Sunday morning. A day filled with the routines established twenty years ago and reinforced over one thousand Sundays since. Minor variations accepted, with permission.
From the day we were married I discovered the power a woman gets from having a ring on the third finger of her left hand. Maybe not all women, but the one I married behaved as if the ring was given to her by the energizer bunny! I also discovered, slowly, that I had no idea how to be stronger than her. She used various tactics to reinforce her position of power and control. I used whatever I could think of to wrest some (any) of the power and control back to me. The driving force inside me was that I really wanted to be a good guy and have her love me.
I hate confrontation. So, for the first few years we were married I avoided confrontation as though it might actually kill me. If a disagreement happened and I saw she was strongly against what I wanted, I caved in. If she wanted something and I had lots of good reasons why we couldn't afford it, it was wrong for us, too soon, too far away, too anything and she really wanted it anyway, we got it.
In the fifth year we were married we changed careers. I went to work. I did the work. She wanted to be able to say I did something else, so we changed careers. Over the next two years I convinced myself I was the one who wanted the change and that I liked the new career as well as the old one, if not more.
She also decided we were ready to have a family. We had the conversation about children before we got married. She said she wanted a boy and a girl. I liked that idea. So, when she announced she was ready to get pregnant, I was fine with that. My thinking was that if she wanted to get pregnant we would need to have sex often. We were having missionary sex once a month. I was right, I did get more. She did all kinds of calculations and we "did it" three times in one week. Nothing the other three weeks. It had improved, but not much. Four months later she announced she was pregnant and sex stopped. She said, "If you want to make a mess, be sure you clean it up when you're done."
She had the baby while I was on a business trip. No one called to tell me she was in labor. I was a hundred miles away and could easily have made it home in time for the birth. After all, she was in labor for nineteen hours! After the baby was born and all the paperwork signed I was called and told I was the father of a daughter. Then I was told her name. It was not the name we had agreed on. The birth certificate had already been filed. Her reason for the new name? "She didn't look like an Alison." I never heard her refer to Donna as "our" child. Donna was "her" baby.
We had three kids. Why? Because the second was another girl and she still wanted a boy. She found a way to name the second girl as well. I named the boy. It was by default. After she delivered him she had some complications and they did a D&C and tied her tubes. While they did that I filed all the papers, including the birth certificate. She was angry about it, even though the name I gave him was the one we had agreed on.
Six weeks later the doctor told her she could resume our sex life. I had been counting the days. She came home and said the doctor had told her to wait another month, to better heal. The next day I happened to have lunch at a deli and her ob/gyn doctor came in. I asked him and he told me he had told her she could have sex any time she wanted. It hurt. It hurt that she lied to me and it hurt even worse that she didn't want to have sex with me. Tears ran down my face as I drove home that day.
I hate confrontation. I waited the month and was angry the whole month. When the month was up I took her to dinner. I hired my Mom to babysit the kids and we went to dinner. After dinner I drove to a motel and she asked what I thought we were doing. I explained that I had waited the extra month and now I wanted to have sex with her. I knew that at home she would be taking care of our children and be worried about noise and interruptions so I brought us to a motel. She threw a fit. I was an inconsiderate bastard who only thought of my needs and wants, not of her. She wouldn't get out of the car.
Eleven months later it was my birthday and she let me in. That was my birthday present. When I was done she said, and I quote, "Now don't bother me again until your next birthday."
I cried that night. I knew she was serious. I also knew I was committed to our marriage and I wouldn't leave.
At a social gathering about three months later I overheard her talking to some of the women from our church. She said, "I don't have to worry about that. My so-called husband hasn't gotten it up in a year."
After that gathering I noticed both men and women at church treated me differently. Worse. Word had been passed around.
I had made a commitment in front of God and the congregation to be married to her for the rest of our lives! I didn't want to be a failure. I didn't want a divorce. I also didn't want to live like I was living.
Every day I wondered what I could do. Every day I felt more and more trapped and unhappy. I couldn't think of a way to get any power in my own life. She had it all. At work I was in a conversation with five other men and they were talking about how their children asked for things, begged for things and manipulated them into buying, giving and getting things for them. I realized that my children didn't do that. Even they knew I had no power, no say-so.
