Her husband wasn't home, again. She wonders if he will home be in time for dinner.
Sally sighed, put her car in park, gathered up her armload of stuff (purse, lunch box, water bottle, phone, backpack...well you get the idea) and opened her car door. She put one leg out, leaned back, flipped down her visor to check herself out in the mirror. All good. She headed into her house.
It's been a long week for Sally...again.
Bob arrived, parking next to Sally's car. He got out of his car, pulled out his briefcase, locked the car and as he was walking away from the car, checked his phone. He responded to a text, then deleted it.
Bob had had another tough week. He's had suspicions, concerns and worries. You can see it around his eyes. It is weighing on him.
Stress, the body's response to things being inflicted upon it. Bob's life is stress-filled. Life and death shit. Big stakes. It was all coming from his personal life. Things with Sally weren't right. Somewhere in Bob, his soul was being crushed.
"Hey," Bob said, kissing Her. It was a quick kiss on the lips. No passion, a very mechanical kiss. When they were first married, Sally had laid the law down. She required a kiss on her lips from him, coming and going. Every time, no exception. Sorta like being required to kiss the Queen's ring.
"Why you running late?"
"Traffic."
Bob reached in the fridge, grabbed a beer and headed for the TV room.
Sally just didn't know what to make of Bob's behavior these days. Sally thought back to when it was good. Really good. Sad to say, it was a long time ago. A small smile crossed her lips as she remembered their early passions for each other.
Bob walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge, got another bottle of beer and headed back to his TV. He didn't even look at Sally as she fixed dinner.
Bob sat in front of the TV. He wasn't watching it, really. It was just a place for his eyes to go as his mind raced. He knew. What he didn't know was what he would do about knowing.
They had a quiet dinner. The conversation was stilted, and answers longer than a single word were rare. After dinner, Bob returned to his TV and Sally abandoned the dining room in favor of the kitchen.
This was their life now.
************
The "conversation" was nearing an end.
There wasn't much more to say that hadn't already been said.
She screwed up her face, as she looked into his eyes. 'One more shot at it,' she thought to herself.
"Give up, you just can't win." She paused, judging the situation, very keenly observing the impacts her words were having before she continued. "More than that, as I have repeatedly said, I don't want a divorce, and when you think about it, neither will you."
She looked pleadingly in her husband's eyes. He only needed to look at things with just a different set of "assumptions".
"Bob, we are good together, and we are good for each other. I love you, and you know you come first, always. We have always talked and been open and honest with each other, no matter what. We promised each other that right from our start. So, now, here I am, talking with you. I haven't done anything...yet."
She sat back, watching his reaction. She had skillfully played her hand.
"Have you any candidates?" His voice was calm, but he was feeling pretty beat up. This whole conversation was out of the Twilight Zone, but it did explain a lot as to why his wife had been so distant and dismissive of him.
"Yes, but only one," she said, looking him directly in his eyes.
From Bob's point of view, at that exact moment, shit got way beyond way deep and way serious. Bob didn't like it, no not one little bit.
"Does he know he is your "candidate"? asked Bob.
"We have talked," volleyed Sally.
Those words, coming out of her mouth, shocked Bob to his core. Bob's coffee was now cold and bitter. He took a sip, not taking his eyes off his wife.
"You talked!??!" Bob exploded. "Jesus Sally, you put him before me, before us? Fuck!"
Sally pulled back as Bob's true and deep--like, from his toenails deep--anger was given voice. Bob was getting pretty hot under the collar. He really needed to withdraw and gather his wits. That, or open a major can of whoop-ass on Sally. Bob, was concerned, as pissed off as he was, if he started, he didn't think he could stop.
"I have to think, and, and I need to get to the office." Bob said, though clenched teeth, heading out the door.
"That's totally fair. I love you," Sally said to his back, just before the door slammed.
Now that's a tough fuckin' way to start a day. Yep, that type of conversation pretty much portends a pretty shitty day.
--------------
As Bob drove into his office his head was a complete mess. He had not seen this coming. This is so not my wife, thought Bob. This shit was way outta left field.
Now, Bob always considered himself to be a thoughtful man. A reasonable man. Hell, he even considered himself as a progressive, open-minded, civilized man. However, Bob discovered he was, in fact, when it came to his wife, a very, very unreasonable man, a primal man. Sally was Bob's wife. Full stop. There was no way Bob was going to put up with this. It was just not going to happen. Period, end of discussion.
But Bob knew Sally well. She was smart, honest, good, caring...and damned stubborn. If Sally really wanted this to happen, it was going to happen.
Rock meet hard place.
"Damn," Bob muttered to himself, as he struggled to keep his attention on the road.
Bob sighed as he dug into the day's workload, pushing Sally and her shit off to the back of his brain. Bob often did this with intractable problems. He focused on the mundane, day-to-day shit, while deep in his brain the problem was being turned over and over. Like a Grandmaster chess champ, his mind ran out move after move, counter move after counter move.
By the time Bob walked in for dinner he had the beginnings of a plan. But, he needed more information. Going off half-cocked wasn't Bob's style. Bob believed that the first step in solving a problem was NOT even thinking of solutions. Bob knew if he jumped to "a fix", that would color what he knew with guesses and surmises. That's how you misled yourself and made mistakes.
So step one is: forget solutions, study the problem. Pull every loose thread, snoop down dark alleys and don't look at what you find with anything but scientific detachment. When you have clarity, you make your plan.
Then you strike.
After a very, very quiet dinner, Bob and Sally sat down in the large family room to chat.
"Sweetie, I have thought about what you said you want. I have some questions I'd like to get your thoughts on, okay?"
She nodded, watching him intensely.
"First, just to put it out there: I don't like this." Bob paused, gathered himself. Damn this was hard, he thought. Then he plunged ahead.
"Now, if you are determined to see this through, I have, as I said, some questions. You have someone in mind? Who? Does he know you are married? Is he married? If so, does his wife know? Is this a one-time thing? Will it be an ongoing affair? Do you plan to continue this behavior with more and other men!?"
Bob looked at his wife.
Sally looked at her husband.
*
A very pregnant pause entered the conversation.
*
"Well, let's see," Sally said. "Ok, I get you don't like this."
"Excuse me, Sally. Just to be clear, I do not support you doing any of this. Period," said Bob, forcibly.
"Ok, ok, I get it, you don't want this. I understand that, Bob. As to your questions, right now, I have only one man in mind: Sam Rager. I hadn't really thought about having other men. As to your other questions, yes, he knows we are married. I'm just not sure if he is, so I can't answer about his wife." Sally took a breath and continued on. "I don't think so. I'm not sure, and I hadn't considered that, so I'll have to get back to you on that point."
"God, Sally, you are really killing me here!" Bob broke down and started to sob.
"There there, sweetie. It will be alright. Trust me, it will be good for us." Sally leaned over, hugging her husband.
"Sally, I just don't see how this is in any way good for us," Bob said, tears streaming down his face. Each of her words were like rusty, jagged knifes plunging into him and twisting and twisting and twisting. The pain, for Bob, was monumental.
-------
A chill settled over Bob and Sally's house that night. Bob slept, fitfully, on the living room couch. Sally, slept a bit better. She was troubled by Bob's pain, but not enough to lose much sleep over it.
The next morning Bob didn't look well; he was sorta green around the gills. Sally, reasonably well-rested, was perky that morning.
"Good morning, darling husband." Sally smiled at Bob as she poured him some coffee.
