charleybear



It was Thursday afternoon and "men's day" at the Windy River Country Club where I had a standing date to play golf with three of my friends. We play golf every Thursday afternoon from the first part of April until the end of October with rare exceptions. Today was one of those exceptions. John, one of our foursome, had called me at 11:00 a.m. and said, "Sorry buddy, but Rod and I will not be able to make it for golf this afternoon. We have an emergency meeting to go over some blueprint changes on the hospital addition project we are working on." 

They work together at an architectural firm and I knew he wouldn't back out on golf unless he absolutely had to. "I apologize for the late notice," he said, "but we just do not have any alternative but to attend the meeting." 

I told him, "I totally understand, don't worry about it. Dave and I will have to find a couple of other pushovers to give us some of their money." 

He laughed, "I know you are happy to let us off today because you will save lots of money." 

We both said goodbye with, "See you next week."

I called Dave, one of my best friends, and mentioned the circumstances to him and he said, "As long as John and Rod can't make it, why don't we take the afternoon off from golf too so I can catch up on some projects at home. That will free up my Saturday for something else." 

I love to play golf but I wouldn't miss it if we skipped one day either so I agreed, but only after giving him some shit for the change in plans. We agreed to get in touch Friday night to see if we (he and his wife Carol and me and my wife Janet) could connect up sometime over the weekend for cocktails or dinner or both. 

I headed home after lunch hoping that Janet and I could do something together for the afternoon. When I drove into the garage her car wasn't there and I cursed to myself for not calling her as soon as I knew about the change of plans. Oh well, I thought, as long as she isn't home I might as well make the best of it and do some of the "honey do" projects that I had on my list too. I went into the house and looked around for a note from her, but there was none. I also checked the answering machine and there were no messages on it so I had no clue where she was. Then I remembered we had caller ID that saved the last 25 calls we received so I looked at the history to see if there was any clue as to where she was. 

To my surprise the last three calls were from a number I recognized. They were from Marty's phone. I knew Marty because for a couple of years he was part of our foursome. He quit playing golf about a year ago because he had a problem with his back, but he had not left the country club. He was still a social member and I saw him there on occasion. After he quit golfing John got Rod (a man he worked with) to play with us in his place. Marty was one of John's friends but I knew him too. I looked back to Wednesday's calls and there were two calls from Marty's phone then also. I checked back over the entire 25 saved numbers and 19 of them were calls from Marty's phone. I knew that Janet did not get along that well with Marty's wife, so I couldn't imagine why she would have been talking to her. I was bewildered, just what was going on here? 

I decided to call Janet on her cell phone and when she answered I asked her, "Hi honey, what's happening?" 

She said, "Nothing much, I was just vacuuming the living room. What's up with you?" 

Now, I was standing in the kitchen and I didn't hear the vacuum cleaner running and was pretty sure she wasn't in there since her car wasn't home, but I did walk in there just to be sure. No, she isn't in there! I told her, "Not much here either. The guys all had other things to do today so we are not golfing. I thought maybe I would come home and catch up on some of the 'honey do' projects. I will see you in a little while." 

She said, "Oh! Oh, okay, but I might not be there when you get home. I have to run to the store to pick up a few things." 

She sure was thinking fast on her feet, if she was on her feet. I am not without my own wits either, so I suggested that I could stop at the store for her as long as it was on my way home. She hesitated a moment, but then said, "Ok, that will be great." 

"What is it you need?" I asked. 

"Just a minute, I have to go get my list." Damn, I married one smart and obviously devious woman. "Pick up some milk, eggs, paper towels and some steaks for Saturday night, oh, and maybe some yummy desert in case we have company," she added.

"Ok, bye honey," I said. "I will see you in a little while."

She said, "Goodbye."

I figured I better get out of there for a while to see what happened. She obviously wasn't home now, but would she get back here in a few minutes? I just needed to get away and think this through. I got in my car and drove to the store but didn't go right in. I sat there thinking for a while first.

Janet and I had been married for almost four years. We didn't have any children but were thinking about having a couple sometime in the near future. I was 32 and she was 28 and we had met about six years ago after I had gotten out of the Marines. We were both in college at the University of Illinois, she a freshman and I finishing up my last two years. We met and dated off and on for almost a year, then pretty steadily for a year. After I graduated we were married and she has continued to go to school part time to finish up her bachelors degree and get her masters degree. She is almost finished but has been taking the summer off this year.

She is a very pretty woman with a very nice figure and she has a wonderful personality to go with her looks. Janet is very well liked among our friends and family and she almost always turns heads when we go out. I can get a little jealous if men pay too much attention to her, but I have never acted on that jealousy in a way that would upset her and she has never given me reason to doubt her faithfulness to me.

Janet was my love, my very best friend, my confidant, my life. Ever since we had been dating steadily I thought our minds and hearts were melded together. I could sense her feelings and she mine. I could smell her fears and she mine. I could feel her heartbeat quicken when I looked at her and she could feel the desire in me when she walked past me and I watched her go. There were lots of unspoken messages that flowed between the two of us on a daily basis. We just knew each other so well and were bound together so tightly that we were truly one. 

What could have happened here? I never knew Janet to lie to me ever, and I couldn't see any reason for it now except that she was up to something I wouldn't like very much. I knew she didn't like Marty's wife all that much, but there were lots of calls from his number. If it wasn't Marty's wife then was it Marty? Then it hit me! At the last country club social event about two months ago he had been dancing a lot with Janet. At the time I was a bit jealous because she seemed to be enjoying his attention way too much, but I let it slide because he and I were friends and had been close because of the golf matches. As I thought about that, I recalled that we had had a bit of an argument that morning and she was still upset with me when I got home from work. I don't even remember what the argument was about, but she was rather mad. 

It also dawned on me that the "connection" between her and I that I just mentioned hasn't been as strong the last couple of months. Has I been lulled into thinking everything was still the same? Obviously I had, but now I knew that something was going on and I was going to get to the bottom of it.

I went into the store and bought the groceries we needed and headed home. When I got there Janet was just getting out of the shower and told me, "I just finished cleaning the house and thought I would get cleaned up myself. Thanks for getting the stuff from the store. Why don't you put it away and I will be down in a little bit."

I have never been one to sidestep problems, I guess my marine training has taught me to face life head on and without hesitation, so when she came downstairs I asked her to sit down because I had something I wanted to discuss with her. 

I said, "Janet, you are my wife, my love, my lover and my very best friend in the whole world. I have been here for you and you for me since we started to date steadily. You are the one person I turn to when I need a rock to stand on and I hope you feel the same way." 

I looked into her eyes and could see a tear start to form. I continued, "I have to tell you, for the last couple of months I feel like there is a wall being built in our relationship and that wall has shut me out from your inner self and I don't like it at all. Have I done something that created that wall?" 

I saw her shaking her head, but no words came from her lips. I continued, "Please talk to me Janet and let me know what is happening to us. I can't bear to have us grow apart like this."

She had a tear running down her cheek now, and she looked down at her feet and said, "Paul, I don't know why you feel there is a wall being built between us. I love you and I know you love me."

"Then why can't you look at me when you talk to me?" I asked. 

She glanced up at me with a shocked look on her face then looked back down and replied, "I guess there are some things I have to work through, I am sorry you feel there is a wall between us," and with that she got up and ran upstairs crying. 

Well, I knew that we had some major problems going in our marriage now. I pretty much suspected what they were, but she wouldn't talk to me and I had no proof of anything so I decided to see what would happen. I walked up to the bedroom and talked to her through the bedroom door. "Janet, if you want to talk to me, I am here for you. I love you and want to help you with whatever is bothering you, or work on anything I have done that is making you unhappy, please talk to me when you are ready."

I went outside and began to work on the projects. My heart was aching, I don't know how to describe it to you, but I felt pretty empty inside and I don't care if I was a big tough marine, the tears flowed, and I felt pretty vulnerable. I didn't know what I would do if I lost Janet, if she wasn't my wife and lover. I just felt so powerless and weak. I was in a panic to be honest.

Janet did not come down for dinner and when I checked on her at 8:00 pm she was sound asleep so I went into the spare bedroom to sleep for the night. In the morning I got up and went to work early so we didn't talk in the morning. I called Dave and told him that I thought we probably wouldn't be doing anything together that night or on Saturday either for that matter, but I asked him if he could meet me for lunch. 

When we met for lunch I explained to Dave what had happened and asked him what he thought of the whole situation. He dropped a bomb on me. He told me that he and Carol had suspected something was going on between Janet and Marty right after the country club social gathering. Carol had seen Janet's car in Marty's neighborhood. I asked, "Why wouldn't you say anything to me?" 

He said, "We talked about it but felt we ought to stay out of it because we really didn't know what was happening." 

"Ok, I can understand that", I said. "Please don't tell anyone that you and I have talked, not even Carol. I want to figure out what I am going to do about this and I don't need a lot of gossip and outside input." 

I decided that I would have to have proof of her infidelity before I could handle the situation. I tried to attack it head on, but her refusal to talk to me or acknowledge a problem growing between us told me I would need to have proof before I confronted her with specifics. I took the afternoon off and drove over to Marty's house to see if her car was there. It wasn't so I didn't know when they might meet again. I called home around 4:30 p.m. and told Janet I would be home at 5:00 p.m. She said she was happy I was getting home early. 

When I arrived Janet was warm and caring. She hugged me and smiled at me with that smile that always warms my own heart. I could tell she was trying to be close to me but it just didn't feel the same to me. I could sense she was trying and we never had to try, it just happened. I asked her if she wanted to go out to eat dinner and she said yes. When she went upstairs to change her clothes I checked the caller ID and sure enough there were two calls from Marty, one at noon and another at 2:30 p.m. I didn't know what to make of those calls, but I knew that she didn't meet him that afternoon. 

The weekend was pretty uneventful, we did a few things together, and she wanted me to make love with her on a couple of occasions, but I just couldn't so I made up an excuse that I had a sore back. On Sunday night when I told her that I saw her shudder and saw a tear form again. I just couldn't bring myself to be intimate with her until I got to the bottom of this "supposed" affair. 

On Monday I arranged to get a few hours off each afternoon that entire week so I could check up on Janet. I knew if something was really going on I would need to catch her. Nothing happened on Monday, but again there were three calls from Marty, nothing happened on Tuesday, two calls, nothing on Wednesday, no calls, but on Thursday at noon Janet called me and told me that since I would be golfing and eating at the club she was planning on going to the library to work on her thesis for the afternoon and evening and not to expect her home until around 8:30 p.m. or so. I think she was expecting me to tell her if I was not golfing. Well I wasn't going to golf, but I wasn't telling her that.

I drove over to Marty's house and parked out of the line of traffic so I could watch his house. I had my camera with the telephoto lens with me so I could take pictures if she showed up. At 2:00 p.m. Janet drove up and parked on the street outside his house. She got out and went up to the door and Marty opened it for her right away so she could hurry in. I sat there with my camera snapping pictures from the time she drove up until she walked in the door and it was shut. I could barely see through the viewfinder because of all the tears streaming out of my eyes, but I did take lots of pictures. Two hours later the door opened and out she came. Marty reached out and pulled her back to himself and kissed her. He was standing in his doorway in a t-shirt and a pair of boxers. She was clearly kissing him back and reached down and slipped her hand inside his boxers and was rubbing his cock. Eventually she broke off the kiss and I could see her pointing to her watch. I assumed she was planning on meeting him later as well. She hurried to her car and drove off. The entire time I was snapping picture after picture of the kiss, her hand in his boxers and her driving off with Marty standing in the doorway. I didn't need to see them actually having sex to know that they had. You don't spend two hours together, kiss like I saw them kiss and rub someone's cock like that unless you have been intimate. I knew it!

