I woke up to five missed calls from Ben, all between eleven at night and three in the morning. My blood ran cold before I even hit play on that first voicemail. My best friend since we were five, my ride or die, the brother I never had, was sobbing on the other end of the line. He told me Sally had a secret.
A double life. She had been seeing women behind his back for most of their marriage, hiding it behind “hobby groups” and “friends from her class. ” He only found out because one of the women showed up at their door. I drove straight over.
He was a wreck, sitting in the dark, his whole world crumbled around him. He kept saying he didn’t know her anymore. He didn’t know who he married. He loved her, even then, but he was lost.
Two months later, Ben was dead. Hit by a drunk driver on a late-night walk. And Sally stood at his funeral, crying into a handkerchief, acting like the grieving widow she had no right to play. I snapped.
I stood up in the middle of the service and called her out. I told her the biggest injustice was that she was still breathing while my best friend was in the ground. I told her she’d been pretending to be the perfect wife while screwing whoever she wanted on the side. I told her if I woke up as her, I would never get out of bed again.
My wife, Mary, says I was cruel. Maybe I was. But it was the truth. Now Sally hasn’t left her house since that day.
She lost her job. And my wife has moved out, staying with Sally, taking care of her. Mary says she won’t talk to me until I apologize to Sally. I don’t feel bad.
I don’t regret a single word. Ben died thinking his marriage was a lie. He was in pain because of her. And now Mary is choosing the person who broke him over me, the person who loved him most.
I can’t forgive Sally for what she did to Ben. And I can’t forgive Mary for taking her side. I’m meeting with a lawyer. I’m changing the locks.
I’m done.
