Secret Lives of Cheating Wives

by Curtis Bunn

  Lorenzo hardly was Eric. “I’ll order us some drinks,” he told Rhonda. “I have to catch up with you.”

  She waited by the railing that overlooked the city. That was the last thing she remembered before waking up at 3:50 a.m.—in bed with Lorenzo.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MEETING OF THE MINDS

  JUANITA

  The frank discussion and making love to Maurice gave Juanita a foundation to ward off her affections for Brandon. Maurice was trying, and she had told herself that if he put in the effort, she would do the same.

  Brandon seemed to get that Juanita had ended things when she did not respond. It took twelve days, but he finally settled in his mind that Juanita wanted a fling to scratch a sexual itch. He convinced himself that she used him, and built up enough animosity to not care if he heard from her again.

  For all her efforts, though, Juanita remained unfulfilled. At least that was what she thought. But she couldn’t figure if her discontent was about her husband or her interest in Brandon. Or both. Or something else.

  “I’m confused,” she said to Maurice. “You want to go to counseling because you’re not happy? What are you talking about?”

  Juanita had invested so much effort and heart into being the ideal wife and mother—at the expense of her own peace—that she could not fathom that he did not feel privileged, not to mention happy.

  “We should talk it out with a neutral person,” Maurice said. “If we try to do it, we’ll likely end up arguing and end up nowhere. I’d rather us get things under control before they get out of control.”

  Only because she was eager to hear what Maurice had to complain about did she agree to see the counselor. A few days later, they showed up at Dr. Cynthia Fields’ office in Southeast D.C., where they were surprised and disappointed to see white women walking dogs and pushing baby carriages in a part of the city where that had never occurred in the past.

  Maurice picked a female therapist because he didn’t want Juanita to feel ganged on if the doctor were a man.

  Dr. Fields was highly regarded and came highly recommended. “It’s nice to meet you both,” she started the session. “I’m sure you know but I have to say it anyway: Anything we share in this room goes no place else. Period. And I say ‘we’ share because my method of counseling is to be personable. So, there may be instances where I will give my clinical analysis and my personal analysis—if I believe it will help us get the most out of our discussion.

  “That said, what brings you in? How long have you been married?”

  “It was my idea,” Maurice said. “We’ve been married nine years. We have two great children, boys. We have no bills. We’re both accomplished in our professional lives. And yet, my wife recently told me we had a problem.

  “That threw me for a loop because I think I have been a model husband. Like I told her, I don’t gamble or waste money. I don’t hang out at night. I don’t go to strip clubs. I’m about my family. But that’s not enough for her, she tells me.”

  “Well,” Dr. Fields said, “let’s first understand that it’s important and Juanita should be commended for being honest about her feelings. I have been in relationships in the past when I wanted to say something and didn’t, and I paid for it. So, it’s a good job by her to reveal what’s really on her heart. Your response could have been, ‘Thank you for being honest. Now, what’s wrong?’ But if we get on the defensive, it almost always turns what could be a revealing talk into an argument.”

  “And that’s pretty much what happened,” Juanita said. “I told him that because I see our marriage a little differently than Maurice. We do have two great children and we’ve done well with our money and have this ideal family—to the average person. But—”

  “Oh, what are you, above average?” Maurice jumped in.

  “Please, Maurice, let Juanita finish. One of most couples’ biggest issues is knowing how to communicate when you disagree. Go ahead, Juanita.”

  “Thank you. I was saying that we do have a lot of wonderful elements to our lives, our marriage. But, for me, what I’d like is more excitement, more adventure.”

  “She’s talking about sex,” Maurice interrupted again.

  “There’s nothing wrong with sex,” Dr. Fields said, “but there is something wrong with you interrupting her.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Juanita, please continue,” the therapist said.

  “I agree with you, Dr. Fields; there’s nothing wrong with sex. But that was not even what I was getting at. I think we’re in a rut. We don’t do anything unpredictable. And when I tried something as simple as asking him to sit outside with me and have a drink, he complained that the TV was inside.

  “He’s a good man and I love Maurice. He’s a good father and husband. But he’s also complacent. He does not covet me. I’m taken for granted and it makes me uneasy because it’s unfair. I’ve given everything I can to this marriage and I feel I deserve to get more out of it than a mundane routine.”

  “Can I speak now?” Maurice asked. “Okay, thanks. What’s mundane is her placing sex as an issue that’s making her unhappy. We have been in what I thought was a happy marriage all this time, and now doing what we’ve always done is mundane? I don’t get it.”

  “Juanita, explain to him what you mean by ‘mundane.’ ”

  “I mean we went two weeks without sex. There’s nothing exciting about that. It’s mundane. During those two weeks, we did not go to a movie, a play, a concert. . . nothing. We came home and I cooked, we ate, dealt with the kids and he camped out on the couch with the remote control in his hand.

  “Even that wouldn’t be so bad if he said, ‘Honey, let’s find a good movie we can watch together.’ Instead, it’s sports, sports and more sports. I get no consideration at all. And as for sex, because I love my husband, I think making love is a natural way of showing it. So I try to set a romantic mood and he’s dying to get back to watching sports. There’s nothing loving about that. All that is mundane.”

