Oh What Webs We Weave

This is a work of fiction. There is no sex, as I do not write on that topic.

Another short story, no sex. I do not write those types of stories, so if you are here looking, please press the back arrow towards the top left of your screen.

I apologize for being away, there are some things that developed in my life which has had me preoccupied.

A special tale for a select few commenters. A young man was going to college in California, studying geology. He worked at a department store as a buyer of knit wear for women. He graduated, finding a job with the U.S. Geological Survey. His job was to find new sub-faults in the San Andreas fault. He wrote home telling his parents he went from knit picker to fault finder. Fault finders, please take note.

What Webs We Weave

It was a Wednesday afternoon; I was home from work early as there was a power outage. I am John Wilson, age 38, about six feet tall, dark hair and eyes, I have been recognized as being well built and good looking. I am a civil engineer, having a degree in said field from State University.

My wife, Jill and I have two children, Marcy 15 and Robbie 13, both going to the local school. My wife works at Apex Associates, a real estate firm. She is 37 years old, a bleach blonde, and quite attractive. She has her license to sell real estate. Up until today, I thought we had a good marriage.

The reason for the last comment was a telephone call I just received. It was from a friend I have at Jill's office. I was told she overheard a conversation between Jill and her boss, Jason Everson. Apparently, Jill and Jason have cooked up a scheme where they were claiming to be going a week-long seminar in Atlanta. That is some 600 miles from our home here in Ohio. Well, that was the scheme, except they were actual going to be about 100 miles away at a hotel known for its fine restaurant and other amenities.

My first reaction was to be royally peeved, then hurt. Then my Marine discipline kicked in... I settled down and begin to think through the situation. Conclusion: This has to have been going on for a while. There was probably little I could do to stop it.

Divorce was not only in the cards but a sure thing (Readers, please remember this sentence at the end of the story.) I thought about my children, which I loved beyond limits. I could not stand being apart from them. I asked Attorney Google how old children had to be in Ohio to decide who they would live with. Mr. Google, Esq. told me: "In Ohio, there is no set age at which a court will decide that children have attained sufficient reasoning ability." I knew the kids would want to stay with me since Jill "worked" all sorts of hours and weekends, so most activities with them were left to me.

There would be no alimony since our incomes were about the same. The house actually belongs to my grandparents (in their 90's) gifted to us rent free as long as we paid the taxes, insurance, utilities and did the maintenance. I knew they would leave it to me when they passed on.

Jill is quite popular in our small town, being involved charities and church, both being very important to her. She has both parents and four siblings, living along with a myriad of nieces and nephews. She is working towards running for mayor of our town. Image was very important to her.

I began my planning. I made several telephone calls, seeking keeping it to themselves for now. As said, fighting it was useless because I suspected this was not a new thing for her. So, while the plan was only roughed in, I waited.

She came home about 8 PM, not unusual for her, peck on my cheek and up to the shower to clean the day's work off. She came back down and asked about my day and what Marcy and Robbie got up to. I told her that the biggies were in Marcy being accepted by the cheerleading squad, while Robbie was on the school's Junior Varsity baseball team. They were fed, homework finished and watching a Disney movie.

I told her about our power outage and my being home early. I had made my signature spaghetti sauce using hamburger and hot Italian sausage in the sauce and special garlic bread. (I toast Italian hard crust bread, then let it cool. I spread homemade garlic butter - butter and minced garlic - on it, then cover with mozzarella cheese. A few minutes under the broiler does the trick.) There were leftovers and I so told her to which she dashed to the kitchen to fix a plate.

A half hour later she came back to the den and sat down. She stared at me for a long minute then proceed to tell me about the upcoming seminar to which she would be leaving right after church.

I asked her about it. She said there was some speculation about industrial growth in the area and the seminar focused on real estate needs for such endeavors and how they could begin research to find suitable land with all the necessary services. Things such as rail availability, zoning requirements, road changes, utilities and importantly city and county inducements to attract industry. Boy O days, she really thought this through, I almost bought it.

Sunday morning came, she was packed and ready. I asked if she wanted us to take her to the airport but she said that her boss would pick her and the others up. I asked who else, to which she replied that she did not know, only there was to be four of them.

Church came and went, lunch finished, she changed into travel slacks and blouse, and I heard the horn toot... a quick kiss and hug to each of us and she was gone.

I set my completed plan into action. I knew my plan would trump hers.

I knew where they were headed, but I got ahead of them and sped off. It took about and hour and half, but I knew I had the move on them.

I parked where she was not likely to see the SUV. I went to the front desk, asking for Mr. George Jansen, who just happened to have served with me in the Marines. I had told him the story a few days ago. He handed me a key card and wished me good luck.

So off to the room we went. Yes, "we." Our children, her parents and mine were all there, thanks to the nice SUV seating capacity.

We went to the room and waited. The telephone rang three times, we moved to the bathroom and closed the door. The door opened a few minutes later, we waited two minutes then stepped out, all of us saying in unison "Hello, Jill."

Well, dear readers, I do not like unfinished stories, but I think it is finished, you take it from here and let your imagination run.