Just Once Well I Do Mind

Just Once... If You Don't Mind? Well, I do mind.

This story responds to Kalimaxos challenge to finish his story 'Just Once...If you Don't Mind,' and I love challenges. It begins after Rick finishes reading Marcy's letter. First part 1st person Rick. Second part 1st person Marcy. Enjoy.

* * * * *

When I finish reading it, I noticed Leslie was at the kitchen island filling her glass again.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I will be," I replied.

She nodded and came back with the bottle and her filled glass. Sitting next to me this time, she refilled my glass and turned to look at me with those doe-like eyes.

"So, Rick? What do we do?

* * * * *

* * * * *

Rick

"We do nothing, you go home, and I have plans to make. When I was in the Army, I followed all orders to the best of my ability. She's not my commanding officer, she's not the woman I fell in love with, and soon she won't be my wife. Somewhere during our marriage, I failed her, and I will pay the price for my failure." Taking a drink out of my glass, I felt nothing, no hate or love, just emptiness.

"Goodnight, Leslie."

"Rick, don't do anything hasty or..."

"Concern noted. Now leave." When she didn't move, I guided her to the door, pushed her onto the porch, shut the door, and locked it. I had a lot of things to do in the days to come.

What do you know, the sun did come up the next morning? I dressed and called an Army buddy of mine, Terry, a retired Army JAG lawyer. After I left a message and a description of what had happened on his answering machine, I hung up and waited.

While waiting for his call, I contacted the phone company and scheduled the closing of our house phone account to be done in sixty days. All of our utilities and our cell phone plan received the same treatment, cancellation. They were all in my name. Then I scanned the letter, that betrayal of everything I held dear to me, to my laptop and then pulled out bank records and annual retirement statements from our tax files.

My phone rang, and it was Terry's secretary. "Mr. Marshall will be in court until lunch but has to leave at 1400 hours for another meeting. His exact words to me were, tell that son of a bitch, to be standing at attention in front of my door, at 1300 hours."

She then gave me a list of things he would need me to bring with me. I hung up and went on a search mission for facts and figures. At 1300 hours, I was sitting outside his office holding a folder. When my watch read 1302 hours, I stood up to leave, and as I did, his door opened.

"Two minutes, Colonel. You have mellowed out with age."

"Two minutes late, Captain. And Colonel's do not stand at attention to a Captain, and JAG lawyers aren't qualified to go into combat. They can't even tell the time off of a $5,000 watch."

We shook hands, sat down, and went to work; I told him what I wanted, showed him what assets and liabilities we had, and then handed him the letter.

He read it, shook his head, and added it to the folder.

"I want you to hire a PI to go to Bogota, Columbia." I handed him a list of what I wanted from the PI.

"How soon do you need the paperwork, Rick?"

"Two weeks, and then her world goes up in smoke."

Then I went home, where the answering machine was flashing like a pervert at a movie theatre. Most of the messages were from the Bitch.

They began, "Rick, you asshole..."; softened a little to, "Rick, I know your ego is hurt..."; mellowed out, "Rick, I'm sorry I should have talked..."; and finally surrender, "Rick, please talk to me, you're scaring me."

I deleted them all; then there was one from my parents, one from her parents, and one from each of my kids, Rhonda and Kyle.

Calling my parents first, I very carefully explained what was going on, what was in the letter, and her tone of voice. I called her parents also, and then I called the kids. They all blamed me for this altercation. They equated her adultery to something I must have done, and I needed to suck it up. I hung up on all of them. My parents always loved Marcy more than me.

I went to work, resigned effective immediately, then headed to HR before my boss could wake up. Speaking to Mr. Tolbert, Asst. Manager of HR and in charge of 401K, pension, and retirement, I told him I wanted everything cashed out and for them to pay the penalty through payroll from the proceeds. I told him he had fourteen days to present me with a check for my 401K and retirement funds.

I called my insurance agent, canceled all my life insurance policies, and asked that the beneficiaries be notified by registered mail. The following morning I began throwing clothes I wouldn't need into black trash bags for donation to my favorite sanitation workers. Then I called Pablo.

"Hello, Senior Weston. How are you today?"

"Fine, Pablo, and please call me Rick. What method of delivery works best in Bogota? Fed-X, UPS, or something else?"

"What are you trying to send?"

"Money."

"PayPal works very well with a credit card receiving. Does the person you want to send money to have a PayPal account?"

