Im Forever Yours 1

I'm Forever Yours...

...Faithfully

Yes, it's based on a popular song. I had just come home from their concert after not having seen them live since 1981 and this is the warped shit that came to mind. I'm aware of how a Puget Sound ferry works, but this is a work of fiction, so just go along for the ride.

[Copyright 2023. All rights reserved.]

Relax; it's just a story, people.

The fog was quite late burning off that morning, but it was apropos for my mood. I sat in line at the terminal on Pier fifty-two, waiting to board the ferry to Bremerton. Next to me on the passenger seat was a collection of items, and as I glanced at them, my thoughts went back to my life with my wife, Donna.

Donna and I met in our junior year at Washington State University. She was working on her bachelor's in poly-sci, with a minor in business. I was well on my way to a bachelor's in accounting and an economy minor to boot.

I wouldn't say that our romance was a whirlwind. It was more of a slow burn. We were both careful and maybe even a little cautious, about going further than a friendship. We were actively learning from each other, taking things slowly, and weren't exclusive.

I had to turn Donna down one Saturday night because I had a date. Unfortunately, Donna and some friends of hers ended up at the same club that night. I didn't know she was there, until I noticed her back, walking for the door. It was two weeks before she'd taken my call, and she wasn't just mad; she was hurt.

I tried to play the 'not exclusive' card, and she asked if I'd lost my mind. "Do we need a contract or something?" She sounded so devastated on the phone. I apologized over and over, begging her to let me see her and explain.

It was another week before I could get her to sit in a coffee shop with me and talk. I could see how badly I'd hurt her and I promised never to do that again. I really had deep feelings for Donna, even then, and I truly didn't want to lose her. Miraculously, we made up and a month later, we were engaged. It would be another ten months from that point until graduation and we'd gotten married in mid-July.

Our married life had a storybook beginning. Both Donna and I landed good jobs right after graduation. She worked in the county commissioner's office as an administrative assistant. Donna was very busy those first three years, but she said she was getting invaluable experience, and we had a loving and active home life, despite the occasional extra hours.

I landed at Litmus-Tek, Inc. It was a private accounting firm in Bellevue that did all kinds of business accounting, but also specialized in forensic audits.

Even with her extra hours during the week, a weekend for us could run the gambit of hiking Mount Rainier and camping overnight, to taking in the open-air Pike's Place Market, and then either a movie, play, or a ferry ride to one of the islands. We probably spent only one weekend per month at home, and that was only so we could keep up the modest home we'd bought. I'd often have dinner ready on nights she had to work late.

During those three years, I also earned my CPA and was then made a junior partner. Unfortunately for me, only six months after making partner, the business was sold to Morton & Associates. I received a pittance as the newest junior partner, and some future stock options, which would take years to mature. I was told I'd need to travel the state of Washington, and parts of Oregon, to visit customers.

Donna tried to soothe my angst - being away from home, and from her, was hard on me. But it was clear that beneath her bravado, my travel was taking a toll on her too. Like most couples, we had an 'us' song, that was just our own. That song was the Journey classic: Faithfully.

From my hotel room, or just at random times during the day, I'd send her texts of one of the verses. Sometimes, just because, and other times with some thought about specifics that were going on at the time. I knew she appreciated that extra effort, and shortly after I began, she started reciprocating.

We'd both discussed getting settled in our jobs and then start thinking about a family in our fourth or fifth year. If I thought my traveling would have been the end of us, or created a rift, I'd be proven wrong.

Donna had plenty of patience, far more than I'd have had if the roles were reversed. We spoke every night on the phone, or FaceTime. In our fifth year married, I was averaging three-four nights per week away. That year was the hardest for me. When I was home, I did everything I could think of to reconnect with my wife.

That ended up getting Donna pregnant, although afterward, she admitted to stopping her birth control about three months beforehand. Jennifer, our baby girl, was a beacon of light for both of us, and that darned kid pulled us even closer together.

>>>>

I sat in my car, waiting until the boat lurched forward, leaving the dock. Nothing much had changed in ten years on this ferry, even longer, as I thought back. I hadn't been to the city for almost four years, and unlike the ship, the downtown area was unrecognizable. It was sad.