  “But all of a sudden, this life we’ve lived all this time is a problem,” Maurice said. “We’ve gone two weeks without sex before. Didn’t hear a peep out of her. Now it’s a problem.”

  Dr. Fields jumped in. “Do you think it’s possible that she didn’t say anything before because she wanted to keep the peace and that she reached a point where she needed to speak up now?”

  “You can ask her that,” Maurice cracked.

  “That’s exactly right, Dr. Fields,” Juanita interjected. “It’s happened many times over the course of our marriage. I didn’t say anything because I have been intent on being this perfect wife. And each time I figured would be the last time. But it’s a pattern—a nine-year pattern that’s gotten old.”

  Dr. Fields: “Why is it, Maurice, that you seem to be fine with going two weeks without making love to your wife?”

  “It’s not that at all. I don’t even pay attention to the number of days in between. I don’t think our marriage should be based on sex. That’s so shallow.”

  “See, Dr. Fields. He’s not addressing the question.”

  “I don’t see going two weeks without sex as right or wrong,” he said. “I see it as normal for our relationship.”

  “But it shouldn’t be normal,” Juanita said. “I take the blame for us only now having this discussion because I let it go for so long. But this is the most blatant example of taking your mate for granted. You don’t see the need to be intimate with your wife? You see intimacy as something that happens when it happens? I see it as necessary for a marriage to have a heartbeat.”

  “Wow, I like that, Juanita,” Dr. Fields said. “You get that analogy, Maurice? For your marriage to have a pulse, you need intimacy. The good news is that this is a common concern in marriages. Most of the time it’s the husband complaining about a lack of sex. Juanita is not concerned only about sex. She concerned about intimacy. Sex is physical. Intimacy is all heart. It’s better than sex. Your love comes out, so the pleasure
is more intense.”

  “But he can’t see that,” Juanita said. “And with the way our lives are—working hard, raising two boys—we should use each other’s passion as fuel. We have to deal with the children and the ebb and flow of our jobs that will tire us or frustrate us or challenge us. We should be overflowing with passion with each other to help us keep our sanity.”

  “Okay, okay,” Maurice said. “Everything is duly noted. I can admit when I’m wrong. I have to do better. I kinda fell into this thing where our lives are set and we have this thing figured out. But what I’m hearing is that I can’t be that way, that I have to give up some of the things I’m used to like watching sports all the time to make Juanita feel special and needed. See, I’m a quick study.”

  “That’s really good to hear, Maurice,” Dr. Fields said. “I respect when a partner accepts responsibility. It’s mature and it shows you care about your spouse, which always is good.”

  “I do have something else to say,” Maurice added. “I’d like to talk about some things that bother me. I brought up this sex thing because she brought it to me. But I have some things in the marriage that bother me.”

  Juanita was anxious to hear.

  “I’m sure you do,” she said. “But I can’t imagine what they can be.”

  “Well, for one, I often feel like she takes me for granted,” he started. “I mean, I do as much or more with the boys as she does. We both have demanding jobs, but she’s the one who always works late under the assumption either that my job isn’t as important or she simply doesn’t care about my job. So I never get to stay late in the office and get ahead or dig a little deeper.

  “And here’s the worst part: She comes home two, three hours after I have worked, picked up the kids, made dinner for them, got them through their homework and in bed. It’s almost nine o’clock and she comes in and it’s quiet in the house and I have a chance to get some work done. But she comes in an immediately starts talking.

  “I’m on my laptop, working. She kicks off her shoes, makes a plate and sits on the couch with me and eats and talks and sips on wine as if I’m not there trying to work. And it’s always about either her job or the most mundane stuff, to use that word again. It’s so annoying. But mostly it’s disrespectful of what I have to do. You stay at work late to get your work done. I bring mine home, but I can barely do it because you won’t stop talking. Now how is that fair?”

  Juanita was thrown. She had not even considered Maurice’s position. It wasn’t that she disregarded his job.

  “That happened because I hadn’t seen you all day and wanted to connect with you at least a little bit,” she said. “I’m so sorry, Maurice. I am. I had no idea. I wish you had said something.”

  “I thought not responding, not saying anything as you went on and on would deliver the message. Instead, you continue to talk. And I can’t really focus. I’m not talking to you, but I can’t center my thoughts on what I was working on, either, because I’m hearing you. Not the actual words, but the noise.”

  Juanita was embarrassed. She prided herself on being everything to her husband. Maurice’s revelation revealed a flaw, something she prided herself on not having.

  “I apologize again,” she said. “And I mean it.”

  “That’s good, Juanita. Mature,” Dr. Fields said. “But do you really understand his point, which is that you have to respect his job as much as he respects yours? This is another area where couples can have troubles. You cannot look at your career or job as more important than your spouse’s. All things being equal, there has to be mutual respect and support of each other’s jobs and careers. That’s how you grow together—and avoid animosity.”

