by D. A. Prince
I arrived back home on Sunday evening to a significantly agitated CJ. The first thing he noticed was the diamond watch that Burt bought me on a whim, when we were walking down the strip on Friday.
“Tell me the truth, Crystal. There is someone else isn’t there?” he asked, looking mutinous.
“What do you want me to say?” This was too soon. I was tired and not in the mood for a fight.
“How about you tell me where you really were this weekend?” CJ insisted.
I threw up my hands, defeated. “I was in Vegas.”
“But not with your sister,” he pushed.
“How do you know who I was with?”
“I have my sources,” he barked like an angry dog. “Let’s just say that someone who cares about me told me about your adventures with another man. Who is it?”
“Well you seem very well informed then. I’m sorry CJ, but it’s true. We have to break-up—I’ve fallen in love with someone else.”
For a few long moments he just stood there gaping at me like a fish. “How long has this been going on?”
“For a while. A few months maybe. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings CJ, but you know we were not working out. You’re too controlling. I can’t handle it.”
This sent CJ spiraling into some very choice curse words and descriptions of what my lover and I can go and do together. It was a horrible break-up, as I expected. CJ forced me to recount a lot of details of my cheating, which he said would help him ‘get over me.’
His ego was badly bruised. I later discovered that he was in contact with an acquaintance of mine about me. They emailed each other to discuss where I was and what I had been up to. This ‘friend’ of mine fed CJ information about me, and told him that my gift came from a new love interest.
His jealousy was like a self-fulfilling prophecy. From the day I fell for him he had accused me of cheating, until there was no risk anymore for me. I was already being blamed for it, so I did it.
CJ was a unique experience that added a new dimension to my experience with men and relationships. For the first time, I saw the other side of the argument. I was the one cheating, instead of the one being cheated on.
I wanted to feel bad, but I didn’t. Perhaps my heart was crushed so much that it needed to find a way to back to sanity any way that it could. I knew that my time with CJ had been short and turbulent, but passionate and exciting.
Some love relationships come on strong, but fizzle out equally as quickly. I was not looking for a man to convert me into some kind of slave or emotional punching bag. I was looking for a man who would see me, appreciate my tendency towards fun and freedom, and love me anyway.
CJ was a great lover, but he didn't respect my freedom. At every turn he had tried to strip me of the personality that made me who I am. He wanted to cut me off from my life and keep me in a box all to himself. I couldn't allow that to happen.
And so I learned an important lesson with CJ. That along with honesty, generosity, and someone with whom to share my life I also needed a man to respect my freedom and integrity.
I didn’t consider myself a cheater. What happened with CJ and Burt was just one of those things! Once I was safe in Burt’s arms, I reverted to my normal state of loyal companionship. I accepted responsibility for my actions, but didn't regret them.
Nor could I ever regret a union that gave me one of my precious children. James might have still been a young child, but he was the result of Burt and my feelings for each other.
Burt was so elated when I told him that I was pregnant! We went out to the best restaurant in the city and planned our baby’s future all night. Finally, a father who wanted to be a part of his child’s life. I had hit the jackpot.
Two weeks before I was due for a check-up, I collapsed. I was transported to the hospital in an ambulance due to complications with my pregnancy. It was a difficult time for Burt and me; we were worried about losing the baby.
James was impatient to be born, and he arrived at 32 weeks, very early. The hospital kept him in an incubator for two weeks before he could come home with us.
Again, I endured an emergency C section, and the drugs and procedures I endured were a trial. Luckily, Burt was there with me. He held my hand and looked after James when I couldn't. Despite all of his faults—and he did have many—Burt was always a dedicated father.
For a long moment I thought bitterly about Burt’s success as a father. After all, he has been a great dad to James, and even to Jordan and Joyce! Perhaps I was too hasty in judging him. Maybe he had not been unfaithful to me, and I was just imagining things. I would have to find out the truth or it would haunt me forever.
CHAPTER 15:
The Lies People Tell
“Your intellect may be confused, but your emotions will never lie to you.”
~ Roger Ebert ~
I fell for Burt in a way that I had never fallen for any man before that. He was so protective and sincere, but with a wild side that made being with him a constant adventure. I could see myself growing old with a man like that.
Even Burt’s proposal was something remarkable. He booked out an entire restaurant and hired a private band to play our favorite songs. We were served a seven-course meal and when the dessert came, he pulled out a small, tasteful box with a giant diamond inside it.
Burt got down on one knee and said the words I longed to hear my entire life. “Crystal, from the moment you stepped into my life I knew I would never be the same. You have changed my heart and now it belongs to you. Will you marry me?”
It was surreal. The soft light of the restaurant shone in his eyes, as he held the box open—the perfect ring staring back at me. I accepted. It was one of the happiest moments of my life. I felt, deep down, that Burt was my future all along.
All the men before him were just rehearsal partners for the kind of passion, mature love, and respect that we shared. It was Burt and I against the world, with James and the twins, our beautiful children. This would be my life. That was the beginning of a number of dreams that Burt manifested for me. He was very dedicated to seeing that I got everything I wanted. He was generous and wise, in a distinguished kind of way, but he could also party when he wanted to.
