Wi-Fi Cry

I had married Jared Knowlton after knowing him for only about six months. My parents (my stepfather and mother, my biological father having been ostracized from our family long ago for adultery, zero tolerance for cheating being something that my mother instilled in me from an early age) thought that I was being impetuous. However, at twenty one years old, like I was then, I thought that I knew everything so against their advice I did get hitched. To their credit my parents acted happy during the wedding festivities whereas twenty five year Jared's parents were actually thrilled. It did disturb me a little, however, when at the reception Jared's drunk sister happily told me, Julia Bissel, "I never thought that he'd stop playing the field." Being a little looped myself I didn't focus on her statement -- until much later.

I think that Jared and I had a typical life for a young married couple for the first two years. He kept me satisfied in the sack, and was protective when guys hit on me, without being insanely jealous. However, he did appear to pay a little more attention to the appearance of the females of our species than I would have liked. In non-confrontational talks I had with him about that proclivity he assured me that I was his only reality, and he would never, ever, cheat like my biological father had.

***************

There was a married couple, Shark and Beverly Wilton, who I knew from college who lived in the next town over. We met three or four times at venues between our apartments. Shark -- real name Clarence -- did live up to his nickname in one sense; he was as tough as any guy I had ever met. While he was gentle and personable with his friends, he was not someone to mess with especially if he got angry. That became clear one night when the four of us were at a bar and two nasty dudes -- each of whom must have weighed 300 pounds -- got handsy with Beverly and me while Shark and Jared were playing pool.

Beverly got Shark's attention; he came over and told the two idiots to leave; one pushed him.

I'm not exactly sure how the guy who pushed Shark ended up on the ground, it happened so fast, but he wasn't getting up. I did see the other asshole swing at Shark. Shark grabbed his arm in mid-swing, rotated him so that his head was above the bar, and then smashed his face into the bar three times, turning it into a bloody pile of goo.

Shark threw a $100 bill on the bar as he told the barkeep "For any damage," told Jared, Beverly and me "Let's go," and we left it to the bartender and other patrons to take care of one groaning and one unconscious fat man.

****************

I had visited Beverly in her apartment several times over a period of about a year. For the first time since I had introduced Jared to Shark and Beverly, they invited us to a party at their apartment on a Saturday night. It was a nice event, with about ten couples, eight married, two dating.

Jared and I were in a pleasant conversation with a couple we had just met when the guy and Jared started a friendly argument about some sort of baseball statistic -- I didn't really follow everything and was more interested in talking to the wife -- but I did notice Jared do something he often does during a dispute. He got out his smartphone, clicked some buttons, and then said "Look at this Tim -- I was right -- Mickey Mantle won the Triple Crown in 1956 including with 52 homers," holding his phone up to Tim.

Suddenly I felt faint, and zoned out from what Tim's wife was saying. Why did I zone out? Because to get onto Shark and Beverly's Wi-Fi you had to know their password and sign on -- which is what I had to do the first time that I visited Beverly. How did Jared's smartphone immediately connect when he supposedly had never been here before?

Without embarrassing myself too much I somehow finished my conversation with Tim's wife -- I can't even remember her name -- and then excused myself. After taking a deep breath and splashing my face with water in the bathroom I decided that I had to find out if Shark and Beverly's Wi-Fi was no longer password protected. That was highly unlikely since Shark had a job in tech and knew the possible ramifications of someone looking at kiddie porn using his Wi-Fi.

When Shark went into the kitchen to get some more beers I followed him in.

"Say, Shark -- a stupid question, but is your Wi-Fi password protected?" I inquired.

"Sure is, Julia -- why do you need the password to sign in for a search or something?" he responded.

"No -- I already signed on when I visited Beverly at least six months ago -- no change since then, huh?"

"No change; you look a little ashen Julia; is something wrong?"

Knowing Shark like I did I probably should have just said "No reason -- thanks;" but I didn't. Instead I asked "Can you meet me for lunch Monday?"

**************

The rest of the weekend I was like a zombie. Jared asked me what was wrong but I just feigned some wooziness. I promised to go to the doctor if I didn't feel better by Monday at noon. Jared knew something was wrong when I was languid during sex Saturday night -- normally I'm a tiger -- and he didn't even try to fuck me Sunday even though we never missed a Sunday shag before.

I thought about canceling lunch with Shark -- but knew he could investigate the situation better than I could -- so I did meet with him.

We quickly ordered at the restaurant that we had often gone to before, although not just the two of us, and then he mumbled "OK, Julia -- what gives?"

"Jared was able to do a search at your party about Mickey Mantle's 1956 Triple Crown without getting the password from you or Beverly -- I know because I was with him the entire time until he did the search. That means that he was at your apartment before. Did he ever meet you there?"

Shark got a very shark-like look on his face. His eyes seemed to get small and beady and turn black, and he partially exposed his teeth on one side of his mouth. "No...he...didn't," he slowly spit out.

"You're tech savvy; can you investigate?" I posited.

"Yes...I...can," was his chilling response. "I can't fucking believe it!" he snarled. Then after a pause he continued "But I'm not going to jump to conclusions." Then his demeanor changed 180 degrees. "I'll let you know as soon as I find out anything; meanwhile let's enjoy our lunch and talk about something else. Aside from Jared's Google search, how did you like the party?"

**************

Actually, I never did actually "hear" from Shark about anything between Jared and Beverly until months later. I did, however, hear from the police about three weeks after my luncheon with Shark. "Mrs. Knowlton?" the female officer of a male-female pair asked when she rang my bell early on a Monday evening.

"I'm Julia Bissel -- I kept my maiden name but I'm married to Jared Knowlton," I replied, concerned.

"May we come in..." the female cop continued, hat in hand.

I guess I should never have told Shark what I did tell him about the Wi-Fi password; I just should have investigated it myself. I did believe what Shark told the cops was true when he caught Jared doggy-fucking Beverly and slayed them with his bare hands: "I didn't mean to kill them; I just got really angry, and carried away."

I occasionally visit Shark in prison. He knows he shouldn't have gone ballistic, and I've apologized to him and told him that I should have handled things differently. "I should have investigated myself and then used an untraceable gun and never admitted to anything," were my sincere words of apology.