* * *
The following afternoon, Stephanie sat at a PC in the Sillmac Public Library while creating an alias email account under a user named, Julie Gresky. She certainly couldn't allow prying eyes at her place of work to observe this new cyber life of hers. And she couldn't have evidence of her altered-identity on the family PC at home! It was probably best to do questionable email correspondences at the public library. The building was only 10 minutes from her office, and the secret mission would only require perhaps an additional 10 minutes of work. The untruthful excuse of a late-afternoon meeting at work would explain her reason for coming home late.
That evening would be Stephanie's last night in the chat rooms. She had her fun playing with the men, and wanted to devote energies in exploring this new adventure with 2Big4U.
As Stephanie hoped, the stranger who she chatted with for nearly an hour the previous evening was in the same room waiting for her. Stephanie threw out her bait, said some nice things and within 5 minutes let him know that it was necessary to retire early.
2Big4U asked again, “How about your email address? We could talk more during the day?”
It was the question Stephanie hoped for. “Sure, you seem like a safe person.” She supplied an email address with JGresky for the ID. “That's my actual name, Julie Gresky.”
“Well Julie, nice to meet you. My name is Brad.”
* * *
Now it didn't take long for Stephanie's husband, Joe, to notice the downright, suspicious behavior coming from his wife. Mostly it would provoke a quick double take and a peculiar consideration that things were very wrong. But he pushed these thoughts away in a desire to maintain the much valued trust in their marriage. And as the man slowly emerged from the caverns of denial, Joe suddenly found himself sitting at the desk of his office one morning, typing the phrase in the search engine, “signs that your wife is having an affair”.
If it was necessary for Joe to enter such an alarming phrase into a search engine, then it was certainly an indicator that there might be a problem. Many of the articles Joe read brought this fact to light. But there were other indicators. Increased time spent working out at the gym along with improvements to physical appearance could be an alarm. Staying up late on the Internet, long after the spouse has gone to bed could indicate communication over the internet. And a sudden increase or decrease of sex might point out a spouse's drive is being misdirected. These signs made perfect sense, but some of the articles discussed items that Joe hadn't considered.
It's the glow that a man remembers when his wife first fell in love with him. When a woman cheats on her husband, she's got that glow and cannot hide it. And a cheating wife will suddenly sleep with her purse next to her bed. She's almost fixated on the purse and won't leave it too far from reach.
Simple conversations turn into arguments. And it often appears that idle-like statement made by the husband is rejected, argued or disagreed upon. As Joe read these items throughout various articles, he realized that his wife was exhibiting many of these behaviors.
But why the purse? What did Stephanie have in her purse that she didn't want Joe to see? He crawled through more web pages, looking for possibilities. But he found nothing. His memory reminded him of the strange times that Stephanie came home and seemed to make a point of neatly placing the purse on the counter or tightly carrying it when leaving. And as the articles pointed out, Stephanie did take the purse to bed each night and set on the floor next to her side. Joe always had a respect for his wife's privacy; but under the circumstances, he felt obligated to invade. The question was, when?
Just as Joe slept with one eye open, waiting to see when his wife came to bed, Stephanie appeared to carefully watch her purse while she slept. The ideal time to invade was when she was sound asleep. But how connected to the purse might his wife have been? Would a subconsciously-watchful eye arouse her from sleep once the purse was removed from their bedroom?
It was almost as-if Joe set a subconscious alarm of his own! It was as-if some part of him scanned his wife's mind while she slept, and finally gave the okay that he could get out of bed and remove the purse from the room. Her breathing was slow and deep, indicating that the suspicious wife was someplace else and unable to see the violation of her privacy. In contrast, Joe's heart raced while his breathing increased as he took the purse into the kitchen where the oven range light was turned on. The moment had come to invade the secret life of Stephanie.
A woman can sense if something is out of place. There is no way a man can rummage through a purse and leave the invasion undetectable. Joe was aware of this and created a rule to leave things as untouched as possible. But the rule was quickly forgotten as he made the very shocking and quirky discovery of a long balloon filled with water! It was the type of balloon that a clown might use to make animal sculptures, but was small and no more than seven inches in length. Next to the discovery was a bag of such balloons, all red in color. Certainly lacking the density and rigidness to be used in “fallacious” adventures (at least for his wife's anatomy), the only conclusion for Joe was that Stephanie had some kind of balloon fetish.
Further probing, Joe discovered that tucked next to the wallet were some neatly folded sheets of paper. He further violated the “untouchable rule” and carefully removed the folded papers, believing them to be something incriminating. They were printed emails, a correspondence between a man named Brad and a woman named Julie. But why was Stephanie hiding these? It would require that Joe read a couple paragraphs of an email to understand that Julie was an alias name belonging to his wife. At least she was being careful.
Unlike you, Joe didn't understand that Stephanie refused to check her alias email account at home or work, much less send emails from those locations. She would type an email at home late at night, and save it to disk. (Yes; back in those days, floppy disks were still in use). Then she would go to the Sillmac library after work, and print up his emails to read at home. Whatever she typed and saved to disk would be copied and pasted, then sent off from the library.
