I Just Wish You Were a Better Man

This is a short story inspired by the recent hit lyric. I know it doesn't fit the story that inspired the song but it struck me as a good title for a "Loving Wife" story. There is no sex and little back story. After all, it is a short story. Enjoy.

Lyrics from country songs seem to jolt my creative process. And I am not creative in any real sense. I live too much in the real world. I am just glad that I married the girl who became my best friend first over 40 years ago. I have not had to feel like my stories.

Jerry Jensen heard his loving wife singing that damned song again as he entered the house. It used to be that she would sing along with the radio but then she just started to sing, "I just wish you were a better man," over and over again without the rest of the song or while it was being played. She seemed to sing it just as Jerry would enter the room.

Jerry didn't know if she was being deliberate or if it was some kind of Freudian slip. She didn't always act like she didn't like him or approve of him but sometimes she seemed kind of patronizing and snippy in her comments when they would talk.

He was constantly considering how he would broach the subject of their recent relationship. Their eight year marriage seemed to be stale and stagnant. Christy, his wife, was putting off starting a family until they were "better prepared" but Jerry felt that now or soon would be perfect. He had a good job and their savings could last a long time if Christy decided not to work after a baby. But like all versions of the Garden of Eden their particular garden had its serpent.

He was so tired of that damned song. Suddenly, instead of trying to kiss Christy hello, he lashed out. "Why the fuck do you have to sing that fucking lyric all of the time? Is that what you think of me?"

Christy stopped suddenly and stared at her husband. He never spoke like that. "What do you mean, Honey?"

Jerry was wound tight. This had been gnawing at his guts for quite a few weeks. "My name is Jerry, not Honey. You seem to call every dick Honey but you never use my name."

He drew a breath. "You sing that fucking song like I am some kind of useless bastard. That's what the song is all about, isn't it? A worthless shit who threw away his love? Why would you sing that refrain every time I walk in the room?"

He stopped for a breath. Christy didn't seem to have a response so he continued.

"No, let's examine this for a moment. When I started to get serious about you I sold my motorcycle because you decided it was too dangerous. I come home from work each night. I only go to a friend's house to watch a football game while you hang out with the wives of anybody else who shows up. I don't drink to excess. I can't even remember the last time I got shit-faced."

He got close to her face as he ticked off each point on his fingers. Christy was starting to get wild-eyed at his anger. He continued, "I make good money. I take care of the finances and make sure the bills are paid. We have enough savings to go on a long vacation each year and should have enough to cover for your loss of savings if we decide to have a baby. I want to be a father and intend to be a good daddy to my children. I like your parents and even get along with your old girlfriends. I don't belittle you at any time. You get to have your pick of a new car every two years while I drive my old truck. You chose where we vacation. I don't stop you from going out for a "Girl's night out" and I used to trust you. I love having sex with you and even love to eat your pussy. But, and this is a big but, we haven't fucked more than three times in the past two months because you just don't "feel like it" and I don't push myself on you."

He had to stop to take a breath. Christy seemed to want to respond but he leaned even closer to her. They were only a few inches apart and she was backing up. "And now I find out that you are fucking that dick weed, Mike Thomas. That fucking worthless biker who can't keep a job and just has to brag in every dive how he's fucking Jerry's wife. He's even telling everyone that you slurp down his sperm and beg to get it in the ass. He's fucking drunk most days and never has a penny. I checked and you are paying for the motel, when you use one. The camera I set up in our bedroom shows that you entertain him here most of the time. So, tell me, who's the better man."

Spotting the chair right behind his fucking loving wife Jerry gave her a little push and watched her land on her ass before the chair tipped and dumped her on the floor.

Christy gave out a yelp as she landed on her back. She started to blubber a little about how it wasn't what he thought. It was just sex. Blah, Blah, Blah. Straight out of the cheater's handbook. Excuses that didn't mean a damn thing but allowed her to try and justify her actions the past months.

Jerry stood over her and laughed as she continued to excuse herself. She then launched into the old tried and tired excuse. "You are never home. I was lonely."

