An Appropriate Response

I lied.

I told Emily and the others that I sent an email to my children, Caitlin and Sean Patrick, detailing their mother's betrayal and infidelity. Of course I didn't do that. But I wanted Emily to think I had lost my mind - that I would do something that cruel and that, what's the word - inappropriate. I wanted her to lose confidence that she knew me and could predict what I would do next, and continue to treat me like shit.

On the way from the lake house to the airport, I called the kids. I did need to talk to them before Emily did. Since it was already late at night in Paris, I called Caitlin first.

"Hi Dad. What's up? Is anything wrong?"

"Yes honey there is. I need to tell you something very sad. I know it is going to hit you hard."

"Dad, did someone die?"

"No - but, in a way, yes. I found out over the last few weeks that your mother has been having an affair - and it's with your Uncle Brad. And its been going on for years."

"Oh god! Daddy, this is horrible. Oh my god! How could she do this to us?"

"I don't know honey, but it gets worse. I found out today that I am not your biological father - he is. Both you and your brother. Your mother has been lying to all of us for all these years."

"That asshole is my father! No Daddy - I will not allow this to happen! He will not be my father! You are my father! Daddy - that asshole is a pervert. He has been hitting on me - me and the other older girl cousins. He tries to grab our butts, and he tells us that he wants to see us naked. Dad - How could she do this to us?"

"This will not change anything between us. I am still your Dad, and I will always be."

"Yes, Daddy yes. Daddy, you are going to get a divorce, aren't you?"

"Yes, Honey. Your mother and I are finished."

"I hate her!"

"I know."

It's a 90 minute ride from Lake Winnipesaukee to Manchester airport, so I had time to call also Sean Patrick in Ithaca. The call was just as painful. A few more curse words from my son, but I let him vent. After we got through the meat of the conversation, we made plans.

"Dad, I'll be done with exams on the 10th. Where should I go for Christmas?"

"I will be in Washington, and you can come there for some or all of your break. I know your mother will expect you at home, but it is completely up to you."

"Dad, I am not going home to be with her. I never want to see her again!"

"Buddy, I understand, but I do expect that will change over time. She loves you, and will want to still be your mother."

"Dad, I really don't care what she wants. How can I go from loving to hating in the course of one phone call?"

"Buddy, I completely understand."

After the adrenalin of the confrontation, I was exhausted. I collapsed on the plane but didn't sleep on the short flight to Reagan. By the time I retrieved my car from long-term parking and made it to the condo, it was after 11pm. I stripped, took a shower, grabbed a sandwich and plopped down on the couch to watch the highlights of the football games I had missed.

I had fallen asleep in my chair, and woke up around 5:30am - my regular time.

Over the next few days I felt more or less numb. I kind of expected to go through Kubler-Ross' stages of grief - you know: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. But there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to my emotions. One minute I was angry, then sad, then enraged, then just cold. Mostly cold - numb. Early on, after my talk with my former brother-in-law Matt "Bad News" Barnes, I had decided that I would not hate myself, not second guess if I had been a good enough husband. I know I had. I was a great husband - just not the kind of husband Emily wanted. She wanted someone who would treat her like a slut - because she is one. And I refused to have a slut for a wife, so there was no way I would treat my wife that way. I always led with my brain, and my emotions followed. And that's what would happen now. I was not going to whine and cry like a victim - it was Emily and her sisters who were sick, not me. I would be fine.

On the Saturday after Thanksgiving a package arrived via FedEx. It was carefully wrapped with extra padding, so my mind went to strange scenarios of bombs or perhaps anthrax. Crazy, I know. Then I checked the address and the writing. The first thing I saw inside was a note:

Henry, After you left I realized you did not have any pie. I always make an extra apple pie just for you. It has always meant so much to me that you loved my pie. Love, Sara (Mom)

Beginning on the Sunday after Thanksgiving, and every day after that, Sarah called my cell. I didn't pick up, but I did listen to her messages. Some days it was lengthy - a diatribe about how she need to explain and how she loved me. Other days a few words of a plaintive cry, "Henry, please!" I never returned the calls.

Caitlin and I skyped every day, and Sean Patrick and I texted. Both of them told me that their mother also called them every day. They did not answer. When they told me that, I did not respond. Emily would have to try and rebuild those relationships. The kids are adults, and they get to choose.