Burt was the ying to my yang, the crème to my coffee. All I wanted to do was pleasing him and making him happy. We were a family, and one that worked well together. I couldn't have experienced a more heady time.
For a long time, Burt and I lived in matrimonial ecstasy. I thought that he would be mine forever, but now wondered if forever is just a fairy-tale to help people recover from the brutal truth—that nothing truly lasts.
I sent my mother a message, telling her not to meet me. I would finish packing another day, if that was necessary. My first priority was to find out what was going on with Burt. And I needed a friend to help me through it. A friend that enjoys some alcohol!
Burt was the bomb to be married to. He took me from apartment to apartment until I fell in love with our current home. He let me decorate it and change design features. He expected me to take the advantage to make us more comfortable.
When we moved into the apartment, he kept a secret project out of the plans—my closet. It was his gift to me, out of love. What drove a man to feel such passion? How could that passion be lost so easily? Would I never understand love?
That scumbag’s hoo-hoo pictures were still fresh in my mind. They made me grit my teeth and want to seek revenge. Haunted, I knew it was petty. It wasn’t her fault—it was Burt’s fault. I blamed him, but I loved him. I needed someone else to blame.
When Burt and I first lived together in this apartment, it was nothing short of a fairy-tale. He took the family away on regular holidays, six or seven times a year. We traveled far and wide, and more—we were good together. But Burt was also an ambitious man, driven by competition. He liked to win, as many powerful, men do. He actively
sought out advancement in any way that he could, with his deals, his companies, with any advantage he could get.
I wondered if Burt cheated on me because he was stressed at work. I did put pressure on him to be with his family more often. Was this some kind of twisted coping mechanism? A way to keep the fun in his life now that we settled down?
My perfect New York family was disintegrating. All because of that low-down Layaho with her uneven boobs and arrow-mole. I sat bolt upright on my closet couch, wrenched from my musings about Burt and my past life. I was a cocktail of emotions, three parts despair, two parts anger and one-part fear.
The door opened somewhere in the apartment, and I could hear Burt’s voice in the distance. He must have decided to come home to face the music. Maybe if I dug a little deeper, there wouldn't be any music to face?
I zipped up my second bag, and opened a third. I wouldn't go to him; make him find me. He did. My closet-room door swung open and he stepped inside. I could tell he had enjoyed a drink or two, and he looked harassed and wild-eyed.
He settled on the white leather couch across from me, leaning deeply in my direction. “Listen, babe, we have to sort this out. I canceled my meeting. I can barely think straight with everything that has happened today.”
I switched through my feelings, like an impassive game engine. Anger was the first to pop up. “Tell me the truth about those pictures, or you'll lose me,” I warned.
“They don’t mean anything, Crystal; why can’t you believe that? You’ve had people stalk you, you should be more understanding about this sort of thing.”
“Then why the lies, Burt? No one at the coffee shop got pictures of her tits on their phones. You lied to me. You’re covering for her and that means one thing—you’re cheating!” I almost shouted. In the distance, I heard another door close and remembered to keep my voice down for James’s sake.
“Okay. She did send a mass text to everyone in her inbox, because she is crazy. Everyone knows she is crazy!” he pleaded with me.
“I’m not disputing her craziness, Burt; I’m trying to understand why you have been going to lunch with a crazy person who sends you full frontal pornography.”
“Babe, I can’t be held responsible for the actions of another person. I shouldn’t have met with her, but I have not cheated on you.”
“…Yet! Maybe so, but you certainly intended too with this country club slut! And what about the other pictures? I saw more than just her parts in your phone.”
Burt shook his head vigorously and rested his hands on his forehead. “I can’t change what you have seen. All I can do is tell you that it doesn’t mean anything. I love you; I didn’t cheat on you.”
There it was again, that anger. Did he think I was a fool? I erupted. “I don’t believe you! Do you think I’m some empty headed idiot that will believe anything you tell me just because I love you? How much do you love me, to put me through this kind of shit? This is so messed up. I thought we were happy. You made me feel like we were happy, and you were lying!”
“Don’t do this, Crystal. I didn’t do it. I didn’t sleep with anyone else. Please don’t do this,” he kept saying. It only enraged me. I had seen enough cheating to know when it was happening. Burt was caught and he didn't want to admit it. It turned my stomach.
“Why do you keep lying to me? You did this. It has nothing to do with me! I’ve been faithful to you, which apparently was a big mistake and a total waste of time. Do you know how many times I could have cheated on you? But I never have! Now I feel like a damn idiot!” I shouted.
“Oh yeah? What about you and your ex? I see how he looks at you. You’ve probably been cheating on me with him for years.”
“Max! Max? The other lying cheater sack of shit? That’s nasty, Burt, even for you. I have no interest in being with Max ever again.”
I endured enough of his lies; they were choking me. If I didn’t leave, I’d be tempted to lock him in my closet never to be seen or heard from again. I sent a hasty text to my friend Daisy, and moments later the response came.
