Disastrously Fabulous: A Novel of Loves, Betrayals and New Beginnings (9 page)

“Confession of errors is like a broom which sweeps away the dirt and leaves the surface brighter and clearer. I feel stronger for confession.”

~ Mahatma Gandhi ~

That night I stayed with Daisy, and she counseled me through much of the pain. By the morning, we were sharing coffee and pure outrage over Burt’s behavior. Daisy had recently divorced her two-timing husband. We were two women who felt betrayed, and it made for a relaxing environment of mutual contempt.

“Women like that to be taught a lesson,” Daisy said. I could tell she was thinking about her ex-husband’s floozies as much as about Burt’s mistress. “Let’s see. What could you do?”

The lust for vengeance coursed through my blood like strong drink. “What I want to do is embarrass her, show the whole world what a whore this Layaho is.” I corrected myself. “What a whore I think she is. I’m almost certain it’s her, and that she’s done more than send Burt pictures of her privates, but I can’t be sure. I need to know.”

Daisy filled my glass with orange juice. “Are you sure you really want to know?” When I nodded vehemently, she steepled her fingers under her chin and pursed her lips. “Have you thought about asking Sheila?”

I took a minute to consider the implications of calling Sheila with whom I had partied on several occasions but never been close. Sheila worked at the country club and knew all about everything that went on there. She was a sharp-eyed observer who knew everything, saw through every pretense, detected every secret – but she was also a notorious gossip.

If anyone had observed my husband crossing boundaries, it was Sheila. But if I phoned her, she would sense a juicy scandal and spread the word among her society friends. Could I risk the humiliation and embarrassment? My need for certainty outweighed everything else.

I called.

She was helpful, sympathetic, and as eager as a cat at the sound of the can opener and the smell of tuna. I could practically hear her salivating when I told her I had discovered Burt’s infidelity. She eagerly asked for details.

This was a tit-for-tat deal, and I had to provide gossip fodder to get the information I needed, so I told her about the photos. She almost purred with pleasure.

Then it was her turn to divulge what she knew. “I can tell you that Burt has been here with other women.” She paused for effect. “I hate to upset you, Crystal, but...” Another pause. I gripped the phone hard, wanting her to go on. “I’ve seen him kissing and touching that muck face. And not just once.”

I thanked her and tapped disconnect. Satisfaction and pain both churned in my chest: satisfaction because I finally knew, and because I had been right. Pain because my husband had betrayed me and I had lost the love I could trust.

Again, it felt like the floodgates of my heart opened up, and distress flooded me. Was there any end to this pain?

Daisy surveyed me quietly over her coffee.

We were sitting in her decorative lounge, the sun streaming into the large bay windows, casting us in light and warmth.

“She says, she has seen Burt kissing that woman…” I trailed off, sobbing “More than once.”

“Do you feel better now?” Daisy’s voice was gentle. “Or worse?”

I felt destroyed, like someone kicked the ground out from underneath me. I was floating in space, suspended in darkness, with nothing to cling to.

It was one thing to be faced with evidence, and another to know for sure. I had solid proof now, an eyewitness that their lunches were more than just friendly meetings. If he had kissed her, it meant he had definitely lied. Yes, Burt was cheating on me.

Anger rose like acid from my stomach and bubbled through the pain. “How did you deal with it when your husband cheated and lied to you?”

“I left him.” She spoke calmly, although I could hear a tremor in her voice. “And I’m recovering now. It hasn’t been easy. Do you have the courage it takes to leave your man?”

“I don’t want to leave him,” I confessed shakily.

“Well, that’s your choice. But I can tell you that if you stay the cheating will continue. Can you live with that? ”

Beep. A text message.

“I’m coming over xxx – Burt”

Within an hour, Burt showed up at Daisy’s door.

My heart hammered in my chest. This was it. I would hear what he wanted to say and I would decide what to do.

When Daisy showed him into the lounge, he stepped towards me with a big smile. The familiar smell of him, masculine with a hint of eucalyptus and the woody scent of his aftershave, almost made my knees melt with longing. He was wearing the blue Neiman Marcus shirt I’d given him for his birthday last year, and he looked oh-so-good in it. My head stayed cool, but my palms burned with the yearning to brush his skin, to touch his strong male jaw once more.

He carried a big bunch of red roses in his hands, which Daisy sneered at. “I’ll let you two talk. If you need me, Crystal, I’ll be in the other room.”

And with that, Burt and I were alone in the sunlit lounge.

He sat across from me, laying the flowers down on the table and leaned forward. “Can we talk about this?”

I saw his hands – his strong, tender hands, the hands that had caressed me so many times in gentle intimacy, and forced my gaze away. “Yes, I suppose we will have to, won’t we?” I tried to talk lightly, but there was croak in my voice. “How’s James? Did the nanny stay?”

“Yes, she was happy to stay. I told James you needed to come to Aunt Daisy to help her.”

“Good…so what is it that you want to say to me?” I pressed, a part of me desperate to catch him in more lies so that I could release my fury into the world.

