Not you got the wrong idea. An explanation. I saved everything. That afternoon, I went back to the house while I knew Jenna was at work. Travis's truck was gone.
I didn't tear through drawers. I didn't need to. I packed enough clothes for a week, took my passport, financial records, and a few personal things I didn't want disappearing. Then I sat at the kitchen table and looked around. There were three coffee mugs in the drying rack.
Mine, Jenna's, Travis's. That image bothered me more than it should have. Three people had been living in that house. Two of them knew what the arrangement really was. I was the only one who didn't.
I left again. That evening, I finally called my father. At first, I planned to tell him. Then something stopped me. Maybe it was the memory of that earlier conversation.
Give him a little more time. He's family. So instead, I asked, "Dad, why did you tell me to let Travis stay?" Silence. What? A few weeks ago, I told you I wanted him out.
You told me to give him more time. "What?" "He was going through a lot." "That's not what I'm asking." Another silence. I felt something cold move through me. Dad. Mason.
What do you know? He exhaled. I heard a chair move on his end. Then he said, "Where are you? Answer me." I think we should talk in person.
What do you know? He didn't answer. I said his name. Not dad. Walter.
That was when he said it. I knew. I gripped the steering wheel even though the car was parked. Knew what about Jenna and Travis. For a second I thought I'd heard him wrong.
I said what? I knew something had happened. How? He told me. A little over a month earlier.
Dad had driven to an outdoor shopping center in Franklin because my mother wanted a particular kitchen appliance from a store there. It was the middle of a weekday. He saw Jenna coming out of a home decor shop. He almost called her name. Then Travis came out behind her.
Dad stopped. At first, there was nothing he couldn't explain. They could have been shopping. They could have run into each other. Then Travis reached for Jenna's hand.
She took it. Dad watched them cross the parking lot holding hands. Near Travis's truck, Jenna stopped. Travis put one hand around her waist and kissed her, not on the cheek. Dad stood between two parked cars and watched his younger brother kiss his son's wife.
That evening, he called Travis and told him to come over. Dad didn't ask if something was happening. He said, "I saw you." Travis denied it for maybe 30 seconds, then admitted enough. He said it had happened a few times. He said it was stupid.
He said Jenna was unhappy and he'd been lonely after the divorce. Most importantly, he said it was over. Dad told him to get out of my house. Travis promised he would. Then he told dad, "If you tell Mason now, you're going to destroy his marriage over something that's already finished." Dad wanted to believe him, so he kept quiet.
I asked him when he gave me the date. I knew it immediately because 2 days after that date, I had left for Chattanooga. And less than 3 weeks after it, I had called Dad to say I wanted Travis out. I said, "That was before I asked you about him moving out." Dad didn't answer. That was before you told me to give him more time.
Mason, listen to me. You already knew. He told me it was over. I closed my eyes. You knew he was sleeping with my wife and you told me to keep him in my house.
He said it had stopped. He swore to me and you believed him. I thought if he moved out quietly, he didn't move out. I know. You told me not to make him.
I was trying to give him time to do what he promised. I don't remember raising my voice. I remember getting quieter. You believed your brother. Dad said nothing.
So, you lied to your son. I didn't lie. You let me live in a house with them while you knew. I thought I was protecting you. No.
My voice cracked on that word. You were protecting him. Dad started to say my name. I hung up. For about an hour, I sat there feeling like the affair had somehow gotten bigger.
Before that call, I had a cheating wife and an uncle who had betrayed me. After it, I had a father who had looked at the truth and decided I was the person who didn't need to know. That part landed differently from the affair. Jenna and Travis had wanted something from each other and they had lied to keep it. I could understand the selfish logic even if I hated it.
Dad had nothing to gain. He had seen what was happening, knew I wanted Travis gone, and still used the one thing he knew would work on me. Family. I kept hearing his voice saying, "Give him a little more time." I had taken that advice because it came from my father. If a stranger had said it, I would have ignored him.
Dad didn't just keep a secret from me. He had unknowingly helped the secret keep a bedroom in my house. Then I remembered something. Dad said Travis had promised the affair was over the night he confronted him. I had already found charges after that date.
I went back through the account. The wine bar was 9 days later. The downtown parking garage was 16 days later. The night I found Travis walking out of my bedroom was more than a month later. Travis hadn't just lied to me.
He had lied to dad, too. And dad had risked his relationship with his son for a promise his brother never intended to keep. That didn't make me feel sorry for dad. Not then. The next morning, I called an attorney.
I told her the basic facts without turning it into a speech. 8-year marriage. House purchased during the marriage. Shared accounts. No children.
Possible affair. Another adult living in the home. She stopped me when I started talking about moving money. Don't do anything dramatic. She said document.
Don't destroy anything. Don't drain accounts. Don't make legal decisions based on anger. That was probably the best advice anyone gave me that week. I followed it.
I opened an individual checking account for my future pay after asking what I could legally do. I downloaded statements. I made copies of important records. I changed passwords on accounts that were mine alone. I didn't touch Jenna's money.
I didn't cancel cards to strand her. I didn't do anything that would make a good revenge fantasy and a terrible real life decision. Then I called dad again. He answered on the first ring. I need you to do one thing.