Cast Your Bread Upon The Waters

A Brief Preface:

It's been a hectic time. I have several really long complicated stories at various stages of completion, but this one just emerged out of nowhere so I got it down on paper before I lost it.

Hope you enjoy it.

*

It's all hindsight I guess. I came home late, after 9:00 p.m., and found my loving wife wasn't home. She hadn't left a message, and she hadn't left anything out for me to eat. This hadn't been the first time she's done this. I found out it wouldn't be the last.

Was I pissed off? Well no, not anymore. I'd known something'd been going on for some time. Oh I suppose I was pissed or should have been, at least at first, but what's the old line; 'we learn to adjust', or is it 'we learn as we go'. You see here's what's happened.

My name's Chase Royster; twenty-six, just 6 feet, around 200 lbs. I went right to work at eighteen after high school; started out as a carpenter, yep just pounding nails. But I got around a little, made some friends, established some contacts and took it a step farther.

About a year and a half ago I went out on my own. Had a little, very little money, but still got going on my own. There're lots of people, well not lots, but enough out there who've bought property and are looking for someone to put something up for them.

I'm no Frank Lloyd Wright, but I can put up a split foyer, two-story, or rancher as well as anybody. I'm good, yeah, real good, and I've got friends, subcontractors who're trying to get out on their own too. It's working for me.

OK, you know about me. Why am I late every night? It's June, the weather's good, and if I don't get it done now when will I?

Now my wife; a bubbly little brown haired brown eyed well-built bimbo who thought she knew me and my schedule. Regrettably she thought she knew a lot of other things too.

Here's what's happened. Susan, that's my wife, is two years younger than me. We met and dated in high school. I fell in love, and I thought she'd fallen in love with me. Who knows; she might have? She graduated and we got married.

Susan's from a broken home; she and her younger brother were raised by a single mom who worked two part time jobs just to keep food on the table so post high school opportunities for Susan were pretty much nonexistent.

We got married, and for the first year I continued pounding nails while Susan worked at, you guessed it, Walmart. We were OK; no kids yet and no plans for any until we'd put a little aside for a house.

Then Susan started to get ideas, said she wanted to improve herself; said she wanted to go to college. I was all for it so we got her started at the nearby community college. Susan loved it. She decided she wanted to go on and do the four year thing. Not real handy at math, but an avid reader she opted for something in Psychology. She said with a Psychology degree she could get a position with the local government or some school helping people, preferably children.

I supported her. I picked up the tab for tuition, books and the other assorted things that go with college. Susan really applied herself. She cut back her hours at Walmart, then quit altogether so she could maximize her class and study time. It worked. College is supposed to be normally a four year stint; Susan was through in three and half.

Everything looked good, great in fact. That is everything looked good to me; Susan, somewhere along the line started to get other ideas. Is anyone surprised?

Since it all turned out I remember reading about this. I'd read about it on line and in a few books. I'd casually acquired through the public library and at the local bookstore added content. Come on, I might not be college, but that doesn't make me stupid.

Long about the last year of Susan's studies I started to pick up the subliminal signs; the usual stuff. Anybody who's ever been there knows what I mean; the eye rolls, the matter of fact or deflective responses to legitimate questions, the dismissive remarks, the condescension, and what I'd call, hyper-critical behavior.

Who was Susan kidding? She'd slowly come to believe that because of a few college courses and a handful of term papers she'd become smarter and outgrown the person she once loved but who was still her meal ticket.

I watched her. At first I let it slide, but as she got worse I got angry, but pretty quickly I realized my anger was a wasted product. I was only internalizing it anyway. Then my anger turned to sorrow. Sure I loved her, but I was young. If she'd gotten 'cabin fever' and wanted to pull out, I'd be sad, but I'd get over it. That's a little bit of what happened, sort of, I guess.

So far it's been all me just blathering. I'll try to recount how things finally started to break down as best I can. It was just a little while ago, maybe a year, a Tuesday night. I got home late, and Susan was there waiting for me. She was seated at the kitchen table in our first house, an older thing, a fixer upper, a nice equity builder.

I walked in the door and there she was, she started, "Chase...I know you're tired, but we need to talk."

