Some Wives Do...Whatever it Takes

by Remi Wild

  Fiona giggles. “Yes. You would...” Swinging my body, I swipe through the air trying to punch her in the head, but she steps aside, leans over, grabs her clothes, and starts to dress, taking her time as if this isn’t even a thing. My feet are frozen to the mattress, which is lucky for her because at this point I would jump on her and beat her perfect little face to a bloody pulp.

  Through the corner of my eye, I see Eric move, so I turn back to him, shooting him death arrows with my eyes. “What the hell, Eric?” He’s silent, doesn’t know what to say—everything that needed to be said is pretty obvious—no words are necessary.

  They slept together.

  He actually slept with her.

  I’ve been a fool.

  Swinging, I’m prepared to hang Fiona over the bedroom balcony, but she has already left. “Bitch,” I spit, jumping off the bed.

  My body moves of its own accord, and it takes me to our walk-in closet where I grab a suitcase and toss it on the floor, while nabbing his clothes and piling them on top.

  “No. I’m not leaving,” Eric says from the doorway. He’s pulled on his boxers and looks determined.

  “You say that like you have a choice,” I huff. “Pfft.”

  “I swear, I didn’t do anything...I don’t know how she got into our bed.” A psychotic laugh rolls from somewhere within. I let it take me as I ignore him, tossing his shit on to the pile. He grips my wrist, pulling me to him. My head is turned as I focus on the floor. His hands on my flesh makes my skin crawl as I struggle against him.

  I can’t make eye contact.

  I can’t.

  I will die.

  Shaking my head, the tears flow fast and hard, and before I know it, I’m in his arms as he coos, stroking my hair, trying to soothe me. A some point my legs give out, and I fall to the floor, Eric follows, sitting next to me as I bawl. After a few minutes, he jumps up and races from the room. I lie down on the floor, curling up in fetal position, staring at the wall, dying.

  The agony is unbearable.

  He returns and sits beside me again and releases a long drawn out sigh, one of trepidation. “I have my tablet...we can check the security cameras for footage.”

  My heart rate speeds up as I realize he is going to watch. “Are you fucking kidding me? You want me to watch? What the hell is wrong with you, Eric?”

  “I’m telling you, I didn’t fuck her. I don’t know what went down, but I didn’t!” He’s adamant.

  My head nods slightly, I don’t have a choice in this. Mostly, a small, sadistic part of me needs to know the truth.

  Truth or not…I can’t do it. I can’t look. The fear of what I might see is too much.

  “You watch it then. I’m out of here.” I rise up, nab a pair of jeans from the shelf, and prepare to get the hell out of here, but he grabs my ankle and pulls, forcing me on my ass, and then he straddles me, pinning my arms at my sides.

  I’m too devastated, too pissed to struggle, so I turn my head and stare bitterly at the wall. He watches the tablet while pinning me to the ground, his silence is killing me. At some point, he shouts, “There! See?” He spins the tablet for me to see him stumbling up the stairs. “Note the time. 10:47pm. Now look, she sits at the table for a half hour.” He stops the advance as Fiona kicks off her heels and heads up the stairs...

  He turns the tablet back and starts typing. I know what he is doing. We have infrared video feed in every room in the house, except for the bathrooms. He’s checking our bedroom feed, something we never do.

  He’s determined to prove his innocence.

  In my heart, I know he’s guilty—I can feel it, like a chunk of my soul has snapped off

  My face flushes as tears flow. I’m terrified but also hoping the feed shows me something else, something less devastating, anything other than the truth I’m dreading.

  He slumps, his expression falls, and I lose it, screaming and struggling against him. Moving from on top of me, he sits stunned and then turns the screen to me.

  My eyes betray me, forcing their way to the screen. I stare, mute, dumbfounded as I see the infrared is active because the lights are out, but the picture is clear...Fiona is naked, straddling my husband, his hands roaming up her sides as he grinds with her...she leans in, taking his lips…and suddenly the tablet flies across the room, hitting the wall.

  I don’t know if it was me or Eric.

