Four Pieces

I never intended a sequel to my earlier story. Sometimes it's just that moment in time that I want to examine. Then I got to wondering what kind of man has an affair with a married woman? That led me down this road and I hope you find it interesting.

*****

"God, no, you don't understand... Wait a minute. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I shouldn't say 'God' like that. I know. You don't like that. It just slipped out." I was trying to get him to understand, but I was off to a bad start. "I'm not a bad guy. I'm not the guy you think I am. Really! I'm a good guy. People like me."

This is like talking to a wall. He just stands there with his arms crossed and stares at me. I know he hears me, but he just looks at me like he's judging me. He doesn't even blink. I need to make him understand. He's got it all wrong.

"Let me go back to the beginning, ok? Let me explain. My name is Jack Crane. I'm not even supposed to be here yet. I'm supposed to be playing golf today. I know some people have been telling stories about me, but I didn't do anything wrong. I have this friend; well, he was my friend, but then he stopped speaking to me. That was, you know, before... He even said he'd beat the crap out of me if he ever saw me again. Sorry, I didn't mean to say 'crap'. I know you don't like that. Anyway, his name is Tom Benton and his wife's name is Marie. Oh God, Marie is a real looker. Sorry. I said 'God' again. You see, that was the real problem; she knows she's sexy and she flirts all the time. She flirts with all the guys. I was friends with Tom for years and for all that time I never did anything about it. She flirted and I behaved myself; I was the good guy. I mean, sure, we danced sometimes and we played a little grab ass, but it was all just harmless flirting. It didn't mean anything. Tom and I were friends. Lots of times he and I would watch the game together, we'd drink beer, you know - do guy stuff. We got along great, but his wife kept flirting with me. I mean, a guy can only handle so much."

What's with this guy? He doesn't even blink. He just keeps looking at me like I'm something he just scraped off his sandal.

"You know, and that's another thing. Tom wrote that story about me and he never even mentioned my name. He just kept calling me 'HIM'. I do have a name, you know. He calls me 'HIM' like I'm some kind of unspeakably unclean thing. It's not fair; people like me. I'm a good guy. If he didn't turn everyone against me, I'd have more friends than you could count. Well, maybe not more than YOU could count, but most people... I don't think he ever mentioned my real name from that day on, but somehow everyone seemed to figure out who I was."

"So, anyway, I'm a good guy. I pay my taxes. I mean, I try to take advantage of all the loopholes, but who doesn't? And if I can shave a little off here and a little off there, list my car as a business expense, buy dinner out with some make believe clients, and throw my bonus checks into an offshore account, well doesn't everybody? I mean, I'd just be stupid not to do that stuff. It doesn't make me a bad guy. I always put a few bucks into Santa's bucket at Christmas. And I buy the best and most expensive presents! Still, I always have a buck or two for the little urchins at the end of the year. So I'm a good guy, right?"

He just kept looking at me with no expression on his face.

"This is all because of Tom telling those stories about me, isn't it? I was a good friend to him and how does he repay me? He goes around telling everyone I was screwing his wife like I was the only one who ever did that! When you think of it, I did him a favor. His wife couldn't keep her panties on. She'd find some guy to play with for a while, get tired, toss him away, and then she'd find someone new. If he hadn't found out about me she'd still be running around on him. I mean sure, I didn't come right out and tell him. I'm not stupid. It's not like I wanted him to know at the time, but he found out and when he did he should have realized I was doing him a solid. If it wasn't for me, he'd still be saddled with that cheating bitch! He didn't lose much."

"So what does he do? She goes out one Saturday to meet up with me at a hotel across town. I mean, it's not like we were doing it in his house, in his bed! Well, we did a few times when he was out of town, but we never did it when he was around. We were discreet. Nobody knew. We didn't even spend the whole day together. I got off three good ones, she took a shower, and we both headed out. She gets home about four hours after she left, not all that long, and he's moved out of the damn house! I mean, he's gone. His shit is all gone... Sorry, I know you don't like 'shit'. His clothes are gone. His tools are gone. Even his favorite books are gone. He took some of the furniture and left some. He did the whole thing in just four hours like he was planning it all along. He didn't even say a word to his wife; he just goes and leaves their marriage certificate torn into pieces and sitting on the table. The little wimp threw a hissy fit. She was the cheating slut, but he doesn't even say a word to her. He doesn't raise his hand. He just disappears. OK, I'm sorry! I shouldn't say 'slut'. I know. Anyway, he just gives her the silent treatment; but he threatens to kill me! Hell, I did him a favor. Damn it, I said 'hell'. Oh damn it, I said 'damn it'. Oh crap!" I stopped to catch my breath. "I was a friend to him. He overreacted."

