I cracked into her email account that first time and I tell you why I did it. I did it because I knew something was going on, first the humming, then the popping to the shops at odd times of the evening to get some milk and coming back with eggs and no milk. I did it because of the way she coiled the phone wire around her finger and pointed her toes when she talked on the phone. I did it because if you have ever been a good lover, you will know how she looks when she is satisfied and how she looks when she is horny and open to offers. I did it because I just knew there was something I should know.
Her password was easy, her maiden name, like everything else with her year of birth. It shouldnt have been that easy but it was. Guilty isnt a strong enough word for how I felt after the buzz and anger had died down. I am an intelligent man, I know its wrong to invade someones privacy but I have been paid to do it since I was 14 (and so my father before me) part of me doesnt wince at it as much as others would.
So I read it, I read the last email she had sent. I didnt recognise the username and so at first I was confused. I imagined some slick frech bloke with rippling muscles. Someone with fire and passion, someone who would argue with her like I never would. Someone who would force her down onto the bed and have his way with her, knowing thats what she wanted. How wrong could I have been.
The email was punctuated with affections and things that she used to only say to me, given fresh life on this new audience. This new audience and how could I compete with, the recipient of the email and the person consuming the attention of wife was a woman. Our sons best friends mother. A single woman with a boy the same age as ours. I had always liked her, funny, charming and seemingly so honest. I never would have suspected. The amount of times we have had her round for dinner, been out with her and her son.
The shock of it slipped into my psyche and became part of who I am. Perpetually caught in the head lights of what she does behind my back. I am constantly and incessantly stunned by it all. And the worst thing is that the email was lovely. How could I expect anything less of my wife. She has always had a charming way of making you feel like the only person to exist.
I read and read and read a lovely letter to death. I read it so many fucking times that I have it memorised, I could recite it at any given moment and believe me seeing them together sometimes I am tempted to. Of course I dont. Of course. This letter made me look at her with new eyes. Something I never knew about her, never knew she could do things to another woman as she detailed she had done and wanted to do. Unashamedly writing things like a free woman, like a woman who hasn't had a loyal husband and partner for 20 years! Part of me thought 'good for you darling' it was almost inspiring the way she wrote. Now with my new eyes when I look at her, I try to picture how another woman (a friend to the family) would fuck her knowing that she is systematically stealing away bits of the soul that I thought were rightfully mine. How does someone do that?