He bent down and spat into her face. "You lying cunt. I am home every night except the rare occasion when I have to work a little late. I am never later than eight o'clock, never. You, on the other hand, seem to need multiple nights a week out with your girl friends. By the way, they don't seem to go out as often as you do."

Christy now knew that she had no real excuse left. She ducked her head and quietly admitted. "It was the fact he was a bad boy. Kind of like when I first met you, you seemed to be a bad boy but you changed."

Jerry jumped on that statement. "I changed because you demanded it, Bitch. You hounded me to change and become more respectable. I loved my bike. I loved having weekends with my buds. I gave it all up because I loved you and you wanted me this way."

"You claimed you wanted a family. Thank god we don't have one. The thought of you being the mother of my children now disgusts me."

Jerry turned away from the vision of his wife sprawled out on the floor. "I think I will get something to eat at the pub. At least the company will be better."

He headed out to his old but well maintained pickup. He smiled at the old beast. It would look good hauling the bike he just ordered.

Before he could get inside the pickup he was confronted by his erstwhile wife. "Wait a minute, Bub. If you knew about Mike why did you wait to confront me? Does this mean you love me?"

Jerry sighed. "Yes, unfortunately I still love you. I haven't been able to turn it off like a switch. But you disgust me in the way you've been treating me and denying me sex while fucking that asshole. As to why I have waited to confront you it's because I needed to make some plans. I was going to wait another couple of weeks but I got pissed tonight. I have had enough of that fucking lyric. If I hear it on the jukebox tonight I may owe the owner a new one."

"Now, if you don't want to end up on your ass again tonight get out of my way. I am hungry and still pissed. A beer will taste good. Maybe Mike will be there and we can compare notes as to how you perform in bed."

Jerry actually had to move her out of the way. He didn't push her down as many of the neighbors were outside enjoying the fine evening air. He did pick up her 129 pound body and turn her and set her down a little hard but she kept her feet. Stupid woman, he thought, she could have fallen down and claimed he hit her.

When safely in the truck he gave her a mocking salute and backed out into the street and eased on down the street. He didn't give her the satisfaction of a public display of his anger. He was headed to a local bar that he had been a regular patron of when he was single and while dating Christy.

At the pub he ordered a pulled pork sandwich with house baked beans along with a good dark ale. He thought wryly that this might be his regular fare if he proceeded with a divorce. He was reluctant to do that as Christy would take him for half of their worth. A good lawyer would get the court to ignore her slutty past. And, to boot, almost every state now made sure that even if the male was innocent that he would pay to get rid of a lying spouse. As he ate he nodded at patrons that he knew. There were still a surprisingly large number of drinkers who remembered him.

About half way through his meal he became aware that the pub had gone relatively quiet. He looked around and soon understood why. He wasn't that well known here anymore since his marriage but Mike Thomas was. Those that knew Jerry had heard Mike bragging and now, at the bar, was the fucker.

Mike didn't seem to be aware of anything until Jerry tapped him on the shoulder. As he turned the bottle of stout was suddenly slammed bottom first into his forehead. Surprisingly it didn't shatter but left a cool circle bruise on Mike's forehead that wouldn't fade for days. It also caused him to collapse as he lost consciousness. Jerry smiled at the crowd and then started to kick and stomp his enemy.

Now, in most of these types of stories the aggrieved husband kicks the shit out of the bad guy's testicles but Jerry didn't do that. He kicked Mike in the face, fracturing his jaw and punching out some teeth along with a kick to the eye that made it swell immediately shut. He kicked Mike in the chest a couple of times that probably broke a few ribs and then a shot or two to the kidney area that would guarantee that Mike would pee red for days, if not worse.

No, just as he was getting around to kicking Mike in the nuts the pub owner, Bloody Bill Barner, grabbed him and pulled him away. "Look, I don't care if you beat him to a pulp but don't kill him. He and your wife aren't worth you going to jail. Go sit down and I'll bring you a replacement."

