This is a rewrite of a story that I'd written that apparently crossed some boundary that I was unaware of. If I offended anyone, I apologize. I assure you my error was one of ignorance not malice.
*
I stumbled out of bed with a head that felt like it was going to explode. Once in the bathroom, I quickly downed two aspirin. My stomach felt like it was going to rebel, so I hung by the toilet for about ten minutes. During that time, it all came back to me. My name is Ron Jamison, and when I returned from work yesterday, my "loving" wife, Chrissie, blindsided me. She started off telling me that she loved me but then explained that she had been seeing another man for the past year and was in love with him also.
She explained it as a simple act of caring. The man, who she refused to name, had been in a horrible car accident, and his wife had been killed while he walked away without a scratch. He felt so terribly guilty about this.
Chrissie explained that she just started out trying to help him deal with his emotional pain, and they'd fallen in love. And yes, she admitted that they had had sex. Chrissie even admitted that sometimes the sex was very good. Of course, throughout this entire nightmare of a conversation, she insisted that she loved me and would eventually return to me. But as long as this man needed her, she was going to be there for him. She assured me that she would be there for our kids and me as well. The man was considerably younger than her, and she knew that eventually, he'd move on. But, for however long he needed her, she wanted to be there for him.
This was about the worst nightmare any married man could walk into. Stunned, I did what just about any man would do, I accused his wife of being a slut and whore. At that point, Chrissie unloaded on me. She told me she was totally disappointed in my reaction. Chrissie actually had the audacity to say to me that if I really loved her, I would accept the situation. She told me that in our wedding vows, I promised to love, honor, and cherish her. It was clear that Chrissie was disappointed and angry with me. I was beyond furious, and to keep from hitting her, I started drinking and yelling.
When I calmed down a little, I asked her how she would like it if I found another woman? Chrissie said, who would want me? According to her, I was an overweight, middle-aged man with thinning hair. She also warned me that if I tried to divorce her, she'd ruin me.
I was beyond livid and totally at a loss as to what I could or should do at that moment. My brain was in total meltdown. I couldn't process anything logically. Perhaps not my finest moment, but I continued to drink and rage at Chrissie. She packed a bag and announced that she was leaving and would go to her lover until I could calm down and accept the situation. I didn't remember much after that.
As I sat on my bed, our bed, I decided to take stock. Chrissie was right, I was middle-aged, and my hair was thinning. And I had to admit that I was also about twenty pounds overweight. I couldn't do anything about being middle-aged, but I knew I could do something about the hair and the weight. But before I would do anything, I had to find out where my kids were. It was Saturday morning, so they should be here at home. A quick search of the house showed that they weren't. So, where the hell did Chrissie stash them?
I was about to call her parents when I heard a car pull up in the driveway. When I looked out the window, it was Chrissie's car. I could see our kids getting out and heading toward the house. I met Chrissie at the front door.
"Good, I see you're sober," she said with a snap to her voice.
"Where were the kids?" I asked with a snap to my voice.
"They were with me. I couldn't very well leave the kids with you."
"You didn't take them to that fucker's house, did you?" I hissed.
"Ron, watch your language," she snapped once again. "they were already there," she said as though that was absolutely natural. "My friend is a wonderfully kind person. You, on the other hand, were disgraceful yesterday. I wouldn't dare have left them with you."
"Fair point about me," I admitted. "But why didn't you take the kids to your parent's place?"
"They weren't home," Chrissie said as she breezed by me and went upstairs. I followed her into our bedroom. "Are you here to stay, or are you going running back to your lover."
"Oh, please, Ron, stop being so childish. I told you how things are going to be. I have no intention of arguing with you about it. The discussion is over. Accept it or don't, that's your choice. Even though you're acting like an ass, I still love you. And as I told you, when he no longer needs me, I'll be back full time."
"So, what do we do now?" I was fighting to keep my cool.
"Right now, I'm going to pack a few things because I'm going to spend a few days with my friend until you finally cool down and accept the situation."
"What about the kids?" I thought that might shame her into staying. It didn't.
"If you don't want to watch them, call my parents, I'm sure they will." Chrissie then packed another bag of clothes and left.
At this point, my head was ready to explode. However, I knew I had to keep it together for the kids. But I wasn't going to take Chrissie's affair lying down. No self-respecting man would.
