My Husband's Affair Became the Best Thing That Ever Happened to Me (17 page)

“Brian, you can’t tell the kids tonight,” I said. “This is the night Tamara celebrates her birthday with her friends. She’s having a big sleepover.”

It was the truth, yet I sensed Brian’s frustration as we went from one important event to the other that hindered him from telling our other two children he was leaving. I thought maybe it was destiny, still hoping he would change his mind.

“Our cable television just got hooked up,” I offered lamely. I was trying to sound upbeat, hoping to lure him home.

“So what?” he said. “Don’t you think it’s a little late?”

“It’s not too late, Brian,” I said. “I’m sorry I said I didn’t like watching TV. I can learn to like watching sports on television. I’m really going to try.”

“You’ll never like watching sports, Anne,” he said. “You’re kidding yourself.”

“I will like sports on television. Just you watch me,” I said. “If it’s important to you, it’s important to me.”

“I wish you had put this effort in before. Now it’s too late. I’m leaving,” he said. “Well, I gotta go, good-bye.”

“Bye, I love you,” I said out of habit.

Anne, you sounded pathetic,
I scolded myself after hanging up the phone.
But you’re wearing him down. Yes, he’s going to come home soon. Think of all those little encouragements you’ve had, especially with Andrea quoting your favorite scripture.

Delight thyself in the Lord, and He will grant you the desires of your heart.

Brian: For the past twenty minutes I had found temporary peace while driving from the jobsite to my latest “home” in a motel. The drive provided me with an escape from all the work-related and personal problems that I now faced.

These new living quarters of mine were a far cry from the lovely home that I had just left behind. I made my way to the second floor of the motel and inserted the key into door #214. Noticing how easily the door opened and recognizing that the lock had been broken, I immediately reported the damage to the manager so the lock could be fixed.

“Did you see your friend?” asked the older, tired-looking man in charge. “He waited around for a long time for you this afternoon, but eventually he left.”

That was strange. No one except Helen knew where I was staying. While making my way back to my room, I wondered if it had been Richard, Helen’s husband, who had broken in.

Well nothing appeared to be missing, so I tried to put that concern out of my mind.

About ten minutes into an old rerun of a classic boxing match, and before I had a chance to shower up from my hard day at work,

Helen was knocking on my door.

“Hi, can I come in?” she asked. “I told Richard that I had to run a few errands before supper, so I can’t stay long.”

“I’d like to offer you something to eat or drink,” I said, “but as you can see the selection is rather minimal.”

“That’s OK. Maybe this would be more fun,” she said, as she began to remove her clothes.

“So do you like what you see?” Helen asked.

But even before I could mumble anything in response, she was fondling and kissing me, and only moments after her entrance, we were fully engaged in sex.

So much for the warming up theory about women! This was not the first time we had skipped foreplay entirely.

While we were both lying naked on the bed, enjoying the post-orgasmic relaxation, the phone rang.

“Hello” I said.

“Is this Brian Bercht?”

“Yes. Who is this?”

“This is Karl Stennerson, Helen’s father. I would like to talk with you right away,” he said. “Would that be possible?”

“Sure, when?” I asked

“In about ten minutes.”

“OK, I will see you then.”

“Who was that?” Helen asked.

“It was your dad,” I said. “He is coming over here to talk with me right away.”

“Where was he? Was he downstairs? How long before he gets here?” Helen asked frantically.

I observed fear in her eyes and a slight terror in her voice. Helen was afraid of disappointing her parents, and saw them as her only seemingly secure source of financial stability, with Richard out of the picture. As rapidly as the clothing had been removed, so it was now returned to our bodies. Hardly two minutes passed from the phone call until Helen was scurrying out the door, like a teenager escaping out the window of her lover’s room, as the footsteps of angry parents approached.

I knew that Helen’s father was a man of considerable means and influence, something that he used generously to help his only daughter. I knew that what Helen and I were doing would not meet with any type of approval from her parents, who she said were more concerned about outward appearances than inward happiness.

I also knew that it was Helen’s father that had introduced her to Richard ten years earlier, when Richard first began working for Mr. Stennerson’s company.

I had time to tidy up the bed and get dressed into something cleaner than my work clothes before Karl arrived. I was also able to catch the last rounds of the fight that I’d been watching before. I was happy to see that George Foreman was still victorious, even fifteen years after his infamous fight.

The knocking on my door triggered many thoughts: If Karl was violent would I be able to handle him? Would he be alone? Would he threaten me?

But all these things were about to be revealed.

Before me stood a well-groomed, healthy looking man with gray hair parted to one side. He was a few inches taller than me, and also about twenty pounds heavier. Obviously retirement was treating him well.

“I’m Karl Stennerson. Helen’s father.” He spoke authoritatively, like one who has habitually used intimidation to get what he wants.

I reached out my hand to greet him and said as firmly as he had, “Brian Bercht.” I offered him a seat on the sofa while I took my seat in a chair opposing him.

“Mr. Bercht, this is not the way we do things in the Stennerson family,” Karl began in a condescending tone, as if I were the only guilty party in this affair. “I am not going to tolerate this relationship between you and my daughter. I want you to get your sorry *** home were it belongs and leave my daughter alone. My family is disgusted with the behavior of you two and we are not going to put up with it.”

I thought that it was a bit strange that this man was trying to control the life of his thirty-seven-year-old daughter.

“I know that Richard and Helen have had some problems but those problems stay in the family. We don’t need any outsiders meddling with that,” he said. “Do I make myself clear, Mr. Bercht?”

