It is not a pleasant thing when one is suddenly out of the frying pan and into the fire. When one has a secret it shouldn't be brought home; especialy when it is a secret that will condemn your fate.

I owe Angela Rasch a hearty Kudo's for aiding and abetting me by editing my story. Its such a delight to have her edit and read her critiques. I've gotten better as a writer of fiction.

“Revenge is a confession of pain.”

A Bitter Wife
By Jill Micayla.

“What the….” He sat straight up from the nasty business he had been conducting with his best friend. Damning semen spilled from the corners of his lipsticked mouth. “What the hell did you just do?”

“I took a picture of the two of you,” I said with as little rancor as I could manage, showing him my cell phone. “I think it’ll speak volumes in divorce court. I hope that isn’t my make-up you have on . . . and that lingerie you’re wearing better not be mine.”

Kyle just sat on the edge of our bed looking miserable.

What can he say? He’s dressed in a bra and panties, wearing full makeup, and has been in a compromising position with another male. He knows it’s over. I have a picture and he has to know I’ve already sent it to my e-mail account.

Even though his face shows vicious rage he can’t get up to roughhouse me. He has nothing to say; he’s been caught.

He stood, and then went to the bathroom -- by the sound of it he relieved himself, and then washed his hands. Then to my surprise and consternation I heard other noises that suggested he was reapplying his cosmetics.

He came out of the bathroom, and then went to his closet. He opened the door and removed a pinstriped skirt and jacket as well as a white blouse. Sitting on the edge of the bed he pulled up his pantyhose, and then donned the skirt, blouse, and jacket.

“I’m already doomed,” he said with resignation. He smiled down at his friend who was still curled on the bed sporting a stunned expression. Kyle bent over and kissed his sexual partner, and then walked out of the room and our house.

I had been busy taking pictures with my cell phone, remaining silent as I watched my husband dress in female attire, kiss his partner in sex, and then walk away. His complacency only added to my ire.

***

I had my firm -- where I was a fast-rising attorney -- file the divorce papers, along with the pictures, as evidence of my husband’s gross infidelity. Kyle’s lawyer, after reviewing the pictures, declared a no contest.

Kyle had also been on the fast track in his law firm, but upon news of the circumstances of his divorce getting out to his boss . . . an intolerant, old money creep . . . they let Kyle go. They said Kyle had been turning in an unsatisfactory performance, but everyone knew it was due to the pictures. Kyle, showing good sense for once, didn’t challenge the charges. The firm had a set of rules for each attorney to follow and any serious error in judgment called for dismissal.

It’s possible I’ll be the one paying alimony, even though he caused the divorce.

Having sent the furniture to the landfill, I then donned white paper coveralls and rubber gloves to move all of the clothing into the backyard where I doused it with kerosene and cremated it in memory of a marriage gone woefully bad. Searching in the yellow pages under “pest eradication” I found an exterminator to fumigate the house. To even think that a germ from my husband could survive made my skin crawl.

***

Even though I hated the thought of my husband as I had last seen him, I couldn’t get him out of my mind.

Catching him in bed with his friend had brought things to light for me. I understood that his after hours working might not have really been due diligence -- or at the office.

I requested all of the receipts from the credit card companies. . .bills Kyle had paid without me seeing them. I wanted to see what evidence he’d left behind. I would make Kyle reimburse me for what he had spent from our household account for his romance. To my surprise there was no paper trail. Not one cent was indicative of any monkey business.

Perhaps what I saw was a one time thing?

I had unresolved questions that needed answering. I went to the bar where I knew he had found work as a table server.

The pink nametag introduced “her” as Kylie. She was dressed in a tight, neon-pink outfit that fit like a swimsuit. He wore black, fishnet stockings and heels. His hair and make-up appeared flawless. He looked like he had been born a female and had the walk down to a nice wiggle.

The sneer never left his painted face as I tried to have a civilized conversation with him.

