Despite being a software engineer, I loved analog. Software engineering paid me well and allowed me to work at home with flexible hours. My watch was analog and not some fancy name. Most of my music was on vinyl and I had a great turntable set up in my home office. I also liked old fashioned calendars, the kind where you can see the whole month. There's a large one on the upstairs fridge, which was critical when the boys were growing up, trying to keep track of practices, games, concerts and who was working.
The large calendar on my office wall was also used to keep track of all that stuff. But this month, specifically June 18, was marked D-day. That was the day my youngest would turn 18 and I had been looking forward to it for about ten years now.
Ten years ago I went barging into the upstairs bath because I really needed to pee. I thought my wife Sarah was still in the shower but she was just stepping out as I came in. Of course she gave me shit for letting the hot air out. While she was complaining, I was staring at the hickeys on her tits. Sarah saw where I was looking and her jaw dropped. Actually it continued to move up and down but no words came out. I stumbled out of the bathroom and was in my office down in the basement before I remembered I was going to pee myself. Fortunately I made it to the basement bath in time.
My mind was still going in circles, my wife cheated on me. The choices of how to react were overwhelming. My darling wife was sitting on the futon in my office, wearing her bathrobe waiting for me when I got back from the bathroom. I collapsed into my desk chair.
"I'm sorry Jack, it was a mistake," Sarah started with. "But if you think you're going to divorce me, let me remind you that I'm a lawyer, I come from a family of lawyers. We will crucify you, you'll be lucky to see your kids a couple of hours a month with court supervision required. And you'll be lucky to afford a room over some dive bar."
Then she got up and left.
Before she started talking, I don't think divorce ever entered my mind. Fuck, my boys had always been my priority, I coached their teams, paid for every lesson possible and there were enough musical instruments upstairs that I could start my own store.
A review of divorce laws in my state would require me to support my children until they were 18 and I would have to pay support to the custodial parent. It didn't matter if the custodial parent, in this case Sarah, made more than me, and the amount would be decided by the court. Basically Sarah wasn't making empty threats. I didn't respond.
I had to figure out a way to stay alive for ten years, it was a prison sentence with a woman I loved only a few hours ago and now despised. I wish I could say I came up with a great plan that day, or that week, or that month. It took months.
And that's when I started writing D-day on my calendars, the day my youngest would turn 18.
On day one, I moved my stuff out of our master bedroom and into a storage room next to my office in the basement. Sarah said I was being childish. I didn't respond. I cancelled our joint credit cards and Sarah said I was being an asshole, I didn't respond. I stopped sleeping in our bed and Sarah said thank you, I didn't respond.
My primary goal was never to have to speak to Sarah again, whatever the topic. If dishes needed to be washed or the dishwasher emptied, I took care of it. General laundry or the boys stuff or mine, I washed, dried and folded it. Trash cans full, I took care of it. I hired a cleaning lady to come in once a week to take care of the house and landscapers to take care of the yard.
Generally I made dinner since I was home and continued to do so whenever the boys were home. At the dinner table I tried to pretend everything was normal although I'm certain that the boys were smart enough to figure out things were anything but normal. I really loved my boys and was fascinated by their lives and with my help, their talk dominated the dinner conversation.
If the boys weren't going to be home, I went out to eat. One night Sarah asked me to pick her up something, I didn't respond and I didn't get her anything.
About a year after finding the hickey on Sarah's breast, she came into my office late in the evening wearing a see through night gown over a sexy bra and panty set. She had been drinking.
"How long are you going to punish me Jack, I told you it was a mistake and I was sorry."
"Sarah, if that was all you said, maybe our lives would have been different. I don't know, maybe you could have helped me understand how you made a mistake, helped me believe there wouldn't be another one. Maybe we could have gone to counseling to work through it. Maybe you could have asked me to forgive you. But that's not what you said. I case you forgot let me remind you:
"But if you think you're going to divorce me, let me remind you that I'm a lawyer, I come from a family of lawyers. We will crucify you, you'll be lucky to see your kids a couple of hours a month with court supervision required. And you'll be lucky to afford a room over some dive bar."
"Í remember them well, you threatened to take away the most important people in my life, those words are burned into my mind, the same fire that burned away anything that was left of us and the ashes have long grown cold."
"I also remember that until you said the word divorce, it had never entered my mind."
As she left my office, Sarah said, "fuck you Jack." I didn't respond.
It was the second anniversary of finding the hickey and Sarah came into my office again. She was dressed in a casual t-shirt and shorts with glass of wine in her hand. The way she was wobbling, it wasn't her first glass. Sarah had started hitting the wine bottle heavily over the last year and our recycling can was usually full of empty wine bottles or more recently empty boxes of wine. She stood there, swaying and not saying anything. Then she turned and left. I felt relieved.
Life went on as it did before, as much as possible I avoided any conversations with Sarah who was usually well on her way to being inebriated by early evening. The boys needed at least one sober parent available so I rarely drank and that was usually one glass of scotch late in the evening.
A month before the third anniversary, my oldest came into my office and sat down across from me. Jason was fucking smart, scary smart, nothing less than straight A's since kindergarten. And he was also very astute for a 15 year old.
"Mom cheated on you three years ago, that's why you moved in here and hardly speak to her since then."
"Is that a question Jason or an accusation. Either way it is inappropriate to pry into our affairs which are much more complicated then you can imagine."
"But you're not denying it."
"It's a baseless accusation Jase, whether it's true or not is not your business."
"Joey's parents acted the same way because his mom cheated on their father. He moved into their guestroom and now they are getting a divorce."
