It was a rainy night. I was talking to my wife before heading out the door for work. I told her that a co-worker of mine had mentioned someone she might know, some guy named Greg Roland who delivered food to some restaurant that she used to work at. She said that she didn’t know the guy, but I could see that she had gotten this wistful, dreamy smile on her face when I had mentioned his name. I knew she was lying. I pressed her on it, but she kept denying it.
I had to get to work. I was running late, so I figured that we’d pick up the conversation later. But just as I was about to head out the door, my brother popped up out of nowhere. He asked if anything was wrong. I told him that there wasn’t, but he insisted that he knew better. “What, were you listening at the door?”, I asked him. He confessed that he had been, so I broke down and explained the situation to him. We went to one of the back rooms of the house, where for some reason I had an old copy of this Greg’s journal packed away. We flipped through it, looking for some kind of evidence. I found an entry from a few years back. He spoke of a woman; he used a different name, but somehow I knew that he was talking about my wife.
I took the journal to show it to my wife. I found her in the living room, talking on the phone. I asked her who she was talking to, and she said, “That was Greg! He’s coming over to pick me up.” And before I even had a chance to ask any questions, she ran out of the house and into the rain. I stood on the porch and watched her go. The rain dripped from the gutters. It was the worst night of my life.
I don’t know if I called him or he called me, but somehow I ended up on the phone with this Greg. At first I tried to be calm and reasonable about the whole thing. I told him that I understood that my wife was free to make her own choices, and if this was what she thought would make her happy… Then he cut me off and said, “I guess it’s nice to have religion, dude.” in the most cocky, patronizing, smart-ass voice that you could ever imagine. From there it was just one button pushed after another. I ended up telling him that if I ever got a hold of him I was going to reach up his asshole and tear his throat out. I was screaming at the top of my lungs at that point, and all red in the face. I’m pretty sure he hung up after that, leaving me holding the phone. What was I going to do now?