  Juanita and Maurice nodded their heads, Maurice more aggressively than Juanita, who wondered what other areas of work she needed. For someone who had been lauded—by so many people that she started to believe it—as this saintly “perfect” woman, Maurice exposed flaws she did not know existed.

  Before their time was up, Dr. Fields said: “I think this was a really good opening session. A lot of honest feelings were shared, which is a good thing—if you receive them with love. You all have the love you must have to be successful. Now it’s all about how you put that love—and all the information learned tonight—into practical usage. You care, which gives me real optimism that you will find a balance.”

  Maurice and Juanita agreed not to schedule another appointment before seeing how the upcoming weeks would play out. With Brandon out of her life, and awakened to her imperfections, Juanita centered her thoughts on her husband and family. Her night of infidelity faded into an afterthought as the days went by. But she remembered.

  CHAPTER NINE

  GUILT TRIP

  STEPHANIE

  Stephanie’s afternoon delight with Charles turned into trysts every chance she could. She even told Willie she was traveling for work one Friday and had him drop her off at the San Francisco airport. She kissed her husband goodbye, exited the vehicle and walked into the terminal.

  Five minutes after Willie drove off, Charles pulled up in a rental car, and off they went for two days of fun in Napa Valley.

  “It’s making my marriage better,” she told her sister, Toya, as they sipped cocktails at District, a popular lounge in downtown Oakland.

  “What is?”

  “Charles.”

  “Tell that crap to someone who is stupid enough to believe it,” Toya said. “Why would you tell me about what you’re doing? It’s none of my business. Better than that, I don’t want to hear it.”

  “You’re my sister; I should be able do to share stuff with you.”

  “No, not this. I don’t want to know you’re being unfaithful. You told me years ago what you did and I feel now as I do then—you’re a better person than this.”

  “This doesn’t make me a bad person.”

  “I didn’t say you’re a bad person.”

  “It doesn’t make me a better person if I didn’t have an affair. It’s not right. But I need it.”

  “You need it? Why?”

  “Because after so long with one man, it’s not exciting anymore. That’s not to blame Willie. I know he’s a good man. He’s, overall, been good to me. But we don’t have that spark anymore. His interest is in his business. Not me.”

  “Most women who are in marriages that lose their spark don’t try to find it somewhere else. They work at it. Sacrifice. Talk to their husband. Anything other than cheat.”

  “I don’t feel good about it. But you tell me: You’d rather be at home in a stale marriage or would you rather have someone add life to your life?”

  “I’m in a marriage that could use a little spark,” Toya admitted. “My marriage isn’t perfect. Terry seems complacent at times. But we work at it. I have not considered running around with another man. Are you crazy?”

  “We’re different people. You’re no better than me because you haven’t done what I’m doing.”

  “I’m not a better person, but I’m a better wife. I’m loyal to my husband.”

  “I could argue that I’m better to my husband because since I’ve been seeing Charles, I’m in a better mood, and my husband benefits from that. So he’s probably happier than Terry.”

  “You always cross the line, Steph. You can’t judge my husband’s happiness.”

  “Let me ask you a question, big sister,” Stephanie said. “Do you think Mom ever cheated on Dad?”

  “I know she didn’t. I know she wouldn’t.”

  “What if I told you that I had proof that she did cheat? Would you think of Mom as a bad person?”

  “My mother didn’t have the same morals as you. You know how I know? Because you don’t have any.”

  “That’s what you’ve always done when I challenged you.”

  “What?”

  “Get personal. I don’t have any morals? Wow. Do morals only matter when it comes to your marriage? Or do they matter in every part of your life?”

  “Every part, of co
urse.”

  “Good. I thought so. So let me ask you something: Is it immoral to use my address to get your daughter into the school in my neighborhood? Everyone does it, but is it right? No, it’s not right. But you did what you needed to do to get your child in the best possible school. And you know what I said when you did that? Nothing. I didn’t judge you. I praised you for doing right by your kid.”

  “That’s not the same thing,” Toya said.

  “I didn’t say it was the same thing. I asked if it was immoral, and you acknowledge that it was. No one got hurt by it—except a kid from my neighborhood who needed to be in that school more than yours who didn’t get in because a child from outside the district took his place.”

  “Now you’re trying to make me feel guilty?”

  “No more than you’ve been trying to make me feel guilty,” Stephanie responded.

  “I need another drink,” Toya said. “I can’t get over you trying to justify your behavior.”

  She flagged down a server, who took orders for another round of Lemon Drop martinis.

  “And as for Mom, you know how much I love and miss her,” Stephanie said. “But you and I have different fathers. And neither of them were married to her. So. . .”

  “So what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I’m probably more like Mom than you are.”

  “I get it: You want me to throw my drink in your face tonight. Our mother broke her back raising us, teaching us to be respectable women. And you’re gonna sit here and throw around innuendo about our dead mother like it’s nothing? You think I’m okay hearing you desecrate my mother’s name with this nonsense?”

  “Don’t get your bloomers in a bunch. As far as I’m concerned, Mom was an angel. But there were circumstances in her life when she did what she had to do.”

  “You’ll say anything and shame anyone to make yourself feel better about your crap.”

  “That’s not it. It’s—”