Now Thyself

Thanks for clicking on my story. It's one of many created for the Highway Song Event, and I hope you'll check out all the others. There are really great authors participating.

Special thanks to BlackRandl1958 for editing and for organizing the event, and to NoraFares for her constant help and encouragement.

Fair warning -- there's not a lot of sex in this story. Thanks again, and I hope you'll both rate it and leave a comment.

©BarryJames1952 -- March 2020

*

Was it Aristotle who once said, "Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom?"

If that was true, I thought I was the wisest man alive. I thought I knew myself well. I was a pretty good guy, a not-so-bad husband, a more-than-adequate lover, a good provider as a father, a friend you could probably count on, a straight-shooting supervisor... all good stuff, right?

Events these past several months shattered my previous self-image. It turns out I was not so wise. In fact, I was a total idiot, because the truth was now fully evident. I came to know myself for real.

I, Anson Howe, discovered I am a forty-eight-year-old complete and total asshole.

*****

The past several months clearly provided all the clues I needed to understand what I was.

As the plant manager at a process equipment manufacturer, I had to be tough. There were budgets to hit, productivity goals to reach, customers to satisfy and a corporate office with an unquenchable thirst for profit margin. Underperformers had to go, and I cut them loose without much opportunity for redemption. Sloths were incurable sloths. The bottom performing 20% of the employees were dealt with swiftly and ruthlessly.

I overheard a conversation of some of the top managers in my group that told me exactly what their opinion was of me. I recall every word as if it was digitally etched in my brain: '

Anson still hasn't figured out that when we call him 'A.H.' that we aren't referring to his name.'

Laughter ensued. '

Yeah, unless his real name is Ass Hole,' anyway.' 'The way he fired Michele, though, was just evil.' 'True, but I'm not sure he knew she was pregnant and her dick-head boyfriend left her.' 'That's no excuse to an asshole boss.'

More groans and laughter followed.

At first, I smiled that my image was just what I wanted. The 'A.H.' thing might come in handy if I needed to discipline one of those jerks, but they all performed well since I had them under control, so I figured I'd let them have their little fun. The smell in the office air was easily identifiable. It was fear. I was the cause. Things were as I wanted them.

Then there was my wife of twenty-seven years. Two months earlier, we had a tough conversation.

"Anson, when the hell are you going to wake up and learn how to be nice? I asked Debbie why she and Bob stopped getting together with us, and she said they were tired of you being a shithead about everything."

"Oh, come on, Linda. Debbie is a judgmental bitch and Bob is the biggest bore I'd ever met. I'm glad we don't see them much."

"And you don't give a damn that she's been my best friend since grade school, do you? I don't think you give a damn about anything anymore... even me!"

She cried for a while, and I ignored her until I eventually walked away. I was mad, but a piece of me felt guilty. I hated feeling guilty, so I went to the golf driving range and smacked the hell out of some golf balls. Feeling a little better, I decided to go home to the 'ice box' I was sure awaited.

"Where the hell have you been, Anson?"

"Driving range."

Short, sweet answers would be best. I started to walk towards the den to watch some TV when I heard her say words I never thought I'd hear. She blurted them out with determination.

"I want a divorce."

"What!" After I've supported you and the kids for all these years, you want a divorce? Are you screwing someone?"

"No, you jerk. I just can't take you anymore. The way you treat me and the kids is more like you treat your employees, and you seem to like that they hate you. I don't think you even know how to like someone, much less love. I'm getting out. I feel nothing for you, anymore, and your actions show me you think of me as an annoyance, except when you need to get your rocks off."

Well that was BIG clue number two. If I wasn't such an asshole, I would have fallen at her knees and begged forgiveness. I really did love her. What the hell happened to me?

My wife made me move into the guest room until things were finalized. How did I respond? In the old days someone would have said I hardened my heart. I went into self-pity, but mad as hell mode. I slept at the house, but didn't interact with my wife at all.

Then the third event that drove me to self-awareness hit me like a bullet to the brain. On the way back from seeing her lawyer, Linda was in a bad accident. She never knew what hit her, and she died on impact. Some shithead kid texting ran a light and hit her broadside.