"I don't know. Do you have a PayPal account, Pablo?"

"Senior, I am... Yes, sir, I have a PayPal account. How may I assist you, sir?"

I told him what I wanted to be done and what I need as documentation. Then I told him how much I was paying for these services.

An hour later, he called me and acknowledged the receipt of the money through PayPal and assured me I would have what I needed by Tuesday before noon.

I checked my list and called the Hospital Administration office, and made an appointment on Tuesday afternoon. Over the next three days, I completed everything I needed to do regarding Marcy and me, including the house.

Tuesday afternoon at 1400 hours, I was sitting outside Jacob Green's office, the hospital administrator. At 1400 hours and 30 seconds, I was shown into his office. Not bad, almost Army time. After the introductions and niceties were out of the way, I stated the reason for my visit.

"Mr. Green, I have three folders here; all have information on a scam being run on both of us." He sat up straighter, his eyes looked at me, eager to hear me say more.

"The report in the red folder is from the hotel manager in Bogota, Senior Pablo Espinosa."

He opened the folder.

"For the last three nights, he has called my wife's room, #515, at 4 AM. Twenty rings, and there was no answer. Then he went into her room, and there are three pictures taken each night of her bed, closet, and bathroom."

He looked down, and nine 8" X 10" pictures were stapled together with a date/time stamp at the bottom of each photo. They all showed a hotel room that was not occupied and looked undisturbed.

"The blue folder is a report with pictures from a private investigator. The photos showed Dr. Trey Cardosa and my wife exiting the doctor's room, #514, at 9:05 AM, 10:10 AM, and 9:55 AM, on the same three dates as the photos Pablo took."

"They are not the only staff cheating on their spouses and the hospital." I pulled out pictures taken of the pool area showing three men and five women, the number of personnel in the team, drinking, playing, and splashing in the pool. Closeups caught the faces of all eight, and they were going to be some unhappy people very soon."

Mr. Green was no longer sitting up straight; his left hand was rubbing his forehead.

"The green folder holds notarized statements from the administrators of the three most advanced hospitals in Columbia. One stated our doctors had not contacted him, and the other two thanked them for the one operation they did do. Two operations in a week, not the results you would envision from a team of doctors and nurses with the credentials they have.

"What do you want from me, Mr. Weston?"

"Well, the team needs to be recalled, but I sense you're ready to do that. There needs to be an investigation into the misuse of hospital funds. I don't think you will be blamed; I believe the hospital board will be happy you took such quick action."

"Have no worries, Mr. Weston; no one will get a free pass."

"My PI took this picture, but I don't recognize this man; perhaps you will." I handed him an 8" X 10" picture of a man in his forty's with his arm around two beautiful girls, who may be over 18 or not.

"Oh my God. Can this day get any worse?"

"I guess you know him. Good day."

We shook hands, and I drove home. I backed my truck up onto the driveway and parked. Getting out of my truck, I saw my son Kyle drive up and park in front of my house.

"Hi, Dad. What's up?"

"Getting ready to take a trip. Come in; I have a few things I need to get."

"Dad, why are you so mad at Mom? Maybe she has gone a bit too far, but you did too." He always took her side.

"Who told you what I did, Kyle? Your mother?"

He nodded.

"We were in a convoy of Humvee's and APC's to relieve a platoon of special forces that was surrounded and running low on ammo. My APC was leading the way, and I had a driver, a gunner standing through the roof, and a rifleman on either side of him, looking through gun ports. One of them was SFC Deidre Kline. We hit an IED with the left front wheel, and the APC was blown off the road on its side. We were lucky it wasn't the left rear wheel because the back was loaded with ammo. Diedre and I were not injured. After we sent the wounded off in helo's, we packed the ammo and the two of us in other vehicles. We rescued the platoon and returned to base camp. We were packed in vehicles on the ride back, and Diedre sat in my lap. The sex happened right after we returned. I locked Diedre out of my quarters for the rest of her tour."

I had told him what her letter said, so I picked up a copy of her letter and handed it to him. I went into the bedroom and picked up my suitcase and my laptop. When I walked into the kitchen, Kyle finished reading her letter.

"Dad, this doesn't make sense. Are you sure Mom wrote this?"

I told my son about the conversation I had with his mother when I called the doctor's hotel room. His shoulders slumped, and his head looked down. He was starting to cry. "Dad, what are you going to do?"

