Daddy's Girls (39)
“No, you can’t. One picture is worth a thousand words, your penis, with a heart around it, her vagina, some interesting positions, condoms, lube, what part of that do you want to explain, how you took the pictures? Or that you had a stunt double screwing her? For chrissake, don’t make a fool of both of us. One is enough, and I’m it.”
“I was lonely. It was stupid. I was drunk and I called an escort service. It’s never happened before,” he said, sounding lame and unconvincing.
“Jesus, you must think I’m brain-dead. Escort service girls don’t put their datebooks in someone else’s night table, and you don’t look drunk to me, and frankly I don’t care if you were drunk or sober. You’re as big a liar as my father,” she raged at him. “You had that girl staying here, in my bed, using my night table, fucking my husband.”
“Who told you that?” He looked panicked.
“You’re pathetic. Get out of my house. I was happy I was going to see you too. For about five minutes, until I opened my night table.”
“You’re not serious about wanting me to leave?” She looked at his handsome blond aristocratic WASPy East Coast looks that had always made her melt, and thought of all the times he had said and implied that she was a redneck because she’d grown up on a ranch. She almost hated him, and knew she could get there, and was well on her way. He had made her feel inferior for years because of her background and his family was so much fancier, but she had never cheated on him or been disloyal to him, and now he had.
“I’m dead serious. And you can cancel the house in Aspen, or take her and continue your photo project. I’m not going, and neither are my children. You’re not taking them anywhere. I’m calling a lawyer tomorrow.”
“Caroline, please…I made a mistake…be reasonable…I’m sorry…this is the first time I’ve ever done anything like this. I don’t even know her.”
“If I go through that datebook, how many times will I see your name, and how long have you been sleeping with her?” She made a grab for the datebook, and he pulled it away from her so she couldn’t reach it. She was normally a quiet person, but she was not a fool. “I thought so. Get out. Now. You can come back for your things later. I don’t want you anywhere near me.”
“Caroline.” He tried to reach for her, but didn’t dare put down the offending evidence, so he was juggling it in one hand and trying to reach for her with the other. This was not the homecoming either of them had planned. “Please…can’t we just put this behind us?” he begged her.
“It looks like you were doing that to her in one of those photos. You really should frame them. Get out! I don’t want you here.” He stood staring at her for a minute, and knew he had lost the battle. He walked through their bedroom to his closet, and started dumping things in an overnight bag, along with what she’d found, and five minutes later, he stood in their bedroom, looking beaten, and then decided that the best defense was a good offense.
“What do you expect, Caroline? You leave me alone here, you’re always working on your books, you’re busy with the kids all the time….”
“And that justifies you having an affair, letting some girl sleep in my bed while I’m with my sisters and our kids, and you’re taking porn pictures of her? How do you figure that computes? What if I did that and you found the pictures?” He would kill her and they both knew it. He had a jealous streak, and didn’t like other men anywhere near her. It was one of the ways she knew he loved her.
“I told you. I made a mistake. She was a hooker, an escort.”
“And you’re a liar. Go.” She pointed to the door, and he walked out of the bedroom and a minute later, she heard the front door slam as hard as he could slam it, which was his first sign of real anger, and at least more honest. He was livid at having gotten caught, and his little-boy innocent act had gone nowhere. Caroline was shaking from head to foot and sat down on their bed. And a minute later, she walked into their bathroom and threw up. She wondered if she should have kept the photographs as evidence to show a lawyer, but adultery was no longer grounds for divorce in California. It was just evidence for her. The courts wouldn’t care about it.
She wondered if she would really divorce him for this. She wasn’t sure. But she was incredibly hurt. And she could guess where he had gone with his photos and his lube and his condoms, straight to Veronica Ashton, who was assuredly not a hooker or an escort, but probably someone he worked with.
She washed her face in cold water, brushed her teeth, and went to her laptop, and looked up Peter’s firm, the directory of employees. And there she was, top of the list, alphabetically. Veronica Ashton, junior trainee. She had graduated from Stanford a year before. She was twenty-three years old. It made Caroline furious all over again. She typed in Peter’s email address.
“Check out your staff registry for the firm. Veronica Ashton, top of the alphabetical list, trainee, twenty-three years old. Good one, Peter. She works nights for an escort service? You’re toast. I’m done.”
He had been a total fool, and a liar. She wondered how long it had gone on. She put the ingredients for their dinner back in the fridge, unset the table, and didn’t bother to eat. She couldn’t have. She lay on her bed in the dark, until the kids came home. Billy came home first, dropped off by his friend’s father.