No one can imagine the hurt and disappointment and anger I had felt. My vision blurred, my head pounded, my stomach was in knots. I could feel my heart pounding like an air hammer breaking concrete. The feelings I had were overwhelming to me and I knew at that moment I was lost, my life was over. The one person in the whole world I loved and trusted and depended upon had betrayed me, had broken my trust and yes, had destroyed my manhood. I would never be able to forgive her. I would never be able to live with her again. I would never be able to live without her.

I reached under my car seat for my Glock 37 a 10 round 45 cal semiautomatic. I drove my car up in front of Marty's house, walked up to his front door, broke though it, and searched his house until I found him upstairs in his shower. I opened the shower door and leveled the gun at him. The shock on his face was unbelievable, I almost laughed at him. 

I said, "Marty, you and those like you are the scum of the earth. Any man who would go after and fuck another man's wife doesn't deserve to live. You have destroyed a good marriage, you have destroyed a good woman, two good women actually including your own wife, you have destroyed me, and now I am going to destroy you." 

I fired two rounds into his groin, two into his belly, two into his chest, and two into his head. Then I left him there and walked out.

I drove home and went into the house. I could hear that Janet was in the shower so I downloaded the pictures onto our computer. When she came downstairs, I was sitting in the family room waiting for her. She was surprised to see me and I could sense the fear in her. "What are you doing here?" she asked. 

I told her that I had taken the afternoon off from golf again and that I had seen her arrive and leave Marty's house. I told her that I knew she was having an affair and I had pictures to prove it. I started a slide show of the pictures to run behind me as I talked to her. I asked her to explain to me why she did it. I asked her to explain to me why she didn't talk to me a week ago when I asked her what was wrong. I asked her to tell me what I had done to drive her into Marty's arms. I asked her to tell me how she could do that to me. I asked her how she could do that to our marriage. I asked her to tell me how she could do that to herself.

She just stood there, tears streaming down her face, moaning and shaking her head back and forth. I screamed, "Talk to me!" but no words came from her mouth, no explanation, nothing. She had nothing to say to me. The despair I felt at that moment was the worst yet. 

I wanted to know so much, but she wouldn't tell me anything. She never said "I love you." She never said, "I am sorry." She never said a thing, just moaning and shaking her head.

Cheaters Never Win Ch. 01



Well, I was more than a bit taken back. Perhaps the word should be confused or perhaps it was shocked. Really it was both! What ever the description, I was unable to comment, think straight or respond. My friend just sat there as my numb, dazed, inarticulate response refused to challenge my paralyzed tongue. My mind refused to give any command to my voice or body. I felt my face go blank as my body just tensed then began to tremble ever so slightly. I don't think I purposefully moved for at least ten seconds. I didn't even breathe. 

The shock of what he had just told me was beyond believable yet, there he sat across the little Arby's table, looking intently and sympathetically at me. My left hand was the first to respond as I carefully put the diet cola I had been sipping back on the table. I had been in a state of animated suspension, unable to move.

Next, I realized that my mouth was still almost full of the icy drink I had sipped through the straw. I gulped it down and took a big long overdue breath. Letting my breath out slowly through pursed lips, I felt my best friend's warm hand cover my right hand. I had dropped my recently purchased sandwich. My hand had begun to twitch slightly. I sat otherwise motionless. 

The emotional response to his statement had been pure, body paralyzing shock. My response mimicked my first day in surgery as a junior medical student when I straight out fainted when a small artery squirted a stream of blood from the mouth of a small child who was undergoing a tonsillectomy.

The blood had hit me in the face, splattering on my face. This was long before HIV was known and we were required to wear shields to prevent contact with body fluids during surgery. Sure, I had had no breakfast; I had had trouble breathing with that my first full sterile suit up with twin tightly applied cotton masks. Fortunately I was only an observer. Nevertheless, my response had been paralytic then a full faint. I learned later that the surgeon had ordered the circulating nurse to pull my limp body over to the side of the surgical suite so no one would trip over me. Never since, until now, had I had such a paralytic response.

Now, as then, I felt the rapid onset of a vasovagal faint coming on but I now knew how to manage it this time. I quickly slipped over from behind the little table, bent forward, grabbed my knees, pulled them tightly up against my stomach and rolled onto my back on the bench seat. Gradually I felt the buzzing and deafness diminish as the blackness receded. 

The lights came back on howbeit agonizingly slow. Finally I could hear again and the nausea regressed. I saw my friend standing by me unsure of what to do except to keep asking me if I was alright. I small crowd of inquisitive diners had gathered nearby. Others just stared at me from their booths as I recovered. The manager came around but by then I was almost fully functional again. I sat back up as my presence of mind and body reappeared from the hazy darkness. 

My first reaction to this so unlike me event, was: total embarrassment. I smiled and waved off the onlookers as I grasped my cola to take another sip. I found great beads of sweat had gathered on my face and forehead. I tasted the salty flavor of those that had run down my face onto my lips. These were all quickly dispensed with by a series of quick wipes with a paper napkin. I sat in an almost trance like state smiling apologetically at my friend Bobby. He was again seated across the table from me. 

"I..I.. I'm sorry, Bobby" I stammered in a whisper. "That was so quick I had lost control for a moment. That has happened only once before in my whole lifetime."

What had triggered such an overwhelming and somewhat embarrassing situation? I couldn't remember right off. You see, I'm an E. R. doctor, trained and experienced in handling all sorts of emergencies with the cool, calm collected dispassionate response needed to save lives and bring order out of chaos. I was truly embarrassed by my body's uncontrolled response to those few words from an old and trusted friend. As my senses came back on line, hearing first, then sense of warmth, the vision then body position and finally speech, the last to recover was the memory of his words.

I will never forget them. "Jon, your wife is having an affair" There it was, just like the right hook the boxer never saw. Like the unseen and unfelt haymaker that had put him on the floor for the ten count plus more. Those words were now etched in my memory, indelibly, neither to be fathomed nor forgotten.

I was sitting again now, sipping on my diet cola, looking over the off-white rim of the plastic cup. I stared at my friend. I was still a little numb in my brain but the buzzing in my ears had ceased and my peripheral vision was now perfect again. I sensed purposelessness in my movements of adjusting to my buttock while sipping my cola and trying to get oxygen flowing to my frontal lobes.

"Bobby", I mouthed softly, "Tell me what you know. I can't believe what you just said yet you have never lied to me before. Surely you didn't say what I thought I heard?".

Bobby, my colleague in the E.R., long time friend, classmate in Medical school and residency plus being a nearby neighbor, looked at me with grim determination. I saw sadness in his eyes.

"Jon, I told you that I am sure your Sherrie is messing around on you."

"Bobby?" I questioned him. "Please don't fuck with me. I know we joke around a lot but this time, this is really serious business. What in the world would make you tell me such an unbelievable story?" 

"Jon, I could not believe it at first either. At first I believed it was just gossip but it's from a reliable source and with more than a smidgeon of evidence supporting this outrageous crap."

"What the heck, Bobby. Let me hear the story."

"Okay, Jon. Here it is. Just you don't fall out on me again." 

I fidgeted with my cola and now cold French fries. I dipped a fry in the tiny cup of catsup. Finally my eyes looked up and fixed on his. I took a long deep breath, exhaling slowly, "Okay, let's hear it" I heard myself saying.

"First, let me tell you that I just heard this yesterday. This is all brand new to me also. I do this because if anything like this ever happens to me, I want to know about as soon as possible to. I gain no satisfaction from telling you but it would hurt me more to keep it from you".

Bobby's voice was toned down as he leaned across the table. He was as tense and grim as I had ever seen him yet there was an unusual tenderness in his voice. I knew he really didn't want to be telling me. 

"Jon, this is why I asked you out for lunch today. I wanted you to hear this right off. I know that bad news is easier digested fresh than stale. In addition, I have never held anything back from you and I know you have always been totally upfront with me. That's how our friendship has grown and cemented us together over the years. I need for you to believe me that I hate being the bearer of bad news and, yes, I believe it. You need to know that I am totally on your side and will do anything to help you discover the truth and resolve this awful problem. I see how hard this hit you. It has impacted me almost as hard. 

I couldn't sleep last night, knowing what I had been told and knowing what I had to do. I had to tell you. We have both had to tell patients and families of impending death. It's something we have to do. We can't push that off on the nurses or chaplains. It's the same here. It is my responsibility, as your friend, to tell you. That's what I'm going to do right now.

He continued in the subdued but direct way. "Jon, my wife just heard about this also. She is the one who told me only yesterday evening. You were still at the hospital on the 2 to 12 E.R. shift. I had just finished the 6 to 6 shift. We had worked 4 hours side by side. My wife told me when I got home. Here is what she told me."

As usual, I had come in the back door and hollered out "Honey, I'm home". She was on the phone but immediately hung up and motioned to me urgently from the breakfast bar.

"Bobby, sit down. I have something awful to tell you. This is so unbelievable yet I have to believe it." I sat down and she slid a cold beer to me. "You know Sherrie and I (speaking of our wives) have been friends even before you and I got married. You know Sherrie was married to her high school sweetheart, Ron Sherbert. They had a little girl named Sammie. Then they got divorced. A couple of years later, Jon and her got married and you know the rest. You probably know that part also.

Her daughter, Sammie, is now working and living with a girl friend in a near by little community. She was always a bit on the exhibitionist side and was always flirting with serious trouble in high school. Sherrie and Jon just couldn't seem to control her. They tested for ADHD but didn't meet the criteria for medication. She was just a problem child. They took her to a psychiatrist for several years but her behaviors never really improved and finally, when she reached 17 she ran away from home. She was 'acting out' as some mental health workers would say. At least she finished high school." 

"Well, you know I've been working in the Social Services department of our hospital. Oh my, Bobby, I'm going to break my professional ethics here but it has to be done. I am so ashamed of myself for telling you this because I know you have to tell Jon. He has a right to know. No, he has a need to know. I may get fired for telling you this and never be able to get a job again for divulging confidential information but my conscience tells me I just have to tell you because you are my husband. What you do with this is your business. Let your conscience and friendship with Jon sort it out. I know you and he can handle it and will do the right thing."

She continued telling me. "My friend's countenance showed sadness as he continued this terrible revelation".

Bobby looked down and said; "Jon, believe me, this is so awful hard to tell you but I have to. Please hear me out then I'll answer any questions best I know how."

Bobby continued his wife's story. "Bobby, today I was called to see a young woman who was to be discharged from the psych unit. She had attempted suicide after a botched but legal abortion at The Woman's Clinic on the other side of town. You know the doctor there. He was kicked off the medical staff because of to many postoperative complications of his Gyn surgery. Well he botched this young woman's mid-term abortion and she ended up in our hospital with a life saving hysterectomy. After she left, the very day she was discharged, she made a serious attempt at suicide. I got involved in her case since I was to coordinate post psyche ward mental health and post operative home health nursing care for her. Bobby, this young woman is Sherrie's daughter, Sammie. Sammie tried to hide that from me at first but finally told me everything, complete with tears of rage and remorse. I took her in my arms in consolation, promising I would stand by her as a family friend and as a professional social worker. I was able to help her make post hospitalization arrangements. As a part of my responsibilities, I needed to coordinate with the psychiatric social worker for her mental health follow up care. During my conversations with her, it comes out that Sammie has been emotionally estranged from her mother, Sherrie, for many years. She hates her mom. During her psych hospitalization, as a result of her suicide attempt, she told of her mother's infidelity to Jon and how she hated her mom for that. She hates her biological father for the same reason, plus other reasons. In fact, he had molested and raped her many times. He had inappropriately touched her during her very early years. She was terrified of him but couldn't get the strength to tell anyone because she knew of her mothers continuing sexual relationship to her biologic father. This is the hard part to believe. Sherrie, Sammy claimed, has a continuing sexual relationship with Sammie's biological father. Sammie claims that her mother never really broke off the sexual relationship with her biologic father. Sure, she divorced him yet their sexual relationship continued. This was Sammie's claim. She claims that her mom has met her first husband many times over the years even though Sherrie was married to and is continues to be married to our friend Jon". 