"It's done. I'm going on a trip. I may never come back. I gave all of the information that my people gathered to the hospital administrator and left their lives in his hands."

"You aren't going to try to make up with her; maybe she's sorry."

"Oh, I'm positive she'll be sorry. Kyle, help out both sets of your grandparents and your sister. I'll contact you when I get where I'm going." I hugged my son and went into the garage.

I pulled the door up and rolled the trailer out to connect to my truck. I heard a gasp from the kitchen door and saw Kyle finally understanding what I was doing. Kyle waved at me like I was leaving forever. Maybe I was. I drove away to my home for the next week, a house by the airport with a garage. I knew I couldn't go back to the Army and get the star on my shoulder, probably just as well. I would have volunteered for a suicide mission and, with my luck, would have survived it.

Marcy

In the fog of my brain, I heard phones going off, and I awoke. I was in a hotel room, and when I rolled over, I saw Trey. Now I remember where I was, Bogota, Columbia. Trying to remember the night before, I felt a gooey mess between my legs. I sat up and saw bruises on my arms and hickeys on my tit's. Then I remembered my call from Rick. I stood up and walked in front of a full-length mirror. Rick always said I was the most beautiful woman he has ever seen; I knew I was hot, but the person looking back at me was a slut, and I didn't know her.

What the fuck have I done?

I picked up my phone, and there was a text from Adrienne Chambers, Vice-Chairperson of the hospital board. The message was, "Call 1-800-867-5309 immediately upon reading this text."

Why did I feel like my life took a hard right turn and went over a thousand-foot-high cliff?"

I dialed the number and walked into the living room of the suite.

"Mrs. Weston, don't speak, just listen. Dr. Cardosa's Doctors Without Borders scam has been discovered. There will be plane tickets at the United Airlines counter, leaving Bogota Saturday morning at 9:30, for the entire team. If the whole team does not get off the plane when it arrives, none of you will ever work in the medical profession again. The three techs, who maintain all the surgical equipment, will be over to your hotel tomorrow to inventory, pack for transit, and ship all of the equipment you took with you. They are thrilled to leave since they are staying in roach motels outside city limits.

The answer I want from you is 'Yes Ma'am.' The question is, Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am, but..." CLICK.

It's over. My life is over. As I headed to the bathroom to, I don't know, shower, I guess, my phone slipped out of my hand. I stood in the shower, turned on the water, and let the water attempt to wash me clean. It didn't. I dried off and wrapped my towel around me before walking out. Trey was sitting up in bed, his pathetic six-inch dick pointing at the ceiling.

"Are you ready to go again with the 'Doctor of Love,' Marcy?"

I picked up my phone, took his phone off the nightstand, and tossed it to him. Then I dropped my towel and dressed. I pulled my suitcases out of the closet as Trey began speaking to Mrs. Chambers. I dumped all my clothes and shoes in the two bags and found my room cards. Trey was silent now, very pale, and he no longer pointed at the ceiling. I rolled my bags out into the hall as Trey was frantically waving his arm at me.

Wham. His door closed automatically, and I used my card to open the door to my room. Huh, my room. This was the first time I had seen it. I threw the deadbolt and the safety bar on the door and threw myself on the bed. I wanted to call Rick, but I was afraid. If I called, he would say, 'Why are you calling? You know you're wasting your time.' If I didn't call, he would say, 'She didn't love me enough to call.'

So I called, and a mechanical voice came on, "The number you have dialed is not in service..." I hung up and closed my eyes. I didn't get to sleep because someone was banging on my door.

"Marcy, open up; it's me, Trey. Come on, Babe, it's not so bad. You told your husband if he dumped you, then we would hook up. So, let's hook up. I can operate on brains anywhere."

I answered, "FUCK OFF, Trey."

He beat on the door some more, then stopped. A little later, Penny was banging on my door and yelling, "Marcy. Please open the door. Everything is crazy. Josh says he's divorcing me, and I only did it one night. You've been fucking Trey for six months, so you deserve what you get, but I don't."

Everyone I know at the hospital is nuts. I took two sleeping pills than a third. Maybe if I'm lucky, I won't wake up.

I did wake up. Shit. It was 3 AM, and I slept for sixteen hours. I washed my face and grabbed my key card, and left my room. I walked from the elevator to the front door, which members of the Columbian military guarded. They wouldn't let me leave the hotel. I argued and pushed them away from me until Trey showed up.

