Three Seasons

My wife told me about an episode on Oprah some years ago, and the topic was, "Why Men Cheat." There was a psychologist who said, "If you ask your husband or boyfriend why they did something, whether it had to do with them cheating or just something stupid they did, and they tell you they don’t know why they did it, don’t get upset with them, because they really don’t know why." My wife says, "Men are from Mars and women are from Venus." She and her mother have come to the conclusion that men have a computer chip missing that has everything to do with our true logic and reasoning.

I now believe it all to be true, because of Cheyenne Ross, my girl. She is a legal aide for another attorney in the legal building where my practice is located. She’s raising her son, Leland — our son, Leland Ross. I wouldn’t let her give him my last name for obvious reasons. Of course, I give her money every month for Leland, and she doesn’t file child support. I take very good care of both of them, because although I have plenty of money, I can’t afford to get on Cheyenne’s bad side. Neither Cheyenne nor Leland wants for anything. They are like my second family. Cheyenne kind of understands. I don’t think she wants to break up my marriage, but on the other hand, she doesn’t want for herself and Leland to be neglected, either.

Cheyenne is totally the opposite of my wife, but she’s still very beautiful, and very hard for me to resist. Caramel skin, about five-foot-nothing, a hundred-and-nothing pounds. Her mother is Indian and her father is black. She has dark eyes and beautiful long wavy hair. My son looks just like his mother. I have two handsome boys, but my wife only knows about one. We spend quite a bit of time together, but not enough time for Lorraine to suspect anything. Being a lawyer, I pull a lot of late-night moves, and as far as Lorraine’s concerned, she can always account for where I am. I have some rental properties around Boston, and for the benefit of everyone involved, I have Cheyenne and my son in one of them. Bold move, I know. But it was the best thing at the time. She’s very clean and takes excellent care of my son. That is one thing I don’t have to worry about. She has the place beautifully decorated. I’ve told her she has a gift and she needs to do something with it. She has considered going back to school and making a career move to interior decorating. I support whatever she wants to do. I’m more than willing to help her in any way I can, because I’m stuck!

Cheyenne happened to be at the building Christmas party three years ago. I’d seen her around the building and I’d only spoken to her in passing, just being cordial. This particular evening, we talked more than usual, had one too many drinks and, well, shit happens. If Lorraine hadn’t had her office Christmas party that night, I probably wouldn’t be in the predicament I’m in. As the evening progressed, Cheyenne topped me out on the drinks, and I knew she was in no shape to drive, so I drove her home. I finally arrive at her apartment in South Boston, and when we pulled up, she was half asleep — so, me being the gentleman that I am, I helped her upstairs. I get her inside and she is carrying on about being alone, and she begins to cry saying she is tired of being alone. I carry her over to the couch and lay her down. I looked around for the kitchen and fumbled my way through until I found coffee, filters, and the coffee maker.