Bobby motioned to me. "Let's take a walk together as I finish the story".

My mouth was dry and I felt a mixture of emotions, the sum of which were just numbing. I sucked aimlessly at the slowly melting ice at the bottom of my otherwise empty cola cup. Bobby got up and tugged at my jacket to follow him outside. The cool air felt good and getting my legs working seemed to give me strength. Bobby knew what I needed was some change of environment and some exercise. 

Bobby told me. "Just listen". We walked to the Wal-Mart parking lot just cross a street from Arby's. Here we could walk around the parking area safely.

Bobby started a sprint yelling back at me.

"Come on, Get the juices flowing, Jon".

I took off after him. When he finally slowed down, we walked on in silence, for a couple of moments while we caught our breaths. I started to question him when he interrupted. "Just listen, Jon, I'll answer all of your questions later." 

He continued telling me. "Jon, Sammie gave my wife some verifiable specifics. I only checked out one. I didn't go any further. There are plenty more but I haven't asked my wife for the others yet. I figured that if one checked out, that was enough for me to believe her and tell you. 

"I called a PI last night. His son dated my wife a number of years ago. They were friends in high school so I knew of him. Even after hours, he agreed to immediately start the investigation if I would sign the papers first. He faxed them to me last night, and I filled them out and signed them and faxed them back to him at his home. 

"First thing this morning, he got busy on the case.

"The claim I had him check out was this. Sammie's clam was that on Wednesday the 5th of this month, let's see, that was 15 days ago, Sherrie and her first husband, Ron, went to the Sunset Inn Motel out on US 70. I checked out the schedule at the E.R. You were on the noon to midnight shift at the hospital E.R. that day. Sherrie knew of this, of course. Sammie was pregnant and not married or even living with a guy. I guess she must have been in her fourth or fifth month." 

"She went to that motel for an unknown reason where they all had a major blow-up in the room and it spilled over into the parking lot. The manager called the police but before they got there, Sammie, who had been crying, had run out and driven away with her girl friend. That was the day before the abortion that went bad. Then she had the hysterectomy and then the suicide attempt the day she was discharged from the psyche ward." 

Bobby and I continued walking as he continued. "During the conversation between my wife and Sammie, the name of Sammie's real father came out along with his place of employment. I guess you know his name. It seems Ron Sherbert recently moved even closer and now lives in the next county and just off Route 60 at highway 14. That's only bout 6 miles from here. I don't know if you knew this." (I didn't). 

"Anyway", Bobby continued, "I now knew Sherrie's lover's name (her ex) and of course Sherrie's previous married name. It didn't take much of an investigation. Ron was even was so careless as to use his personal credit card and his own photo ID driver's license. They registered as Mr. and Mrs. Sherbert. You may not know that he is divorced again. There are security tapes showing the two of them at the check in, at the restaurant and coming and going from the room including Sammie's arrival and departure.

The PI has prints from these but I haven't seen them personally. I suppose he has or will compare the security camera pictures with those pictures of your wife and Sammie I faxed him last night. The one of Sherrie was taken just last month at the E.R. party we all attended. That's all I know. Good buddy, you have a major problem on your hands."

I was flabbergasted. This was all very new to me. I didn't know Ron, actually. I had never met him and didn't know he lived close by or anything about him after Sherrie's divorce. He was a non entity for me. I now know I should have been more interested but that's to late now. Sherrie never spoke of him except when we were dating. She had accused him having abused her. That was her claim for her divorce. 

"Bobby, thanks for telling me all this. Please make the PI's report available to me, including the tapes and copies of the motel registration. I'll pay you for them. I want to thank you for telling me. You know I'm devastated but it is something that I certainly needed to know. I had no inkling, no idea whatsoever of all this. I guess there might be is a dark or secret side to all of us." 

I continued speaking to Bobby. "Probably, once I've had time to digest all this, I will see what I should have been seeing a long time ago. For now, you can rest assured that how you got this information will be protected. All that is needed is in the P.I.'s report. The reason for the P.I. will never be revealed. I will protect your wife's honor and job. I respect her even more than ever. In fact, I really care for and respect the both of you so very much. Both of you can sleep well knowing you have done what good friend's should have done. I think all I need or want at this time is the PI's report. All the other stuff you told me is, at this point, just gossip. Everything will be held in closest confidence." 

"As bad as it looks, we still don't have proof positive. We have evidence of their sharing a motel room once and we have Sammie's accusations. Those certainly give me a lot to think about."

"Right now, I don't know what I will do differently than what I was going to do when I got up this morning. I just hope I can act normally until I have made a decision. You know that I am a totally nonviolent person so no one is in physical danger from anything I might do. Just how I will handle this is another matter."

"Jon, hang in tough!" That's all he said. We were both very emotional at that point in time. 

He embraced me with the embrace of a really good friend sharing in my pain. I threw my arms around his chest in response. We stood and hugged. We both knew that the waters were going to be rough for me in the coming weeks but his embrace told me that he would always be my good friend. That strengthened me considerably. Real friends are he essence of life to me.

"Bobby, I want to go now. When can the PI's report be available to me?"

"He said it will take about two more days. I'll let you pay for it as I don't want to argue with you about it. You can expect a bill for about seven or eight hundred dollars. I'll call you when I get the full report."

We walked in silence back to Arby's and drove away in our respective cars.

The cost was reasonable to me. I was glad he was going to let me pay for the investigation. Bobby had done more than his share already. I suspected the P.I. had to bribe someone to get all the information including copies of the security tapes. I anticipated damning prints made from them.

On the way home, my mind was in a furious turmoil. Now what to do? I had to set both time and value priorities on my actions. I did not have to go to work until day after tomorrow. I was to begin a three day 8 pm to 8 am set of shifts after that. I had the rest of today and all of tomorrow to consider how to manage this marital train wreck. 

I didn't drink any more. I knew I had a problem with alcohol. I had had a problem with it once before years ago in college so taking up the booze again was out of the question. I did think seriously about taking my first drink in 20 years but overcame this by calling my AA brother. We talked for a few minutes about my temptation to get drunk. As always, sharing a problem with someone who has also walked my path was very helpful. The idea of a therapeutic drink just faded away. 




Cheaters Never Win Ch. 01



Sherrie and I had a teenage son who was the joy of my life. His well being was my first value priority. He was the most important person in my life at this moment. Priority number one was: Protect my son from as much emotional pain as possible. Priority number two was to secure his future. To do this I had to be a solid role model for him on how to manage a disaster in life. My actions would have a life long impact on him and he was everything to me. I figured he needed his mother in his life also so I couldn't trash Sherrie to him.

Their mother-son relationship appeared pretty healthy but it was not anything close to what mine was with my son. My son never seemed to really bond with Sherrie like he has with me. Likewise, he had practically no relationship with his step sister, who was no longer a part of our family life. Sherrie seemed to have been a good mother to both. Of course he didn't know of my wife's illicit behavior. Alleged whoring at this point I whispered to myself. Gosh, I was having a hard time putting in the "alleged" before cheating or whoring. I felt somewhat ashamed for condemning her before the facts were in. 

My son had never given any indication he knew anything bad about my wife. He had no need to know either. Later, if necessary, I might tell him. Sammie obviously did know of her mom's cheating. After all, all I knew was Sherrie had lied about her name on registration but I had no proof she had actually physically cheated. Falsifying her name at registration was still "cheating" to me. Then again, it had been her ex who had done the registering. Maybe she didn't know he had falsified things. The surveillance tapes and subsequent investigation would answer that question. 

I knew Sherrie's daughter, my son's older half-sister lived in another world from my son and me. She was seven years older. I had adopted her when she was very young. Nevertheless she seemed to have isolated herself from all of us. Sherrie told me that Sammie had a trust problem with all males. I thought she might be lesbian but she got pregnant. So much for that thought. I wondered now if Sammie had a hidden trust issue with her father and her mother. Now I wondered who had been the semen donor for Sammie's pregnancy? Had Sherrie fucked her ex and then gotten pregnant with my son? These were dark, forbidding and deeply disturbing thoughts.

Sammie had always come back angry and depressed previously after her court order required visits with her biological father. She had never really got along with him. Fortunately she was now gone from our house by a little over three years. I had no knowledge of her visiting her father, one way or the other, after she turned 18. She didn't come to our traditional Christmas morning breakfast with us when we opened gifts. She only sent a Christmas card, not even a phone call, in recognition of her ties to me. Her rebellious and anti-social behavior had continued and had finally gotten her into a world of hurt.

I wondered if she had a personality disorder. I wondered how this was all going to play out for her also. Even with Sammie's problems, she never contacted me or asked me for help, not even financial help. It looked like Sherrie's continuing infidelity had made a serious negative impact on our daughter's life. Now I wondered even more what the relationship was between Sammie and her biological father. Sammie had never confided in me concerning her relationship with her father but she was always hostile even more when she returned from visit with him. Now I wondered about everything I thought about. 

I had finally tired of asking SammieXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX "I don't want to talk about it!" answer to my multiple inquires of that relationship over the years. Still I cared a lot for and about her. Knowing of her recent problems hurt me down deep as I had been cut out of her life and suffering. She had never allowed me to be a father, much less her "dad". Our family was obviously dysfunctional and now entering a turmoil phase. 

As I drove toward home, my stomach began to hurt. It was like the onset of an ulcer. I turned around to pacify the acids eating at my stomach lining. A chocolate jamoca shake was the perfect antidote. I really loved them and my stomach needed something to calm it down. At least that was my excuse to myself.

Sherrie was not due back home again from work until this evening. I guess I forgot to tell you that she was a realtor. As such she had an irregular schedule showing various properties. Sometimes it was evenings and frequently weekends. She had a good income and seemed to enjoy the freedom her job allowed her. With my odd hours, we frequently didn't have family time together. I was considering a more routine type of practice but the time off and the income were still very attractive to me. 

I drove the two miles to our four bedroom three bath ranch style suburban home with the indoor Jacuzzi and glass roofed over outdoor pool.

On the way I thought back on our marriage of 18 years. We had married just two years after her divorce when her daughter was just three years old. Sherrie came from a fairly well off but somewhat dysfunctional family. She had grown up in a reconstituted family also. She had several half sibs and a real sister a couple of years older than her. Sherrie was the youngest and had told me that she was a bit rebellious herself in her younger years. 

Her relationship with her father obviously was not at all good and her relationship with her mother was fraught with periodic battles for supremacy. I know Sammie won many of those even as a child. She was used to getting her way.

Sherrie's mom had a tendency to try to over rule some of my decisions about our kids. On occasion, I had to remind her mom that I was head of our family, not her. This invariably upset Sherrie even though she was frequently at odds with her mom.. Sherrie seemed protective of her mom's authority even though she conflicted with her for supremacy in their relationship. From Sherrie's description of her early years, that conflict was even more serious back then. 