“Are things all right with you?” I asked. I was prepared to offer him money to help him get back on his feet. I opened my purse and took out my checkbook to indicate my goodwill.

“Do you really care?” he asked, doing his best to sound like a lady. “Or, are you here to laugh at me.” His lip curled. “Put your money away. You’re so naíve. I love being patted on the butt. And, most nights I make more by doing business with my lips under a table than I ever made as a ‘mouthpiece’.” He giggled strangely. “Some nights I spend in a hotel room earning the big dollars. I just signed on to be an escort, so I can quit waiting tables.”

I drove home sobbing. As much as I’d done to ensure Kyle was no longer part of my memory I still had a pain in my heart and questions I needed answered. Why did he lie to me? He had put up such a masculine front that I had fallen head-over-heels for him. What was it about me that excited him? Certainly I was the wrong sex to make him happy?

I shook my head. “What I had done wasn’t revenge, it was what I had to do to end a sham of a marriage.” I had loved Kyle. Why hadn’t he loved me? Had it hurt him when I elected to keep my last name — for professional reasons?

***

I had been waiting on the porch . . . smoking a cigarette and lost in thought. Kyle and I had had our differences, but I had never thought that such a handsome sort of a guy who would rather dress as woman and have sex with another man.

The house sat empty behind me when the realtor came to get the keys. He apparently had no idea of the complete past history of the house. Nor did he probably care. For him it was going to be money in his pocket.

“Ms. Ketterling, I’m surprised to see you here,” he stated with surprise.

“Well, I had the locks changed recently, and I wanted to ensure you had the right keys.”

“You needn’t have done that; we only needed your keys and your ex’s.”

“To be honest I really don’t trust him, so I had the locks changed. He might want to do damage to the house . . . so it won’t sell.”

He nodded, and then looked at me gravely. “You do know this is a buyer’s market, it may not sell for what it is really worth?”

So it starts. “Any amount received will be a fair amount as this house was part of the divorce settlement, my ex inherited it from his grandmother. I’m sure she’ll be glad to see he lost it and cannot use it for his own evil ways.”

“Sounds like a bit of animosity; are you sure you want to sell it?”

“I’d really like to burn it down to the ground and make it a safe park for children, but there are laws against arson.”

The realtor smiled. He had a potential buyer willing to pay whatever the asking price, which would be determined by a crooked appraiser due to arrive shortly.

The “asking price” would put a few grand in each of their pockets.

While I entertained the realtor, two private detectives were going through the books and paperwork of the appraiser for several other similar deals. Two other detectives from the police department were awaiting the results so they could get a warrant and make the arrests.

Through friends that were estate attorneys I had learned Kyle and his lover from the day I’d caught them together were partners in crime in ripping off potential sellers. More people were involved and would be arrested for conspiracy.

I smiled at the offensive jokes the realtor told. I knew that within the hour he would be among the sixteen indicted for fraud and money laundering. Kyle doesn’t know he’s going to be in bigger trouble than our divorce.

My cell phone rang; it was one of the detectives. “You can head home as we’ll be picking up Kyle and your realtor.”

***

Why do I feel so bad? He’s brought it all on himself. Yet . . . I feel responsible.

My crying continued as I turned into my condo parking lot. I stopped my car in its assigned parking place and turned off the engine. I sat crying and questioning how I hadn’t even seen a clue as to what was going on.

A tap on my window startled me.

“Ms. Ketterling, I’ve got some bad news. Your ex elected to commit suicide by cop.”

“What? What happened?” I suddenly felt empty; my questions would never be answered.

How could he choose a way out of life like that? Kyle Crumpton wasn’t a coward and wouldn’t have chosen a coward’s way out. But then again, he did deceive me in our marriage.

I sat with a hollow feeling and eventually fell asleep with my head on the steering wheel.

***

When I woke I shivered. My ex-husband’s dead because he chose to be killed. His lover’s in jail.

