Feeding Ducs

This story hopes to please the readers who hanker for stories longer than 750 words. See, I listen (sometimes).

The story could also go into Loving Wives, but I like the romantic side of it more. (And lest you, kind reader, have an attack of bilious outrage that I'm too scaredy-cat to post it in LW, look at my submissions. And have a Happy New Year.)

Thanks, kenjisato, for editing help. All remaining mistakes are the result of my stubbornness and/or laziness. Apologies.

"Dad, what's bugging you? You look like a bear whose shitting spot in the woods got replaced by yet another new Starbucks."

Derek, our 22-year-old, was always the more perceptive of our two kids. Natalie, two years younger, just assumed everything in the world existed for her pleasure, and therefore she had no need to perceive things. Any perceiving that needed to be done, needed to be done by others for her benefit. When you're pretty, you can get away with that for a long time. Acorns not falling far from trees and all that.

I took a sip of beer while I considered my son's question. Once a month, come rain or shine, he bought me a beer at O'Malley's Bar and Grill. Well, every month since his 21st birthday.

"Come on, dad, spill it. It's not like you to suffer in silence. No, wait, actually it is. But hey, I'm buying, so I'm entitled to hear."

With a sigh, I put my glass down. "Okay, you asked for it. You're not going to like it, but you asked. I'm thinking of moving on."

"Moving on as in moving away, or as in leaving Mom?"

"Maybe both, but starting with the latter."

"Wow, way to drop a bombshell! Why? The two of you have been so happy for so long."

"Coming up 25 years, son, so yeah, you got the long right. The happy, though, maybe not so much."

"Coulda fooled me. Tell me more--what's taken away the happiness?"

"Not what, who. Deirdre Bekins."

"Oh, shit, you think Mom is bi?"

"No, I don't think so. But your mother has all but moved in with that snake-bitch."

"I don't know her all that well," my son said with a perplexed frown. "What's so bad about her?"

"She's pushing fifty, has never been married, but has your mother believing she alone knows the secret to marital bliss and happiness. I ask you: do you think your mother has been happily married?"

"Think? The whole world

knows,

Dad. You know that, too."

"Shows you what the world knows, because Deirdre has your mother convinced she's unhappy and unfulfilled. I'm a total loser, I've deprived her of discovering her true self, and she needs to finally get herself 'a real man.'"

"What? No. Did she say that?"

"Mandy Albright works with Deirdre, and she told me. I was shopping in the grocery store when we literally ran into each other. Once she recognized me, she told me she needed to talk to me, so we went to a coffee shop and she brought me up to speed. Deirdre apparently is telling everyone who will listen that she's taken your mother under her wing, and is educating her to a higher level of self-actualization. Which, it turns out, is nothing but code for getting bonked by more men. That's what Deirdre does, and she says it's the secret to life. Your mother, according to Professor Deirdre, is sitting on her happiness, quite literally, and needs to uncork it."

"Are you telling me Mom's listening to that horseshit?"

"That I can't say for sure, but probably, because your dear, unfulfilled mother has pretty much stopped talking to me. And the amount of time she spends with the authority on relational fulfillment leads me to believe she might be ingesting that equine manure."

By this time, our glasses were empty. Rather than drink more than our single stay-in-touch round, we decamped to the grill part of O'Malley's for burgers.

Once we'd place our orders, Derek spoke. "So, Dad, what are you going to do?"

"What can I do? If your mom's convinced I'm a loser and she needs to boff other men, I have no choice but to move on. I will not be anybody's cuckold."

"Can I say something that might piss you off?"

"You did buy me a beer, so go for it."

"How about you stop being a wuss? I'm not saying you are." He held up his hands in the universal gesture of peace and surrender. "But you have to admit, your love for Mom can tempt a snake like this Deirdre to accuse you of it. When was the last time you insisted on doing anything your way?"

--

On the way home, I pondered Derek's question--a valid one. Because I loved Hailey, making her happy made me happy, and was therefore a major priority for me. Did that make me a wuss, or at least appear like one? Time to find out.

When I walked into the house, Hailey sat in the kitchen, speaking into her phone. "He just walked in. Talk to you later."

Turning to me, her snide voice mowed down any pleasant thought I may have had about being home. "Where the fuck have you been?"