From time to time, I had to remind Sherrie of my role as head of the house also. This really got her goat, so to speak but I was not going to allow her to usurp what was my responsibility and prerogative. I saw her Ex as an evil person. Anyone who would hit a woman deserved to be tarred and feathered and run out of town. I had no respect for him and thankfully never had to deal with him until now, possibly. 

Now I was going to have to deal with my wife's infidelity and her making me a cuckold. This was beginning to make me angry, in addition to the shock, disbelief and sadness. She had stolen from me what was rightfully mine...her body and given it to another man. She had freely given it to me by the vows we made before God and our church and family 18 years ago.

We had talked of, and mutually agreed to the need for absolute fidelity in mind, spirit and body to each other. We had talked, and I know agreed, that our sex acts together as being the giving and receiving of love and the renewal of everything sacred between us as a married couple. We were to be totally truthful with open dialogue. We were to tell each other what we needed and wanted of the other. My part of the marriage was built on all that was holy and sacred. Personal integrity was everything to me. I tried to exhibit that and demanded it of those I was in relationship with.

Now my marriage and our relationship seemed to have the proverbial shifting sand as a part of the foundation and termites in the walls of what I had struggled to build into a defense against all the evils of the world. I had hoped, and expressed this many times, and she had readily agreed to the statement; "It's just you and me honey against the world" She had even said that of her own volition at various times when she seemed a little insecure and needed my calming strength dealing with problems that Sammie created. Now it appears that her "you and me" included another "you". She had included a secret "you" who was not me. 

Still, maybe I was wrong. Sammie had been known to lie and maybe this was just another one of her lies. Somehow I believed my friend even before confronting my wife. This bothered me as I knew I should believe her first but she had never told me about her meeting with her Ex. I concluded she was unfaithful; without further information and without "alleging". 

Still, I was appalled at how I had already convicted my loving wife of infidelity without even letting her tell me her side of the story. Why was I so eager to convict her? Was I that prejudiced and insecure? How could I be such a monster? It became clear that priority number three was to give Sherrie every opportunity to explain and clear herself. I could not allow the emotional statements, possibly fantasies or lies of a potentially psychotic youngster, to destroy my faith in my wife of eighteen years. The PI report was still pending comparisons of the pictures and photos.

Timing is all important in carrying out decisions. First I needed the evidence from the PI. That Sammie was the initial source of the information could not be revealed. For the present, I would file all this in my memory as only potentially true.

I arrived home. Everything seemed perfectly normal. Sherrie kept a clean neat house for which I frequently complimented her. 

The Jacuzzi looked inviting. I disrobed in our bedroom and slipped on my bathing suit. A flick of the switch and the heated jets and bubbles came on as I climbed in I sucked up the last of the cooling Jamoca shake. My stomach had calmed down. Getting comfortable, I let my mind go to work. Some ideas came to me.

"Bobby?" I called my fellow E. R. Doctor friend on my cell phone. "Do me a favor, please. When you go to the hospital tomorrow, see if you can get some documentation that my wife's daughter Sammie was actually in the hospital. I know you can't get anything about her psyche stay but just verify for me that she had been admitted to Gyn Surgery service. I knew that even that was now privileged information."

"Okay, good buddy, I'll do better than that. I can order her chart to the ER and copy the admit note, surgical note and D/C summary. How's that for service on a sliver platter"?

"Just don't get in trouble is all," was my reply. "I just want some collaboration about what you told me. Find out what kind of hospitalization insurance she used, OK?".

"You got it coming. I swapped with Frank Seltzer (he's another ER doctor in our group) so I'm on the night shift tonight. Should be no problem with getting the chart and making a copy of what you need. That little cutie on 3 to 11 shift in the medical records likes to come and hang out in the ER. She has a thing going with our PA (Physician's Assistant). It's good to have true friends on your side I thought.

"Bobby, just hope I never have to do this for you so take care of that beautiful wife. Who knows I may be on the available market sometime sooner than later." I laughed. That idea was definite possibility but also very uncomfortable. It was an unthinkable alien idea before lunch today.

I rang off and worked my legs and toes in the warm bubbles. 

I picked up the phone again. This time I had to call directory assistance to get the number.

"Good afternoon," came the pleasant female voice over the phone. "This is the office of Frank Jones and associates. How may I direct your call"?

"I want to speak with a Mr. James F. Jones please."

Whom may I say is calling and for what reason"? Her voice carried the pleasant but protective tone. 

My name is Dr. Jon Williamson and Mr. Jones is working on an urgent case for me and my friend Dr. Robert Jones. He may recall him as Dr. Bobby Jones. The case is current".

"Hello Dr. Williamson," came the deep baritone voice. "What can I do for you"?

"My close friend and colleague in the E.R., Dr. Bobby Jones engaged you yesterday to do an investigation that involves my wife. I want to thank you for your prompt service. I am going to be paying your fees so you can either bill Bobby or me. Here is what I need. In your report, will you please include the police report of that date which involved my adopted daughter, Sammie and her biologic father Ronald Sherbert and my wife Sherrie Williamson. I don't know if you knew there was a report filed of some sort of fracas at the Sunset Motel. Anyway, please include a copy of that police report in your report to Bobby and me".

"Dr. Williamson, if that is who you are, I cannot discuss anything with you about any case. If you need something that I can help you with, you will need to come down in person, preferably with Dr. Jones." It was clear I would get nothing from him as his statement and voice had a ring of finality to it. I just hung up. Crap, I should have anticipated that. What the heck, he is a "private" investigator after all. 

So now I'm back on the phone with Bobby, "Bobby I need another more urgent favor. Can you meet at the PI's office this afternoon? He won't talk to me and I need to talk to him about the fracas at the motel. Can you meet me there in half an hour?"

"You got it. I'll be there". He was a true friend. His wife was still at work so I wasn't interrupting an afternoon play time with his wife.

Well, I got dressed in a really big hurry and met Bobby at the address. I was taken back a little, I guess, as the office was actually in a building housing the city's largest law firm. I noted on the list of attorneys, the name of a man whose face I had put back together in the ER just a week ago. He had slipped at home and cut his face and hand on a glass door in his bathroom. He was also sloshed at the time. I thought of speaking to him after meeting with the PI. 

The foyer was hard wood. The large heavy balanced glass doors pushed open easily and I saw the receptionist seated at a smallish mahogany desk with various electronics including a key board, monitor and telephone. She was entering data when I entered. Looking around it was apparent that these lawyers and PI didn't come cheaply. 

She asked me to have a seat in one of the plush leather chairs as she notified the Jones's. It appeared as if they were a father-son association. There was a Frank J. Jones and a F. James Jones Jr. listed on the door leading into their offices. Bobby entered just as I my eyes wandered around at the diplomas, certificates, licenses and awards crowding and filling the walls. The receptionist called us and told us to go right in. We met first with another receptionist. She confirmed who we were and asked us for photo identification which we both produced readily. She copied my photo ID driver's license into her computer.

I was given a stack of papers to complete and sign. Several of these she notarized. Following this she entered my data into her computer, printed out a single paper which I signed and she notarized. After making a copy which she gave to me, she led us into a rather plain conference room with nothing but a rather well used six place oval conference table. The curtain on the far wall obviously hid a video screen. I suspected there were hidden audiovisual monitors watching us. She offered us coffee. I take mine black with sweetener. Bobby graciously declined. We were seated and Bobby and I spoke of nothing important until the PI appeared.

His handshake matched his deep rather sonorous baritone voice. He was obviously the oldest of the pair, perhaps fifty plus with a heavy black five o'clock shadow now quite apparent. "It's nice to meet you Dr. Williamson. Sorry about my rather curt declination of information earlier but you realize we are 'Private' as the signs show."

"Actually, Mr. Jones," I intoned, "I should have expected that. My profession has become almost as secretive of recent thanks to the Feds. I am glad to meet you and, incidentally, glad you declined previously. That made me feel more secure actually".

I started the dialogue rather briskly. "Mr. Jones, as you must know, I am dealing with a potentially massive personal problem or at least I think I am. I need to have as much verification as possible before I confront my wife. The information so far seems damning if it is true. I am trying not to make a judgment until I hear her side but....well. I need lots of information prior to confronting her on this serious issue. I also need to do this as soon as possible. Still I don't want to show her what I know until I hear her story. If she lies to me I will know there was more than just an innocent platonic motel visit. 

Was there more than just the one motel visit? I may be coming back to you to discover more information after she and I have our maybe not so little heart to heart talk. Are you aware of a police report generated that same day which involved some sort of fracas in which my wife Sherrie Williamson, our daughter, Sammie, and Sherrie's first husband who is our daughter's biologic father, Mr. Ronald Sherbert?" That's what I really want to know about.

Mr. Jones smiled at me. "Dr. Williamson, perhaps you sell me short by just a little. Knowing about things like that is my profession. I have a copy of the report which, by the way, needs my professional translation. Police have a tendency, like some doctors, to scribble. They write in the boxes and on the lines like good third graders do. I have interviewed the motel manager, the one who called the police. I have interviewed the officers who came to the motel. 

My assistant has even talked to Sammie's roommate. She gave us a ton of information. If her information is worth anything or not, I don't know. Everything is in this file folder except the photos which are still in our techs hands. He pointed to an already bulging expansion file. It's all here. Fortunately I have several people helping me and they have all filed their reports which are in this folder." Only the photos from the video monitors and my professional comparison report are yet to be inserted. I have talked to the tech that is doing the comparisons. I have his verbal opinions about the video monitor and photos from these. Everything will be dictated later today. He is a former FBI crime lab guy and skilled at this type work. 

I can have everything copied with in the next couple of hours and bound into a formal report. My summary and cover letter need to be dictated. I'll be dictating that in your presence now, if you wish. You cannot have the file until my written report is ready and that won't be until tomorrow. How much do you want today, meaning now. You realize that I must give it to your friend Dr. Jones as he is the person who hired me and who has already paid me thanks to his American Express Debit Card." He smiled nodded toward Bobby and thanked him.

"Mr. Jones" I looked at him then Bobby. "If Bobby needs to leave now, it will that be ok with me? He came here at my urgent request and I don't know if he is in a hurry"? He has to work all night tonight. I had not asked Bobby his plans for the afternoon, just a request to meet me here.

Bobby spoke. "Mr. Jones, let me sign off. Let me go home and the two of you continue. What is in your report really doesn't involve me. I'll sign a consent form for you to give the file to Jon. What I don't know will be an asset as I then can't divulge anything I don't know even to my wife. She and I keep no secrets so if I truly don't know what the entire file contains; I can truthfully tell her I don't know. She is not a gossip". Bobby winked at me. 

Mr. Jones called his secretary in with the consent form which we all signed and she notarized. Bobby stood up, as did I also, shook hands then hugged, briefly with mutual back patting. Now I was alone with the PI and waiting for his report.

"Dr. Williamson," he began, "Please do not interrupt me as I dictate. Please do not try to look at the papers I am looking at while I dictate. That will distract me. This report will be a complete summary. I will be making foot notes and instructions to my typist which will not appear in the final written report you will get. Is that clear"? I nodded agreement.




Cheaters Never Win Ch. 01



Then I interrupted, "Let's do it another way, Mr. Jones. I know you have analyzed the police report. That is all I really wanted to know today. How about me leaving now and I come by tomorrow afternoon to pick up the entire file"?

"That is preferable to me. The report and all the documentation will be ready for you not later than two pm tomorrow. As for the police report; it confirms the encounter but only your wife and Mr. Sherbert, along with the hotel manager are listed. Your daughter apparently had departed the scene prior to the police arriving. There was a dispute and loud argument. Both parties confirmed that your daughter and her father had come to blows with each striking the other. She had departed and neither your wife nor Mr. Sherbert wanted to file charges so that is apparently the end as far as the police were concerned. Mr. Sherbert did have scratch marks on his face and a swollen eye lid. What you and I call a black eye but it was not yet black. Your wife admitted to neither injuries nor participation in the physical events alleged.