What was my first thought when the policeman at the door told me?

'Good. Saves legal fees and half of my assets.'

My brain processed that horrible thought and less than a second later, I realized the monster I'd become. For the first time since I broke my arm when I was eleven years old, I felt tears running down my face.

I cried because I really did love Linda.

I agonized because I now had a clear picture of what I'd become and I didn't like it at all.

I sobbed because I was now completely alone with someone I hated—me!

My son and his wife, Caleb and Brenda, flew in from their home in San Diego for the memorial service preparations. They wouldn't stay at the house with me. My daughter, Traci, came home from college in Boston but spent most of her time with her brother. She barely acknowledged me. If it weren't for the fact that we needed to meet to plan the service, I'm not sure I would have seen them at all. That was when I realized what my own kids thought of me. They made it clear exactly how they felt when they couldn't stand to be with me, even to mourn as a family.

The pastor who would perform the ceremony left the house, and my kids were making plans for a fast exit.

"Traci, Caleb, can we talk for a minute?"

My son looked at me with either anger or hate—I couldn't tell which. My daughter, with her strong personality, took over as sibling communicator. "What, Anson?"

"Anson? What happened to Dad?"

"Funny you should ask. Caleb and I have wondered the same thing."

Two weeks earlier I would have shot back with something snarky. That day, however, the tear ducts sent Niagara Falls to the surface. No sobbing or wailing, just flooding.

My daughter looked shocked and didn't know what to do. "What's going on? I figured you'd blame us for all your faults. Why the tears, and why now?"

"Kids, can we please sit, and talk?"

We got comfortable in the family room and I gathered my thoughts.

"I've come to a realization. I don't know how it happened, or when. I can't blame anyone but myself. But I look in the mirror and see a shitty husband, terrible father, and a rotten friend. I mean, I guess I've always been a hard guy, but I hate who I am and what I've done. You two and your mother deserved so much more. I can't fix it with her."

I lost a bit of control. I wasn't used to losing containment on these damn emotions. But the hardest question I had for them needed to be asked.

"Is it too late to fix it with you guys?"

And the damn waterfall started again. But there were no comforting hugs or words of encouragement. Just Caleb and Traci looking at each other, and Brenda looking uncomfortable, as if she wished she could crawl under a rock.

My son broke the silence.

"Look, Anson... Dad, it's never too late. I don't think you have a clue how much you've hurt Traci and me over the years. And how you treated Mom was almost unforgivable. She told us she was leaving you, and confessed to us how much hurt and anger she felt. But, you know the funny thing?"

I couldn't talk, but my expression clearly asked him to continue.

"She asked us both to forgive you if we had the chance. As horrible as you were to her, she still managed to consider your needs."

I hung my head in guilt and shame. I had all new adjectives for myself: Fool, jerk, shortsighted, stupid, and moron. Yes, asshole was on the top of the rapidly growing list of undesirable attributes.

My daughter dealt the final blow.

"Dad, you may not have driven the car that hit her, but you killed our mom. You made her life a living hell. She wouldn't have been in that intersection if it wasn't for you. Caleb and I aren't sure how to process or understand the man sitting in front of us. Let's get through the service on Saturday. Caleb and I aren't leaving until Monday. Let's sit and talk on Sunday and see where we go from here."

So, there it was. It was all spelled out for me. If you don't believe me, just look up asshole in Wikipedia. I'm the new benchmark against which all other assholes are measured.

They left me alone the days leading up to Linda's service. Sitting and reflecting on everything in a vacuum while filled with self-loathing and despair is basically what I envisioned hell would be: an eternity of emptiness and regret with no one to love and where no one loves you.

Damn it! I needed love, too. I had it and took it for granted, but I did nothing to earn it or deserve it.

This had to change. I had to change. But... how?

I decided to make a list of what actions I would take to become the man I should have been my whole life. The list was long, but I had some immediate priorities.

First, at Linda's service I owned up to what I did to her. In front of all my family and friends, I asked for Linda's forgiveness, and for the forgiveness of all those who I hurt over the years.

