Exactly two weeks ago today, to the minute, I sat at my husband’s desk and stared at his laptop. With shaking hands, a focused mind and a terrified heart, I opened the Skype application. Channeling a woman-scorned-turned-hacker (I can barely spell technology so this is my version of hacking.) I typed in the search box the word LOVE.
Three names appeared. His mother’s, mine and her’s. I copied her name and pasted it into his Entourage and up came a single email dated one week prior. It’s title a question about his whereabouts. Before I even saw the words contained within my heart collapsed. It didn’t break, it didn’t ache, it just crashed and burned. I watched it go down in flames.
And then I read the words…(To prevent any need to spend time on defending my right to write my way through betrayal and divorce I have taken out the exact quotes from this private email. What I can tell you is that it’s not unlike those uncovered throughout time by spouses being betrayed. All fantasy lovey sexy. Yet underpinned by lies, deceit, ego, and hopes for happy ever after when there’s nothing happy about shoving your family off a cliff and living a lie. Oh, and there was a mention of a happy dance. If you want to know the exact words meet me for a glass of wine. I’m happy to share.)
I copied the email and sent it to my self. The self that was reeling. My every move seemed to be sped up. My mind was trailing my body. Before I closed his laptop I went into her contact folder, found her phone number and called her.
“Hi. This is ‘Cleo Everest’. You’ve been screwing my husband.”
Silence. I could feel her nausea in my own stomach. She hung up.
I closed his laptop and went to my own, retrieving the email. My last hacker-esque move was to locate her profile on my husband’s Facebook page. (Note to cheaters: Probably not such a great idea to friend the fling.) In typical mid-40’s Facebook user fashion she had not protected anything. I linked to her husband’s profile and clicked Message.
“Hi. If this is your wife’s email and cell phone number she has been screwing my husband as evidenced by this delightful exchange between them, which I have just found on my husband’s laptop.” I pasted the email and hit send. Sorry, but I thought you ought to know.
Then I sent her an email: “I don’t think you will be doing your happy dance tonight.”
I sat back, drained. Every emotion I have ever known exploded in my body, shattering all the old rules, the beliefs I had constructed, burning down every wall I had ever built. I knew for certain that my life had changed completely. In every single sense. I didn’t know if it was for better or for worse. But I knew it would never be the same.