"Anyway, no sooner do I get home and pour myself a beer, but I get a phone call from Marie. She says he knows about us and he's left her. My first thought is, 'Good, more for me.' Right? I mean, I'm only human. Then she tells me he has a video of us. The little perv! Then it hits me. I tell her, 'If that little dork tells my wife about us, I'll kill him!' Well, I wouldn't really kill him. I'd just mess him up a little, you know? That was Saturday. Monday morning, while I'm at work, he goes to my house and he shows my wife the video he got of Marie and me. I come home and the locks on the house have been changed. There's a process server standing at my door and he gives me an envelope that says I need to stay at least 500 feet from my own house or the police will be called. I look behind me and there's a patrol car sitting in the middle of the road with the cops just staring at me. This dweeb tells me, 'I think you'd better leave now and talk to a lawyer before you return home.' Imagine that! I can't even walk into my own house and all because that wimp can't keep his own wife satisfied. I was fooling around with two other wives at the same time, but this is the one that gets me kicked out of my own house!"

I could tell I wasn't making any progress with this guy. He hadn't moved, hadn't flinched since I started explaining everything to him. I had to make him understand that I'm the victim here. I didn't do Tom any harm; and if I hadn't been banging his wife some other guy would.

"So my wife kicks me out. I only get to see my kids every other weekend and they treat me like I'm a stranger. The people I work with found out; I figure either Tom or my wife took care of that. The boss starts reviewing all my old paperwork from trips and such and before you know it I'm out of a job. I didn't do anything that everyone else wasn't doing. I mean, traveling for work is a huge pain in the ass and the reimbursement only covers the money. It does nothing for all the inconvenience. I wasn't greedy. I just took a little extra to cover the fucking pain in the ass that traveling always is. Yes, I know... Don't say 'fucking'."

"I'm not a bad guy, but now that wimp was messing with my life. He turned my wife against me. He got me fired. Our mutual friends treated me like I was diseased. The wives treated me like I was invisible and when one of the women would speak with me her husband would run interference. I mean, it's not like I was going to club them and drag them off by their hair. We were just talking and maybe flirting a little. What's the harm in that? Maybe a night or two with a real man would loosen up those wives and their husbands would thank me for it."

I kept watching for some kind of telltale sign that he understood, but he just kept looking at me with that blank stare.

"Tom was weak. It wasn't my fault. Two months after he left her he killed himself. Why did he have to do that? She was just a woman. He could find another. Truth is, she wasn't even all that good. She acted like she was doing me a favor every time we got together. He didn't have to do it."

"I guess that's why you're against me, isn't it? He got here first and he told you his side of the story. It's not my fault. He should have just sucked it up and got on with his life. She was just a piece of tail. There's plenty more out there. And if he couldn't keep his own wife satisfied, that's not my fault. I mean, I'm only human. I didn't kill him. He did that all on his own. It's not my fault."

"I'm not even supposed to be here yet. I'm supposed to be playing golf today. I was just walking from my apartment and I heard the 'Pop pop pop!' I felt like I'd been pushed and the last thing I remember is my face hitting the concrete. I don't even know who fired the gun. It was just 'Pop pop pop!' and then everything went dark."

I stood there looking at him for I don't know how long. I was pleading with him, but he wasn't listening. His mind was already made up.

"I'm not getting in, am I?"

He shook his head to say "No". It was the first and the last response I got from him.

There was nothing left to do. I turned away and I started walking to that other place. Maybe it's not so bad. I'm not the first and I won't be the last. Besides, there are worse people there. They did really bad stuff. This wasn't my fault.