"One last thing, please Mr. Jones, what is your relationship to the lawyer group next door"?

"We rent space from them. Our files are entirely separate and we never even talk about who sees whom. If any of them know you were here, it is because they, he or she, saw you in the lobby. I do a fair amount of business with them but everything is strictly professional and very confidential. Is there anything else on your mind"? He smiled. I knew he remembered my very amateurish initial approach to his professionalism. 

"I have one other thing, yes. What type law practice does Mr. Dooling specialize in"? (He was the one I sutured in the ER last week.)

"He and his wife, who is also an attorney in the group, specialize in Divorce and Estate Planning. That is an unusual combination but that's the way it is. She handles the divorces and he handles the wills, trusts and estate legal stuff."

"Thank you. I'll be back tomorrow at 2 pm." We shook hands and I departed homeward. 

As I re-entered the lobby, a thought struck me. Perhaps I should get some initial legal advice on divorce. I stopped at the receptionist and asked if I could get an appointment with Mrs. Dooling early tomorrow afternoon. She checked their schedules and said I could see the Mrs. Dooling at 1pm. I asked for the appointment time and received her card with the time and date hand written in.

"What is your reason for requesting her services"? The receptionist was quite polite and professional. "She always wants to know before hand".

"I want some information about my legal rights and the legal processes involved in my potential divorce." She smiled again as she confirmed the appointment electronically. Then she gave me a packet of information to read with forms to complete to bring with me tomorrow. She included a professional card slipped into a clear small envelope on the outside of the deep blue packet.

I felt more in control now. I would have legal information and possible advice along with the PI's report, all by tomorrow evening. I would have time to sort out a lot of this by tomorrow night. Then it struck me, when should I confront Sherrie? I have to work the next three nights and she works days so we won't see much of each other. After my three night shifts, I get three days off. Should I confront her tomorrow? 

She gets home about five thirty and my shift starts at eight. That's not much time and I surely won't be in a good mood for working all night long. On the other hand if I wait, I'll have additional time to plan my strategy and responses to the various scenarios to her story. Since I won't see much of her for the next three days after tonight, I won't have to put up to much of a front to her. The idea of waiting appealed to me. I would also have extra time to go over the PI's report in the early morning hours when the ER might be not so busy.

Now, as I drove home, I had to be ready to interact with Sherrie as if nothing unusual was going on. This would be as trying a test as I had never attempted to hide anything from her. I thought maybe I could get away with it for the day. D Day would be just four days away. If there was going to be a battle, I wanted it to be at on all my terms, meaning time and location. I would also have the advantage of surprise, always an advantage in a battle. I wanted control of the situation. She would be at a distinct disadvantage which might contribute to her being honest from the git go. My military command training was finally going to be helpful yet I dreaded the suspected inevitable conflagration. Worse still, I hated the necessary waiting time before the confrontation.

I wondered just how tonight was going down. I decided to order steak and potatoes delivered. We frequently had home delivery for our evening meal when I was home if I wasn't in the mood for cooking or helping with the dishes and I wasn't in the mood tonight, for sure. As I came in, I grabbed the mail and paper and went to my den just off the great room to occupy myself until Sherrie or my son arrived. 

After calling in to the home delivery I booted up my computer to check e-mails. While waiting on the booting process a terrible thought entered my mind. What if my son really isn't mine? Surely Sherrie would not have ..... My mind blew a fuse. What if she really did? According to Sammie, she certainly could have gotten pregnant with her ex if she wife had been cheating on me with Ron all during our marriage. My son certainly favored Sherrie and even Sammie to a certain extent but could easily be carrying my genes to. I had never considered such a heinous crime against me. I shuddered as I began to plot a confirmation plan. I knew my blood type and Sherrie's blood type but had never checked my son's blood type. That was old technology now but rapid. DNA is the most accurate but takes up two weeks for an answer.

Then I remembered that several years ago the schools had urged parents to get their children's blood type tested and finger prints made in the event of a mysterious disappearance of their child. Somewhere I had the blood type report. But where would it be? That was years ago. Maybe it would be in our fireproof safe in the basement along with the copy of his birth certificate and original Social Security card? I would have to check. The computer booted and my e-mails came on the screen. I put my computer to sleep and went downstairs to the safe.

I scrounged around for a few minutes and came up empty handed. Then I decided to look in his report cards we had saved from the beginning. Sure enough, there was the form with his right thumb print photo and blood type. Damn, I had forgotten Sherrie's blood type so I had to try to find that. She had given blood recently, a year or so ago so maybe on her blood donor card I would find her blood type. I ran back upstairs to her desk and rummaged around looking for her card. It was nowhere to be found. I had to figure out a way of asking her without causing suspicion. 

My blood type is "O +. This means I have the rh factor but no A OR B. "O" means zero, not the letter "o" but we use the name for the letter rather than saying "zero". My son's blood type was A +. This meant that Sherrie's blood type had to be either A or AB. My son could have inherited the rh+ from me but could not have inherited his A factor from me. I just had to wait and find out what Sherrie's type was.

I have told you a little about myself, you know, standard white male, heterosexual, married once, one son (I hoped was mine) and an adopted contentious older daughter. I am an ordinary looking guy, 70 inches tall and 160 pounds. I had always lived in the south and was proud to be an Alabama fan (Roll Tide). I worked as an ER Physician and made a good living doing it but the stress was sometimes very high and long night shifts not infrequently.

Sherrie was just a little shorter than me at 66 inches but she was thin, and always had been at 115 pounds. She had generous C cups and was nicely rounded at all the right places. She had had some plastic surgery to remove some facial scars. She would never say much about her first husband except to say he became abusive and she left him. I didn't inquire into her life with him other wise. 

She worked hard outside the house as a lab tech. she kept herself in top physical condition. She had a keen mind. She was assertive to the point of sometimes being aggressive but overall we got along quite well. 

We enjoyed an active sex life with Sherrie having taught me the ways of the world, "from my prior life." We even tried anal a time or two but I did not like it. (Had to wear a condom with anal sex) With my varied schedule of work, the timing of our sexual play times was a problem. Sometimes we went for as much as a week without sex and then at times, we would have sex more than once a day. I was never one to be able to orgasm more than once in a short time frame or more than twice in a day. On the other hand Sherrie could have a series of orgasms, seemingly one right on top of the other. 

I just couldn't keep my hard on after climax so I had to be careful to time my climax after she was sated. When she would cum, her vaginal muscles would tense and quiver and spasm and just drive me over the top in the most satisfying fashion so I did a lot of eating pussy which we both loved. Nevertheless she wanted more than I could give in immediate retrieval and multiple orgasms. I know she would sometimes bring this up to me as a deficiency. 

We had tried a number of techniques including the penile ring and maximum doses of Cialis (the long acting ED pharmaceutical). She liked to snuggle after intercourse, but of course this was only after she had had her multiple orgasms. I was able to satisfy her usually by a combination of oral sex and vaginal penetration with or without a dildo. She occasionally referred to our sex as too "vanilla". We did use many positions and different room in the house. I couldn't see how much more innovative I could be without bondage or anal or threesomes / gang bangs. All of these I detested.. She liked anal but I just couldn't so we didn't do that. Even the thought of pulling out a feces covered condom from her rectum was in no way erotic to me and I sure as heel wasn't going in bare back. Had I missed something in medical school sophomore bacteriology? Shit is shit. 

We did role play a little early on but I couldn't do that after she began to talk about her first husband's giant organ while we were having sex. That was just to humiliating and I called a stop to it. I didn't want him to be any part of my marriage especially in that way.

I actually enjoyed her taking an assertive role in our marriage, especially in the sexual department. She could ride me in the most magnificent style. I found nothing really "vanilla" in our sex.

We have worked on this but she still tells me she wishes I had as large a cock as her first husband. His cock apparently was well above normal size (my size) and it had a distinct upward curve so it rubbed her G spot to her great satisfaction. The only things they had going in their marriage was his enormous cock, his ability to stay hard all night long which meet her multiple orgasmic abilities and need. The rest of their magnificent marriage was a total disaster. I hated the way she talked about his oversized organ and how he had used it on her. I finally got her to stop comparing or even mentioning his bedroom abilities to me.

It now appears that all that might not ceased just because they were divorced or because she married me. Man, guess how that made me feel. Well I was a good provider, a steady companion, a good father and had the best kind of reputation in the community and was well enough equipped to never have been the brunt of jokes in the locker room.

I brooded, even if my cock was smaller than her first husband's and maybe my penis didn't please her totally, she still didn't have the right to fuck around. If she were doing that it was going to stop, post haste. Maybe we really didn't need each other. Maybe our marriage was simply one of economic and social standing convenience to her. Ironically it was her messed up daughter who brought this potential light to our relationship. I was beginning to feel better although I still felt betrayed and used in the darkest coldest sort of way. I knew I could have a life without her. I needed a wife who respected me and our marriage vows. I really thought I had one, that is until today.

Sherrie arrived home just as our son arrived. Both were busy and I was glad that I had ordered a delivered steak dinner for supper They were happy to. Sherrie was tired, as usual and my son needed a shower in the worst sort of way. He was more dirty than smelly. I guess his arm pit glands weren't mature enough to produce much of a stink yet.

All during supper, the chat was light and I was able to hide my dark emotions. I tried to think of a way to get Sherrie's blood type information discreetly. I just came up with blanks for ideas. I hit on an idea.

"Sherrie, have you had your cholesterol checked in the past year or two? You know, even thin women like you can have high cholesterol and I don't want to lose you for some preventable reason."

"Nope, and I really should have my thyroid checked out. You know I took that thyroid medicine up to about five years ago. I wonder if I need it again because I have been feeling more tired lately, especially for the last couple of days."

I had a very good idea why she was feeling tired. Having to much to hide, like the fight with her daughter, could easily explain her tiredness.

"OK, that does it. Tomorrow you come by the lab at the hospital and I'll order the necessary blood tests. We will have most of the answers by tomorrow night if you get in early tomorrow morning. These automated labs can get it done pronto." I told her. 

I continued, "Matter of fact, it is time for me to have those routine tests done also. I'll have mine done tomorrow also. So, no snacks after midnight tonight and no calories until after the labs are drawn tomorrow for the two of us.

Secretly I was going to include a request for blood typing on her. I knew the lab would hold the remaining specimens for several days. If I needed I could get a DNA analyses ordered without further sampling on either of us. She worked in a totally separate division of the lab so she would not be running or involved in our blood testing. The rest of the evening went rapidly as normal. Neither of us approached the other for sex. For that I was glad. 

I slept fitfully and was up early for my morning exercises and routine. Sherrie fixed breakfast us. We then split. Sherrie and I would go to the lab separately and our son on to school. As we split for the day, I felt strange but I didn't feel like telling her I loved her. She didn't seem to notice when I didn't tell her and, uncharacteristically, she failed to tell me she loved me. I wondered if she was putting on as good an act as I was trying to. 

I wondered if she knew that I knew. She had cousins and nieces seemingly everywhere in town and they al talked a lot on the phone.

I went to the P.I.'s office that afternoon and got the envelope with his typed report and pictures. The raw data which compromised the bulk of the investigation, I left with him. I stuffed it in my coat pocket and headed to the hospital to start the first of three all night shifts. The E.R. was flooded when I got there so I put the report in my locker and went to work on colds, hurt elbows, the drunks that came in and the occasional motor vehicle accidents. By three am the place had settled down for me to grab a cup of coffee, stick my feet up in the air and take a series of deep breaths.