There were so many personal details about her life, private elements of her marriage and exaggerated accounts of Stephanie's day. She was lying to herself; feeding a superhero ego and rationalizing the marriage had gone sour. And to add insult to injury, the emails revealed that a stranger had been permitted to see the most beautiful and valued treasure of Joe's, his wife's naked body! How could Stephanie allow that? The very beauty and splendor had been forever stained by the sharing of pictures. And the stranger's disrespectful and careless mention of what he called, “your ass… your gorgeous ass… slap that ass of yours.” catapulted Joe into a fury.
What sort of man had control over the woman he cherished so dearly? She told him everything; but he remained in the background, only reinforcing her self driven beliefs of a life that needed change.
Brad would say, “You are realizing that you married the wrong guy. It's obvious that you are unhappy in your marriage. You are so beautiful and your husband doesn't appreciate what he has.”
Then Brad would often follow with, “I think you are too good for your husband. We should meet sometime. Why don't we meet one night?”
Meet, meet, meet; it all came back to one, common motive. The stranger desired to meet Stephanie. She was so stupid and blind; caught up in a fantasy that was easily fueled by compliments and encouragements. It would only be a matter of time before Stephanie took the bait and met the stranger somewhere. He probably played this game numerous times, never thinking of how he destroyed marriages.
How would it end; a harmless date, coercion of sex, maybe murder?
Despite the infuriating details read, nothing could prepare Joe for the shock that was discovered, buried midway in the thread of responses. Stephanie had truly lost her mind as she went on to say, “I was looking up adoption online today. Need to know the facts in case I want to leave him and remarry. Nothing is more important to me than my son, and making sure that his new father is nurturing and ca
ring would be the prime objective if I found someone else.
Maybe I'm living in a fantasy world, but it just amazes me that we hooked up in an Internet chat room where you can meet people all over the country. But through fate, I find out that we live only 20 minutes apart! Although I believe there was a guiding hand and that you and I could possibly be meant for each other, I still want to make sure that you are right for my son. Perhaps you are right. Maybe we should meet face-to-face."
Joe put the emails down on the counter and raised his hand to his forehead in dizziness. The very thought of his wife considering leaving him and allowing some unmet stranger to be the new father of his son just sickened him. He took notice of a small post-it note under the collection of printed emails. On the note was the name, Brad, along with a telephone number.
Suddenly, a voice could be heard at the kitchen's entrance. “What are you doing in my purse?” Apparently, Stephanie returned from the far-off places in her dream-world and regained focus on the purse. It wasn't there, and she needed to verify the terrible certainty that her husband had it.
Joe didn't care that he had violated Stephanie's privacy. Instead, he asked, “Who is Brad?”
She was so nonchalant, “He's a friend, and what business do you have going in my purse?” Stephanie snatched up the emails and proceeded to store them back where they belonged. She was not aware of the post-it note with Brad's phone number that remained in Joe's hand.
It was like a dream for Joe. He couldn't believe his wife's nonchalant attitude along with sudden dishonesty. “Stephanie, are you really going to tell me that's a friend? Are you aware that I read those emails?”
Her defensiveness grew, “He's a friend, Joe! Won't you just let me have a friend? I met him online one night, and he's a nice guy.”
“Stephanie, he doesn't talk! The only thing he says is that you should leave me! You do the rest! You tell him everything; show him everything like pictures of you naked! And what's this you want him to adopt our son?”
Joe walked over to the phone while nearly shaking in outrage. That's when Stephanie saw the post-it note with Brad's number. She darted over to her husband, snatched the piece of paper from his hand, put it in her mouth and swallowed. “Good luck finding that! And you know what? This conversation is over!”
The last time Stephanie checked, she was the one in control of the world. It was her life, her marriage and her purse. If she desired a friend on the Internet, all-be-damned she would have one! The moment belonged to Stephanie; and just like all sadly mistaken spouses with such delusions, she believed that the pointless conversation no longer needed to be continued—conversation over.
Unfortunately, delusional people lack the understanding that the world doesn't work that way. Take for example the instance of a wife who has discovered her husband in bed with another woman. I suppose after the famous, “It's not what you think” phrase is given, it may also be followed with, “and this conversation is over.” Was anything really solved?
A boss catches an employee stealing from the company. “I didn't steal; this conversation is over!”
The police have a suspect in custody with overwhelming evidence of murder. “I didn't kill anyone; this conversation is over.” I suppose in taking control of the world, he or she might have attempted to just walk away. But again, it doesn't work that way!
Ah, but Stephanie was fully prepared to just walk away. As she snatched her purse from the counter in full control of the world, she learned that although a gentleman, Joe was very strong. Joe was so strong in fact that he grabbed his wife's wrists in a force of uncontrollable fury and slammed her back against the wall. “No, we are not done, Stephanie! You can't do this! We will talk about this, and I will fight you every bit of the way if you walk off with our child and try to let that stranger be his new father.”
If Stephanie believed herself to be strong and in the best shape of her life, she was soon realizing that Joe was much stronger with an ability to throw her flimsy body around like a ragdoll. She had never seen her husband that way, and was hit with the hard reality of being overpowered by an increasingly, rage-full husband who shook the living daylights out of her while surrounding the air with his late-night, stale breath.
