Betrayed Husbands Anonymous

“I am told I cannot be too specific here, but we need to find a tissue match for one of the children. My wife is not a match, and the children have no other blood relatives that we know about. Even though my wife only has had sex with three men in 18 years, she seems to have forgotten the other two’s names.

Jim stiffened. His eyes teared and he paused. “It is likely a beautiful child who has never done anything to anyone is going to die because he or she was born to a mother who didn’t even get the names of potential fathers. What saddens me is the slut is likely to get custody if there is a divorce.

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“My wish is conditional. If the child dies, it will have been a painful and horrible life for an innocent. I hope my wife dies an equally horrible death, say chained to a bed in some foreign brothel. If the child lives, I’ll see to it we properly take care of the children, until the last is 18.”

The look in Jim’s eyes made me shiver. They were fixed, determined, and quite dead; devoid of any emotion. If I am any judge of character his wife would be better off in the brothel, than several more years with Jim.

My contact asked me for my shoe box. “How full is it? If I may ask.”

“Completely.”

“That is what we expected.”

“Wait a minute, I have wondered what is going on. It was meeting my needs, so I didn’t ask. ‘What we expected’ says there are some of you who are running this and that scares me.”

“Why? Might I ask?”

“Lots of things go on in my little part of the world, every single day. Way too much of it being things I don’t want to be aware of, let alone a part of. Now, I am not so prudish that because a – pardon me – sociopath like our speaker, has made a wish that is probably going to be carried out, I am not joined to him at the hip. But I am closer to him than I want to be.”

“You are afraid you are an accessory?”

I shook my head, “No, not really. I don’t know if Jim is a plant, actually has a wife, etc. I’ll never know what happens to her, if she really exists. You are a different story.”

“Why worry about me?”

He was starting to piss me off, this coy shit was wearing thin, “It is clear to me that I am at the end of the betrayed husbands route. Now, you need some or all of us to join the support group, or whatever you are called.”

“They were right about you. You have what it takes.”

I scowled at him and said as sarcastically as I could muster, “Just what does it take? That I have and you were all so right about my having?”

He threw his head back and laughed. “That.” He paused for a bit and then continued. “You are smart, quiet, aware, and thoughtful. Those are all necessary traits. You are right, of course, there are two halves to this organization. I’ll call them victims and victors.”

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