What's love got to do with it?
Beth's Story - Part 1
To describe my life as complicated would be an understatement. My story starts about two years ago. At the time, I was an eighth grade social studies instructor at our local Junior High School and had just recently finished my seventh year of teaching. That magic number earned me the security of tenure. I wasn't going to get rich as an educator but it provided steady income, great benefits and a retirement plan. Teaching was said to be its own reward, but I always thought a little fatter paycheck would be a welcome sight.
My husband Randy had been a science and math teacher at the High School, but recently, he took the position of principal at my school. It had taken him three years of evening classes for him to complete his Masters in School Management. I was proud of him. His promotion came with a hefty boost in pay that would allow us to finally purchase our own home and plan for our second child. The only complication was that the school board had to make an exception to their nepotism rules in hiring him.
The only real glitch for us was that our schedules now conflicted. When Randy was teaching at the High School, his work schedule allowed him to pick up our son from daycare, but that was impossible now with his new hours. However, even that worked out when Randy's mother offered to pick Billy up and babysit him until we got home. This also gave Virginia purpose, since she was widowed about a year ago.
Life was good. Almost too good. Call me a pessimist, but when life gives me virtually no resistance, I start looking over my shoulder.
I remember it was a Tuesday in early April when I had to leave my third period class early to make a medical appointment. As I was approaching my car, my teacher's aid came rushing up to me.
"Beth, I need to tell you something," Maria said, trying to catch her breath.
"Can it wait? I'm on my way to my doctor."
"Actually, it can't. It's taken me a week to get up the nerve to tell you this. If I don't do it now, I might not be able to later."
I stared at her and saw from the look in her face she was about to burst into tears. I said, "What has you so upset?"
"Remember I told you about my recent divorce and how my good-for-nothing ex-husband cheated on me?"
"I vaguely remember that, but what does that have to do with me?"
"I can't stand by and watch your husband do the same thing to you. I could never forgive myself if I didn't say something."
"My husband Randy? That's a huge accusation."
"I'm sorry to tell you, but it's true."
"What evidence do you have?"
"If you mean pictures and such, none. All I know is that I went into the supply room about a week ago and caught him in an embrace with that new temp secretary. They were kissing and he had his hand in her sweater. They jumped away from each other the moment they saw me."
My first reaction was anger. I wasn't angry at Randy as much as I was with her for interfering with my perfect life. However, I was able to retain my composure and said, "I appreciate you telling me, but I think you should let this go. I will talk with my husband. I trust there is a simple explanation. Could you please not say anything to anyone else?"
"But... but I..."
"Promise me you'll not mention this to anyone else."
"I promise...I haven't... I wont."
"Good, now go back to class. I'm sure the substitute could use your help. I'll deal with this on my own."
-oOo-
As I drove to my appointment, my anger grew. If Maria's blatant accusation against Randy was true, I was faced with a decision no wife wants to face. I wanted to believe he was as faithful to our marriage as I was, but there was the nagging feeling he might have reverted back to the philandering ways he had in college. We had dated over a year before he was able to settle down enough for us to become exclusive. He was what I referred to in college as a scalp hunter. I was unfortunately one of his scalps.
Randy's easy-going mannerisms and chiseled good looks made him a chick magnet and he knew it. He still retained that aura about him all these years later. I got used to women flirting with him over time.
I remembered how we first met. It was at the library when he asked to use my table. I couldn't help but notice him, but he seemed oblivious to my existence. The next time I saw him was at a fraternity party. He had come with some tall, buxom blond with fake tits. She clung to him like a second skin.
I attended the party stag because my boyfriend had dropped out of school for a family crisis. He promised to keep in touch, but I hadn't heard from him since he left. That broke my heart and I wasn't looking to repeat that mistake ever again. The only reason I even attended the party was because my roommate talked me into it. She told me I was being anti-social and the best way to get over a man was to be around lots of people. I reluctantly went with her, though I believed her theory flawed.
It was a typical college blowout, with underage drinking, loud music and more than a few obnoxious drunks. I made my appearance and was ready to leave this excuse for a party. I had spent most of the time there avoiding getting my ass grabbed. I considered those juvenile frat beer-busts a waste of my precious time. I wasn't about to kill my brain cells on cheap booze.
"So, you here with someone?" A deep voice whispered in my ear as I was standing in line to get a soda at the makeshift bar. I felt his breath on my neck.
I turned to see him grinning at me. His grey blues eyes were penetrating and his perfect white smile sparked with confidence. I wasn't interested.
"No... I'm not here with anyone, but you are," I said, looking around for the chick he came with.
"No worries. She's just a girl I met in political science. I can't believe someone like you is here alone."
"Actually, I'm here with my roommate, but I'd rather be working on my English assignment. What do you mean, someone like me?"
"Are you kidding? Look at you. You're not only beautiful but self confident, and I can tell you are highly intelligent."
"And you can tell all that how? Are you some sort of psychic?"