I still want answers. I got out of my car and headed to my condo. Maybe I missed something when we were dating? I began to assume guilt -- that I was to blame. Had the sex not been good enough? Had I not paid a lot of attention to Kyle? Was I too demanding as a wife, or had I been very dominant?

I ran to the bedroom screaming, fell onto the bed, and bawled. I eventually shook my head and made no sound. Had I really loved Kyle? Had the pictures I had taken sent him over the edge? More questions -- less answers, I told myself. This is turning into one big quandary. Why can’t I just leave it alone?

The doorbell rang; I looked through my peephole and saw it was Kyle’s father. I opened the door, saw the flash, and then it all went dark.

***

I came to in the hospital . . . groggy and not totally aware.

“Glad to see you decided to stay with us.”

The voice was familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

“It’s me, Detective Grant. I called you about the arrest we were making. I’m here with my partner to ask if you know who shot you?”

“It was Darren Crumpton, Kyle’s father. What are you going to do?”

“We already have him in custody. Well -- it looks like a Crumpton will be going to prison, because of this housing scheme, but not as an accessory, but as a man who tried to commit murder.”

***

My late husband’s law firm represented my ex-father-in-law. I sat on the prosecutor’s side and watched as the trial took place.

I testified about the shooting and was blind-sided when they blamed me for my ex-spouses alternative lifestyle. I was asked why I made him dress as a female and have sex with men.

The prosecutor objected. “Your honor, this is an outrage. Ms. Ketterling isn’t on trial here; she’s the victim of an angry man who tried to kill her.”

“Mr. Burr you’re correct. Mr. Moss if you stray again I will find you in contempt of court and your client will be without an attorney. Ms. Ketterling is the victim, anything before the shooting isn’t relevant. Do you understand?”

“Yes your honor.”

“The jury will dismiss the last question and it will be stricken from the court records. Mr. Moss, you may continue.”

“I have nothing else, your honor.”

During a break, Kyle’s sister approached me. “I’d like to talk to you about Kyle.”

“Is this going to be a conversation in which I’m going to be the bitch?”

“No, it’s not. I think you should know my dad knew about Kyle long before Kyle met you. He told Kyle to find a wife or Kyle would be out of the will. That’s when you suddenly appeared.”

“So the family knew Kyle was gay and cross-dressed?”

“They did; in fact mom encouraged him to be as girly as possible. Dad wasn’t concerned until Kyle got into the law firm Dad used. Then he began to tell Kyle to give up on his girly ways and find a wife. It was Dad who showed Kyle a picture of you.”

“Why did he pick me?”

“You were an up and coming attorney. You were winning your cases and Dad figured if you and Kyle were married you would never go public about Kyle’s bad, girly habits for fear of ruining your own career.”

“Why would Kyle allow your dad to tell him what to do?”

“Kyle always listened to Dad. He had an unnatural fear of him. I really believe that Dad had sex with him on more than a few occasions.”

“That’s sick.” I closed my eyes.

“Well when Kyle suddenly had been divorced by you Dad was furious. When he died . . . that very day . . . Dad wanted revenge on you.”

“Have you talked to the prosecutor?”

“I tried, but Dad’s lawyers said they would discredit me.”

“Talk to the prosecutor and tell them everything . . . including the threat to discredit you. Why are you telling me this?”

“Kyle was like a sister to me. As we grew up he made sure I was always a girly girl — like him. Dad used to beat me for being near Kyle. I cared for my brother and I worried when Dad gave him the ultimatum. If you recall, I wasn’t at the wedding. I had threatened to stand up -- to tell people why the two of you shouldn’t be married.”

“I think things would’ve been different had you told me what you knew before the wedding. There probably would’ve been a wedding, but we wouldn’t be outside a trial right now . . . and Kyle would most likely be alive. Go speak to the prosecutor -- now.”

I sat on the bench in front to the courthouse and cried . . . not from bitterness . . . but from relief that I hadn’t been responsible for Kyle’s lifestyle.

The End