On Monday I received a text from a friend, who had heard from his friend at the SEC. The FBI was now involved, and arrests had been made. My asshole future ex-brother-in-law Brad Smithson was in a heap of trouble.

One of the good things about being a professor in the 21st century is that students submit their papers online. I met with my doctoral students via video conference. There was no reason for me to return to campus, or be back in Boston for any other reason, until late January.

On the first Friday night in December I was unloading groceries from my car and my neighbor Ted Evans grabbed a bag and walked in. "Alright, Henry, what's going on? You are not usually here for more than a few days at a time, and never over a weekend. What's up?"

Ted is a good guy, a Prince George's County detective. For as long as I have known him he has been divorced, with grown kids, and a connoisseur of good beer. We grilled steaks - yes, real men grill steaks, even in December - and drank some of his good beer. And I told him the story.

"Oh, man, I am so sorry. I do know how it feels. And don't beat yourself up for not seeing it. I'm a detective and I was blind-sided."

"But how could I have not seen any of the signs?"

"Henry, it is because you weren't looking for them. It is called 'confirmation bias.' You loved your wife, and you believed she loved you. So everything you saw you interpreted as supporting your belief. The only way you would have seen this is if there was a 2"x4" smacking you in the head - like the conversation with - what was his name - "Bad News" Barnes? Only after that conversation did you see the rest of the evidence."

"But Henry, I have to ask you something. If I had been you, I would have burned my house to the ground with my wife in it. You went easy on her - or so it seems to me. Why?"

"I know, it does seem that way - but not everything has happened yet. But there is more to it. When I first figured out that she had not just cheated on me, but absolutely betrayed me, there were two things I immediately decided. One was that I was not going to lower myself to her level. I am a genuinely nice guy..."

"That you are, my man."

"Thanks. I am. And I refused to stop being a nice person. I refused to allow her to turn me into something I'm not. Remember what someone said a while back, 'When they go low, we go high.' Now I know, there are a lot of knuckle-dragging Neanderthals who think the only answer is to, what's the line... burn the bitch. But I refused to do that, because she is the mother of my children, and I knew there will come a day when I would have to face them and be comfortable with how I treated their mother."

"Wait a minute! My knuckles are a good six inches off the ground, but I guess I am a Neanderthal. I tried to destroy my ex. The only thing that stopped me was I knew I would lose my job if I did what I wanted to do to her and her lover. And, now that you say that... I was concerned that I would be seen as a typical cop - with anger management issues. I refuse to be 'that guy.'"

"But, in case you think I am some kind of a saint or something, there is something else. Ted, do you go to church?"

"Well, I used to, when I was a kid. Not so much lately, although I've been thinking about going back."

"Ted, I'm a good Catholic, and I remember in the Book of Romans, Saint Paul talks about treating your enemy with kindness, and it will heap burning coals on their head."

"Henry, Paul is quoting from the Book of Proverbs when he says that."

"I thought you didn't go to church."

"But I did as a kid - a black Baptist church. And in the black church, the preacher preaches from the entire Bible - Old and New Testament, every Sunday. And I remember this passage because I thought it was cool - killing your enemies with kindness."

"Exactly. If I attacked Emily with a scorched earth campaign, it would destroy her - and she would hate me. But if the fire came down from above, she would face something worse than hate - shame. She will spend the rest of her life in guilt and shame for how she treated a good man. She will sit in our house and feel shame. Every time she talks to our kids - shame. Every picture, every memory - shame. She will never have any justification for what she did."

"You are right. That's worse. And best of all, your hate for her doesn't consume you, because you can let it go."

That's right. Or at least I hope so."

Eventually, come mid January, I had to return to Boston. A new semester at Tufts and Harvard meant I had to be there at least three days a week. The lawyer had not received any papers from Emily, and that meant I would have to contact her soon, with a bit of gentle persuasion.

It was 11:45am on Wednesday, and I was at Harvard. I was just ending a lecture on the role of appeasement in 20th century diplomacy, when I saw two men standing outside the door to the lecture hall. As I walked out, I could see it was Will and David, two of my brothers-in-law, both of whom had fucked my wife.

