3. What, the leftovers?

We were driving again. The tears had run out, at least for now. I hadn't really known what to do, so I just started driving. We didn't want to be too late.

Did we?

Did I even want to be on this trip?

The problem wasn't that I loved Cassidy. I knew that I did. The problem wasn't even whether I believed her or not - it was such a crazy story that I could probably re-tell it to a psych ward and they'd keep her for a 72-hour hold.

No, the problem was I knew she was telling her truth. Not the truth, not the facts of the matter.

Her truth. The secret one. The one that I'd watched her ride, unable to put voice it. The one I assumed was some sort of clinical depression, even though she would break out of it quick enough we never got to the point of going to a psychologist. I'd brought up therapy a couple of times, but she always said I was the therapy she needed. And it had seemed like it was true, I just didn't know why.

"The cheating hurts," I said into the humm of the air conditioner. We hadn't turned the radio back on.

"It hurts a fucking lot. That's what made me throw up. Knowing that you'd... I thought you were mine, I thought you'd shared your body with me like I'd shared my body with you. But it wasn't the same. You shared it with lots of people. I got... what, the leftovers? But it's the lying that makes me want to break down into tears some more."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I know."

"We shouldn't go on this trip," I said. She didn't respond. "We should be heading back home, and finding a marriage counsellor so we can figure out if we can salvage this. Salvage our trust. Anything."

I pulled the truck back off of the highway, onto the flat shoulder, skidding to a stop. I turned and I reached over, taking her smaller hand in mine. "Cassidy, the only reason we are going on this trip still is because I know you think this needs to happen. I know you, even if right now it doesn't feel like I ever knew you at all." That made her start silently crying again, but I kept going. "Do you need this trip to happen?"

She nodded.

"I don't know if I can sleep with someone else," I said.

"You don't have to. But I want you to," she said. "Anyone you want. You deserve it. You deserve to feel wanted like that. To be worshipped like that. To know what an amazing, sexy, desirable person you are."

"I was and did," I said. "With you."

"I'm sorry," she whispered again.

"I know you are," I sighed.

We sat there, not five miles from the last spot we'd pulled over. Progress, I guess - I was still holding her hand, and she was squeezing my fingers desperate for me not to let go.

"Will you please fuck me?" she suddenly asked.

"What?"

"I want to feel you. I- I want you to fuck me. Before we go any further, I want you to fuck all your anger and hate into me. You've never hate-fucked me before, and I want you to right now."

"That doesn't seem like a good idea," I said.

"I want you to pound me into this seat," she said. "And I want you to grab my tits as hard as you can, and I want you to choke me and slap me. You can even fuck my ass raw - it'll hurt like fuck, but I feel like I need that. I need you to make me hurt, just a bit of the way I hurt you."

I opened my mouth and then closed it again. It was... tempting.

"How many girls and women did you cheat on me with?" I asked.

"Somewhere in the high three hundreds is my best guess," Cassidy said.

"Jesus fuck," I exhaled. "How did you never get an STD, or pass one to me?"

"The App," she said. "You get points for raising scores, and you use those points to buy perks and upgrades for yourself or other people. One of the early ones I bought was called Immuno Suppressant and it made it so I couldn't get STDs, and I was less likely to get sick in general. I bought that one for you during second year at university, by the way. Right after you had that nasty cold before exams and I realized I didn't ever want to see you that sick again."

I shook my head, not wanting to try and figure out if I'd been less sick since then, but remembering the way she had doted on me that week. But then, how many girls had she shared herself with in between taking care of me?

"What's the most number of women you had sex with at one time?" I asked.