He spoke to the soldier in charge who could speak English, "My apologies, she is agitated because of some bad news from home. Let me take her back in, and I can get her calmed down."

"Calm this down, mother fucker." and I kicked him in the groin with my pointed-toe pumps. As he curled up on the sidewalk, I headed back into the bar. It was closed, but I walked in anyway, went behind the bar, and grabbed a bottle of Whiskey. As I walked past the front counter, I yelled out, "Charge this to room 514."

I locked myself in and proceeded to get drunk. When I finally woke up, with a marching band playing behind my eyes, my watch showed the time as 3:35 PM. I still had half a bottle of Whiskey left, so I drank from the bottle until it was empty and passed out again.

I woke up, and it was morning, but what morning? I called room service and ordered coffee and toast. When the room service waiter brought my order into my room, I asked what day it was?

"Senora, today is Friday."

After eating and sobering up with coffee, I took a shower and changed clothes. I decided to call Kyle.

"Hello."

"Kyle, it's Mom."

"I know who it is. What do you want?"

"To talk, Kyle, nothing else."

"Okay."

"Well, Kyle, I did it this time. Twenty-five years ago, I thought I had the 'Me, me, me' and 'I want' and 'I'm allowed' shit out of my life, but Nooo, not me. I had to let the monster out again. I know it's over with your father; I'm not going to track him down and tell him I'm sorry and make him hurt. He knows I'm sorry, just as I know I went too far. I just want to ask if I can still be your Mom? Can I, Kyle?"

He started bawling on the phone, and I mumbled, "I'm sorry I upset you. I'll hang up now." Click

Great, I made my baby cry. I can't do it if I lose my kids; I can't. I turned my phone off and lay down on the bed, curling up in the fetal position. When I awoke, it was evening, and I was a little hungry, so I called up room service and ordered soup and some red wine. I called the front desk and found out the airport opened at 7 AM, so I asked for a 6 AM wake-up call. I ate, drank half a bottle of wine, and went to sleep.

Ringgg...Ringgg...Ringgg "Hello?"

"It's 6 AM, Mrs. Weston." I got up and put on slacks and a long sleeve top and threw everything else in my bags. When I was ready, I called for a porter and then checked out. While waiting for a taxi, I wrote a note and asked the clerk to deliver it to Penny when she checked out. After the taxi to the airport, I checked my bags and picked up my boarding pass. When customs asked If I had anything to declare, I answered, "Yes. I'm a stupid bitch who threw away a wonderful husband for crappy sex."

I stared at three customs inspectors with my eyes filling with tears, and they stared back before turning away. I walked to the United Club Bar and drank a glass of red wine on an empty stomach. My phone! I forgot I turned it off.

I turned it on, and it blew up. Mom called, Mom again, Mother in Law Julie called, Kyle called, Kyle again, Terry Marshall, and on and on. I deleted everything except for Terry Marshall and called Kyle back.

"Mom! Why didn't you answer me?"

"When you broke down, I felt so ashamed, so I turned my phone off and went to sleep. I'm sorry, Baby. I'm even a failure as a mother."

"No, Mom, you're not a failure. I'm not mad; I love you, Mom."

"Stop. I fucked up, pardon my French." Neither of us said anything for about fifteen seconds before I spoke again. "Kyle, can you pick me up at the airport today?"

"Sure, Mom. Give me the Flight number and time of arrival."

I did and told him I loved him before I hung up. I had a second glass of red wine. As I finished my drink, United announced that the flight home was boarding. When I walked up to the gate, Trey and Penny came running up to me.

"Where have you been?"

"We need to work on our stories."

"Don't admit to anything."

I looked at them, shook my head, and boarded the plane. I was sitting in the last row next to a woman in her fifty's with a lousy henna rinse. Her name was Ethel; she was a psychologist, had a blog called "Ask Ethel," and pried my story out of me with minimal effort.

"So what now, Marcy? Are you going to track him down, hire a PI, or beg his parents to help you?"

"No, I'm going to confess, beg the hospital for my job or any job, sell the house, and find a two-bedroom apartment near the hospital."

"How can you sell the house? Don't you both own it?"

"I know Rick, and he'll give me the house."

"How can you be so fatalistic about this?"

"When I met Rick, he was a 2

nd

Lieutenant in the Army, and I was a, what words can I use, I was a prima donna bitch. Everything was me, mine, now, why, and I'll do what I want to." I finished my drink.