I'd known this was coming. I even knew who my nemesis was. I pulled out a chair, it's all used furniture, "OK sweetie what's up?"

"Chase I know we're married, and I know I promised, but I'm unhappy. I want to start seeing other people, other men."

This was cool; I expected her to ask me for a divorce, but to just run around and say she wanted to date; what'd she think I was some fool, some wimp? I sat there a moment. I was tired, really pooped, and getting into something like what she had in mind, where, if we did, she'd end up crying, and I'd just end up mad. It didn't make sense.

I needed a comeback, but first I had to control my temper. I just sat there for maybe five minutes drumming my fingers on the table and staring at her. That had two effects; it helped me stay controlled and it frightened her.

I waited, sure enough she broke and said, "Oh I don't mean sex or anything. I just want to get out. You understand; I've met people who have the same interests as me. Some of them get together and have, well they have these group discussions, intellectual things."

Intellectual things, group discussions; now that was silly. There were no group discussions and there weren't any groups of people; it was one man, a Psychology teacher, not a professor, a teacher at the community college. I knew him, I'd met him once or twice, nice guy, his name was Ryan Fletcher. He fancied himself something of a hunk, and I guess he was. He was about my height, but he worked out, he jogged, he belonged to a sport's club, he wore custom clothes, drove a sport's car, if you call a late model Mustang a sport's car, and he drank wine and mixed drinks, I didn't, and haven't had anything to drink since high school, not even beer.

Oh come on, Susan hadn't been my 'first' girl; there'd been others, others I thought I loved too, one especially, but I kind of thought Susan and I had something. I thought I was moving toward having the big house and kids of our own. I would've enjoyed having a little girl who looked like Susan, and maybe a couple boys like me. I thought that's what all people wanted. I thought that's what Susan wanted. I guess well...

Growing impatient and maybe a little chary she looked at me more closely, "I don't mean I want to leave you Chase. I love you. I really do. I mean it. I still do. I just want to get out more, do other things. Diversify, be more...cosmopolitan."

I listened; man that word, cosmopolitan, that was a Fletcherism. I'd heard him use it. Finally I replied, "You want a divorce. Is that it?"

So there it was. I'd put it on the table. I thought either she'd jump at it or let it sit there and smell. She decided to let it smell.

She sat back. Yeah, I'd caught her on that one. I watched her get flustered; she blanched, and then blushed, "No, no. I want to stay married, I just..."

I don't curse. My mom and dad raised me right. I replied, "You just want to have sex with Ryan Fletcher is that it?"

This time she turned fifty shade of red, "No, no. I'm faithful. I'll stay faithful. I just want to go out more, be with new people," then she hesitated. She realized I knew more than she thought, "Why'd you mention Mr. Fletcher?"

I thought, 'Mr. Fletcher was it? I bet it was Ryan, or Ryan honey, when it was just them.' I yawned and stretched, "Look I'm tired. I'm going to bed. You decide what you really want and tell me about it tomorrow night," I added, "Why don't you call lover boy Ryan if you need advice?" Then I went her one further, "Oh and no sex for me tonight. You're probably 'full' anyway."

I got up and went upstairs to bed.

I guessed she followed me up later. I don't recall as I'd gone straight to sleep; well not exactly straight to sleep, I thought about 'things' a little.

I got up my usual time the next morning and she was already in the kitchen. She'd fixed coffee. I seldom ate breakfast; most of the time I stopped at Dunkin Donuts, got a muffin and a cup of something on my way in. Susan had never interfered with my schedule before so I didn't expect anything this morning. She always had my lunch ready, and that was nice, but that was about it. This morning I was right and wrong.

I got downstairs and she was up waiting for me, she said, "Look honey I was wrong about what I said last night. I want to take it back. Let's pretend I never said anything. I'm happy with you. I don't care about any of that other stuff."

She stepped forward. I think she was expecting a kiss and a hug, not likely. I gave her what I hoped was a haphazard smile, "Whatever...Will you be home tonight?"

She got real earnest, pretending to be sincere, "Of course I'll be home."