When you're sitting on a knife's edge, it doesn't take much to tip you over.

"Didn't you hear," I snarled back, "when I told you I'm having a beer with Derek? Or do you think so little of me you've stopped even listening to what I say?"

She sucked in her breath--never in our more than 26 years had I spoken to her like that. Immediately, she backpedaled. Getting up, she smiled and came to give me a hug. "You're right, I'm sorry. I forgot and I got worried. Can I fix you something to eat?"

"We got ourselves a burger while we were at O'Malley's." Out of principle, I dropped my nice guy demeanor.

"Okay. When you didn't call, like I said, I got worried." She looked me in the eyes and gave me another kiss. "I love you, you know."

I looked her back in the eye and shook my head emphatically. "Actually, no, I don't."

Passing her gaping mouth, I filled a glass with water from the tap in the fridge door, added a few ice cubes, walked to the family room, and flopped into a wingback chair. Where was a recliner when you needed one?

She followed me, aghast. "What do you mean you don't?"

"Just that--I don't know that you love me."

"Robbie, you're crazy. We've been married for 25 happy years. How can you say that?"

"Surprisingly easy." Again, I shook my head. "Those 25 years have been happy for you because I've always gone out of my way to make you happy and asked for little in return. What's not to like about an ATM?"

"I'm shocked. What are you talking about?"

"Have you not paid attention all these years? Let's back up the truck and look at a few of the bigger items. You wanted this enormous house." I waved around. "I didn't--all I wanted was a simple three-bedroom rancher with some space to build a workshop behind the garage. So, what did we get? What you wanted. When we furnished the house, I wanted a family room with comfortable furniture, overstuffed with fabric surfaces. You wanted hard-edged furniture, leather and chrome. Look around, what do you see? You didn't even want me to get a single La-Z-Boy recliner. The modern look was more important to you than my wishes or comfort.

"You

had

to have a big BMW SUV, even though a smaller CRV would have been more than adequate. What did we get? Now we're stuck with payments on the house, the car and even the furniture, because that had to be from an upscale store. Even smaller things--I like your hair longer, but you cut it short. I've asked you to shave your pubic hair, but you ignored that. So... in every decision, I surrender my preferences and wishes to yours, because I love you. Show me one single instance where you indulged my preference against yours."

Like a fish on dry ground, Hailey gaped at me, opening and closing her mouth as each candidate presented itself to her and she realized no, she got her way in that one, too. Finally she shook her head. "But, Robbie, I love you. How can you doubt that?"

"Far easier than I should be able to. Latest example? I asked you out for dinner with me this Friday, and you refused me, so you could go with your new, real true love, Deirdre."

"What! That's outrageous! I have NEVER preferred women. Where do you get that ridiculous notion?"

"Again, easily. Actions speak louder than words. I ask you out, she asks you out. You choose her, not me. No rocket science required to figure that one out. It's not the first time, and you know it."

"I didn't know that bothered you."

"Oh, puh-leeze. Stop with the lying. I told you flat-out, each and every time.More than once I've said I don't like the amount of time you spend with that bitch, and how you blow me off,

each and every time.

All you do is pick a fight over that. When was the last time you turned her down and went with me? I'll make it easy for you: never."

"You don't like my friends, so you want to cage me up and keep me a prisoner!"

"Two things. How many of

my

friends do

you

like? That's right--not a single one. Way to show your love for me, babe."

I was just getting warmed up and found myself sounding like Jim Mora's famous rant about playoffs. "Caged in? You feel caged in? How about you not working for most of your life, leaving you free to go anywhere, and do anything, while I grind my days away? You spend your days taking tennis lessons, yoga, gym, spa, crap like that. On my dime. Did I ever restrict you? Cage you? No way, never. Did you ever thank me for that?

"Not only that, you've started taking your bitch Deirdre with you, making me pay for

her

spa treatments and country club lunches. Did you ever even bother to ask me? Uh-uh, you just assumed ATM Hubby would be over the moon to pay for her. And how does your new bitch reward me? By telling you that you that I'm yesterday's news, all washed up, and you need to go fuck other, 'real' men."

There. I said it.

Hailey inhaled with a dramatic whine. Her eyes displayed shock. And, for the first time, a glimpse of, yes, respect. This was something new. Definitely not wussy anymore.

