posted by susan-oh-susan / february 17 at 2:30 pm / uncategorized / 4 comments
I found out John was cheating on me just before Christmas.
Let me save you the huge build up.
The house was all dolled up for the holidays—I always go all out, you know. My favourite season, and all the more so now that the boys are both away at college, and only back for the holidays. Cody’s in his last year of French Literature at Queen’s, in Kingston, Ontario, and Tyler—that’s my youngest—he’s just in his first year at University of British Columbia in Vancouver, taking pre-engineering.
Not that any of that matters.
Anyway, Cody was still in Ontario, but Tyler was already home. I tripped over his giant shoes—seriously, that kid has canoes for feet—as I came back into the house from Safeway.
That’s our grocery store.
I mean, not our grocery. I mean, the grocery store closest to our house. The one I usually shop at.
I had been baking, and I ran out of yeast of all things. I could have asked John to pick some up on his way home from work. But I didn’t want to… this is true—I didn’t want to inconvenience him. Because he had been putting in such long hours at the office lately.
I told you. I was so stupid.
So, I tripped over Tyler’s shoes—but that made me feel all happy and lovey and gooey, you know? Because… well, he is my baby for all that he’s six-foot-four now, and I never believed that I would miss tripping over his giant shoes when he went away to college but I did—I do. And I put down the grocery bags—I ran to the store just for yeast, but they had an amazing sale on meat, and so I got some pork chops, for after the holidays, you know, because I knew we’d be sick of turkey, and then I went to check what was fresh and cheap in produce the way I always do, and what with one thing and another, I ended up with two full bags—so I tripped over those damn shoes, put the bags down, and bent to put Tyler’s shoes neatly on the mat.
And that’s when I noticed John’s iPad.
On the floor, between the wall and the boot mat.
Don’t ask me how it got there.
Actually do—the stupid idiot was holding it in his hands when I came into the hallway to kiss him goodbye that morning. And when he saw me coming, he set it on the floor… to pull me into his arms… to kiss me.
Yes, I’m crying. Ugh.
Do I even need to tell you this next part?
I didn’t snoop.
All I did was pick it up—I remember thinking, “Oh, John. Like father, like son. Tyler’s shoes, John’s iPad. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. Why bother putting things where they belong if you know Mom’s going to pick them up for you?”
I picked it up.
John had just set it up the other day to open with my thumb. To show me how it worked… in case I wanted to get one… And I thought it was such a fun thing. I put my thumb on the home button… not to check anything. Just for fun…
For fun! God.
And as I unlocked the iPad, the message flashed across the screen.
“How much time will we have, honey-bunny?”
“You know I’ll settle for what I can get. For now, anyway.”
And then… a picture.
No face. Just chin. Neck. Cleavage.
And breasts again, from a different angle.
I stood there, like a complete moron, in my entry way, grocery bags on the floor, watching another woman send pictures of her breasts to my husband.
4 comments on But seriously, how could he be so stupid?:
sugar&spice76: Oh, honey. Hugs.
susan-oh-susan: Marcella? Is that you again?
sugar&spice76: I’m Stacey, but everyone calls me Sugar. I blog about urban parenting at SugarAndSpiceNotEverythingNicedotcom. Come visit me there sometime! But I just wanted to say—hugs. And—he’s the moron. Not you.
susan-oh-susan: No, I’m totally the moron. Well, he’s an idiot too. But wait until you see what I do—don’t do—next.
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