Second, with my kids, we were able to set a path that we all hoped would rebuild our relationships. Weekly calls, visits when possible, and open permission for them to call me on the carpet if I was messing up. It felt like a real possibility that we could recover—that I could recover. We parted with the first hugs I that I could remember in a long time. I told them I loved them. My daughter summed up their thoughts on that pretty well.

"Dad, neither Caleb nor I would say we don't love you. We can say we haven't liked you much. I hope this change you want is real, because we want nothing more. But, fair warning, if you revert back to what you were, you will never see either of us again. Okay? You've got one chance to earn our respect and the relationship we all want."

"I understand. If I start to screw up, please come and knock me out or something. It's taken a hell of a lot of pain and tragedy to wake me up. I'd rather join your mother than go back to being the family asshole who loses everyone he loves."

Two big and difficult items on my list were done or, at least, set in motion. The third big item was actually going to be something I should have thought of sooner. With investments in place, I had more than enough to retire at forty-eight. That was exactly what I planned to do.

The last item on the list was something Linda and I had talked about for years and it brought a tear to the eye of the evolving Anson. It was time for an adventure to clear my head and restart my life. I would take the trip around the world Linda and I always talked about doing together.

Oh, how I wished she was here to go with me.

******

My coworkers had no clue how to deal with Anson Version Two. The day I returned to work, I called in the people that directly reported to me and apologized for being an asshole. I also let them know that it was my job to keep standards high and meet the performance goals, so that didn't mean I was now a pushover. But I told them I knew what they were saying when the called me A.H. and the looks I got were interesting. Some were scared. Some snickered. But all laughed when I made my last statement.

"Look, team. I'm paying a terrible price for being the jerk I've been. I want you all to refer to me now as A.H. so I don't forget what I was and remember who I want to be. Are we good?"

I thought it was interesting that my team suddenly had some true comradery. Why didn't I do this long ago? Oh, yeah. I was an asshole.

Together with my financial consultant, I reviewed my portfolio and made plans for retirement. In eight months, everything would be in place and the timing would be perfect. My investments, together with the inheritance from my parents and Linda's folks, put my portfolio well over fourteen million. I was fortunate to be set up for a comfortable living. By taking only 4% per year of the portfolio value, the earnings on my investments would still grow and keep my future comfortable. I would still gross over $400,000 per year without touching the principle. With other planned financial moves, I would have more than adequate liquid assets.

I needed to involve my kids on two of the financial decisions.

During the three weeks since Linda's service, I made sure to contact them both at least once a week. At first, the calls were a bit tense. When they realized I wanted them to talk about themselves, things lightened up. Caleb hasn't returned the 'I love you' signoff yet, but Traci gave in last week. There's a long road ahead, but I'm willing to take it.

To get them involved in the financial discussion, I set up a Skype conference call to talk things over.

"Hey kids! It's good to see you two together, even if it's on-screen."

"Hi, Dad," they each replied. They called me Dad. That warmed my heart.

"Listen, I've been doing a lot of planning for what I should do going forward. I've told you a little bit when we each talked individually, so you both know about my investments and that I'm going to retire and travel later this year. But there are two things I wanted us to discuss together."

"Okay, Dad," Caleb said. "What's on your mind?"

"Well, the first mostly involves Traci, but I want your thoughts, too, Caleb. This big house isn't really what I need now, so I'm thinking of selling and moving to a nearby condo with lots of amenities. Sweetie, you still live at home when school is out, and I really hope you'll stay as long as you like. Is it okay with you if I sell and make sure the new place is home for you, too?"

"Sure, Dad. Do what you want. I should say that I've considered moving in with some friends, but I haven't made up my mind."

"I can understand at your age and based on our history if you don't want to stay, but I really would like you to. You do what's comfortable for you. Are you still coming home during Spring break?

"Yeah. I'll be there two weekends from now."

"Good. Would you be willing to help me look at condos one of those days?"

"Absolutely, Dad. I'd love that."

"Great! I'll set up some appointments. Caleb, any thoughts on my selling the old homestead?"

