I place Rick’s shoes neatly on his shoe rack, then grab a hanger to hang up his jacket. As I’m shaking out the material to ensure there are no wrinkles, I catch a whiff of perfume. Bringing my nostrils to the lapels, I inhale deeply and confirm it. His jacket smells like a woman. My stomach roils in disgust. My hands begin to tremble in fury. My husband is having an affair. I am now officially the cliché.
The thought of him cheating on me sparks something inside me. I’ve given up everything for this man. Meanwhile, he’s out screwing another woman. I don’t doubt she’s gorgeous. She’s probably a size one with perky breasts, silky blond hair, and has flawless skin with zero tattoos—pretty much the exact opposite of my black, lifeless hair, dull black eyes, and tattoo-covered overweight body.
Peering out of the room, I see he’s sitting at the dining room table, eating his dinner and texting on his phone. And a plan surfaces. Changing into a pair of sweats and a tee, I go pee and then lie down in bed, closing my eyes and pretending to fall asleep. As I wait for Rick to finish eating, I think about the woman’s scent on his jacket. This isn’t the first time I’ve smelled woman’s perfume on his clothes, but I chose to remain in denial, making excuses—he was probably standing too close to his secretary, or he had lunch with his mom. I didn’t want to admit my husband was having an affair. But deep down I always knew. It’s only now, that I’m pregnant and carrying an innocent precious baby in me, I’m finally opening my eyes and looking around me.
A little while later, Rick enters our room without saying a word. I hear the bathroom door shut, and I jump out of bed. He takes a shower every night when he gets home, after dinner, and he always brings his cell phone into the bathroom with him. Because of the bathroom being so big, he can’t see me enter, but the door creaks, and he calls out, “Quinn?”
“Sorry,” I say, “I need to go pee. I’ll be right out.” When I don’t hear him respond, I peek around the corner and see him standing in the shower under the water.
Cheater. Asshole. Home-wrecker.
Snatching his phone out of his pants that he has folded on the vanity, I type in his passcode and pull up his messages. I click on the first one: Sylvia. The name sounds familiar. I think she’s his secretary. Just as I’m about to click out and go to the next one, I spot their most recent thread.
Sylvia: I miss you already.
Rick: I’ll take you out tomorrow night. Send me a picture.
Sylvia:
Of course he’s cheating on me with his damn secretary. Because my entire story wasn’t cliché enough, it had to add the young, hot blond with huge, fake breasts. I skim through a couple more texts before I get nervous of being caught. I’m not sure why I even care. Our marriage is obviously over, but something in me screams that I need to tread lightly. It’s no longer just me. I now have my baby I need to protect. Screenshotting the messages, I text them to my phone and then send Sylvia’s contact information to myself as well. I quickly scroll through Rick’s other messages and find several other women he’s been messaging with. I send all their info to myself, then delete all the evidence I was ever on his phone. Exiting out of his apps, I lock his screen and put his phone back where he left it, tiptoeing out of the bathroom and climbing back into bed. Putting my phone on silent, I store it in my nightstand drawer, so he won’t see it, just in case.
When he gets out of the shower, he walks over to the dresser with a towel wrapped around his waist. I take a second to check him out. He’s not fat like I am…he’s skinny. Not toned or muscular, but thin and lanky. His skin is tanned, not a tattoo in sight. His brown hair is wet and combed over, and his face is clean-shaven. He’s a good-looking guy, but he isn’t like Wow. His looks aren’t what attracted me to him, though. It was his charm and self-confidence. He was so sure of himself, sure of his place in the world, and even though I came across like I was just as strong and confident, I felt lost. I thought when he found me, I would feel like I finally belonged, and I did…until he decided I was no longer what he wanted, and he left me alone once again. Now I’m more lost than I was before, and my only hope is I somehow find my way on my own.