As I pushed through the back door I paraphrased what I'd said the night before, "All right. Well you talk things over with Ryan and tell me tonight what the two of you come up with," I walked on down the drive to my truck.

As I walked I heard her say out the door, "Chase I'm not seeing anybody. Certainly not Ryan!"

I just turned and waved as I got in my truck. Who was she kidding?

On my way to work I started thinking; now thinking, that's a bad thing to do before work since so much at work depends on accuracy and safety. Thinking can get in the way. Still, it was a cool forty minute drive so I figured I could think a little, and then compartmentalize once I was on the job.

I'm no engineer, but I can think analytically. I narrowed it down to four, maybe five things.

First, I had my pride. I'd always thought I was enough for Susan. Coupled with that I guess was my belief in her maturity and self-awareness. If I wasn't enough, and I'm not thinking sex, damn I'm only twenty-six, no problem there; then it was something else. Cripes, in the sex department it's Susan who could've used some help. That's another story.

Of course, it had to be that 'college mystic'. Guys like Fletcher were 'sophisticated; me I was just a carpenter. It reminded me of that old Matt Damon movie "Good Will Hunting". There was the scene where Matt one upped the college boy in the bar, but in that movie Minnie Driver saw through the phony. In my case Susan was too immature and too star struck to see the difference between the tinsel that was Fletcher and the substance that was me.

I guess it made me mad she couldn't see it, but there wasn't anything I could do about it. Worse, if she didn't see it now, she'd never see it. That hurt. I loved Susan, but I realized, no matter the outcome currently, if not now she'd be off with someone behind my back someday.

That was the second thing. What she'd said, and clearly what she's been doing emotionally, if not physically already, made me feel incredibly sad. I hated to admit it, but last night lying alone in bed, and this morning it was like watching someone slowly disappear as they drifted off in the distance. They keep getting smaller and smaller until you can't see them anymore. Kind like a death I guess. She was drifting away. What Susan and I had was dying, I saw it, and I felt bad.

Third, I guess there was some concern about what others would think. I considered that, I thought about who it might matter to, and threw that one right out. I liked her mom and her little brother, but this would be their loss not mine. My parents and brothers would be bothered, but once they got the inside scoop they'd be good. That only left my colleagues and friends. Shit on them; if it went to divorce, and it probably would, they wouldn't take sides, and if they did it wouldn't matter.

Then there was the financial piece to consider. We didn't have much in the way of money, and there were no kids, but if there was a divorce my new business might require me to come up with some form of alimony, at least until Susan got on her feet. I didn't like the sound of that, but I figured there were ways around it if I found the right lawyer.

Then last, what about my personal well-being. I mean I'd certainly be heartbroken, heck I already was, and I'd be lonely too, at least for a little while. Then again, no, maybe I wouldn't. I married Susan because I loved her, but there'd been other girls. There'd been one, Ginger McAllister. I asked Susan, but Ginger had been a close second. Better even; since my marriage Ginger had been married and divorced. I not only thought, I knew she'd gotten married because I got married. She jumped into another guy's bed without thinking. I wondered if she ever thought of me when she was in bed with her husband. I'll bet she did. I know I'd thought about her.

Ginger was a nurse at the local hospital. She had a job, she had warm feelings for me, and I knew she didn't date, she was available. I had a good alternative, maybe the better choice, things sometimes happen that way.

So I got to work, put in a good day, and went home.

When I got back home Susan was there. She'd fixed a nice meal, and we ate. After dinner I brought the subject up, "Well Susan, what have you decided?"

She reached across and took my hand, "I love you Chase. I'm sorry for what I said. It was stupid. I guess I just wasn't thinking."

"Then," I said, "These group discussions and the seeing other men things are off the table."

"Oh Chase," she started, "I never meant anything like dating. I meant seeing other men as in seeing them in group discussions."

I didn't believe a word of it. She and Fletcher had cooked something up, but I didn't need or want to start trouble, they'd do that. I said, "Look Susan, you've earned a degree in Psychology. Soon, once you get a job you'll be using it to help people. I don't want to stand in your way. If group discussions, or whatever they call them, group seminars, will help you become better prepared and maybe find a position, then you should go for it."

"You think so," she asked?