"No, Dad. I think you're wise downsizing. Go for it."

"Great. That brings me to the other thing I wanted to talk about. Your mother... Mom had life insurance." I was struggling to keep my voice steady. "I want you both to share the payout from that."

Caleb interrupted. "Dad, don't you need that if you're retiring?"

"No. I told you the value of my investments and that didn't include any of the insurance. Kids, you already know I screwed up big time with your mom. I realized too late how much I loved her, and now I miss her every moment. I don't feel right getting money because she's gone. That policy was bought to protect your futures if anything happened to her, so it should all go to the two of you."

Traci got right to her main concern. "Dad, you don't have to do this to buy us."

"Sweetie, I understand why you might think that. If you told me today that you wanted me out of your lives forever, I would still do this. I'm doing it for your mother. You'll be getting some paperwork from my financial guy. He's setting it up to minimize any tax impact, but he will disperse it any way you want. He's going to lay out the options and discuss them with you."

Caleb asked one more time. "Are you sure, Dad? How much are you talking about?"

"You'll be splitting two million down the middle, and yes, I'm sure."

I was having fun watching them both try to be humble, appreciative, and excited as could be. I don't ever remember feeling so good about anything I'd ever done, but I'd trade it all to have Linda back.

*****

I was never one for going to church, but since Linda's memorial service I started attending regularly. Pastor Hank Stevens had been really helpful with the family at that time, and in the weeks that followed he and I became good friends. Linda and the family had been attending every week for most of their lives and I'm sure Hank knew a lot about me from them, but he seemed to have an ability to see exactly who I was, who I am, and who I want to be. It was a bit unnerving, but he never judged me. I don't know why, but he seemed to actually like me. Two months after Linda's death, Hank and his wife, Nancy, invited me to their home for dinner on a Friday night.

When Hank opened the door to let me in, the unmistakable aroma of roast beef tickled my olfactory pleasure center. I had to keep swallowing to avoid the drool trying to escape my mouth. I was walking into what I missed—a home.

Dinner couldn't have been more perfect. The roast was tender and full of beefy goodness. I loved home-fried potatoes with onions, and it seemed Nancy tuned into my tastes perfectly. To top it off—creamed corn that Nancy froze from the abundant harvest the last summer. We devoured and enjoyed all we could in a relaxed and friendly gathering as we talked about the church, current events and joked about the sorry state of our beloved Washington Redskins.

"I think that owner could win the prize for the worst ever in professional sports," Hank opined.

"Definitely. I know Native Americans are upset with the name, and I don't blame them. But what they don't realize is that the name '

Redskins

' refers to the team's constant state of embarrassment."

"You nailed that, Anson."

"Why don't you boys go get comfortable in the den while I clear the table?"

"Nancy, let me help you."

"Oh, thanks for the offer, Anson. But I have it under control."

Hank and I strolled into a very comfortable room with several recliners that were perfect for digesting a wonderful meal.

"So, Anson, how are things going?"

"Like I told you before, this wake-up call cost far too much. I need to make changes and I've come up with some ideas how to start."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Well, I'm selling the house and downsizing to a condo, and I decided to retire in about six months."

"That's some big changes. Are you sure that's the right thing to do?"

"Look, Hank. As we've gotten to know each other I've been transparent about the kind of man I've been. My career isn't the reason I've been such a lousy guy, but it fed whatever is in me that made me chose to be a world-class jerk."

"Anson, I didn't know much about you prior to Linda's death. I know from what she said that she loved you a great deal, but there was always a 'but' afterward. Why?"

"I don't know. It's something I've been trying to figure out. I've always been intense and driven, but somehow I turned into a guy who didn't seem to give a hoot about other people or, for that matter, what they thought about me. I think I even fed into that and tried to make people dislike me. Well, maybe not dislike, so much, but I wanted to be someone they feared enough that they'd do what I wanted. I guess I was trying to keep them and everything else under my control. Linda's death shattered the foundation of everything I thought I was and wanted to be."

"How so?"

"When I first learned of the accident, my initial thought scared the hell out of me. Sorry, the 'heck' out of me."