“I…I love you, Crystal. I don’t know what happened last night. You found some photos on my phone and the next thing I know my wife is gone. I need you to understand that I never meant to hurt you. Things have been really difficult between us lately.”

I nodded, listening intently. He stared at the floor avoiding eye contact, while my eyes bored into his. “But have they been this difficult? That you turned to other women to get something you were not getting from me? I don’t understand,” I whispered.

“I already told you, sweetheart, I haven’t done anything wrong. I didn’t cheat on you with anyone! You are jumping to conclusions. Please try to see reason.” I could tell that he was trying to persuade me, like one of his business meeting negotiations.

“Another lie, so this is what we have become, Burt. I’m the woman you lie to about your affairs. Well, let me tell you something I did, for my own peace of mind. Last night I called Sheila.” I watched as the cogs of Burt’s mind turned and landed on the name. It took him a second to realize who I meant.

“She works at the club, where your ‘indiscretions’ seem to originate from. And you know what she told me?” Before I spoke I saw his head fall. He was trapped now, and I was glad. “You have been seen in public kissing and touching that piece of shit who you claim sent you vagina pictures by mistake. You are a damn liar, Burt.”

A tense silence permeated the lounge, and I could tell that Daisy was listening intently from the next room. You could hear nothing but our voices. Burt considered me and then he sank into a deep, defeated sigh.

“Alright. Alright, Crystal. I’m not going to lie anymore. Yes, I cheated on you with Layaho, but I never meant to hurt you.” The impact of his confession hit me in the chest, sending racking sobs through my body.

“Work got crazy and every time I came home you were busy with James or in a bad mood…I know, I know your grandmother just passed…what I mean is that I needed to do something to feel good about myself…for work…”

At his selfish confession my heart went cold. I stood up and gathered myself as best I could. “Thank you for telling the truth. Our marriage is over. I want a divorce. I can’t have my children growing up in a house where their father thinks cheating is okay. You’ve lost your mind.”

Then, Burt feigned confusion. “What do you mean you’re leaving me? A divorce? You cannot leave! If you stay with me, we can fix this.”

“No. We can’t.”

Just then Daisy bustled back into the room, on cue. “I’m sorry, did I interrupt something?”

“Burt was just leaving. I’ve said all I have to say to him right now.”

Burt looked confused, crestfallen—like he never imagined a scenario that would lead to me leaving him. What did he expect? That I would stay with him because of his amazing persuasion? No amount could buy his way out of this kind of betrayal.

As Burt was floundering and trying to continue the conversation, Daisy started shunting him towards the door. “Hey, let me talk to my wife,” he insisted as she ushered him backwards.

“It is over now. Burt, you understand? You destroyed your marriage with that woman. I hope it was worth it.” Daisy opened the front door. “Now get out.”

Burt made one final lunge to get back into the house, but Daisy stuck out her foot and he tumbled over it on the floor in the doorway. “That’s enough now. You gather yourself and go home. Both of you have a lot of change coming.”

She slammed the door in his face and came to sit with me. “You’ll be okay, Crystal. You’ll rebuild. He is the one that lost something today. And he will soon realize it.”

“My marriage is over,” I said sadly.

“Yes, but that means you can make room for a life of your own.”

Once I recovered from Burt’s visit, Daisy decided to open another bottle of wine. It seemed to make everything better and helped me say nasty things about Burt. “Nice legwork,” I said to Daisy on our third glass. “I don’t think he’s ever been tripped before.”

She raised her glass. “One indignity deserves another.”

Burt was always the kind of man to get back up, just as he had done in the doorway. I felt a real sense of loss then, for the man who had loved me once. Somehow his love had eroded over time, and a sense of entitlement crept in.

“He needed to be happy…” I repeated. “That scum bag!”

“Friendship... is not something you learn in school. But if you haven't learned the meaning of friendship, you really haven't learned anything.”

~ Muhammad Ali ~

That night Daisy and I drank twice as much as the night before. In all of our glorious wisdom, we laughed at and mocked the men who turned from us. It made me feel a little better.

“Why did he deny everything for so long?” Daisy sipped wine. “Once you discovered those pictures, his only chance to win your trust back was to come clean and admit everything. Was he too stupid to realize that?”

“I know, right.” My drunken mind leaped to the images. “You can see it’s the same uneven pair, with the left boob lower and bigger than the right, and that mole shaped like an arrow. What kind of puta has to take photos of yourself like this? Even a porn site would reject those uneven boobs.”

Fueled by alcohol and fury, I pulled my laptop onto my lap, and with a few clicks I posted the disgusting pictures on Facebook.

“What are you doing?” Daisy leaned to look at the screen, and clapped a hand over her mouth. “Crystal! Are you sure this is wise?”

“Oh yes!” I declared. “The whole world shall see what a slut she is!” I kept going, until every single photo was uploaded, with captions like ‘Home wrecker!’ and ‘Slimy slut!’

Sure enough, about a half an hour later the first ‘like’ appeared below the images. My triumph was short-lived. It was Burt.

“That son of a bitch has liked her photos again!” I fumed.

