“For an entire year you’ve been prostituting yourself out to these couples and who knows who else! I hope you made a lot of money because you’re going to need it to find a place.”
“I didn’t always do it for pay.” He interjected.
I laughed. “So, you were just out here being a hoe.”
He had no rebuttal. I’m not even sure why he told me that bit of information as if it was supposed to make things better. I looked at him with hate, disgust, and hurt. I stood there for quite some time, staring because I didn’t know what else to do. If I moved, I probably would have lost it. So, I just stood there.
He glanced up and looked at me like a puppy that had just been scolded for peeing on the carpet. When he saw my glare, he looked away.
I brought my hand to my face and sighed heavily, pacing back and forth along the bed. I could not believe the bomb that had been dropped on me so close to our wedding date. I stopped, my back to him, my hands still resting on my face. I looked up as if seeking an answer within the lines on the ceiling. As quickly as I gazed up for an answer, I seemed to have found it.
I turned around to face him. I’m sure he had no idea what my next move was going to be. The fear in his face confirmed that. I tried not to convey the hurt in mine. I stood at the foot of the bed and slowly pulled off my engagement ring. I tossed it on the bed.
“I need you to go, like now,” I said.
It was almost 3 am.
“Go, where?” He asked.
“Oh. I really don’t care. You can sleep in the car, go to your mom’s, but you cannot stay here”.
I couldn’t stand to look at him at this point. He had led a double life for an entire year. I had uprooted my daughter to move into an apartment in a new city with him. When I flew to New Orleans to celebrate our union, he was having sex with other people’s wives, sending me recommendations on places to eat, and I love you texts as if all was normal.
He didn’t grab the ring. He just grabbed a shirt from the drawer, found his slides on the side of the bed and put them on his feet, grabbed his phone, keys, and wallet and proceeded to head to the door to make his exit. I stood in the same spot I’d been in during this entire shocking confession and watched him leave. I was stuck in that spot.
As soon as the door closed, I dropped to my knees as if his exit took the last bit of life I possessed. I cried harder than I’d ever cried. What just happened and how was I so clueless to it all?