“You’re leaving now?” Burt said, his arms stretched wide.
“Yeah, Burt, imagine that. You cheat on me, and then I leave! What an unexpected consequence of your stupid decisions…” I grabbed my luggage and wheeled it to the door.
“I’m going to Daisy’s this evening. The nanny will stay the night if you pay her an additional fee to look after James. Try not to sleep with her.” I slammed the door on the way out, and for a brief second felt a savage pleasure knowing I left him to his thoughts this time.
I was at Daisy’s apartment less than fifteen minutes later. She already had a bottle of red wine open and Dirty Martini waiting for me—what a considerate friend. Daisy was from the Dominican Republic, and became a close friend of mine during my modeling years – we went way back. We hugged and I retold the terrible tale.
“That dog. That no good, two-timing dog.” Daisy drank deeply from her glass. “How do you feel about him now?”
How did I feel? Angry of course. Disgusted. And... hurt. Sad.
My phone beeped, and text messages started.
“We are both sleep deprived. James has not been sleeping in his own bed. Do we really want to end our marriage over a misunderstanding? – Burt”
All I could do was sit there and respond, as Daisy called for some Chinese take-away.
“It’s true I haven't had much sleep. But that is no excuse for your continual lying about that slut (and others?) from the fitness club. Be a man. Tell the truth! – Crystal”
“Crystal, I would never hurt you like this. I didn't cheat on you! I don’t want to be with anyone but you, but you are jumping to conclusions about things. Don’t let your temper get in the way of our marriage. – Burt”
Every text he sent me made me angrier. Burt was not one to text—he preferred to call and talk to someone on the phone. I knew that he was texting because he wanted to convince me he was blameless.
CHAPTER 16:
The Confession
“Confession of errors is like a broom which sweeps away the dirt and leaves the surface brighter and clearer. I feel stronger for confession.”
~ Mahatma Gandhi ~
That night I stayed with Daisy, and she counseled me through much of the pain. By the morning, we were sharing coffee and pure outrage over Burt’s behavior. Daisy had recently divorced her two-timing husband. We were two women who felt betrayed, and it made for a relaxing environment of mutual contempt.
“Women like that to be taught a lesson,” Daisy said. I could tell she was thinking about her ex-husband’s floozies as much as about Burt’s mistress. “Let’s see. What could you do?”
The lust for vengeance coursed through my blood like strong drink. “What I want to do is embarrass her, show the whole world what a whore this Layaho is.” I corrected myself. “What a whore I think she is. I’m almost certain it’s her, and that she’s done more than send Burt pictures of her privates, but I can’t be sure. I need to know.”
Daisy filled my glass with orange juice. “Are you sure you really want to know?” When I nodded vehemently, she steepled her fingers under her chin and pursed her lips. “Have you thought about asking Sheila?”
I took a minute to consider the implications of calling Sheila with whom I had partied on several occasions but never been close. Sheila worked at the country club and knew all about everything that went on there. She was a sharp-eyed observer who knew everything, saw through every pretense, detected every secret – but she was also a notorious gossip.
If anyone had observed my husband crossing boundaries, it was Sheila. But if I phoned her, she would sense a juicy scandal and spread the word among her society friends. Could I risk the humiliation and embarrassment? My need for certainty outweighed everything else.
I called.
She was helpful, sympathetic, and as eager as
a cat at the sound of the can opener and the smell of tuna. I could practically hear her salivating when I told her I had discovered Burt’s infidelity. She eagerly asked for details.
This was a tit-for-tat deal, and I had to provide gossip fodder to get the information I needed, so I told her about the photos. She almost purred with pleasure.
Then it was her turn to divulge what she knew. “I can tell you that Burt has been here with other women.” She paused for effect. “I hate to upset you, Crystal, but...” Another pause. I gripped the phone hard, wanting her to go on. “I’ve seen him kissing and touching that muck face. And not just once.”
I thanked her and tapped disconnect. Satisfaction and pain both churned in my chest: satisfaction because I finally knew, and because I had been right. Pain because my husband had betrayed me and I had lost the love I could trust.
Again, it felt like the floodgates of my heart opened up, and distress flooded me. Was there any end to this pain?
Daisy surveyed me quietly over her coffee.
We were sitting in her decorative lounge, the sun streaming into the large bay windows, casting us in light and warmth.
“She says, she has seen Burt kissing that woman…” I trailed off, sobbing “More than once.”
“Do you feel better now?” Daisy’s voice was gentle. “Or worse?”
I felt destroyed, like someone kicked the ground out from underneath me. I was floating in space, suspended in darkness, with nothing to cling to.
It was one thing to be faced with evidence, and another to know for sure. I had solid proof now, an eyewitness that their lunches were more than just friendly meetings. If he had kissed her, it meant he had definitely lied. Yes, Burt was cheating on me.
Anger rose like acid from my stomach and bubbled through the pain. “How did you deal with it when your husband cheated and lied to you?”