An event happened that had nothing to do with me, directly, but changed my life. One of my oldest daughter's friends was over at our house and told her about their next door neighbor. I overheard their conversation. He had been fighting, yelling and screaming with his wife for the four years they had lived next door. Then suddenly the house next door was quiet. The man had enough. He had gotten a job in another country and had moved. He left his wife and their child behind. The girl told my daughter that he left when he found out that his daughter wasn't his daughter. She was the product of his wife's affair. The country he moved to had no legal agreement with the United States that would require the man to pay child support or alimony.
I did my research and found what country it was, and even where he was exactly. I wrote him, using my work as the return address. Then I collected hair samples from the kid's brushes in their bathrooms. I had them tested.
After I turned in the samples I confronted a dilemma, what if these kids that I loved weren't mine? Could I walk away from them? I hated confrontation, even when it was internal!
For twenty-one days, while I waited for the results, I thought about those questions.
On the day the results came to me in the mail at work, I didn't open the envelope. I called the pastor of our church and asked to meet with him, alone, and not at the church. We met at a park on the far side of town.
I told him about my life, my marriage and I asked for his counsel. He asked good questions and we talked until it was getting dark. He reminded me that there was a gathering at the church that weekend for families. One of the activities was for people to get to a microphone and express their love and feelings for their families. He wondered if hearing that might help my wife reevaluate her position on our marriage.
I tucked the envelope in the glove box of my car on the way home. Over dinner I asked if there were any plans for the weekend. My wife said there was a "thing" at the church for families and that she had volunteered to bring two pies. We were going.
The next morning at work I opened the envelope. All three children were genetically unrelated to me. For over an hour I sat at my desk staring at the results. I felt anger, betrayal, frustration, rage and a lot of it was aimed at me. I had so focused on being a good guy that this woman had used me and abused me with my permission! I was the picture in the dictionary next to the word cuckold and the word idiot!
I called to the country where my new friend lived. He had figured I might be thinking of moving and he had found me a job. For the rest of the day I made plans and booked a flight. We had passports at home that I had gotten when my wife wanted to go to Jamaica a couple of years before. My flight left Saturday at ten in the evening.
At four that Wednesday afternoon after I had called my new friend, the guys came by and asked if I planned to work late. I said yes. They left. I called home and my oldest daughter answered. I asked about her day as I usually did and when I had all her news she asked if I'd be home for dinner. I said, "Sweetheart, I don't think I'll be home tonight at all."
Her response floored me. "You found out, didn't you?"
There was a long silence while I wondered how to respond. Before I figured it out she said, "Daddy, can you meet me at Penn Park in an hour?" She was whispering.
I said I'd meet her by the swings. I left work and drove to the park. Almost to the minute my daughter arrived, driving the minivan that was the family car. She and her sister got out and came to the swings. I was sitting at the nearest picnic table to the swings. They sat across from me.
"When did you find out?" The oldest asked. Tears tracked down her cheeks.
"What do you think I found out?"
"Mom's been cheating." The young one said. She had tears too.
My oldest daughter, Donna, said, "We know Mom hates you, and says bad things about you all the time but this is the worst! He's been in our house and they used your bed!"
"Have you seen them together?"
Della answered, "You found out she was having an affair but not who with?"
Donna reached out and held my hand. "Daddy, I'm named after him. Don Roberts."
"Jesus! He's been doing her the whole time we've been married. He's in our church! Are you sure?"
"Yes, Daddy. We've both seen him in the house and I saw him in your bed, with Mom.'
"In our bed?" I was shocked. It was as if she wanted to get caught.
"They didn't close the door all the way. They were both naked and Mom was bent over the end of the bed. Mr. Roberts was standing behind her, holding onto her hips. I know what fucking looks like, now." Donna said.
Della said, "The first time I saw them she was on her knees out in the garden and he was standing close in front of her. She had his thing in her mouth!"
"Ok, I believe both of you. What do you think is going to happen?" I asked.
"You and Mom will get a divorce. He'll leave his wife and move in with us. Mom has said if you ever grew balls she'd take you for everything you have in court. She has made plans to do just that. Don Roberts is a lawyer." Donna answered. Della nodded.
"What if the choice was yours, stay with her or leave the state with me?"
They looked at each other and asked, "Where would we live?"
"With me. If your decision is about where then you're looking at the surface. Live with her or live with me. I know it's tough to think about because you've never known me when I stood up to her, or anyone. I am a nice guy. I don't lie, cheat or steal. What happened was at least half my own fault. I've never stood up to her. She did what she did because she knew she could."
"When do you need our answer?" Della asked.