“Well, if you are that concerned about the welfare of your daughter and about the marriage problems that you know she is having, why haven’t you done something about it sooner?” I asked. “Helen has been quite unhappy for some time now, and it seems that if you are such a caring father as you say that you are, waiting until now seems like a pretty weak gesture for a father. Why haven’t you done something sooner?”

Karl was noticeably agitated.

“Look Mr. Bercht, I’m here to tell you to leave my daughter alone.”

“What are you going to say to Helen?” I replied.

“Never mind, I will deal with her myself,” he said. “I am a man of considerable means, and I have the necessary connections to make life very difficult for you,” he continued. “If you don’t bugger off, you will be very sorry.”

He rose to his feet and so did I.

“Well, I am glad that you said what you had to,” I said. “I will give thought to those things and weigh them carefully.”

I reached out my hand in an attempt to be civil. We shook hands and he was gone. I refocused my mind on the immediate tasks ahead of me, showering, dressing and looking for a place to eat my supper. ALONE!

Danielle: The night before grad my boyfriend Jason took me out for dinner at a family restaurant. It didn’t really matter to me where we went. It was just fun being together. We were both in an awesome mood that night, eating nachos and drinking coffee while talking about our friends, who was going to be at grad, who was going with who, and the big party afterwards.

Jason wanted to call his friend, Steve, so he asked me if I had Steve’s number stored in my cell phone. I was using well over a thousand minutes a month and had nearly a hundred phone numbers stored in it. I’d programmed my phone to say “Hi Sexy” on the display whenever I turned it on, which I thought was pretty cool. I flashed the greeting at Jason and raised my eyebrows at him a couple of times just to make him laugh. Then I started to flip through the phone numbers quickly in alphabetical order looking for Steve’s number.

My mood changed instantly when I came across a phone number to which I had attached a swear word in place of the person’s name. All this anger started to rise up inside me. *****face was the best I could do to give a name to the phone number of the women who was screwing my dad. I thought of her as worse than a whore because she wanted to break up my family. At least whores don’t try to break up families. I wanted to call that woman up and give her a piece of my mind. I wanted to hurt her for the way that she was hurting me.

I was so mad at that moment that I told Jason I was going to call that *******-*****! Jason looked pretty worried. I don’t think he thought that I should call her. He asked me what I would say. I said “I’m going to ******* tell her, I’m going to ******* kill her!” And then I just went for it. I hit the “send” button and waited. I could just feel my adrenaline pumping, heart pounding. I looked at the display on my phone. It read “calling *****face.” It rang once. Twice. Jason, who was Asian, looked pale like a white man about now.

A man’s voice answered “Hello.” I had a pretty good idea it was Helen’s husband. The next thing I knew the words; “I’d like to speak with the *******-***** who’s ******* my dad,” came out of my mouth. There was a pause on the other end, then I heard the man say (not to me), “Honey, there is someone on the phone who would like to speak with the *******_***** who’s ******* their dad.”

Wow! He repeated the words exactly as I said them. Helen deserved it for what she was doing to me, trying to steal my father. She refused to get on the phone and that made me even madder. “Look, tell that ******* whore she better get on the ******** phone and talk to me. I’m going to make her pay for what she’s doing to my family,” I yelled into the phone.

Helen’s husband told me that he understood how I felt, that he agreed that it was wrong what his wife and my dad had done and he told me that he was really hurt by it too. The way he didn’t try to tell me I was wrong and didn’t yell back at me helped me to calm down. He asked if I was okay and if I had been doing drugs. I told him that I hadn’t which was true. He even asked if I needed help and offered to come and get me and to drive me home! I had to reassure him several times that I was fine before he believed me. His kindness, calmness and understanding helped me to relax and by the time I finished talking to him, I actually felt much better.

When I hung up the phone, I was shaking, but Jason encouraged me. I don’t know what I would have done without him. We ordered more nachos and coffee and talked about my family for quite a while. When we were done I called my mom for a ride home (something I rarely did), so that maybe I could have some time alone to talk with her.

Dedicated as I was, I went to pick up my daughter when called,

and as usual Danielle asked if I minded if she drove. No problem, I didn’t really mind. We drove through the blackness of the night. Rain poured down heavily. It was late.

When her phone rang, she answered it in her standard, almost overly sweet voice. “Hey, this is Danielle.”

She listened for a moment.

“No, no. You’re the one who is wrong,” she said, each new syllable blurted out with more volume and intensity than the last. “Don’t you ******* tell me what to do.” Whoever she was talking to was getting a serious tongue lashing. “No, now you listen to me ... You’re the one who is a jerk.”

As the conversation continued, I felt sickened by her choice of language and uncontrolled anger. I didn’t know what to do, but unless it got completely out of hand, I thought it was best to leave the verbal tantrum left unchallenged. Besides, whoever was receiving this tongue lashing had the option ofjust hanging up.

All the way home the verbal assault continued. I tried to figure out who she could be so mad at and what it was all about, but the angry words offered no clues.

Whoever was on the other end was either not getting the opportunity to speak, or was shouting back with equal volume, because from my end it was clear that Danielle was not listening. She was giving someone a piece of her mind and it wasn’t good.

As we pulled into the driveway, Danielle continued shouting into the phone, “No, I’m not going to let you talk to her. Don’t even bother phoning the house.” She hung up and ran into our home.

Inside the home phone rang, and Danielle answered it before it could ring a second time.

The yelling and intensity continued. Apparently the caller was not finished with Danielle yet either. I tried to listen in on the conversation but as soon as Danielle noticed me lingering around the corner, she went out the kitchen door onto the sundeck at the back of the house. She shut the door and continued her argument in privacy, undaunted by the rain.