Jerry nodded and took a deep breath. He really hadn't thought about any revenge on Mike but the opportunity couldn't be passed up. He knew the fucker would have given him a nasty smile and then started to loudly talk about the married slut he was banging.

Jerry sat back down and looked at his cold sandwich. He didn't have an appetite any longer but with most of the bar patrons watching him he had to be cool. He picked up the sandwich and took a bite and slowly started to chew. A couple of women took the opportunity to go and kick Mike in the nuts just as he was starting to come around. He rolled into a fetal position and started to puke.

Everyone one laughed at the sight. Jerry sat and waited for the cops to arrive but no one showed up until someone finally took pity on the sight of Mike laying in his own puke breathing rather noisily and called for an ambulance. The cops showed up with the paramedics.

For some reason every person who claimed to have witnessed the event told the cops that Mike had been standing at the bar and had suddenly slipped on something and fell. "It was amazing," one guy said. "I've never seen anything like it. Suddenly he was down and rolling around on the floor like he was having some kind of fit. When I tried to help him up he tried to hit me so I just let him lay there for a bit."

Another patron surmised that Mike must have been high on something. How else can you explain what happened? Of course the cops knew better but with no eyewitness report they could only assist the paramedics in taking the wreck of a man out of the pub.

A couple of the women who attacked Mike while he was down came over and wished Jerry well. They also said that they would be watching to catch Christy at a bar and give her some similar medicine. Jerry was humbled and surprised. He asked them to make sure they didn't get into trouble for his sake.

They assured him that Mike had fucked them all over and they hated to see a good guy get cuckolded. Jerry had to smile. It was good to have friends.

He wasn't one to drown his sorrows but he did imbibe a little extra that evening. He had no reason to go home so he just sat at the table and thought back on his life. He wasn't unhappy at all about putting his bad boy days behind him. It had been time to mature a little and take responsibility. He had been in love with Christy and ready to spend the rest of his days with her.

Now, he didn't know. What was best? His new bike would be ready in a few days. That one thing was what he was waiting for. His original plan was to come home on the bike and confront his worthless wife and then roar off leaving her to understand what she was going to be missing. Ahh, so much for plans.

The rest his plan was already in motion. He had turned in his request for an extended leave of absence. Having a boss who had been taken to the cleaners by a cheating wife helped. He was going to be AWOL for about six months. Since he took care of all of the finances Christy had no idea that he had moved most of the cash and a lot of the savings to another account. Jerry knew his credit rating was going to take a hit but he was planning on letting the house and Christy's car be taken in the foreclosure. Since the money was his he didn't think that the court would be in any hurry to order him to surrender it unless Christy got a lawyer fast.

He just had to hang on for a few extra days.

As Bloody Bill called out "Last Call," there was a new shadow in front of Jerry. He looked up and there was his estranged wife.

"Well, well, did you come to meet Mike on one of your girls' night out? Sorry, but you are too late. It seems that Mike is very uncoordinated. He fell down at the bar and had to be taken to the hospital. You might just want to go visit him. He seemed in a bad way. A couple of the women went to help him up and somehow landed up in his crotch. He didn't take that very well."

Christy sighed. "I know what happened. One of the women called me a few minutes ago and let me know exactly what happened. I won't ask you why you did it. I guess he may have deserved it. I just don't know why you haven't taken it out on me like you did him."

"Well, you know, I'm trying to be a better man. I wouldn't want it to be known that I beat women. I have other ways to handle that problem. As a matter of fact, here comes one of my solutions."

Jerry pointed to someone behind Christy. As she turned to look she was hit in the head with the butt of a beer bottle, strikingly similar to how Mike was struck. She didn't even make a sound as she hit the floor unconscious.

Jerry smiled at the sight until it was obvious the woman wasn't going to stop. She reared back to deliver a kick to Jerry's erstwhile wife. For some reason Jerry didn't want to see his wife beaten so he jumped up and stopped the woman. "Wait, a minute. She is out and won't feel a thing for a while. Why don't you wait for another opportunity to exact some retribution." The woman stopped and considered his request.

"Don't you want revenge on this bitch?" She asked pointedly.