Daisy studied me gravely. “What did you expect him to do?”

“Learn a lesson! Everyone will see these pictures and know what a lying, cheating bastard he is.”

“Maybe.” She was rubbing her chin. “I’ve never used Facebook. Are you sure this is how it works?”

“Yes. Facebook is great for exposing nasty bastards. The pictures may even go viral, and then –“ I came to a halt and blinked. Had someone just unfriended me?

I put my glass down. “Someone has taken her side over mine!”

Daisy refilled both our glasses. “That was to be expected, wasn’t it?”

While Daisy dozed on the coach, I checked Facebook again... More people had unfriended me – not just people who knew Burt in real life and might take his side, but online acquaintances from my own circles who owed him no loyalty.

I scrounged around Daisy’s kitchen on the hunt for more wine.

She woke with a start, and kicked off the couch throw I covered her with. “Why are you not sleeping, Crystal?”

“Can’t sleep, need more wine,” I muttered drunkenly. For the last hour or so notifications kept coming in hard and fast—people were un-friending me on Facebook.

“There isn’t any more. I can get some later on. Are you okay?”

“No...no, I’m not okay. I thought Carla and Michelle were my friends, but they have both unfriended me on Facebook. It’s Burt, he’s turning them all against me!” I cried.

She pushed me into the seat. “Are you sure that’s what’s happening?”

“I’m going to call Lisa and ask her why she unfriended me.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” She sat down beside me and held my wrist. “I don’t understand Facebook. How do people normally react when someone posts naked boobs on their wall or their timeline or whatever it’s called? Do they welcome this sort of thing?”

“No, not normally, but...” I paused.

Normally, people blocked the sender. That’s what I habitually did with offensive content. Whenever someone spammed me, posted explicit pictures or made bitchy comments, I hit the ‘unfriend’ button.

Of course, this was different. These pictures were posted for a reason.

But what if my Facebook friends didn’t see it that way? All they saw was a series of lewd photos and bitchy posts. Of course they were displeased. They might even have received those images on the screen in their workplace, or with their children around.

But the captions showed that I was the injured party, posting in self-defense, didn’t they? Unfortunately, they also showed me as an immature, vengeful, childish bitch.

As this realization sank in, regret took hold. What a stupid thing I had done! The heat of shame flooded my face.

Hastily, I hit
delete-delete-delete.
But it was too late to undo the damage. Too many people had already seen the posts, and many more would soon see them because they were already delivered to their devices.

I had to send another post, apologizing, explaining that I was drunk. But the people who had unfriended me would no longer see it. And what could I say, anyway? I couldn’t claim it was a drunken joke of no consequence, because that would imply nothing had happened.

My head pounded with the effort of thinking, and ugly tension knotted the back of my neck. I would postpone my next Facebook post until I was sober and could come up with a sane strategy for damage limitation.

I had lost not just my husband, but my friends – not because of their divided loyalties, but because of my own choices. I had tried to use my friends for my personal vengeance, and caused them embarrassment.

I settled down for the night, but sleep eluded me for a long time as uninvited insights knocked and demanded admission.

Those thoughtless Facebook posts were not even a one-time drunken mistake. Rather, they were typical for how I treated friends: selfishly, without consideration for their needs.

I used friends when it suited me, and discarded them when they lost their value. Small wonder they didn’t give me their full loyalty. I recalled incident after incident, and although I tried to chase those memories away, they clung.

I remembered the bitching, disloyal behavior of my so-called friends around the time of my wedding to Max. At the time, I had resented their resentment, and decided they were simply not real friends. But had I been a better friend to them? Had I genuinely cared about their concerns, rejoiced in their fortunes, supported their goals? I had been too absorbed in my own life to pay attention to what was going on theirs.

What about all the friends I had made in high school, in the music company, in the bars where I waitressed, in modeling, in finance? I had faded out of their lives, and I had faded out of theirs. This wasn’t due to lack of effort on their part, but sheer self-absorption on mine.

But I did have real friends, didn’t I? People with whom I went back a long time. People like Daisy, who were there for me when I needed them.

Cold insight washed through me. When Daisy’s marriage broke up, I hadn’t been there for her to lend support. She’d phoned me once or twice, had even asked if I could come and stay, but I had been too busy. Yet now when I needed her, she was there for me.

The uncomfortable insights didn’t stop. Had I been a better lover than a friend, or had I taken my men for granted, used them when it suited me, and discarded them when they were no longer a good fit? Had I been so self-absorbed that I didn’t understand their needs, didn’t see what was going on in their lives?

Burt hadn’t been happy in our marriage for months, and I hadn’t even noticed. I’d hated Max for cheating on me, but I had done exactly the same to CJ, caring little about the hurt I caused. I’d resented men for not giving me honesty and respect – but I dumped Tad who had given me both.

More and more insights came rushing into my head, tormenting me until I tossed and turn with guilt and pain.

The next morning, I felt better, and I put last night’s insights away.

It was easier to focus on what Burt had done wrong, and learn the superficial lessons that didn’t involve changing myself.