Will spoke first. "Henry, can we speak to you?"

"I don't think we have anything to speak about."

"We really want you to hear our side of this situation."

"Well, let's step into the classroom."

David said, "Couldn't we go to your office for a bit more privacy?"

"No, this will be fine. And this will be brief, I'm sure. Let me just send this text, and then we can talk."

They sat down in the front row, and I stood, leaning against the lectern at the front of the room.

"Go ahead boys. You have about 3 minutes."

They looked at me and each other with a quizzical expression, and then Will began. "Henry, I have the utmost respect for you. I have always considered us friends."

"I think I already mentioned at Thanksgiving how friendship came off the table, but continue."

"Henry, we thought you knew about what was going on. Our wives told us you and Emily had an agreement. That you had an open marriage, and that you were okay with Emily having sex with us."

"Yeah Henry," David piped in, "Denise told me you just were not all that interested in sex anymore, and couldn't meet Emily's needs, so you gave her permission to go elsewhere." And right there - that's when I saw it. David could not control himself. A smirk. And I knew what I was going to do to these two.

"So, why didn't you ask me about it yourself?"

Will again - "I thought it would be embarrassing for you if I brought it up. That you would think I saw you as less of a man."

Now David - "Yeah, a wimp. And we couldn't do that to you. So we just didn't bring it up."

"So, your wives told you that Emily wants to fuck you, and poor old Henry is cool with it, cause he can't get it up. And you just accepted that? I see. So you had no problem making me a cuckold?"

"Yeah, that's right. Er, no!" said David.

"Henry. Anyway, we had known for awhile that Emily and Brad were doing it, and Joanie told me that you were okay with that, so we just thought..." said Will.

"You just thought you could get in on the action too. I got it."

Just then three members of the Harvard Police burst into the room.

"Dr. Guardsman, is everything alright?"

"Thanks officers. I appreciate your prompt response. (I had texted them earlier.) Please escort these two men off campus. They are trespassing. Please get their names, as I want to make sure there is a record of their offense. If you need me to do so, I will be more than happy to file a formal complaint of harassment. And officers, am I correct that such a complaint, if filed, will also go into the databank of both the Cambridge and Boston Police Departments? Is that correct?"

"Yes it is, Dr. Guardsman."

"Well then, I'll stop by after my next class and take care of the paperwork."

As the officers escorted my soon-to-be ex-brothers-in-law out of the lecture hall, I said, "Gentlemen, don't forget about Monty Python - 'No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!'"

For the next few months I spent at least from Tuesday afternoon to Thursday evening in Boston, teaching and advising graduate students at both the Fletcher School at Tufts and the Kennedy School at Harvard. I would catch an early flight from Reagan to Boston's Logan Airport on Tuesday morning, and return to D.C. late Thursday evening. Come summer I would be at Oxford, and beginning in the fall I would move full-time to Palo Alto, as a full professor in International Diplomacy at Stanford. Emily and I had talked about living in both places, and it was our dream for the future. I saw no reason not to pursue my dream without her.

The evening after the visit from Will and David, I spent several hours in my room at my home-away-from-home, the Harvard Square Marriott, doing a bit of video editing. Late that evening I sent an email to Emily, addressed to "Emily O'Hara." One of the conditions of the divorce was that she could no longer use the name "Guardsman."

"Emily O'Hara - The lawyer is still waiting for the papers. Sign and

return them within the next 10 days, or the attached video will be sent

to friends, colleagues, and family.

- Henry Guardsman

Attached to the email was a 10 minute video. The video began with an announcer - type voice: "Ladies and Gentlemen. You think you know Emily Guardsman, now Emily O'Hara. But this is the real Emily. Keep in mind that the video you are about to see documents events that took place while she was married to Henry Guardsman. None of these activities were done with his permission or knowledge. The men in this video are the husbands of Emily's sisters. Viewer discretion is advised."

The next sound is that of Emily yelling, "I am a fucking slut!"

The following Tuesday evening, the next in the cavalcade of stars appeared. Joanie, Will's wife and the sister-in-law I was closest to, came to my office. She had been to my office before, and knew the way past the front security desk.

"Henry, can I come in?"

"Of course. Come in and sit down. I'm about to have some tea. I'm having Throat Coat, as I'm losing my voice with my annual winter bout vocal problems. What would you like?"

