Chapter 3

Before I got too far into the fried chicken and waffles, I better ask Karen if that sounds good to her. I took the stairs two at a time and heard the water running in the shower. Karen was facing the shower stall and was shrugging out of her panties, her last article of clothing. I admired her trim shape that was outstanding for a 39 year-old. Then I saw her back. Jesus Christ Karen! I shouted and she jumped a foot. “What happened to your back and who did this to you?” Her poor back was crisscrossed with welts—some of them with fresh scabs showing they were deep enough to bleed. She must have been whipped with a heavy whip to cut so deep. “Oh Jake, I didn’t want you to see that. It doesn’t hurt as much now as it when he did it three days ago.

In a calm, even cold, voice I said “Who did this to you Karen?” My cold voice frightened her as she dropped her head and whispered “My Mas... , I mean Victor. He was very angry when we arrived at the Outer Banks. He hadn’t spoken ten words the whole trip. I asked him what I did to make him so mad.”

He screamed at me, “You don’t remember calling me a bastard in front of that wetback in your driveway?” You worthless bitch, it’s a good thing that Mex didn’t speak English or I would give you more than you going to get.”

“He and Barry tied me to the bed and he whipped me for what seemed like an hour. Finally, Barry and Wanda made him stop.”

She was sobbing now and I held her naked body until she calmed down. I said “I came up to ask if cold fried chicken and waffles sounded good to you. When I saw your back I just lost it.” Even though I was speaking in a normal voice, I was holding in a white-hot fury that I would nurture until Victor McDonald gets much more than just payback for this assault on my wife. The details were still sketchy, but my plan was coming together.

Karen was under the shower and told me chicken and waffles would be wonderful, particularly since I was fixing them for her.

After her shower, Karen came down and sat at the kitchen table, just as she had done so many times before this disaster hit us. I used the plural pronoun “us” because I am coming to believe Karen is not the typical bored housewife looking for a sexual adventure without hubby finding out. There is something going on that transcends the typical cheating wife sordid story. She finished her plate quickly, eating like a starving person. I refrained from making any smart-assed comments, but I thought to myself that if Victor was fucking her for three days the least he could have done was feed her.

I put the dishes in the sink and told Karen to go in the living room and that I would follow. I got a chilled cabernet sauvignon and two glasses and joined her. Karen was sitting at one end of the big leather couch so I sat at the other end with the wine on the coffee table between us. Karen is not a very small woman, she is about 5’7” and 130 lbs., but as she sat facing me with her legs tucked under her and her eyes downcast, she looked very small and vulnerable. My first instinct was to pull her in my arms, softly stroke her hair and tell her everything would be all be right, we will resume our lives as we have planned. Obviously, that is not going to happen right now. Maybe eventually, but not until I have full knowledge of why she left with that scumbag in the first place.