A great prelude to the deep sadness I knew I'd be feeling over the next hour or so. I gathered the items in the small cardboard box and exited the vehicle, and then headed to the upper deck. I felt every bit of my hip replacement, as I climbed the skinny stairwell.

The deck was slick with the fog's moisture. Wet floor signs were scattered about, just as they had been ten years ago to that very day. I took up on a bench seat facing the rear of the vessel, the exact same place I'd sat back then. Looking up, I took in the sight of the cityscape, as it pulled away and out into Puget Sound. I'd always liked the view, because if you watched closely, a building, one second in another's shadow would come out of hiding. The scenery changed right before your eyes if you were willing to notice.

>>>>

I remember the first day I noticed - noticed I may have a problem in my marriage. The previous night, Donna seemed to be in la-la land, when I tried to engage in conversation. Jennifer was eight and was already in bed. During commercials on whatever show we were watching, I'd say something to my wife and receive only a blank stare in return. That was a one-eighty, for my usually rambunctious wife. Her expression didn't seem to be troubled. Instead, she had a look as if contemplating something really good, like a great ending to a book, or a heart-warming video on YouTube.

When I asked, she brushed it off as nothing, and in the morning, I decided I should keep my eye on her to see if it was temporary. Breakfast went okay, but we were all our busy selves, getting young Jenny off to school as we rushed on to work. I'd finally stopped traveling so much and our lives were... well, normal. Later, I'd determine it was more stagnant than normal.

At dinner that night, Donna had that far-away look again. I looked hard for any other emotions but saw nothing I could easily identify. We were always more than honest with one another, so I brought it up after reading to Jenny and tucking her in.

"It's nothing," she deflected. "I just have a lot on my mind with this campaign."

That was valid. Five months earlier, Donna had been given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, to run the social media marketing for former county board elect, now mayoral candidate, Peter Bedford. Donna's education, and her work since, made her more than qualified for the task. She seemed genuinely happy to be involved, even with the extra hours she had to put in.

>>>>

I left the bench seat, and headed to the railing at the stern of the ferry, after putting one of the boxed items in my coat pocket.

"Hello, my love," I started in a small raspy voice. "I'm sorry I haven't come lately... These past three years. I've been trying to put my life back together. I guess I've been doing a pretty shitty job in that regard."

Tears ran down my cheeks, giving a momentary warm sensation until the Pacific Northwest winds turned them to near freezing.

"I just miss you so much, and you're always there, just out of reach." I choked out. She'd understand what I meant. I gathered myself as best I could and pulled the item from my jacket.

"I brought a few photos," I said to the water. "Jenny and I picked them out of the several albums, we've accumulated since... well, you know. She helped me find the ones we thought you'd want to keep, and she wanted to be here... but I told her this was something I needed... The truth is, I've been told... It's time for me to let you go, not just pretend that I have."

I looked down. The first picture in the stack was Jenny at age four, wearing a Minnie hat, standing in front of the castle at Disneyland. Donna and I both were cheek-to-cheek with her. I looked back to the wake fanning out behind the ship.

This wind would do perfectly. I let the picture leave my hand and watched it twirl to and fro, as it headed back towards the city, falling short a mere twenty seconds later. It landed on the surface of the water and was quickly consumed.

One by one, I held up a picture, and let the wind snatch it from my hand. A few times, I closed my eyes and pretended it was Donna abruptly pulling them away.

The final photo was of me and our daughter standing side-by-side at Donna's funeral. I hadn't wanted to part with that one at all. Jenny made several, nearly indisputable points, which finally changed my mind.

As I held it up, a gust of wind came so hard at my back, it almost moved me. The picture was no match, nor was my grip on it. I had more to do, but my mind and body felt harrowingly tired at that moment. I retreated to the bench and sat with a heavy thud. That déjà vu moment made me shiver.

>>>>

I loved Donna. I trusted her too, perhaps to a fault.