"Green, please."

Joanie sat on the couch at the end of the room. I couldn't sit behind my desk with her sitting there, as a conversation would be too awkward with the distance, so I sat in my wingback, across from the couch. Joanie and I had been in these same positions many times. She knew this to be my "thinking chair."

"Henry, I'm so sorry."

"Joanie, I'm sure you are sorry about the end results, but I'm not sure you are sorry about what happened to get us here."

"But I am, I really am. I am hoping you will allow me to tell you what I know."

"Joanie, I really do not need to know any more than what I do. Emily has been fucking Brad behind my back for the entire time we have been married, and it seems everyone knew about it but me. Not only that, but no one thought it was a bad thing. And no one thought it was a bad thing that Emily got pregnant twice by Brad, and all of you allowed me to believe the children were mine. And you have been fucking Brad, as has your baby sister Denise, all with Shannon's permission, and Will and David have been screwing Emily. One big happy incestuous and fucked up family. Welcome to the O'Hara clan!"

"I guess that's about right, but there are some pieces in between I think you should know. But first, you should hear what happened after your presentation on Thanksgiving. My father freaked out. He started screaming at all of us, told us that he is ashamed we are his children, and that you were the only honorable one among us. Emily ran out of the house and was gone until the next morning. We thought she had gone after you, but she was found by the police down at the end of the lake, by Alton Bay, early the next morning. She spent the next day in the hospital. Will and I left right after you did, as did Denise and David. I don't know about them, but Will and I had a huge fight. He was so confused, because I had told him you knew about all of us playing together."

"Please don't use that word. 'Playing' sounds so innocent, and what all of you were doing was anything but."

"I know. Anyway, I really want to walk you through what happened - kind of a 'what did Joanie know, and when did she know it' story. I know it will not lead to you seeing me as innocent, but I need to tell it. Please."

I didn't say anything, but just sipped my tea.

"About five years ago, Emily and Shannon came to Denise and me. They told us about Em and Brad. It was a weird story, but it was almost too impossible to make up. It seems that Brad had been attracted to Emily from the time he and Shannon started dating. One day, before they were married but were living together, he told Shannon that he wished she had a body more like Emily's, and Shannon got really upset. She told Brad, "Well, if you feel that way, why don't you just go and fuck her!" This was before you and Emily had even met. That night Emily was coming over to Shannon's apartment for dinner, and when she got there Shannon was not there. Brad got Emily drunk - you know how Em cannot handle any alcohol - and he seduced her. Shannon came back and Brad had Emily in bed. Brad took Emily's virginity. Well, of course, Shannon was enraged. She kicked Brad out. And Emily was ashamed. Emily left and Shannon did not hear from Emily for weeks. Shannon forgave Brad, but Emily still could not face her. Shannon had to beg her to be in the wedding."

"Once you started dating Emily, Brad got really jealous. That first Thanksgiving, when you came to the house, Shannon and Brad had a huge fight. Shannon had to go on a week-long trip to North Carolina for work, and she was really thinking about leaving Brad. During that trip - this was right before you and Em got engaged - Brad contacted Emily and asked her to come over for dinner. She didn't know Shannon was gone. Brad seduced her again, and I guess that is when the affair really started. Emily had always been envious of all the attention Shannon got for her beauty - while Em thought of herself as the 'ugly duckling.' Now here was a handsome man who wanted her. Of course, Shannon knew nothing about it."

"But what about me? Based on the timeline, this is when we were supposedly falling in love."

"Henry - I know. It makes no sense. It is as if Emily was living two lives. She was regularly having sex with Brad, while at the same time confessing her undying love for you. And honestly, I don't think she consciously saw the insanity of this. There is no doubt that she loved you - loves you. Yet she was doing this behavior that is so contrary not only to that, but also to her moral values - including betraying her sister."

"So the two of you get married, and she stops seeing Brad for a few months. But then Brad begs her, and they start again. And he starts getting really rough with her, including forcing her to do things she was not doing with you. Brad knew the two of you were trying to get pregnant, and he purposely broke the condom. Emily gets pregnant and freaks out. She is sure you are going to leave her, unless she can convince you that the baby is yours."