After Chrissie left, I checked on the kids and asked them if they had any homework. All three said they did. I told them to get on it right away. There was a lot of moaning and groaning until I informed them that when they were finished, we'd go over to Pop-Pop and Grammy's house. They're Chrissie's parents. The kids all cheered. They loved going there because Pop-Pop was helping all three of my kids build go-karts. They had been working on them, off and on, for several months. The karts had to be close to being finished.
Chrissie's parents, Sam and Mary, lived on a small farm about fifteen minutes away. They were both retired, and Sam just loved tinkering. In addition to doing a little farming, he loved to build and repair things. He had a very substantial workshop he used for all of his projects, and that's where they worked on the carts. When time permitted, I would lend a hand. I'm a certified dealer mechanic for the local Ford Dealership. It's the largest dealership in the tri-county area.
I wanted to talk to Chrissie's parents to see if they knew about her boyfriend, and more importantly if they knew who he was. I also wanted to get their advice as to what I should do. I had always had a great relationship with them. Since my parents lived three states away, I considered Sam and Mary as my surrogate mother and father. However, I was a little apprehensive because I was afraid, they would take Chrissie's side in this whole mess. That would totally destroy our relationship.
I went room to room, checking that the kids were doing their homework, and they were. It was then that it struck me just how much my kids were my pride and joy. Ron-Ron was the oldest, and he was sixteen. Only the close family called him Ron-Ron. We started that to avoid confusion as to whether Chrissie was talking to our son or me.
He was quite a football player but really wasn't big enough to get a scholarship to college. Sally was a year younger and a typical teenager. She loved to push the boundaries but was a great student. Kyle, the baby, was only eleven. He hated being called the baby, but Chrissie would still do it. Kyle was a happy accident. We weren't planning on having any more kids when Chrissie discovered she was pregnant. But Kyle had been such a happy-go-lucky child that he was a joy to have around.
While the kids worked upstairs, I made myself a cup of coffee and started to make a list. I had a lot to do, and I didn't know how much time I'd have to do it. The first thing I did was to call my boss, Bob Clarkson, and fill him in on my problem. I had worked for the dealership since it was founded twenty-three years ago. And Bob had been my boss for at least fifteen years. If I do say so myself, I was one of the better mechanics at the dealership.
Bob listened to my tale of woe and was very sympathetic as his son had gone through a messy divorce a year before. It had gotten really, really nasty. Nasty to the point where his son's ex-wife, Carol, accused him of molesting their daughter.
"Damn," I said. "That is one cold bitch."
"Tell me about it," Bob said with evident bitterness. "It was touch and go for about a week. We expected the police to arrest Gary at any minute. These are the kind of accusations that are devastating and almost impossible to disprove. And the police run scared every time a woman starts pointing the finger at a man. The only thing that saved Gary was his ex-mother-in-law. When Carol told her mother that Gary had molested her granddaughter, I think she thought that would be the final nail in Gary's coffin. Everyone knows Bev is ruthless. What I didn't know was that she has an equal share of fairness. She immediately took her granddaughter out of pre-school and took her to her general practitioner. Bev had the doctor examine her granddaughter to determine if she had been molested. The doctor stated unequivocally that there was no way her granddaughter had been molested. Armed with that information, Bev marched over to the police department and told them if they pursued charges against Gary, she would testify against her daughter. Then Bev told Carol that if she pursued this course of action, she would tell the court about her drug problems, and she'd lose her daughter."
"God bless, Bev," I said, somewhat shocked to learn what women are capable of doing to get their way.
"Amen, to that," Bob replied. "So, if there is anything I can do to help you, let me know, Ron. If it's within my power to make it happen, I will."
Since I had twelve personal days and six weeks of vacation time accrued, I asked for the following week off. Bob readily agreed, and in fact, he told me if I needed to take all of my personal days and my vacation together, he'd work it out for me. As it turned out, that is precisely what I did.
"There is something else you can help me with," I explained. "I need the name of a good divorce lawyer if you know one."
"That's easy," he said. "Use the attorney my son used. He cleaned Carol's clock. Gary got primary custody of their daughter, gets to live in the house, and Carol has to pay child support. His name is Dwight Tucker. I think I still have his number here somewhere. The messier my son's divorce got, the more we communicated through lawyers, and it got to where I started hearing Mr. Tucker's name in my sleep."