On a roll, I continued the blast. "So, you say you love me? Well, darling, how about you actually let it SHOW for a change? It's clear to see you love Deirdre, spending all your time and my money on her. Whenever there's a choice between pleasing her or pleasing me, she wins. You don't even want to have sex with me anymore. Love, schmove. Actions again speaking louder than words.

"Oh, and how do you respond when she runs me down? Several women from the club tell me she thinks I'm a spineless wuss, a wimp and a clueless loser. Your silence tells the world you think she may have a point. Love me? I don't think so, Tim."

Her eyes wide, Hailey sat on the edge of the sofa.

Needing something more than water, I stood. "So,

love of my life,

Friday night we'll see who you truly love, Deirdre or me."

"Where are you going?"

"To a place where I'm loved more than here. Don't wait up."

--

In the car, I called Jim Perry, a college buddy of mine and my firm's corporate lawyer. He'd gone through a contentious divorce two years prior and he was still licking his wounds. "Hey, Jim, you up for some company?"

"Only if you bring Johnnie along. Red's fine, 'cause tonight I'll have it with Coke, so we need nothing fancy."

After my stop at a liquor store, Jim received Johnnie and me with a traditional whisky platter of cheeses, salami and other types of cold cuts.

I stuck with beer, and we clinked without speaking.

"What happened?" Jim said. "You never come this late with no warning."

I related my conversation with Derek, the eruption with Hailey, and ended up with, "I really came to ask you for Gordon's contact info." Gordon, his brother, was a family law attorney, fancy-speak for a divorce lawyer. A smart and mean one, by all accounts.

"Dude, you could have gotten that with a phone call."

"True, but I guess I wanted to get some distance from the bitch, and reconnect in person, because I have a feeling in my bones I may be joining your ranks soon."

He lifted his glass and smirked, "Welcome to the club. It's growing, and it runs on scotch."

I lifted my bottle and said, "I'm sure a bottle or two of beer is hiding in there somewhere, too."

"Sorry to hear about your thing with Hailey. Always thought the two of you would make it to the end. There's no accounting for snakes in the garden, though. What do you think she'll decide?"

"From what I'm seeing, she'll go with Deirdre, which is why I need Gordon's info. I want her served at whatever bar or club she goes to. Maybe it will bring her to her senses, although I strongly doubt it at this point."

"Can I ask you a question?" Jim leaned forward. "If she takes the divorce route, would you be offended if I make a play for her? You know I've always thought she's attractive."

Shock froze me for several seconds. "Jim, you fucking asshole! How can you even ask something so despicable? I... I thought you were a friend." I put my bottle on the coffee table and stood.

"Sit, Robbie, sit down. I wasn't serious, just wanted to find out where you really stood." He waved his hands downward. "Come on, sit down. I'm not ready for any woman, so I'm not going to do anything with Hailey. If you said you didn't care, I would have known you were done with her. But you aren't, are you? You still love her."

With a loud exhale, I sat back down. "You really got me there, you prick." I picked up my beer and took a long swig. Damn. I even surprised myself.

"I know you," he continued. "If I'd asked you, you would have said you're done with her--that's why you came for Gordon's info. But your reaction tells me you're really not done with her. You want her to choose you, don't you?"

"For a lawyer, you're pretty smart, I'll give you that.

"Yeah, you're right. I want that bitch Deirdre toasted. And out of our lives completely."

"Why is she after Hailey? She has to know Hailey's not into women, so it can't be that. What else can it be? Money?"

A light started coming on in the back of my mind. "Of course. Shit. She must be figuring Hailey would come into a lot of money if we divorce. So, she's going for the trifecta: getting Hailey as a wingman for her manhunts, moving into our house, and leeching off the fortune she figures Hailey would get as a settlement."

"Will she?"

"That's why I need to get hold of Gordon, to figure that out."

--

Over lunch with him and Jim the next day, Gordon gave me good news and bad news. The bad news, of course, was I'd have to split everything with Hailey. The good news was that, apart from the house, there wasn't much to split. When I'd started my equipment rental business, Jim had it set up as a corporation domiciled in the Cayman Islands, and from the get-go, I was only a hired hand, just like everybody else. Hailey didn't know (or care) about any of that.