  I don’t know anything, not anymore, maybe I never did.

  My chest is heavy with agony, my body weak with mind-numbing devastation. I sit silent as tears pour from my eyes—my heartbreak is hushed, my entire being is weighed down, unmoving.

  Eric stands, stuffs his shit into the suitcase, zips it up, and leaves.

  I’m done.

  No words.

  My mind swirls with thoughts, ideas, images that will never be unseen.

  She won.

  At the first opportunity, she had him.

  I honestly thought our love was stronger, that he was stronger...

  I was wrong.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Time has no meaning when you’re stuck in the endless void of heartache. Nothing seems to matter, seconds feel like hours. Breathing is a life sentence—I’m not sure I want to survive. I’m pretty sure I won’t, but to my surprise, I keep moving, living—if that’s what this is called.

  It’s been three days. Three excruciatingly long days.

  I haven’t left the house.

  I haven’t showered or changed my clothes.

  I might have eaten, but I can’t recall for sure. If I did, I most definitely didn’t taste it.

  Living is robotic, perfunctory, and unwelcome.

  No one knows what went down. Avoiding the entire world is the only thing keeping me going. If I have to explain, if I have to say the words…I can’t even think them, let alone say them.

  It’s surreal. Many moments I question whether it really happened, wishing it were a dream, a nightmare. I’m hopeful in those moments, even if only fleeting.

  I let the battery on my phone run out—it didn’t take long because Eric kept calling, texting. He left countless messages—I haven’t listened to or read a single one. I can’t bear it. Like me, my phone is dead somewhere in the house. Don’t know where it is, don’t actually care.

  Nothing really matters anymore...The only thing keeping me alive is Chia. My heart aches, but I love her. I have to live, so I can feed her, play with her, and let her out. She doesn’t deserve a shit owner.

  I emailed my boss, telling her I am fighting a flu, so she gave me the next few days off. I have until Thursday to figure out what to do, how to exist.

  Today is Monday. It’s getting dark outside, which means I moped, yet another day away. Eric will be in Tuscaloosa with her. I can’t say her name, can’t think it.

  They are together…My stomach aches with it, my face burns with it, every nerve in my body is tingling with spite. They’re probably shagging like mink.

  God!

  I can’t erase the image of her riding my husband from my tortured mind. A new wave of tears takes over and I become, yet again, a sobbing pathetic mess.

  I don’t know what to do.

  I miss him so much, I can hardly breathe, but the thought of the two of them together is too much—it’s suffocating.

  As worried as I was about her, I wasn’t prepared for it actually happening. I didn’t believe he would sleep with her, not really. Sure, I was worried, but I never in my wildest dreams believed it would happen, or that it would happen in our bed while I slept in the room across the hall.

  It all happened so fast, but since then time has dragged like a slow-moving blade across my flesh. Three agonizing days feels like months without Eric. The idea of him with her, of him never kissing me, never holding me again…it’s too much—all of it is too much.

  There is no way I am ready to face this, to see him, but I know I need to pull it together.

  I am strong, I can do this.

  No.


  No, I’m weak as shit.

  I can’t.

  I know, I have to.

  Dammit.

  I stroll into the bathroom and run a bath. I’m going to clean myself up, put on some fresh clothes, cook dinner, and call my bestie. I think I might be ready to talk about this, to start the conversation that I don’t want to have. It’s a conversation that I will be having, over and over, as I explain to friends and family how our marriage fell apart.

  By the time I’ve finished with my bath, and fed Chia, and played fetch with her, I am done. The energy and nerve I need to call Melanie has dissolved, and I find myself snuggled into bed—in the guest room.

  I threw away our sheets, I had to since she came all over them. I don’t think I will ever sleep in our bed again.

  Chia jumps up on the bed and takes her position next to me. My fingers weave through her wiry coat, gently massaging her chest until I dose.

  I jolt awake, realizing something isn’t right. Opening my eyes, I’m aware that I am not in bed alone. Eric is beside me, spooning, his arm firmly holding me close. Closing my eyes, I take in a sharp breath, willing myself to wake up and find the bed beside me empty. It isn’t. he’s here.