Joe growled like a monster, “Tell you what, Steph! Let's go in the living room and login to your JGresky account. Let's see what else you are writing him!”
She was grabbed by the back of her neck and thrown into the living room with a force of disbelief. A quick retreat to the corner enabled the wife to impose her perception on the rage-full monster that violently approached.
Stephanie let out bloodcurdling screams, “Oh my God! Oh my God!”
The escalated violence had awoken their son, Paul, who began to cry. Joe was the true villain. This was exactly how women were murdered by their husbands. And yet Stephanie wanted this, the sick woman that she was! Joe acted in a manner that Stephanie had wished for as control had been given back to the cheating wife's world.
While she cried hysterically, the now calm husband studied in disbelief. What was happening to his wife? Why was she creating a twisted world of lies?
Transformed back into a miraculously-sane woman who finally had control in the house; Stephanie stood calmly, appearing to carefully weigh a decision before executing the unbelievable words. “I'm leaving you. I want a divorce.”
“What? Are you crazy? Where are you going?”
“To live with my parents.”
'“Steph, they live 4 hours out of state. What about your job?”
Stephanie only walked away. “I'm leaving. I can't take this anymore. And you better hope there's no bruising on my wrists and arms from your beating.”
All Joe could do was sit in a chair and listen to the activities on the other end of the house. Stephanie rescued the crying child, 'It's okay; I'm sorry. We're going to Grandma and Grandpa's house, now, and everything will be alright. You want to help Mommy pack?"
Closet doors were opened; hangers rattled; suitcases unzipped. And then Joe's wife could be heard while speaking on the phone. “Mom, Joe and I got in a really bad fight… I don't know, he thinks I'm cheating on him… Yeah, tell me about it… Well, we're getting a divorce, and I don't want Paul being exposed to things here… Can I live with you for now…? Okay, I'll be there some time in the morning.”
Moments later, Joe's wife and son walked towards the door. The child was too young to understand as he clung to Mommy who pulled suitcases behind her. Little Paul needed his father to fight and prevent his removal into a world of possible danger. But Joe could do nothing. Any further fighting would provide the irrational wife additional ammunition for the courts and police. As it stood, Stephanie would most likely run home to Mom and Dad in tears, “Joe thinks I'm cheating on him! See the bruises on my wrists?”
The sound of the trunk closing shut was heard outside. The engine started up and his wife quickly pulled away. Joe was now alone.
* * *
Joe had remained in that chair since 2:20 in the morning. Hours were spent in contemplative grief, sometimes attempting to imagine his wife was dead. But this was no help. When a loved one dies, the survivor continues to be loved from Heaven. A spouse who leaves for another lover, no longer loves the original. That being said, Joe would have gladly taken the death of Stephanie over reality. Perhaps this is why he was so willing to make peace in the afternoon hours as his wife suddenly stood in the entryway of the living room, offering to come back and make up.
“I don't want to fight anymore; I'm sorry. I can't take the stress and anxiety. You're right.”
Joe couldn't believe what he was seeing and hearing. “Excuse me?”
“Honey, you're right. I thought about everything you said. He's just some stupid guy from the Internet and not worth destroying our marriage. I got carried away in the fantasy world. I called him and told him to never email or call me again. It's over.”
It would require work and much healing; but for Joe, it would be
worth every moment and a testament of true love for his wife. The remainder of the afternoon was spent cuddling on the couch and gently going over the details of Stephanie's mistake. Their son, Paul, slept on the loveseat as he hadn't rested since leaving in the predawn hours.
This event took place on Good Friday, a dark and challenging day indeed. But a dinner of forgiveness and reconciliation at the brand-new Hotlicks Sports Bar and Grill, offering the Lenten Friday fish-fry value, would be an excellent step in healing the pain.
And after dinner, the married couple who had seen their first serious marital strife had made a left onto Creek Highway, just to cruise around and relax after a long, stressful day.
Stephanie suggested, “We should have a home built somewhere out here. It's so beautiful.”
Not that much could be seen in the darkened hours, but a curious phobia was noted by Joe and kept to himself that night. He wasn't fond of heavily wooded areas and would hate to be alone out there where unspeakable things could take place. Perhaps it was best to stay in the main town of Mapleview, where the trees could be observed from a distance.
* * *
Easter came and went. But something tuned Joe to the possibility that his wife's infidelity was far from over. Easter dinner was to be held at Stephanie's, parents' house. And Easter dinner did happen on that lonely, Sunday afternoon; but Joe was not invited. As his wife explained, the in-laws could not understand why she and Joe were going to work out their marriage. Stephanie and Paul could come, but not Joe! How could Stephanie have abandoned her husband on Easter Sunday? She did, and it was a long and lonely Sunday for Joe.
Chapter 13
The knotted, rubber stem was wedged in the closed drawer of Stephanie's office desk as the long water balloon hung several inches below. Eventually it would burst and spray water on the floor. To remedy this certainty, a wastepaper basket was positioned below the balloon, ensuring the water would be collected.
The Tree Goddess Page 11