Jerry nodded. "Yeah, I do but not necessarily of a physical type. Her boyfriend is in the hospital. He might have a permanent injury after you women kicked his gonads to hell. She will be getting a reputation and begin to attract worse scum than Mike. Her life is gonna spiral down until she gets it through her head that she can't cheat her way to happiness. I will be happy and long gone before she ever gets the message. You and your friends can help by just acting like she is something very unpleasant that you stepped in and just want to scrape it off your shoes."

He finally remembered the woman's name. Cassandra Something but she had always wanted to be just called Cass. She was a regular patron and it showed. Alcohol and smoking were aging her too fast. She was always like a mother to the regulars at the bar and very protective of those she called "hers". Jerry must have been one of her special people. Christy was not.

"Cass, why is getting retribution from Christy so important to you and the other ladies here?" Jerry was very interested to know. He was, though, still watching his wife on the floor. She was breathing regularly. He had heard somewhere that someone with a significant head injury will have irregular breathing or just stop breathing. She wasn't regaining consciousness though.

"Son, we all remember what kind of person you were before getting married. You then stopped coming in here, probably to be the good husband you are. When she started to come in with Mike we thought that you had broken up as a couple but then a few visits ago one of the girls heard your wife start talking about having to get home before her "wimp" did. We know you aren't a wimp but she seemed to view you as that. We let it ride until tonight. You obviously knew what was going on when you hit Mike. So, the gloves come off. We don't let good men get cuckholded. We ain't saints but we never treated our men like that. And we all miss our men. They are all gone now so we just have to look after you young guys when you get shafted somehow." Cass seemed proud of what she had done.

Jerry nodded. "Thanks for that but I better get Christy out of here before the cops and the ambulance show up. One 'accident' will be overlooked but a similar head hit on someone of the opposite sex and I don't believe they will let it go."

Jerry bent and gathered up his wife and carried her out to his pickup. He didn't see hers so he hoped a taxi brought her to the bar. Cass had come along to open the doors and helped get Christy settled. Christy had not come back to full consciousness yet so Jerry drove her to the nearest trauma center. At the ER he got her out and into a wheelchair before taking her to admissions. Because of her bruise on her forehead and her inability to assist herself in any way she was fast tracked into the ER proper. Jerry hung back to give her name and date of birth information so she could be admitted. He also gave the other pertinent information such as home address, emergency contact, and insurance even though it was not required right then. He wasn't planning on staying around.

After she was checked in he went in and gave her a quick glance before letting the nurse know to call for a taxi before calling him for a ride for Christy. He was headed home to sleep knowing she was in excellent care. Yeah, he still cared for her. He didn't give a damn if Mike lived or died but he only wanted to discomfort Christy, not have her physically hurt badly.

Jerry got some sleep. He wanted to shut off his feelings for Christy but he couldn't, not yet. It was too soon for that. Time would probably heal him but he had to allow for time to pass.

After a fitful night of sleep he got up and showered. He didn't have to work so he was at loose ends. He decided to go fishing.

While loading the truck with his equipment he received a call from Christy. Apparently she hadn't lost her cell phone after getting cold cocked.

He considered just ignoring the call but he did want to know how she was doing. "Hello, how are you this fine morning? Have a headache?" He decided to get right to the point.

"My head hurts like hell. What happened? Did you hit me? If you did I'm calling the cops, Asshole. You have no right to ever hit me."

He chuckled. "No, I never touched you. Someone else decided you needed an attitude adjustment and put you on your ass with one strike. Why do you think I hit you, Dear?"

"I don't remember what happened. Where were we and where are you? When I woke this morning and the nurse told me I have to get a cab home I figured that you did something to me. What happened? Did we have an argument?"

Jerry was going to be honest and hoped Christy was also going to be honest. He started with, "I'm just trying to be a better man, Christy. I have learned that I am not the man I need to be so I am in the process of remaking myself. Do you remember talking about it last evening?"

He could almost see the frown over the phone. "I...I ... I remember something about that song. It is so familiar but what did we talk about?"