There was no extra money for a fancy private investigator, nor would I have ever hired one. I'd been treated like a king in my marriage, especially compared to other couples - other men we knew - from our different circles. Donna and I rarely argued. When we did, it was done respectfully. The way two people who care for one another do. No, if something was happening with her, and it clearly was, perhaps the thing she needed most was my help, but couldn't find her way to ask me.

For exactly two weeks I wrestled with those thoughts, and many more. The only newly introduced element into our perfect lives had to do with the campaign that Donna was working on. Although I wanted nothing to do with the feeling, I couldn't force the thought of Peter Bedford out of my mind. The more it consumed my thoughts, the more a conclusion formed.

Bedford was exactly the kind of man who might be able to get through Donna's defenses. That was provided she was putting up any walls in the first place. Donna, Jenny, and I all had Find-a-Phone apps on our cell phones, for emergency purposes. I paid extra for the premium plan, just in case one of our phones was stolen, or accidentally fell down a sewer, without us knowing it.

I went online to the app's webpage for the very first time and logged into my account. Even pressing the keys made me feel soiled, but my suspicions had morphed into something more than curiosity. There wasn't anything there to find, and that made me feel even worse.

That was until I saw the different reports available and noticed one that showed time periods when the phone was not in service. I clicked the

'i'

and found that the report was showing when the phone was turned off, and/ or the battery removed.

I was shaking my head to myself, as I clicked on that report, understanding how far down a rabbit hole I'd already gone - but damned if it wasn't right there. Sixteen days previous, about two or three days before I noticed the changes in my wife, her phone was completely shut down for one hour and thirty-seven minutes in the mid-afternoon.

Before being turned off, Donna's phone had been at

Le Bistro Phillippe

, a popular restaurant almost a mile from her office. I'd heard her mention the place in passing conversation, as one that many of her co-workers swore by.

So she'd been to lunch there. That proved nothing. I thought hard, trying to recall the particular day. Donna had been home when I arrived, preparing dinner. Jenny was brought home from soccer practice by a teammate's mother shortly after I got home, and we had a normal dinner and evening. That had made me feel better, but suddenly foolish. It was like any other day. Still, why would she have turned her phone off, and not said anything about it?

That left me with only a few options. The incident in question had happened on a Tuesday. I'd have to wait four more days for the next Tuesday to come around, but I'd arrange to be outside the county offices in a place where I could track her movements, from the lunch hour forward. I couldn't do it every day, of course, but it was the best idea I could come up with.

Sure enough, Donna, Peter Bedford, and two others came out of the building at twelve-thirty. The others, a man and a woman were likely other campaign staffers. This time, they went in two vehicles to Panera Bread all the way into downtown Seattle.

It took nearly thirty minutes just to get there from Bellevue. There was nowhere to park, but I noticed the structure they had used a block away, so I drove up and down the surrounding streets, passing the restaurant in about ten-minute intervals. Finally, I just went into the parking structure, pulling into a parking space as far away as I could from Bedford's vehicle, hoping not to be spotted.

Not long after, Bedford and Donna approached his vehicle. They were not arm in arm, nor did I perceive any loving looks or touches.

Donna's whole persona seemed a bit... nervous if I was reading her correctly. I followed them at a distance, which wasn't easy to do in downtown traffic. Instead of some lover's rendezvous, I ended up five cars behind his at Pier fifty-two, waiting for a ferry.

>>>>

It was time to get this moving, and I knew I was drawing it out. Some kind of giant finale - and for what purpose? I was the only one there. I stood and grabbed our wedding album from the box and walked back to the railing. I'd fought this for so long, had so many wonderful people try to help me, and still I was rehashing every possible reason to just go back to my car and prolong my suffering.

"Hey, Donna, I'm back," God, I sounded so stupid. So unlike the man, she'd married. Lacking in ways neither I nor she would have contemplated. Many times during my years of suffering, I'd wondered if she didn't get the better end of the deal.

"Anyway," I restarted, "I brought our wedding pictures today. I don't know if you want any of these, but I'm hoping so."

I opened the album and immediately began sobbing. I demanded my body to keep those sobs deep down in my abdomen. This was no time to lose it. I needed to man up.

