The Unfaithful Wife

Episode 11

It seemed the most natural thing to do.
With my wife having cheated on me, and
now the revelation that I was not the
biological father of my children whom I
so much loved, I felt there was nothing
left in the world for me.

The thought that my children, Peter and
Pamela were not mine biologically was
killing me more than the fact that I
caught my wedded wife in bed with
another man. How could I accept that
Peter and Pamela were not my children?
I wept like a child while thinking of the
best way to take my life. I didn’t have a
gun. But if I had, could I shoot myself in
the head as some other people do? I
knew I couldn’t. Then I thought of
committing suicide by hanging but I
knew I couldn’t do that too. All the
methods of committing suicide I had
heard others use did not appeal to me. I
wanted a painless death.

It was unbelievable that I was thinking
about suicide. I could remember the
many times I had described those who
took their own lives as stupid people. I
had boasted time and again that
nothing will ever make me take my own
life. I could also remember the many
times I had counselled people against
committing suicide. Yet, there I was
contemplating suicide.

Suddenly, my thoughts were rudely
interrupted by a knock on the door. I
knew immediately who it was.
“Who is it?” I asked
“It is me” I heard my house-help reply.
It had to be either her or my driver. They
were the only people around me now.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“Sir! We want to talk to you”
“About what?” I asked again
“Sir, we have come to submit over
resignation letters to you,” I heard her
say.

“You are quitting?” I asked, shocked.
“Yes sir. There is nothing more for us to
do here so we are quitting,” I heard my
driver, John, say.
Suddenly, I felt calmness fall upon me. I
felt it was okay if my driver and house-
help want to leave. I did not see it as a
betrayal. I saw it as a logical conclusion
of events. My wife had left me. My
children had been taken away from me
– no, the children were not mine after
all. It was therefore natural for those
who are not that close to me as my wife
and children who have left, to want to
leave too.

“Leave the resignation letters on the
table,” I said.

“Okay sir,” I heard them both say. Then
they added, “bye”.
“Bye” I said back.
After a while, I knew I was now truly all
alone. I did not feel sorry for myself. I felt
empty. I felt I had never lived and there
was nothing to live for.

As a staunch Christian, it was amazing
how I forgot to pray as I had counselled
countless others to do. The last thing on
my mind was prayer. I was not thinking
about God. And, when I finally started
thinking about Him, I started asking
questions.

How could He have allowed me to live
the lie all this while that Peter and
Pamela were my children? How could He
have looked on while my wife got
herself screwed by another man on my
marital bed? Why did He create me
infertile, as the test at the hospital
showed?

Suddenly, He didn’t seem to be the God I
knew. I was not angry with Him. I simply
felt empty too.

Thirty minutes or so after my driver and
my house-help were gone, I decided to
go find out what they had written down
for me in their resignation letters. I got
up, went to the bathroom to wash my
face. But, I didn’t. What the hell—why
should I be bothered about how my face
looks, more so when I was the only
person in the house.

However, I was startled by my image in
the bathroom mirror. I did not look like
myself. To me, I looked like a junkie. I
smiled. The smile looked like a sneer. I
burst out laughing at myself and crying
at the same time as I went to my
bedroom door. I opened it. All was quiet.
Then I stepped outside. As soon as I did
that, I saw them.