For some, going to spend a weekend with the in-laws would be considered a form of punishment. Not me.
I had a great love for my wife's parents. Estelle and Lonnie Pearce were caring and loving people that accepted me from the beginning.
They had operated their own cleaning business for nearly 40 years. They never got rich, but they would remind you that they always had plenty to eat and their kids never hurt for clothing and school supplies.
They were the epitome of the humble and honest working class. I admired them greatly.
I was married to their daughter, Wanda. I was treated like the son they never had. Their other daughter, Suzie, had been married for 11 years and divorced for the past 15 years.
Her only marriage was to a podiatry doctor, Dr. Zachary Boone, that had two major problems...alcohol and other women. After years of verbal abuse and humiliation, she left him and essentially raised their daughter on their own.
Their daughter, Gina, just recently graduated from college, married an architect and moved 100 miles north of us.
Estelle and Lonnie had retired, sold their house in the valley, and moved to a much more modest mobile home on the Central California coast.
It was a small 2 bedroom and 2 bath home with a small back yard. However, they loved living near the ocean and moving 110 miles west of where they'd always known as home was worth the effort.
Wanda and I have been married for 27 years. I have been working as a truck driver for the past 25 years. For the first 8 years, I drove all over the country under every imaginable driving conditions. Rain, snow, sleet, ice, hail, and strong winds were some of the dangers.
Finally, the company I work for, and love working for, had an opening for a local run, Monday through Thursday. I was always home by 4:30 each day.
The money is okay, but not great. I have made many friends through work contacts, including my two golfing buddies, Zach and Brett. Zach and Brett are brothers that own a machine shop and I always had deliveries for them at least once a week. The friendship took off from there and we would meet up on most Saturday mornings, when the weather allowed, and do our 18 holes.
Wanda, however, was CNA at a local hospital when we first met. Since that time, she became an LVN, an RN, and eventually moved up into critical care management. At the time this story begins, she's the manager of the large ICU unit at that same hospital where she began her career.
To characterize our marriage as good would be generous. It's more tolerable. We don't fight a lot. To be fair, we don't see each other enough to have much time for fighting.
Our sex life is lacking; at least from my perspective. Once or twice a month for a man in his early 50s with a very strong sex drive isn't nearly enough. Her effort and enthusiasm is often lacking when she does put out.
The excuses of physical and mental fatigue are the most frequently used reasons for a lack of interest. I can't prove otherwise so I just keep quiet and be appreciative of the times she does put out.
She also earns a lot more than I do. I knew about her ambitions when I married her. I knew that she'd eventually a lot more money. That has never seemed to be a problem for either of us.
Our two sons had opted for military service before going to college. Our oldest, Stu, decided to make it a career. Our youngest, Len, has two more years and then he plans on moving where my sister lives in Georgia and attending Georgia Tech.
There was a family get-together at her parent's house on the coast for the weekend. Her mom's sister and husband would be there as well as Suzie and us. Wanda had arranged for a three- day weekend. I looked forward to the trip. Maybe with Wanda being able to relax for three days, it might make her more willing to put out.
Also, I simply enjoyed being around her parents. Wanda was so much like them when she was younger. Time and life seemed to change Wanda from the fun-loving and light-hearted young lady to a more pseudo-intellectual snob. For her, sleeping on an inflated mattress was beneath her. She couldn't tell them that or she knew she'd get a lecture about humility and being a gracious guest.
When we were younger, sleeping in a tent on a mattress would have been fun and an invitation for as much sex as we could handle.
What would REALLY anger her was when they'd make a remark to her about being more like me. You could almost SEE her blood pressure go up when they'd make remarks like that.
It was more like camping. With only one extra bedroom, her aunt and uncle got the extra room. Two medium sized tents were put in the back yard with inflatable queen mattresses on the ground.
I didn't mind it at all, but Wanda whined about it on the way. She wanted to get a hotel nearby, but I talked her out of it. Although we had the money for a hotel, we were invited guests. She probably could win that argument with me. She would never win it against her mom or dad.
Although people of modest means, her parents always went all-out for guests when it came to dining. Friday night, the chicken, beans, salad, and pies were enough to feed at least twice the number of people. We knew to expect more of the same for breakfast and dinner the next night.
As usual, the conversations flowed easily and cheerfully throughout the evening. Only Wanda seemed slightly disconnected from the fun. She sat, politely, and mostly listened to the tales of the elder men and barely reacted to any of the humor shared.
As it grew close to 11pm, we decided to go to bed...or in this case...the air mattress in the backyard tent. Suzie bid us a fond goodnight as she zipped up her tent for the evening.
I fruitless attempted to engage Wanda in some light foreplay. It was my hope that being in a more relaxed atmosphere without the distractions and interruptions from the job would make it easier for her.
"Not tonight, Bob," she said, with an emphasis on the word "tonight".
Naturally, I was disappointed. I seldom argued much about it, but I couldn't think of a better opportunity.
"Shit, Bob. My sister is in the tent right next to us. I don't want her to hear."
I wasn't buying it.
"I remember camping several years ago and she was in the tent next to us and you had no problem doing it then," I reminded her.
"Well. I was younger and much more foolish back then."
"Maybe so, Wanda, but you seemed to enjoy it so much that we did it again the next night. I also remember you didn't make any serious effort to tone down your voice back then. So what if she does hear us? We're married, it's what married people do."
"Bob, the answer is NO. Got it? Stop bitching to me about it."
That was the final word. I wasn't getting any that night either.
The next morning, Momma Pearce had set up an omelet bar. She and Dad Pearce each took our selections and made us nice, fluffy, omelets. She had also fried up some diced potatoes with peppers and onions.
Wanda passed on the omelet and had a small portion of the potatoes and some orange juice. As we all pitched in to clean up the kitchen mess, Wanda got a phone call.
"Uh huh? Really? That bad, huh?"
Her parents and I could hear her end of the conversation.
"No, that's okay. I can be there. Give me about 2-3 hours. No problem. Bye."
Wanda looked at us. She knew we had been listening.
"Gotta go home now, Bob. Got to get to work. Very high census and not nearly enough nurses to cover. Let's go, now!"
I was disappointed. I wasn't ready to go home. Mom and Dad Pearce must have sensed it.
"Go ahead, Wanda. I'm sure Bob can hitch a ride back home tomorrow with Suzie. Is that right, Suzie?"