"I guess I'm going to have to choose for you," I said. "I'll just try to remember what you like most and then I'll..."

There was no containing it. That abdomen where my guts, my heart, and my lungs resided betrayed me then - betrayed me worse than Donna ever had. In my fit of profound sadness, my mind took the wheel, and a wave of deep anger rose to combat my emotional peril.

She had done this to you - and Jenny

. The internal voice sternly and firmly screamed. That voice though, I'd heard many times over the years, and I'd had my share of reasoning with it, telling it to go straight to hell, even bargaining with it.

I tore a page from the album and flung it like a Frisbee. Then another and another.

Fuck the pictures, or taking them from the sheathes,

I told myself.

>>>>

I sat on the bench about twenty-five feet from the stern railing of the ferry, where my wife stood closely facing Bedford. It had taken nearly half the trip across the Sound to build up the nerve and a plan.

I'd paid some old guy fifty dollars for his baseball cap, and then the same amount to a woman for her wide scarf. I'm sure I looked completely ridiculous, but neither my wife nor her probable lover paid any attention.

I watched them for... some time. It could have been five minutes or twenty. Donna seemed to be conveying something important and was quite serious about it. Bedford was nodding and looked to be sometimes agreeing and others not. She gently touched her forearm. For both of them, it was a very gentle, intimate move and the way it occurred told me it wasn't the first time. Just seeing that gentle touch almost made me lurch.

Finally, Bedford went to pull Donna into an embrace. She was having none of it. She pulled back a few steps, but then, she came right back into his space. After a few more words, that appeared to be anything but agreeable, Donna leaned in to kiss him. It looked like she intended the kiss to land on his cheek, but Bedford had other ideas, and wrapped his arm around her shoulder and neck, as he tried for a real kiss on the lips.

I'd intended only to get evidence. Hence the feeble disguise. I could have confronted them when they first left his vehicle, but that may have only created a bunch of excuses and lies. I'd have rather witnessed her breaking vows than ever have her lie to my face. Honestly, and later I had to come to terms with it, I didn't have much of a plan at all.

I'd never taken all the contingencies into account - all the possible outcomes. Right then, I saw Bedford as the aggressor and the enemy. I leaped from the seat and made my way to the pair very quickly.

"Get your goddamned hands off her," I warned him, in a low manic voice.

Bedford had me by about three inches in height, and probably a good twenty pounds, if I had to guess. His surprise put him on the defense though, as I scrambled toward him. Donna also looked surprised, until the wind took my ball cap. Surprise quickly turned to horror.

"David!" she wailed.

"Oh, my God! Oh, my Goddddd..."

She stopped cold, watching me swing wildly at Bedford. He'd put up both hands, covering his face in a defensive posture. My arms were moving in a volley, with no practice, or reason.

We were two feet or less from the railing. One of his attempts to fight me off grazed the left side of my head, but with the adrenaline flowing it didn't even register.

I felt Donna feebly try to grab me. It could have been anyone, actually, but she was the only one close enough. Bedford had blood dripping from his nose and mouth.

It was either the blood or the normal moisture that caused us both to slip. He reached for the rail, and I fell into him. Donna was at my back, calling my name and telling me to stop.

Bedford pushed me back off of him, both our arms flailing. I know for sure that my elbow or forearm contacted my wife. I was about to begin another volley on Bedford when a high-pitched scream stopped me in my tracks.

I've heard people describe accidents. Many claim a slow-motion effect as it happens or at the moment of impact. My description of that moment, while explaining it and even in my mind was the opposite. I turned towards my wife's dreadful scream, and she wasn't there. The scream trailed off beyond the railing. I scampered to it.

Donna wasn't there. Bedford was standing right beside me, in shock.

I was panicked. I couldn't understand what happened for a second. Then I ran towards others on the deck, screaming.

Help!" I remember yelling. "My wife! My wife is overboard! Help! Stop the boat!"

I ran back to the edge, losing my balance on the slick deck, and almost went over myself. I looked down scanning for any sign she'd been able to get ahold of something. Then I saw it.