I called the lab and requested a blood typing on my wife's sample. Twenty minutes later I had an answer. The eleven to seven night E.R. tech brought the report it to me. cont'd in Chapter 2

Realdoc



Cheaters Never Win Ch. 02



Chapter 2: She Finishes the Story

The last six months have been a blur for me. For most of that time I didn't know who I was, where I was or what I was. Only now do I understand what happened to me so long ago. Only after months in a hospital and months of psychiatric counseling do I understand what I have done. I wish I didn't understand but I do.

Paul raised a gun and pointed it at me. I was so shocked from the realization that he knew about me and Marty, but when he raised the gun I got so frightened I just shook. I screamed, "Don't, please don't!" Then I looked at the hate in his eyes and knew our marriage was over and maybe my life too. I could also see the hurt and utter emptiness in his eyes and it made my skin crawl. I could see him going totally mad and I knew it was all over for me. This wasn't the man I loved, the man who loved me. This was something else, and yes, I do say "something" not "someone." 

He said with a voice cold as steel, "Janet, just look at the pictures." I glanced at the screen and saw shot after shot of me going into Marty's house, Marty and me kissing at his door, me with my hand on Marty's cock. There were so many pictures proving my infidelity to Paul. Then the last pictures I saw were of Marty, lying in his shower, blood everywhere. I heard myself groan with the realization of what he had done as I jerked my gaze back to Paul. 

He had turned the gun, putting it into his mouth and after he said, "Goodbye Janet," he pulled the trigger.

They tell me that police found me in shock holding Paul. They tell me that gunshots had been heard at Marty's house and someone got the license number of the car that drove away. They tell me that they knew it was our car and were already on the way over to our house. They tell me that I wouldn't let go of Paul for them to take him away. They tell me that I had snapped mentally and nothing that was said or done for me would bring me out of it. They tell me that they took me to the hospital and admitted me. They tell me so many things because I cannot remember much at all what happened from then until now.

I do remember what happened before that day and now, six months later. I remember that Paul and I had fought though I don't recall what it was about, and I was pissed at him. We went to the party at the club and I was just going to make his life miserable. It so happened that Marty asked me to dance with him so I though, why not, I will use this to make Paul pay. 

Oh, Marty was slick, I will give him that, and he had me going almost instantly with his compliments. He told me how lovely I was, now what woman doesn't like to hear that. He told me that I was the prettiest woman at the club that night, and I was just so excited to hear that. He told me that he always wanted to spend time with me because I was so sweet, so smart and so sexy. How could I resist such charm? I could have but I was pissed at Paul and didn't want to. I kept encouraging Marty and I could see that Paul was upset, but he didn't do a thing about it. 

Some sick thing in my mind told me a lie at that moment. It told me that Paul really didn't care so why should I. Oh, what a lie that was, but I bought those thoughts so completely that when Marty called me the next Thursday I bought it all and agreed to have lunch with him. We had a pretty intense conversation during lunch about "us." Marty told me he would like to make love to such a beautiful woman and even though I blushed, even though I knew it would be wrong, even though I felt it would betray the only man I loved, I was too weak to resist his charm. After all, I had convinced myself that Paul didn't care about me, that anything I did to him he had deserved. 

The next thing I knew we were in Marty's house and were kissing passionately. He was a very good kisser and I could feel myself getting hotter and hotter, wetter and wetter. I did nothing to resist when his hands slid down my sides and up to cup my breasts. I liked the way it felt to have him caress me, feeling my nipples harden, sending a tingling sensation shooting downward to my pussy. "Kiss them, oh suck them Marty, I need that so bad," I said. 

By this time there was no stopping it, soon we were both naked and yes we did everything I should have only done with my husband. 

He did suck my nipples, he licked and sucked every part of me and I licked and sucked every part of him. We made love to each other with our mouths for a couple of hours before he actually penetrated me. Oh, it was so hot, I will never forget that first time with Marty. I have never been so turned on in my entire life and when he pushed himself into me it felt like a hot poker was being inserted into me. It had me burning in an instant and I could hear myself begging him to fuck me senseless. 

And, that is exactly what he did. He fucked me and fucked me like no one, not even Paul, had ever fucked me. I didn't even try to count the number of times I came that afternoon, many while he pleasured me orally, and many more being used by his cock. Oh yes, he used me for his pleasure, but in doing so had pleasured me like I had never been pleasured before. I have to tell you, I loved it. Make no mistake, I loved it and knew that I would be back for more. 

That night and the days that followed I felt a change in my relationship with Paul. He said there was a wall being built and he was absolutely right. I felt our connection slip just like he must have felt it, I felt the gap form between us, and I felt my heart torn from the separation. And you know how stupid I was? I blamed it on him. That lie told me it was his fault. 

The next week, Marty called me a couple of times every day. He was so sweet and loving to me, telling me how much he enjoyed making love to me, asking me if I was alright. He was perfect, and when he suggested we get together again on Thursday, I agreed without a qualm. It was Paul's own fault for not caring about me. 

Well, we met every Thursday afternoon from then until the night that Paul confronted me. I loved every minute of the time with Marty, the sex was great and I thought he would wear me out with orgasms because I had so many each time we were together. I made a point of only having sex with Paul when he absolutely insisted and each time I would tell myself, Marty did me better. I could feel that wall growing between Paul and myself and didn't care. 

Then he confronted me. He told me how much he loved me, how much I meant to him, and what a huge part of his life was tied to me. He told me I was his very best friend, his love and lover. He told me I was his rock. He begged me to tell him if he had done something wrong, something to build that wall. He pleaded with me to let him back into myself. In that instant I knew, knew my lie to myself caused me to hurt the only man I loved. I knew I had built the wall not him. I knew I had betrayed every good thing he felt about me. I was not his love, I was not his lover, I wasn't his best friend, and I was not a rock. I was a cheater, a slut who gave herself to another man, a liar who stopped at nothing to hide her guilt and shame. At that moment I knew just what I was and I couldn't bear be there with him. I ran up to the bedroom and cried and cried, until I fell asleep crying. 

The next morning Paul was gone already when I woke up. When he came home that night I did everything I could to prove to him that I loved him and cared for him. I could tell that the connection between us wasn't there, not like it had been before, but I tried so hard to be the same. I failed. I could sense it in Paul; I didn't think he knew about Marty, I thought he just knew there was a wall between us. But I never dreamed he would have found out about Marty. I should have known better, but I didn't.

On Monday, Marty started calling just like he had all those weeks before. He called me a couple of times or more a day most days, but I told him that I would not be meeting with him anymore. He was surprised and didn't understand. Finally I agreed to meet with him one last time to explain it all to him and break it off.

I went to his house again and yes we did have sex. It wasn't the same as all of those other times, I did have a couple of orgasms just because of the intensity of the sexual activity, but it wasn't the same because I knew it wasn't Paul's fault, I knew I was cheating on a man who loved me more than anyone else could, I knew I was a betraying slut and I just didn't get off on it like I had before.

I told Marty I was sorry, but I couldn't continue our affair and to please not call me anymore. He smiled and told me he understood, and that he wouldn't be a problem for me, he told me he loved me and would always care for me. He was as sweet as ever and truthfully, I loved a part of him too, and I didn't want him to be hurt either. As I was leaving, he grabbed me and pulled me to himself and told me how wonderful a lover I was. Instinctively, after two months of intimacy, my hand drifted down and into his boxers and I rubbed his cock. One last time. I broke off the kiss and ran to my car to go home and wait for Paul. 

When I got home I went to shower and clean myself up. I was going to fix myself all up for when Paul got home. I was going to start this night to tear down the wall that was built between us. I would rebuild the connection between us. We would be the same as we had been before. But when I went downstairs after my shower to get some clothes out of the dryer, Paul was sitting at the computer waiting for me. 

He told me he knew about Marty, he asked me so many questions about why I had done such a horrible thing to him, to our marriage, to myself but I couldn't speak. I had done everything I could up to that point to start back to where we used to be. He found out, now nothing I did could make it right. He found out. That is all I could think and I couldn't say a word. I just stood there with tears streaming down my face. I just stood there moaning and shaking my head back and forth. 

He screamed at me, "TALK TO ME!" but no words came out of my mouth. I was in shock I know, but it was soon to get worse. 

He told me, "Look at the pictures." when I did, I saw them all, right up to the point of Marty lying dead in his shower. When I glanced back at Paul I saw the gun. Soon it was over, he was dead. The next thing I remember is a couple of weeks ago in the hospital.

Oh, there is some healing going on in my mind. Everyone believes I have made great strides in getting myself back on track. They have talked about letting me go off on my own for some outings. They tell me that after a few more weeks I probably could go to an assisted living home, and then eventually be able to have my own home. 

I am healed enough to understand that my reaction needs to be positive in order for me to be on my own, and I will do everything I can to heal this broken woman. But, you must know that once I am free, I will end the torture I have to endure, the torture of knowing that I killed Paul, I killed our love, I killed our friendship, I killed everything I had in life worth living for. I know I cannot endure that torture forever. 

I will have to end it. 

Cheaters never win, and I can't stand what I have lost.



Cheaters Never Win Ch. 02



Conclusion

Well, I left you hanging at the end of the first chapter so here we go continuing this fictional tale of woe and marital discord for our friend, the famous E. R. doctor, Dr. Jon Williamson.

I stared at the report through my tired eyes. Three thirty AM is not the time to get anything new started.

As expected, my blood type was O+.

I knew my son's blood type was A+.

My wife's blood type was (my eyes blurred as I read) O+. Hers was identical to mine. My son was not and could not be my biologic offspring. Sherrie had duped me low these 15 years. Someone else had been the sperm donor. I didn't know for sure who it was, but I knew who it wasn't. I had a an inkling of an idea as to whom it might be. 

This person suddenly was my mortal enemy, as was my cheating wife. Some how I felt relieved. Now I had the sad goods on her. Now I needed no expensive DNA testing. Old cheap and easy technology won out over the newer expensive kind. There could be no argument or effective denial on her part. The remaining questions were now becoming clear. Who? Why? And what was I going to do about it? Only the third question was of any importance to me. The "What was I going to do question" had to be answered.

The phone rang and I was needed back in the E.R. treatment area. Patients are waiting! I wondered if they wanted treatment by an emotionally impaired physician as I felt myself to be. I wondered if I wanted to make any difficult clinical decisions so soon after such a shock. There was no alternative at this time of day. I had to do what I had to do and do it to the best of my professional training. The rest of the shift was actually clinically easy and quiet. I'm still amazed at how many moms bring their kids to the E.R. at 4 am with a runny nose of three days duration.

As I left the E.R. at 6 am at the end of my 6 to 6 shift, I suited up in my "civis", told the new 7 to 3 nursing shift hello then walked the one block off campus and got an Egg McMuffin and large coffee. watched the am news of shootings and drunken fights on channel 42. As 8 o'clock approached, I found my self driving to the Investigators office. Ushered in again, I requested that more information be acquired concerning my wife, her daughter Sammie and this Mr. Sherbert. I was conjuring up nothing less than a tsunami for Mr. Sherbert and justice for my wife and me. 

Upon leaving, I confirmed my appointment with the divorce lawyer for the day after my third night in the ER. I planned to take action even before all the information was gathered together. My anger seemed to overcome caution and good sense. Things I thought about later. 