Because Hailey stopped work when our kids were born, I'd be on the hook for maintenance (alimony) unless I suffer a cut in pay, could persuade her to get a job or, hello, both.

I arrived home right after lunch, with a hangdog face, to Hailey's great concern.

Over a sad beer, I spilled it. The construction industry was in a slump, business was way down, and if I wanted to keep my job, I'd have to take a severe cut in pay for the company to survive.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked with sincere caring. My adamant assertion yesterday that she didn't love me was an overstatement, and I knew it.

"I never thought it would come to this but, with the kids gone, maybe the time has come that you could find a job to help tide us over." Even if we didn't divorce, a job would reduce our expenses and maybe give her more of a feeling of self-worth and accomplishment, making her less susceptible to stupid notions from snakes like Devil Deirdre.

"But I have no experience. Who will hire me?"

"You have a degree in math, and everyone knows there's a shortage of math teachers."

Her face lit up. "You're right. I'll ask Susan if she knows of any openings." To her credit, she immediately called her friend, who taught history at Blenheim High, and got an appointment for an interview the following afternoon. To her debit, though, she called Deirdre right after and set up a shopping expedition to make sure she had a proper outfit for the interview.

On one hand, I was happy to get Hailey moving in the right direction employment-wise, but, on the other hand, I did not like the prospect of Deirdre having an entire afternoon to continue her campaign of badmouthing me.

In an attempt to head it off, I said, "Why don't I take you? I can take time off and I'd like to spend a few hours with my wife."

A look of deer caught in headlights flashed across her face. "But I just told Deirdre I would take her."

With what I hoped was a lack of expression, I just looked at her.

After more than a minute, which felt like an eternity, she squirmed. "Robbie, I'm sorry. I can't just cancel. What would I give as a reason?"

Raising my hands in a surrender gesture, I stood. "I'm not going to argue. You could have said, 'My husband wants to take me and spoil me,' but I know spending time with your husband's not something you want to do anymore. You didn't even give me a chance. Once again, your actions speak louder than words. Who cares what Robbie wants? Fuck him... and not in the nice way.

"All I ask is that you pay attention to how many times she says something negative about me. That's all. Oh, and when you start spending money, remember my pay just got cut by more than half. Take it easy."

After she took off, I went to a new bank, opened new accounts for only me, and transferred half of our monies into the new account. I called our credit card company, paid off all our accounts and lowered the limit on Hailey's card to $500. She had no need to spend more than that for a teacher's interview.

Good thing I did, because on my way home, I got a panicked call from Hailey. "Robbie, my card got declined! Can you fix it?"

"How much did you try and charge?"

"It was only $895."

"Hailey, there's no way you need $895 worth of clothes for a teacher interview."

"But they have a great sale on boots. Deirdre and I only bought one pair each."

I rolled my eyes. Perfect.

"Hailey, did you not hear my pay got cut by more than fifty percent? Why are you buying boots? You don't need them for your interview. And for Deirdre? That's what put you over your card's limit. Put back the stuff you don't need for tomorrow's interview. The card should easily cover that."

"Oh God, Robbie, that's so embarrassing."

"More embarrassing than me not being able to pay the card?"

"Ugh. Why can't you give me your card number?"

"For boots for Deirdre? What planet are you living on? Not just no, but hell no. Wake up and smell the leather. I'm done paying for her stuff. She tells you she knows the secret to a wonderful life. Oh yeah? She's been at it for thirty years already--surely she's able to afford a pair of boots? Unless her secret is to leech off her friends. While she insults their husbands."

"This is not going to help, Robbie."

"Boo-frikkin'-hoo. I know you don't care about me anymore, but I am much more concerned with paying my bills than funding that bitch's campaign of putting me down. Might I remind you: if you had taken me up on MY offer, this embarrassment would not have happened to you. But you and your snake think you have life figured out. Fine. Go for it... but not on my dime anymore. See you at home." I ended the call and turned off the phone.

When she returned, it was with a dark face. Slamming her shopping bags on the sofa, she glared down at me. "You have no idea how you embarrassed me."

I sat back and laughed out loud. "Actually, I do, but you and your 'love' make me not care any more. Just like you don't care when she puts me down. Speaking of feelings, you have no idea how relieved I am I don't have to pay for her boots."