Making It Up As We Go: A Sequel
I would like to start by thanking AileyInn for giving me permission to write this sequel to his April 2022 story, "
Making It Up As We Go
," a tale of a husband who believes he has stumbled across something rotten in his marriage. I suggest reading his story to get the full context of what takes place here.
I would also like to thank all those who have read and offered comments and constructive criticism on my previous stories.
And now, the disclaimers:
For those who want to say this or that would never happen, remember this is my universe, a place where nearly anything can, and often does, happen. At least on paper... In addition:
Characters in this story may participate in one or more of the following: Smoking, consumption of adult (meaning, alcoholic) beverages, utterance of profanities.
All sexual activity is between consenting adults 18 years of age or older.
Statements or views uttered by the fictional characters in this story do not necessarily reflect the views or opinions of the author.
Please refer to my profile for more on my personal policy regarding comments, feedback, follows, etc. (Yes, I DO moderate comments) And please remember, this is a work of fiction, not a docu-drama...
...
Here I sit, in an office trailer located at a job site just north of Calhoun, Georgia, contemplating what to do about my marriage. You might wonder why I'm here, instead of with my family, all of whom were in Melbourne Beach, Florida, on a winter vacation.
Let me bring you up to speed. My name is Jimmy Foreman, son of James Everett Foreman. I've spent the last seven years married to the extremely lovely Rebecca. We have two children, a six-year-old son, James, and a four-year-old daughter named Elizabeth.
I have an older brother named Max, who just happens to be an attorney, and the apple of my mother's eye. Looking at the two of us, one would never suspect we were brothers. At six-foot four-inches, he stands a full six inches taller than me.
Max, who is four years older than me, is also quite athletic and muscular and sports a full head of somewhat wavy dark hair, as opposed to my shorter sandy-brown hair. Even our eyes are different. One could easily get the impression that we have two different fathers.
Growing up, Max was the All-American everything. It seemed he could do no wrong, especially in my mother's eyes. I played baseball and football in high school as well, and my prowess as a pitcher managed to catch the attention of professional and collegiate scouts. But my height put me out of the running. I guess that's just the way it goes.
My mother constantly raved about Max, quite often at my expense. It was one of those things I had to endure growing up. Perhaps to make up for it, Dad spent more time with me than Max growing up. Sure, he was proud of both his sons, but I was the one who got the lion's share of his attention, and his wisdom. In the end, I suppose it all worked out, especially given that I eventually went to work with him, and together, the two of us made money hand-over-fist.
After Emory Fortson, the project superintendent for the Calhoun site, left the trailer, I opened my briefcase and pulled out a legal pad and a pen. I also set up my laptop and connected to the site's WiFi. I've always preferred putting things down on paper and this situation was no different.
I made a list of what I had observed since I came down from Atlanta on Wednesday. At this point, it was mostly body language, but as the saying goes, where there's smoke, there's usually a fire. Topping it all off was the declaration by my six-year-old son that Max had been at the resort at least a day before he showed up with my parents.
"Uncle Max, that's what you had at the club Friday night," James exclaimed when Max ordered a combination platter with blackened shrimp. Talk about a "dropped mike" scene. All conversation stopped and all adult eyes were on me. At that moment, I felt like saying something to the effect of, "Houston, we have a problem."
My mother broke the ice when she asked, "Jimmy, what are you going to have?"
I said nothing in response. I gritted my teeth and continued looking at the menu. The mood of the evening was definitely shot. We ordered but ate mostly in silence. I knew the adults were sneaking glances my way as I slowly fumed inside. It was extremely uncomfortable, to say the very least.
I wanted to talk with Rebecca on the way back to the hotel, but couldn't -- not with the kids present. We rode back in silence, the tension in the car so thick it could be cut with a knife. When we got to the room, Rebecca suggested I have my regular gin and tonic on the balcony to relax as I often did. After my fourth drink, I climbed into bed, seeing that Rebecca appeared to be asleep.
What I saw this morning after I got up was the straw that broke the camel's back. I woke up alone, somewhat irritated that Rebecca had not even bothered to wake me, then went downstairs to grab some breakfast. That's when I saw them all by the pool.
Elizabeth was sitting in Max's lap as he and Rebecca were deep in conversation about something. I couldn't help but notice the way she looked at him. It was a look usually reserved for lovers, and it was the look she used to give me.
I couldn't take any more, and left. At first, I considered going to the pool, but changed my mind. I wasn't about to play second fiddle to these people any more, so I left and drove home. After sitting in my big lonely house, I decided to get out and go someplace where I could think and work things out in my head without interference from my family.
And that's how I ended up here, at a job site just north of Calhoun. Emory was kind enough to let me stay here so I could work things out uninterrupted. Of course, that didn't stop everyone from calling and texting me, wondering where I was. Even Max called, but I declined the call. I thought about erasing their voicemails, but decided to leave them for now.
After I made my notes, I read them over as I thought about the situation. Then it hit me. Julie, Max's second wife. They had been separated since April and appeared to be heading for a divorce. I met her several times and we always got along rather well. I picked up my phone and opened my contact list. I hoped she wouldn't mind me calling so late. To my surprise, she answered on the second ring.
"Jimmy," she said. "I wondered when you were going to call."
"You were expecting my call?" I asked.
"Yes," she said. "When my PI told me you had left the hotel, I had a feeling you would call."
"Your PI?" I asked. "You had a PI watching me?"
"Actually, I had a PI watching Max," she said. "I knew he was planning to meet up with Rebecca this weekend, so I had him followed."
"How did you know that?" I asked.
"After Max and I separated, I went to work for a friend of mine, Angela Hawkins. She's a family law attorney," Julie said. "We've been trying to get solid evidence against Max for some time now. And I believe we're going to get it this weekend."
"Is that why you two haven't gotten divorced yet?" I asked.
"That's part of the reason," she said. "Part of it is that Max wanted to wait until we had been separated for a full year before going for an absolute divorce."
"So you're saying Max and Rebecca are having an affair?" I asked.
"I believe so," she said. "But I think it goes further than that. I have every reason to believe Max and Rebecca have been an item since you married her. And there's more."
"More?" I asked, feeling sick to my stomach.
"Yes," she said. "I have reason to believe your mother not only condoned the affair, but encouraged it and facilitated it."
"My mother?" I asked, shocked.