Sleep came easier than I expected. The next two days became just a blur in my memory. All I remember now is the growing feeling of the finality, the death, of my once sacred loving marriage. Acceptance of this fact gradually overtook the anger I had felt which had developed after the shock and disbelief. I recognized that I was progressing through the stages of grief to the finality of the fact: the death of my marriage but the burial was yet to come. 

However, there was unfinished business that needed to be attended to. . I had to make "Final arrangements" for my marriage. This included retribution to the offending parties and reconciliation among those injured innocents. As the short time progressed, I was doing better and feeling increasingly empowered.

On the fifth day, I was sitting in my attorney's office with the confrontation with my wife yet to come. I spilled my guts to her and included every bit of evidence I had. It took all of thirty minutes before I was relieved of keeping secrets with everyone about my situation. I felt like I had had a very satisfying mental and emotional bowel evacuation. 

"Dr. Williamson, what do you want to be the outcome?" She looked at me as if I was her son. She was certainly old enough to be my mother.

"First I want that this never happened. Obviously, we have no time capsule so that cannot happen. Next, I want to review my legal options. Then I want you to help me through the legal steps. Frankly, I cannot see living with my wife and I cannot envision the details of a future with or without out her. I am still overwhelmed emotionally but slowly becoming aware that there needs to be a rapid final solution. I want out! I want it to be total and quick and clean with as many of rights as possible. I want full custody of my son then I want my life to be as undisturbed legally as possible. I want a rapid, clean, final solution".

"Counselor", my mind wandered temporarily as I thought of the unspeakable. "I tremble with horror as I remember the Nazi's use of those words "final solution". In my memory, pictures of the starved and partially cremated bodies flashed in my mind. Those words meant the extinction of millions in Nazi ruled Europe in the early 1940's. Surely, I do not mean that kind of "final solution". Yet hate has not totally exited my thinking. So yes, I want a final solution visited upon the monsters, both of them. I have never struck a woman. I have mixed feelings about the thought of hurting the one to whom I am still married. This thought is very alien to me even though she has destroyed my life and seriously hurt my family. She and her ex have cuckolded me. My desire to rain down fire and brimstone, Sodom and Gomorrah style, is still quite inviting to my conflicted mine. Perhaps she will also turn into a pillar of salt." 

My mind came back to the present. 

"I am ready to flee this relationship and see the culprits burn in hell. Like the ancients, I want to be far enough away so that the just rain of fire and brimstone destroy only the guilty. I want as little "collateral damage" especially to my children, as possible. That's why I'm here."

"Well Jon, I see you have read secular and Biblical history. Now let me show you the legalities and options awaiting you." 

Her tone was both professional yet friendly. (I had not yet learned that she and my mother had been classmates in college and roommates for their freshman and sophomore years, and that they had remained friends.)

"First, if you do violence and get caught...as is likely, you go to prison and lose out really big time. Just give up on raining down fire on them or washing them away with a tsunami of your own making. In addition, you end up denying your own faith in God to make things right eventually. You will destroy yourself with first hate, then violence then regret and you will have many terrible beyond current comprehension, awful, isolated days in prison to regret your bad decisions. Just forget about that option." 

She looked straight into my eyes as she then questioned. "Who will your son have as a father then? He will have an angry convicted felon wasting his life in prison as a father. Is that what you really want for him?" (That put an end to my thoughts for violent retribution for my son's welfare was paramount).

"Second," she continued in a rather benign tone of voice, "This is a no fault state. Divorce is relatively easy. You will end up splitting assets equally plus and you end up paying alimony and child support. Her ex, still has parental rights and may be a formidable adversary causing you unknown grief. Your son will be forced to live with your Ex, his mother. In addition, if you go to prison you lose most of your half of the estate. It might be in your best interest not to divorce her at all.

"Third, the judges in our community are high on marital counseling and generally require some before granting even an uncontested divorce. Claiming adultery, even if admitted or proved, complicates everything legally and family relation wise. We can consider later.

"Fourth, you could move to Nevada for six months then divorce her. That is a viable option but I would lose you as a client." She grinned a little and paused. With a smile she continued "and much of my fees for all this". 

She continued after a brief pause. "If you do this, you should engage a divorce lawyer in Nevada before changing domiciles and you should let me know so I can do all that I can to protect you here both before and after you leave. That is if you choose that option. You might learn that that option is not so attractive once you get the details on Nevada law. I am not going to counsel you about Nevada law but I see this as the wimp husbands solution: just run away. That is not in your son's best interest for sure. It would be legally difficult, financially disastrous and giving your son a very weak and pathetic father figure for a dad.

"Fifth, you can just disappear with your assets to live overseas somewhere. This is another wimp solution. Do not plan to return to the USA if you do that, as she will likely have an arrest warrant out on you. You likely will not be able to take your son either. Generally, a country will not extradite you if you have not committed a crime here and selling out and leaving is not a crime. Disappearing with your minor son is a crime. If you leave this country, you leave him behind but with her. I think you do not want that. In addition, getting work in another country is sometimes very hard and at other times quite easy. The UK has need of general practitioners, I hear".

Of course you can forge ahead, bullheaded and blind folded, in effect without counseling. True, you can do it on your own but the price, knowing your personality, might get very difficult emotionally for you. Get the divorce process started. Then a period of separation. Hours of grief trying to sort out your to be split finances. fighting for custody, arraigning for child care, trying to stay calm mid the many emotional battles. You can do it without personal or marital counseling but you will be picking to sail out of the safe harbor into a hurricane. And, unprepared, I might add.

"Lastly, you can reconcile. Impossible situations, like yours, frequently are not impossible with counseling and time. I suggest this route. If that fails, I will try to help you with your other options but I insist you try counseling first. I have contacts with several very professional and successful counselors."

With that she stood, effectively ending the interview.

"Thank you" I smiled meekly. "Please write those options out for me as I obviously have not taken notes.(I had already memorized them as she went along. I'm good at doing that but I wanted back up memory also.) I must now confront my wife and my future, most likely not including her." I added the last to indicate my lack of faith in counseling. (but I had to try, if only for my son's sake.) 

I turned with both firmness of intent yet trembling of hands to head home. 

First on my agenda was some sleep which I badly needed. This was the third day after three night shifts and sleep came easily, helped on my Lunesta sample. I set my alarm for 5:30pm. This would get me (as usual) up for supper with my wife and son. The next thing I remember was the alarm clock telling me to get up.

I did my morning routine at 5 pm after 7 hours of needed sleep. Sherrie knew my routine and had supper ready at 6:30. As usual for teenagers, my son was in a hurry and left shortly before supper was actually over. He raced out to attend some type school function planning. He was always in a hurry. Typical teenager, I guess. Supper chat was light and benign. I helped Sherrie with the dishes keeping everything seemingly normal. Easing up behind her and putting my arms around her waist, I whispered that I needed to talk to her after we put the dishes in the dishwasher. She tensed a little then nodded her head as she hung the dishcloth up on the appointed hanger.

"Do I need some wine for this?" she inquired.

"Probably you will but I just want a cup of the left over coffee."

We sat at the now cleared table. She took her usual place at the right hand of the head of the table, which was my place. This was symbolic of our places in the family structure.

I began. "Sherrie I visited a divorce lawyer this morning". 

She sat stoically.

"I know!" She stated, "Her receptionist is my cousin and she immediately called me immediately after you arrived there. Why did you go see a lawyer? What is so wrong to cause you to do that? What is there that I don't know about?" She seemed rigid and tense. She rubbed the rim of her wine goblet nervously. 

"It is not what you don't know about, Sherrie. It is all about what you do know all about but, sadly, have not been telling me. I have acquired quite a lot of information over the past week about your adultery. I'm quite sure you don't know just how much I really do know." 

I looked her straight in the eye and continued. "Perhaps you would like to explain what happened last week at a motel where you and your Ex were registered as man and wife and where you and he got into some sort of fight which also involved our daughter Sammie. I await your full explanation". 

She stood, straightened her dress, took on an air of superiority, and said, "That was and is none of your business. He and I were settling an old problem, which has gnawed at me for years, and we finally settled it. It has been resolved and is over. The issue was settled. It no longer exists and what it was has been is of no concern of yours. You and I are man and wife now. He is only part of my past. That part of my past, I regret deeply. I have nothing more to say about it"! 

Her tone was haughty perhaps even arrogant. Well, to be truthful it was really down right belligerent and commanding. There was to be no explanation from her. 

"Sherrie, sit down" I commanded. 

I looked directly at her yet she did not budge. On previous occasions when I had finally issued a similar stern command, she had always complied immediately.

I stood up straight, threw my shoulders back and commanded in a much louder voice "MRS WILLIAMSON! SIT DOWN!" 

Again she did not move. 

"This conversation is over!" she announced looking at me sternly and directly at me. Our eye contact was adversarial. Hers were narrowed and furrowed and her face rigid. I had not seen her like this ever before. We stared unblinking at each other. Each ws waiting for the other to back down.

Yet she did not move, nor did I. Stalemate ensued.

I spoke first after a moment of mutual defiance. "Sherrie, this is going to get ugly pretty quickly if you don't cooperate"!

With that, she smiled very thin lipped and her eyes narrowed even more. "And just what are you going to do about, Mister Williamson"?

I remained stood but moved closer to her. Now I was within arms length but not touching her.

I spoke in an even tone, trying to keep my anger under cover.

"Mrs. Williamson, and that name is now on the temporary list I inform you. You have destroyed our marriage. You have cuckolded me by fucking your Ex these many years and bearing his son whom I have all this time thought I was his real father. Your daughter hates you and him. What you have been doing disrespects me for not putting an end to the cheating. I always trusted you not to be doing what you have been doing. I knew nothing of your cheating." (I was not going to accuse her of causing Sammie's near two near death encounters. To do so would have revealed my initial source of her cheating." 

NOW SIT DOWN OR PACK UP AND LEAVE NOW! ONE OR THE OTHER!" (I hated to have to confront her like this.) 

She turned and headed for the bedroom without saying another word. 

I stood not believing what was happening. She was leaving me. Her glass of wine was still half-full.

I sat down sucked her wine into my mouth intending to end my dry spell, then ran to the kitchen and spit it out. I thought to myself, no cheater is going to drive me to drink. It will take a better woman than her to do that. She isn't worth it any more. I washed my mouth out of the remaining wine taste with the now tepid coffee. (I had had a real problem with alcohol earlier in my life.)

I sat down again at the dinner table with a good view of the great room. The hall to the bedroom and the way to the front door and garage door were in easy view. She could not exit the house without my seeing her. She had closed the bedroom door so I heard nothing from the bedroom. 

I waited an hour. My mixed up thoughts were interrupted by my cell phone ringing. My son wanted to stay over night with friends. It was not a school night so I agreed. I told him to come home right away and get his toothbrush. He agreed. Ten minutes later he arrived and disappeared into his bedroom and then reappeared almost immediately with an over night kit.

"Night Dad, and thanks. Where's mom?"

"She is in our bedroom. She wasn't feeling good after supper so she went to lie down. Have a fun night and no girls staying over!"

He laughed. "Who would want some dorky girl messing up three guys sleep-over? We're finishing the RC kits. (Radio Controlled gas powered model airplanes was his hobby)". He wasn't as far along in puberty as I had thought. With that, he was gone.

Sherrie had not reemerged and I had heard nothing so I went to the bedroom door and tested it. It was locked. I called out. "Sherrie, are you alright? What are you doing? You can't just up and leave us? Are you packing or just feeling sorry for yourself and pouting?"

"Go away, Jon. I want to sleep. I will tell you everything tomorrow morning, I promise. Just let me have this last night as a night of peaceful sleep. Please don't bother me again tonight." She pleaded and I knew she had won round one but tomorrow was to be the next final showdown.

