~Wednesday, July 22, 2009
My mother went out of town this week for the sole purpose of having a private investigator put on my step-father to get photographic evidence of him cheating for leverage in the divorce. My newest designated job was to sit at home and call the PI whenever my step-father left the house.
The PI started calling me at work before I even left for the weekend Friday afternoon. "I'll be home at 6," I told them. "I'll let you know what's going on then."
I jogged in the (empty) house and snapped the leash on the Femme Fatale's collar. I had a busy night ahead of me: happy hour with the friends at 6:30, followed by an 8:00 movie. Right on time, my phone rang.
"I just got home from work and he's not here," I breathlessly told them.
"Yeah, we know. We saw you."
I stopped in my tracks. I knew my mother hired a PI and yet I still felt jolted and scared. I knew they would be watching various places. I just didn't know they would see me. I stammered, quickly trying to remember if I picked my nose or adjusted my underwear while running into the house and if this moment was forever caught on tape now. "You're saw me?" I screeched.
The female investigator of the team laughed. I felt somewhat comforted that the female member called me. If it was the male member, I don't know if I would have recovered quickly, if at all. It was scary knowing someone saw me and watched me without my consent. I mean, I knew, I just didn't put two and two together.
"Man, you're good." If I knew about the PI and still didn't notice them, then my step-father wouldn't have a clue.
The PI asked all the places he could be, because he was nowhere to be found. "I don't know what to tell you," I said. "He lies about everything so I don't know where his regular places are."
I was left with the instructions to call them when he returned home. Only when I got home at 10:30 p.m. from my movie, he still wasn't there. I called the PI.
"He's still not here. I didn't know if I should call you or not," I told them.
"Oh we know," the PI responded. "We're watching him right now. He's at the woman's house. He's been here since we last spoke. we have tape of him mowing her lawn, feeding her cats, and working on some project together in the kitchen. He's even went to Home Depot to get her a can of paint. They kissed as he walked out the door, but it was quick and daylight and we're not as bold during daylight. We have enough evidence to show intent on cheating even if we don't have any intimate moments."
"Will that be enough in court?" I asked.
"We believe so. Just don't tell your mother, we don't want to upset her yet."
Knowing the truth and seeing the truth are still two different things for me, because I was still shocked. Even though I saw the phone bill and the text messaging records, I was shocked.
I've had about all the drama I can take for one year. The worst part is it isn't even close to being over. My mother wasn't going to serve my stepfather with the divorce papers until I moved out, per my request. I asked her since I was moving out earlier than expected, was she going to have him served earlier. She said yes. It's hard pretending, she said.
Not only is it hard, but it's exhausting. The sight of my step-father disgusts me. I won't go near the living room or the couch he's always sitting on. The confidence I gained with the return of Christopher is slowly slipping away. It's harder to be happy these days; I have to actively pursue it. I'm sleeping more, yet still don't feel rested.