  Why is he here?

  Why is he in bed holding me as though nothing happened?

  Another hopeful millisecond flashes through me—just a flash—reality snuffs it out before it becomes too great. It happened. Might as well learn to accept it.

  Pulling away, I turn my body and face him, he doesn’t stir. His soft even breathing tells me that he’s content, he’s resting. I should be flipping out, but for some reason, I can’t. My heart wants him here, my body needs him. I just don’t know what to do with any of this.

  If he is here, it means he loves me and is trying to make amends.

  Is it possible that this was a mistake?

  Did I dream it?

  Nope. Didn’t dream it.

  That’s right, Becky, keep torturing yourself.

  His eyes open and meet my gaze. Sorrow paints his expression, and his eyes start to water. I thumb away an escapee, and he breaks down, sobbing, pleading, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me close.

  His heart pounds against mine, his warmth is inviting. Leaning in, I brush my lips against his, wanting to console him, take away his pain. He kisses me, slowly and pointedly, like he wants me to know I am the only one.

  Except I’m not.

  Not anymore.

  His hands on my flesh, would normally ignite a raging inferno. Instead I am unmoved, not one bit turned on. I welcome the embrace, but I feel nothing, nothing but agonizing heartache, loss—I suppose he feels it too.

  Tangled in each other’s arms, we lay in awkward silence for what seems like hours, two broken hearts, unsure of the words that need to be said.

  “I don’t want to lose you,” he whispers, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my cheek.

  There are no words. The thoughts I have are plenty, but I don’t have the courage to put them into words, so I stare into his eyes, silent, unsure.

  “What can I do? Tell me, baby. I’ll do anything you ask. Name it.” The pleading crackle of his voice claws at my soul.

  Not one thing comes to mind. Not one thing will fix this, unless he can turn back time and not actually fuck her. A tear slips from my eye. I wish it were that simple. What I wouldn’t give for a wish to take away this heartache.

  “I told Fiona to fuck off, threatened to sue her.” He pulls away, sits up against the headboard. “I’ve given our case to Holzer and have told my father that I refuse to work with her again. He didn’t even question me, once I told him…”

  Great. The in-laws know. Well, at least I don’t have to tell them. Nodding, I sigh. I guess this is happening. We’re opening this can of worms.

  “How?” The word huffs from my lips without my realizing.

  “How what, baby?”

  Snapping out of it, I collect myself and sit up on an elbow. “How…did it happen? Why...did it happen?”

  He looks into my eyes, adamant. “I swear, by all that is holy, that I don’t remember...After I came up and checked on you and put you to bed, Leo and I got into the tequila and…I don’t even know how I got upstairs to bed, but I did. I think because it was dark and I was inebriated, I thought it was you...I don’t know. She took her time coming after me, like she wanted me to be asleep, disoriented. I don’t remember…” He shakes his head in disbelief with a scowl painting his handsome features. “I’ve poured over the footage and NOTHING happened before she crawled into bed with me. I swear.”

  The many things I have to say have suddenly roll from my tongue. “I saw you with your hand protectively cradling her lower back…twice! I watched from the window, thinking I was delusional from dehydration…”

  “I don’t recall…” He tilts his head, trying to comprehend. “That’s just something I do, it’s…I don’t know…”

  “Yeah, well, it’s a very intimate gesture. She probably figured you’d be into it.”

  “What? No, it wasn’t like that. Mel and Leo were with us all night. Ask them.”

  “I don’t need to ask them. I saw it with my own eyes. I saw you!” Scowling, I take in a slow breath, trying to compose myself. There is so much more I need to say.

  He raises his hands in truce. “Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t think, but it was most definitely not an invitation for her to slip into bed with me.”

  We really aren’t getting anywhere with this conversation. It’s just going in circles with a lot of I don’t knows hanging in the air. “How could you think she was me?”