"OK Sherrie." I yelled through the locked door. "Just remember you have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow. I'm going to sleep in the guest room. Tomorrow you are going to tell me all about your infidelity with your mind and your body, you know, the body you promised me was mine exclusively. Your pussy, obviously, has never been mine exclusively as you vowed to before God and family. Not only are you a cheater but you're a liar also. That I now know." 

"I know. I know." She was crying even as she yelled out her reply. "Just remember that I tried to love you. You have to believe that in spite of anything you might have heard. Now please let me sleep and don't bother me again tonight." Her voice had a ring of finality to it.

There was a little airline "remain over night" bag I had acquired several years ago from now defunct Eastern Air Lines. I had everything I needed for personal hygiene before going to bed.

It was still too early for me to go to sleep so I stayed up another couple of hours. I could not get interested in TV. I was up to date on my CME. My time clock had not reset yet. I decided to take a time out and take a run, tire myself out physically, then take a shower and be prepared for the showdown to continue the next morning. 

That is exactly what I did. Run until exhausted. Shower until relaxed. Sleep until the morning. I had no plan other than to force a confrontation and then decide to go for the 'mandatory' counseling. My life was over with her, that I knew. Perhaps the marital counseling along with legal advice would speed the divorce and clean up the details at the same time. I reviewed all my options. None seemed acceptable. Each lay heavier than the other on my heart.

I slept half well. Sleeping upon command was a needed skill to survive the brutal shift work in the Emergency Room.

The next morning I rolled out of bed with the sun already high in the sky. The clock said nine o'clock. Pretty late for me to be getting up. I dressed in the clothes I had from yesterday. Coffee was not on. Sherrie was not down yet. She was not due to work today, it being Saturday, but her routine was to have breakfast for us ready much earlier than nine.

I fixed a pot of coffee, two pieces of nine-grain bread toasted, artificial butter and low sucrose jelly and scrambled eggbeaters sprinkled with sharp cheddar cheese. I sat myself at the table and ate a silent breakfast. Better, get used to this I thought. That thought was distressing and bitter. The loneliness of divorce had already set in and we had not even begun to talk. Maybe our marriage could be rescued or repaired. I couldn't see how but I couldn't give up so soon either in spite of what I knew. My son deserved my best try at saving the marriage even though it seemed utterly doomed. 




Cheaters Never Win Ch. 02



Still no noises from our bedroom. Even the toilet had not been flushed though it would have been hard to hear.

Moving from the dining room table to the kitchen, my hands full of dishes, I slipped the silverware and dishes into the dishwasher and closed its door gently. Pushing it fully closed would start it. Sherrie always reset it upon opening it as she put the dishes away.

I walked up the two steps entering the hallway to the bedroom.

Testing the door, I found it was still locked.

"Sherrie?" I called out and listened for any rustling indicating she was getting up.

Nothing.

"Sherrie?" I called out much louder and rapped on the door.

Nothing again.

Lord, I thought. She must be angry with me.

"SHERRIE" I called out as I pounded on the bedroom door.

Desperately I called out yelling, "Open up, Honey. We need to talk this out, get counseling and see if our marriage can survive. LET ME IN, HONEY!"

Nothing

I began to worry. She had to be in there as she could not have left and the door be locked. Or could she? Strange, I could not remember how the door locked. I never used that door's lock, I think.

I ran to the garage. Maybe she had sneaked out while I was sleeping. The cars where in the garage. The garage doors were closed. 

Beginning to panic, I quickly searched the rest of the house. I even went out side thinking she may have fallen while climbing out the bedroom window. I knew I wasn't making sense but I had to think of everything. My anxiety level was over the top. I thought to my self, is the way I feel now what patients tell me a panic attack feels like? I was desperate. I was confused. I panicked! My heart raced. 

Looking back, I now see that my thinking was not entirely logical. Where had my dispassionate cool ER doctor demeanor gone? My stress level was way out of logical range and increasing by the second. Where had she gone? How had she gotten out of the house without my knowledge? Why had she left me? What had I caused?

She left no goodbye notes and everything seemed in order. This was so not like her.

I noticed that she had left her purse by her favorite chair in the great room. It had not gotten up and moved since she came in last night. Usually she takes it with her to the bedroom at night but I guess, in the heat of last nights "battle" she had forgotten to take it with her to our bedroom and wasn't going to come out to retrieve it knowing I was there to confront her. Even as disturbed as she had been, I feel sure if she had left, she surely would have taken her purse. 

Now I was really worried. She was in the bedroom and not responding. I really panicked now.

Running to the bedroom door once again, I pounded heavily on the door using my knuckles and slapping the door with my bare hands with all my strength. I remember calling out as loud as I could but!

Nothing..... 

I stepped back and kicked the door in; it fell half off in a loud crash against her dresser.

With a thump of my foot, I smashed the door flat to the floor, as I raced the final steps in to see her calmly sleeping on her back in bed. There was a faint smile on her face. 

She was very pale, even bluish. I watched very carefully for signs of breathing but she was not moving even the slightest. Her eyes were closed and there was drool from the left side of her mouth as her head was turned slightly towards me.

I rushed to her but I knew it was too late. The bed was neatly made with the bedspread covering even the pillows under here head. She was dressed to the "T". Her lipstick was impeccable. She had done her hair her nails and face in preparation for this. Her dress was her Sunday best. She even had her special hose and heels on. Her beautiful body lay on its back and her hands folded across her upper abdomen. She was already cool and that awful pale gray color of death. Her body was already stiff. Indicating she had been dead at least several hours. No breath. No pulse. The unique smell of death pervaded the room. How well I knew that terminal odor. It was putrid bowel gas odor from a relaxed anal sphincter.

A pill bottle, rested on her bedside nightstand along with an almost empty glass of water. 

I called the coroner. We had interacted many times because of bodies being brought to the ER for me to pronounced them dead. 

He called the fire rescue which was totally unnecessary but it was city protocol. I hated it. A doctor could not pronounce death outside the hospital setting. I knew an autopsy was likely mandatory as she had not died of known "natural" causes and I was the last to see her alive.

The house was soon buzzing with activity. The Fire Rescue squad was sending an EKG to a colleague in our ER. They then stopped CPR after speaking with an ER doctor on duty. (My word was not good enough for them...The bastards had foiled my wife's attempt to stay dressed for her final trip but I guess her trip had ended sometime during the night.) Then the police showed up to determine if this was a crime scene. They found a suicide note, which had been trapped under the bedroom door, which they had discovered while searching the room. I had not seen it. Initially, I had all but collapsed, on the bed next to her lifeless form. I asked to see it but the kindly cop had it already in a plastic bag for "evidence". Nevertheless, he relented and allowed me to read it but only after, I put on gloves to prevent my fingerprints from contaminating the crime scene.

Here is her final note.

"Jon, our marriage is over. I knew it was over for the last week but I played the final part well, did I not? My Ex is an evil man yet I, like the proverbial moth, was attracted to his light (His cock). He and I were toxic to each other. We ruined our daughter. He sired your son and I hid it. I deserve to burn in hell and will undoubtedly do so but I am taking a very restful ride on the way there. 

My Ex has AIDS and far advanced Syphilis. He is a mad man. He never told me and never revealed my name to the health department investigators so I never knew until last week. Last week after having sex at the motel, he laughed at me and told me he had given me his AIDS and syphilis, or at least had tried. That is when Sammie, who had witnessed his tirade and had been molested for years as a child, attacked him. She somehow knew where to find us. I knew he had molested and raped her years ago but had I done nothing to protect her, as I feared him yet was drawn to him. Is that a psychiatric sickness, sin or just plain stupid?

That same afternoon I went to the health department to be tested. To my horror, I had a preliminary positive for both HIV and Syphilis. He had given them to me much earlier. That is why I have refused sex with you this past week. I know it might be too late but I was not going to endanger you once I found out the horrible truth of my condition. Fortunately, you never approached me for sex last week.

I really did love you but I had a dark side that I successfully hid for many years. It was my final undoing. Please remember me for the good times we had together. Tell the kids I loved them. Sherrie"

That was her end.

I redressed her body, best I could and we all wrapped her in a sheet. The funeral home attendants placed her in the ambulance and to be taken to the morgue to await autopsy on Monday. The policeman took my statement and advised me not to leave town. A search of our bedroom and bath revealed only the empty prescription bottle for sedatives. It was confiscated. It had been filled with thirty capsules just day before yesterday. I knew she had no chance if she took all of them at once, which she apparently did.

I thought to myself, "She took the easy way out." Then I thought, maybe she knew this was the easy way out for me also. Maybe she knew what my painful options were, and loving me and wanting to not hurt me even more, she took the easy way out for the both of us. Now I felt as if she had sacrificed herself for her family. I could not hate her now. I could not leave her now. We would not be divorced. She avoided painful counseling. I think she trusted me not to tell of her dark side to her family and friends. I kept her secret. Her Ex could no longer continue whatever evil hold he had had on her. She could no longer cheat. She was free and so was I. I hoped God would forgive her.

I was surprised at how I was managing. We had not had the big fight for which I had prepared. She had admitted to a lot. There was enough to satisfy me. I lost whatever need or interest I had previously had in the PI report. 

Everything so important was now useless. I felt a great burden lift yet was unprepared for the silence at home and the great loss in spite of the terrible last week.

Epilogue

We buried her next to her mom and step dad. 

Her life insurance of many years (which I had paid for since our marriage) eventually gave me what seemed to be a small fortune. The courts gave me full custody and then adoption of my son. This with the help of my lawyer, my mom's friend.

It was a bittersweet gift.

I never told my son who his biologic father was. He handled his mom's death in a more mature fashion than I thought possible. He and I are still tight.

I paid the PI but never accepted or read his final report. I suppose it has gone through his shredder. I thanked my lawyer and she never billed me. Seems her old friendship with my mom did have value. I suspect mom paid her somehow but I never found out if that were true or not.

Sammie and I have reconciled. Her mothers cheating on me and her not protecting her from her father's sexual predatory abuse and incest had destroyed their relationship. Her demons still torment her but through intense counseling and my unconditional love, she is finally making good progress toward normalcy. 

We all three tested negative to all the STD's.

Sherrie's Ex died a gradual terrible death due to tertiary syphilis with syphilitic dementia complicated by AIDS. His demise was slow and agonizing. The excruciating, lancinating pains of Dorsal Thalamic Tract disease tortured him incessantly . He frequently screamed out in obvious pain and in terrible terror with the demons attacking his waning sanity. No medicine ever helped prevent or alleviate his pain. His doctors seemed rightfully frustrated with his unresponsiveness to their pain relief medicines. 

Emaciation finally took its tole. He died alone as a known child molester and sexual predator. No one mourned the death of this evil, broken and tormented soul. 

I paid for his cremation. At last the fire of Sodom and Gomorrah came to him at my hands, even though he was already dead.

To me, the disease, which inflicted the untreatable pain and torture along with a slow death, was an entirely appropriate judgment. He was dead by and at his own hands but the scars he left on us all would last our lifetimes. I could not have done it better. He had started his trip into hell well before his physical death. I wondered what could have caused him to be so evil. I lost no sleep trying to answer this question. He was dead and deserved to be gone and forgotten.

I escaped all the awful the options my lawyer had outlined. I saw that punishment including his final lonely prolonged death as justice. I had done nothing, yet perfect justice occurred in the end. 

I guess God knew what He is doing. He told us the wages of sin is death. Sherrie and her ex did not take heed to the warning. I still harbor hope for heaven for her. 

Sometimes it is better not to get involved in pursuing retribution. 

Realdoc