“Positive. I think she was happy to be asked, and you know she’s trustworthy. The kids will be fine with her.” She circles her arm around my shoulders. “It’s covered. You’re ours for the night. Let’s go.”
“Okay. Tell us everything,” June says ninety minutes later, handing me a large wineglass, in the comfort of Viola’s cozy living room. Viola got the house in the divorce five years ago, and her ex-husband lives four miles away with his new partner, Brian. They share joint custody of their thirteen-year-old son and daughter, and if there was a poster child for the perfect divorce and co-parenting model, it would be Viola Johnson. Not that it was smooth sailing initially, but they did what was best for the kids and manage to keep things amicable by putting their best interests first.
June drops down beside me on the couch while Viola is curled up in her leather recliner in front of a roaring fire. The room is toasty warm unlike the chill emanating from my soul. “It’s all been a lie,” I admit before gulping back a large mouthful of white wine. “Every fucking moment of my marriage has been fraudulent,” I say, staring at Viola. She was there for the entire thing, and I need to know if she was as taken in as I was.
“What exactly does that mean?” Her brow creases as she sips her wine.
“It means he’s been cheating on me since I was seventeen.” I proceed to tell June and Viola everything, and they listen attentively, drinking their wine, their faces growing redder, their expressions angrier, the more I talk, but they don’t interrupt. They let me get it out, and it spews from my mouth like projectile vomit. I didn’t realize how badly I needed to confide in my friends until now.
“Oh my God, Kendall.” Viola rubs a hand over her mouth and sighs. “I cannot believe he’s done that or what he expects of you now.”
“Did you ever notice?”
She shakes her head. “Never. He always seemed so in love with you.”
“He’s a motherfucking psychopath,” June seethes. “How dare he treat you like that!” Of the two, June is the more free-spirited, hotheaded one, so I’m not surprised she’s reacting in anger.
“That’s not even the worst of it. He was having phone sex with her the other night,” I admit, digging my nails into the palms of my hand. I’m still shocked, enraged, and devastated anytime I think about it. “He knew I was in the en suite bathroom, and he still jerked off while talking dirty to her over the phone.”
June hops up, steam practically billowing from her ears. “That motherfucking bastard, asshole, jerk, douche, shithead, pissant, dickwad, prick, son of a bitch, ass maggot, Tiger Woods wannabe, lying, cheating piece of goddamn shit!” she roars, letting loose a string of colorful insults, which impresses me. She stops only to draw a deep breath. “I want to kill him with my bare hands. I want to beat the ever-loving shit out of that good-for-nothing cheating scumbag.” Her face looks murderous as she continues. “No, that’s not torturous enough. I want to chop him up into tiny pieces and feed them to the slut he’s currently fucking. Then I’ll set her on fire and cackle my head off while I curse them both and wish them a long and painful afterlife in hell.”
“Creative. I like it.” I have had a lot of similar thoughts, but she’s more imaginative than me. Must be the marketing part of her brain.
She’s not done though. “I hope his tiny disease-ridden dick falls off and he gets scabies and has itchy pubes.” She stomps across the floor, clenching her fists and snarling. “Oh, oh, I know!” Her eyes light up, and her gaze dances between me and Viola. “You need payback, Ken, and we need to start a list.” She jabs her finger in Viola’s direction. “We can have some real fun with this.” Her eyes glow with mischief. “I read this post on social media one time about a woman who suspected her husband was cheating after she found a half-empty box of condoms in his car.”
She gleefully rubs her hands. “She poked holes in the wrapper of each condom and soaked each one in habanero pepper juice before putting them back in the box. The next day, her husband left saying he was running an errand or something. Then a few hours later—wait for it—she got a call from her best friend saying she’d just had sex with her new man and now she was on fire down below. Can you believe it?”
Her eyes pop wide and she shakes her head. “Imagine calling your lover’s wife asking for advice?” Her eyes narrow. “I’d have cut the bitch. Anyway, then her hubby came home and ran straight to ice his dick, creating some elaborate story to try to excuse it, but she knew the truth.” She sinks onto the couch and grabs my hands, her face alight with excitement. “That’s what you should do! Give his current slut a nasty itch she’ll feel for days.”
A giggle bubbles up my throat as I stare at her hopeful face, and I set it free. Perhaps that is what I need to do. Make Curtis’s life hell while outwardly he has to keep pretending with me. We’re all laughing; it’s a great tension reliever, and it feels great.
Until it doesn’t.
My laughter quickly transforms to sobs as I fall apart in front of my friends.
Viola joins us on the couch, and I cling to my friends as I sob onto their shoulders. A tsunami of emotions lays siege to my insides, and I give in to them as it all comes crashing down. My chest is wracked with pain as I unleash everything, emitting deep body-encompassing sobs, my insides twisted in agony, as I purge the emotion stripping me raw. They hold me, without speaking, letting me expunge it, as I cry my heart out.
The doorbell rings, and Viola kisses the top of my head before leaving to retrieve our takeout. That forces me to pull myself together. I ease out of June’s embrace, sniffling and swiping at the tears making a mess of my face. My body aches as stress infiltrates every nook and cranny of my being. June hands me a couple of tissues, and I blow my nose and dry my eyes as Viola reappears with the delivery bag. I’m emotionally and physically drained, and I don’t know how much more of this I can tolerate before I lose my mind.
“At least I don’t have to worry about either of you fucking Curtis,” I rasp, my throat scratchy and sore. I offer them a shaky smile. “I know you would never do that. Imagine being betrayed by your husband and your best friend. That would really suck.”
“Your situation is no less of a betrayal.” Viola dusts another kiss on my head before dropping the bag on the coffee table. “I think we’ll eat in here. Can you get plates and silverware from the kitchen?” she asks June.
“Of course.” June gives me another quick hug. “You’re going to be okay,” she says before traipsing into the kitchen.
“She’s right.” Viola slides her arm around me. “I know it probably doesn’t feel like that now, because it’s all such a shock, but you will be.”
I sniffle, biting down on my lower lip.
“I know you’re enraged, but—”
“That’s the thing,” I say, cutting her off. “I am, but it comes and goes. I just feel this overwhelming sadness for everything that’s been lost. Along with the hurt and the humiliation, I’m concerned about the kids. About what this will do to them when they eventually find out.”