  Taken aback, he slumps against the headboard. “Obviously, that’s what happened…I would never have…”

  Pushing back on one elbow, I raise a hand for him to stop. Anger pushes the blood through my veins at a maddening pace. “No! Eric! Just, no!” I slither from the bed and flick on the light before he has a chance to move. Glaring at him, I say the words that need to be said. “Fiona…” I pause, saying her name makes my skin crawl. “Fiona has thick brown hair that spans to her waist. She’s also way curvier than me, and her breasts are huge in comparison to mine. She is exactly opposite of me in every way…”

  He’s silent, the look on his face is epic—like he hadn’t thought of any of that.

  I scoff, shaking my head. “You know every inch of my body, so, no, Eric, I don’t believe for one second that you thought it was me.” My voice cracks, and I fall to the floor, crying like a deranged beaten fool.

  He thought it was me…Pfft.

  I don’t know what I wanted him to say, but now there really isn’t anything else I need to hear. He’s beside me now, pulling me into his arms. I let him, but I’m limp against him, too weak to fight, too weak for anything…I’m done.

  “Becky, I swear…” He stops himself.

  Shaking my head against his bare chest, I try to hear him—believe him.

  I can’t.

  “No. On some level, and I don’t care how drunk you were, you knew it was her—you had to know…” I push back and stand, looking down at him, our eyes connect, and I feel nothing but bitter resolve. “It’s over. Please leave…and don’t come back.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  God! What the hell was I thinking? Sending him away, cutting him out of our home, out of our lives. My body and soul knows nothing but agony, desperately missing his presence. Chia mopes almost as much as I do.

  It was a selfish move—I know this.

  Why can’t I just forgive him?

  Why can’t I just let it go and move on?

  Logically, if not illogically, I know that if I take him back, it shows Fiona solidarity—that we can’t be broken…

  But we are. Shattered. Is it possible to even put the pieces back together?

  This empty nauseating blah has to end, at some point. Laying in my lounger, I’m trying to love the sun on my skin, something I have always cherished, but I can’t draw an ounce of enjoyment—nothing is even
slightly enjoyable.

  Chia races towards the gate. I can’t face anyone, can’t even force myself up off this lounger to see who is here. My stomach drops as I see Melanie walking towards me.

  She stands in front of me, silently regarding me as our eyes connect. “You’re not a very good friend, you know,” she says, raising her hand to hip and changing her stance to predatory. For the life of me, I can’t imagine why she’s pissed.

  I shrug. I’m not very good at the wifing thing either. “I’m sorry, Mel.”

  Taken aback, she scoffs. “Do you even know why I’m pissed? Do you care?”

  Whoa. Okay, so she’s really pissed. “Melanie, I…”

  Too late. She goes off. “I guess my invitation to last week’s party got lost in the mail. I guess, you thought hooking Leo up with Fiona was a better plan. I would have had your back, and I am more than pissed that you doubted it. And then, I find out that you and Eric are on the outs.” Her tone softens as she sits beside me and pulls me in to a hug “You didn’t even call me. I would’ve been here in a heartbeat, even though you are a shitty friend.”

  The tears are pouring from me as I sob in her arms. I am a shit friend. I’ve been selfishly wrapped up in this whole Fiona thing. Shame paints my features. She is the bestest friend that I ever had. Maybe if I had clued her in, if I had asked for her help, it wouldn’t have happened.

  Pulling away, I try to look at her but instead focus on the pool. “I’m sorry. I was desperate to get her away from Eric…”

  “You should have told me. Thankfully, Leo did, and we both did our best to ensure that she didn’t have a second alone with Eric.” A saucy grin curves her lips.

  “I just was so consumed…I didn’t really think about anyone else.” My eyes reach for her, pleading. “Everything is such a mess.”

  “Meh,” She shakes her head. “He’ll forgive you.”

  “Forgive me?” My forehead scrunches tight with confusion.

  “Yeah, you know, for being jealous and acting crazy…Isn’t that what this is all about?” She reads the look of shock on my face. “Okay, explain. All I know is, Eric has been crashed on Leo’s couch since Saturday. He wouldn’t tell us what went down.”