I gave her what I hoped was an approving but thoughtful smile, "If you think it's a good idea."

She crossed the distance between me and her and climbed on my lap, "I don't think I need to do anything like that, but thank you for giving me your blessing. I love you so much sweetheart," and with that she gave me a big kiss.

Honestly I figured I'd just given her 'carte blanche'. Now I bet she could go out and jump in bed with Fletcher, just as long as I didn't find out about it. I groaned, "Look sweetie. I'm exhausted, and I've got a truckload of supplies coming early in the morning. Would you mind if we put things off for one more night?"

Susan wrapped her arms around my neck. She kissed me tenderly on the lips, "No honey we can wait."

Right then I knew. From here on it was just finding a way to catch her. I got up, kissed her again, and whispered, "OK sweetie pie. I love you too." With that out of the way I went to bed.

The next several days, all through the weekend life went about the same; me coming home after sundown, going straight to bed, getting up with the sun, and working my tail off. The whole time 'things' sort of preyed on my mind. For one Susan hadn't found a job. I was pretty sure she and Fletcher were getting it on while I was at work, and just as bad, the idea that the something I thought I once had I didn't have anymore. I supposed sooner or later I'd have to get it together and do something.

I finally decided to decide. I made one hard and fast decision. I was pretty sure they were screwing around, I just didn't know where. If they were using my house I decided I'd scramble Fletcher's brains. If they were using his place, a motel, or some office at the college then I wouldn't be half so worried.

Along those same lines I appreciated the fact that this wasn't about Fletcher; it was about Susan. Sure it was Fletcher, but if it hadn't been him, sooner or later, it would've been somebody. Oh Fletcher was a cad, a creep, the cool 'frat boy' type who'd landed an easy job at a small 'nowhere' college, but he wasn't the problem.

I needed to find things out. First I called a lawyer and set up a meeting and a plan. Next I checked the local directory and found Fletcher's street address. Then I looked into his credentials; an MS in Psychology. Not much after all was it? Susan's car, her little Nissan, had a GPS. I figured I'd use that to track her movements. I could track her without missing time from the job. Susan had an I-Phone too. I could link into it and read all her texts. All I had to do next was collect some data and wait for the propitious moment.

When I got a lawyer he explained, if we could get Susan to sign off I'd probably have to pay something, but I might keep her out of my business. Otherwise he said I could simply file bankruptcy and start over after the divorce. I know that's an oversimplification, but it sounded right to me. Heck, I heard this one guy went belly up four times. I could do it once, and the only person I'd put out of work would be me. That wasn't exactly true; a few guys could get hurt.

Following Susan's activities turned out to be easier than I thought. She left the house every day around 11:00 a.m. and either went to the community college or straight to 13710 Maple Crest. The Maple Crest location was where Ryan Fletcher's apartment was located. He lived on the third floor of an apartment building that was part of a complex built in the 1970's. Nice once; they were considerably less so now. I wondered if Susan had any understanding of what and who she was getting herself in to. Considering his qualifications and what I'd found out about college salaries this Fletcher was probably at the absolute low end of the scale; he most likely earned about half of what I pulled in. Worse, or worse for Susan, if she wasn't careful, of course that was a stupid thought by now, I was on an upward trajectory, Mr. Ryan Fletcher was probably already near his peak.

Come on, I'd looked around, Susan's career choice wasn't so much a bad one as it was a meaningless one. Psychologists with Susan's level of preparation were a dime a dozen, and Fletcher was hovering just a rung above her.

In a way that made it worse for me. Susan wasn't stupid; she must know Fletcher's prospects weren't all that much. Was she really in love with the guy, and if she was, had she fallen so deeply that she'd be willing to set aside the comfortable life I'd be able to provide for what would be at best a life of genteel poverty?

Was I that bad? No, I didn't think so. I figured Susan was in love with a concept, an idea. Rather than wintering over in the Bahamas, an overstatement for sure, or maybe enjoying trips to the big cities for shopping and plays and concerts, or just having fun spending all the money I'd be making, she'd rather opt for cups of java or glasses of cheap wine while sitting around talking about how gifted and smart they all were. Oh well, the choices we make...