Beyond the Breaking Point: Eight

She arrived at the house over an hour later and methodically went through each room. Family photos, favorite wall art, movies only she watched and CDs only she listened to, one of the extra televisions and DVD players, and her candles and candle holders, all went in a box marked Living Room and was stored in her vehicle. Then she went through the kitchen taking the things she considered hers—a favorite knife set, can opener, extra dishes and pots, and foods she loved but Phillip didn’t particularly care for.

The basement office, where they kept all their important paperwork, she saved for last. She went through all the bills, making sure she had account numbers for everything that had her name on it. Using the three-in-one printer, she made a copy of the mortgage agreement for her lawyer, as well as any investments she and her husband shared. Bank statements, utility bills, and insurance papers all went in the financial folder she was creating.

Last of all, she powered up the desktop computer to see if she’d missed anything. Between her laptop and iPad, both gifts from Phillip, she had little cause to use this machine, but at one time this had been the only computer they could afford and they’d had to share.

The log in screen came up and Cassidy typed in the password.

“YOUR PASSWORD OR LOGIN IS INCORRECT.”

She retyped the login, taking care not to mistype any of the characters.

“YOUR PASSWORD OR LOGIN IS INCORRECT.”

“No it’s not,” she argued with the machine. Granted, it had been two or more years since Cassidy had used this computer, but she used the same exact login on her laptop, and the same password on her PC at work and iPad.

She tried it again.

“YOUR PASSWORD OR LOGIN IS INCORRECT.”

It took a minute, but Cassidy eventually realized that Phillip must have changed the password. The immediate question was why?

As part of their marriage counseling, they had both agreed to complete access to each other’s information as a condition of rebuilding trust. Since Cassidy hadn’t been the one to cheat, she hadn’t had a problem with it. Phillip, too, had readily agreed, stating empathically that his affair had been one of opportunity and lack of judgment, not deliberate planning on his part. So that being the case, why had he changed the password? What was on here that he didn’t want her seeing?

Leave it alone, Cassidy. This is an invasion of privacy. What does it matter what he was doing on the computer? You’re through with him, her saner side urged.

But her other, more suspicious side argued. You just walked in on the man having sex with his best friend’s fiancée. What if that’s not all he’s been doing? What if everything he’s said and done in the last two years has been a lie?

The last thought galvanized her to action. She began searching the desk, looking through drawers. She knew Phillip. He always wrote things down, needing a backup in case he forgot. She found his day planner and thumbed through it. On the last page she found what she was seeking—the password to both his home and work computers.

She typed it in and waited impatiently for the computer to complete its process, which took a lot longer than it should have. Phillip obviously hadn’t been maintaining the system. Of course, she’d always been the one obsessed about viruses, cookies, and optimal system speed. It was one of the reasons Phillip had cited to explain his purchase of her laptop, which at the time they definitely couldn’t afford. He said having separate PCs would cut down on the amount of arguments, and it had.

Finally, the system was ready. Cassidy forced herself first to go through the document files and see if there was anything she needed. She found several. She opened the Internet browser, logged into her email account and emailed the files to herself. Once she was certain she had everything, she began to snoop.

First, she went to Recent Items. Videos, lots and lots of numbered videos. She clicked on one at random and waited while Window’s Media Player opened. What showed on the screen didn’t exactly surprise her. She knew Phillip had no problems watching porn. He considered it a means of relaxation and had pushed her to watch the occasional one with him. Since she’d been trying to save their marriage, she’d given in to their marriage counselor’s prompting and done so though she’d never enjoyed them. In her mind, sex was a private act between two people and should never be considered “entertainment.”

What stunned her was when she clicked on the Window’s Media Library and saw the sheer number of videos Phillip had stored on the computer. Then she went to Google and went to browser history. Phillip never thought to clear his cache. It was all there. Every porn site, cybersex site, online dating and chat site he’d visited in the last four years was listed. Cassidy thought of all the times Phillip had retreated to this office, stating he had a case to work on or research to do. Lies, all of it.

It made so much sense now. Why he couldn’t be satisfied with their sex life. Why he always wanted more, needed more, and was always pushing her boundaries.

Suddenly feeling lightheaded, Cassidy hung her head between her knees and took shallow breaths. She had to get out of here. Get away from this filth. Just looking at it made her feel dirty, denigrated as a woman.

Cassidy snatched up the folder with her papers, grabbed her purse, and left the house. Thank God she’d lugged each box to her vehicle as she filled it. Outside, she stood for a moment in the bright sunshine, letting its warmth cleanse the chill from her body and soul.

Had she ever known Phillip? Really known him? God, had their whole marriage been a lie? The thought broke her heart all over again.

Keep it together, she ordered herself. Shut it down, lock it up tight. You don’t have time to deal with this now. There’s too much to do. Put it out of your mind and concentrate on what needs to be done. Step by step, one thing at a time. You can have a meltdown later. The stern talking to she gave herself caused Cassidy to straighten her shoulders and blink her eyes dry.

Despite her best efforts to put it out of her mind, as she drove to the hotel to deposit her belongings, another memory surfaced.

“Is that what you want,” she’d asked Phillip, pointing at the screen. “A woman who looks and acts like that?”

The woman in question had big tits, an impossibly small waist, and a firm high butt—the classic Coca-Cola bottle figure. This one also had long blonde hair and acted as if she’d die if she didn’t get some cock in her soon. Anything the male lead asked—or rather ordered—her to do, she was eager to comply.

“No, baby,” he’d denied. “You know I love your body.” But Cassidy noted his gaze barely left the screen before flicking back.

Their marriage counselor had explained that men were visual creatures, which was why porn appealed to them. Watching the film, Cassidy concluded it must be true. There was no acting to speak of to recommend it. That was for sure. Just a brief skit containing dialogue too corny for anyone but the most naïve to find believable.

The over-endowed leading lady spent the first part of the film running around in skimpy clothes meant to be sexy, which Cassidy simply found tasteless. But then, she wasn’t a man and it was obvious the film was tailored to the male audience. The rest of the film she was naked, looking eager and sultry.

Then there were the close-ups and the sound effects. The camera panned close to capture, in intimate detail, the man’s hardened shaft sliding in and out of the woman’s pouty red lips. Or as the action changed, his glistening cock thrusting into the woman’s well- lubricated pussy while she moaned, sighed, and groaned theatrically.

Not interested in viewing more and wondering why she’d allowed herself to be talked into this in the first place, she’d glanced over at Phillip to find him totally enthralled. His hand absently played with the length of his jean-covered erection. Cassidy had the fleeting thought that if she hadn’t been there, sitting right next to him, he’d have masturbated.

Immediately after the film ended, he’d turned to her for sex. Though still not the least bit aroused, Cassidy had responded to his touch even as part of her mind had insisted on wondering, “Is that what he wanted in a woman?”

A woman, Cassidy now realized, who had a body like Amber’s.