There's not much here in the way of sex. It's just a little story about moving on. I set out to write one story, and somehow I became distracted and started down the wrong path. I stopped writing this, wrote the other story called My Real Wife, and then returned to pursue this different path. Somewhere, my attitude changed and the anger I started with morphed into a search for humor. This twisted little tale is the result. I hope you enjoy it.
*****
It was the dead of winter when night falls early and I was having one of those truly great days! We had just signed the biggest contract in my little company's history. I'd walked out into the office and told everyone the good news. They are a great team and the cheers and applause that went up made me feel like the hero of the company! It was 2:00 in the afternoon and I told everyone to go home early. The day wasn't going to get any better than this, so I wanted everyone to go home and spend it with the ones they love.
The day wasn't going to get any better than this... Truer words...
I spent another five minutes with Jim Daniels, the company's lawyer, signed the last of the papers, and left. I was the last to leave and that made me feel especially good. I had the best team in the city and the thought of all of them celebrating at home with their families filled my heart. So, I grabbed some flowers and headed home to my own wife. She didn't know it yet, but we were going out to dinner.
What do they say - the lowest lows come after the highest highs? I walked in the front door and I saw clothes spread across the living room floor. It was a man's clothes mixed in with what I could plainly see were my wife's clothes. The man's clothes were not mine. I picked up the pants, checked the driver's license in the wallet, and something inside me died. It was Harry "The Pissant" Parker, alias Hairy Ass Parker, alias Shit Stain, that sleazy sack of crap she worked for. (Do you get the impression that I never liked the guy?) I put his driver's license in my pocket and walked down the hall.
There was no mistaking the sounds coming from the bedroom. I only walked back to confirm with my own eyes what my ears already told me. I stood in the doorway and I died a little more. My cheating bitch wife was fucking her boss on our bed!
They didn't see me. I stood there in shock watching his ass rise and fall, him grunting and her groaning.
"What do you think the cuck would do if he saw us now?"
She laughed. "Probably get us a towel." They both thought that was funny.
Isn't it bad enough to see your wife with another man, you have to hear her ridiculing you as well?
I'll show them cuck. I grabbed the baseball bat I kept by the bedroom door for security. I never needed a gun, but right then I wished I had one. I was about to bring it down with all my strength to break the fucker's head when I stopped. No! I wasn't going to jail for the likes of them. I wasn't going to do time for killing a worthless bug. I thought "You want cuck? I'll give you cuck!" I flipped the bat end-for-end, hauled back like I was about to hit a door with a battering ram, took aim, and I drove the handle of the bat into that fat fucker's fat white ass!
I don't know if I penetrated it, but I damn well tried. In hindsight (I had to say that) I must have missed the bull's-eye or I would have ripped his bowels open. I wanted to force that bat all the way to his damn tonsils. The scream was very satisfying. He jumped off my worthless wife like a startled rabbit, hit his head on the brick wall behind the bed, and then rolled onto the floor unconscious. I would have enjoyed it if my heart wasn't broken.
Can a dead man have a pulse? I certainly felt dead inside, but my heart was racing. It was pounding in my chest. I felt my pulse in my head, behind my eyes, and for a moment I thought I would pass out. It's at moments like these that you question your sanity. "Did I just see what I thought I saw? Was she really doing her damn boss?"
She was panicked. Well, she damn well should be! If ever there was a textbook example of temporary insanity, I was it. "Honey, I can explain. It isn't as bad as it looks. We can get past this."
"Fuck you! The cuck isn't getting your damn towel. Pack your bags and get the fuck out! Drag that piece of meat after you or he dies here today."
I was just standing there, the bat in my hand, my cheating wife trying to cover herself, and her piece of shit boss lying on the floor. I shut down. It's the last thing I remember about the whole encounter. My next memory isn't until hours later.
It was dark. I was sitting in my living room, just staring off into space. I found the bat in the trash the next day. I must have taken it into the garage at some point, but I don't remember. I know I damn well had no intention of ever holding that handle again. At some point, sitting there in the dark, I felt something in my pocket. It was The Pissant's driver's license. Well, a phone call to his wife would be in order soon enough. I wandered the house. The bitch was gone. Good. I don't know what I would have done if she'd still been there.
I heard the doorbell and went to answer the door ready for a confrontation, but it was my kid sister "D". That's what we call her. It's short for Deborah. She lives just a few blocks away and came over to "borrow" a few beers. "Steve's working late and he's going to need a cold one when he gets home. You don't mind, do you?"
I don't think I ever answered her.
"Jake, what's wrong? You look like you're in shock. Where's Barb?"
"I caught her."
"What do you mean you caught her? You caught her how? Where? Doing what?"
"I caught her fucking her boss in our bed."
She just stood there, staring at me for the longest time. I guess she figured I was serious. Without a word, she stepped forward, put her arms around me and her head on my chest, and said, "Oh, Jake, I am so sorry. You don't deserve that."
I really don't remember very much from the rest of that night. I do remember sitting in D's living room with her kids crawling all over their Uncle Jake and her husband Steve sitting with me. I don't remember much conversation. I slept there that night and woke in the morning feeling alive if not good about my life. The kids had already gone to school, so D and I sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee while I ate a plate of eggs and bacon. Coffee and bacon will put the life back in a man, if slowly, and I was beginning to take stock of my life. I knew there were big changes ahead. Divorce was a certainty with all the change that come along with it. I'd try to save myself and give her as little as possible, but even in my nonfunctioning state I knew that she'd get half.
D and I talked at length. "No chance of saving the marriage?"
"Maybe I could if it was all theoretical, a bad story that someone told me and she admitted to, but not after what I saw and heard. It was bad enough she was doing that smarmy creep, but they were mocking me, demeaning me, and making jokes about me while they did it. How do I forget that?"
"If there really is no chance for her, then maybe I should tell you something."
"What's that?"
"I never liked her."
I started laughing. There aren't many people that D doesn't like. "You tell me this now?"
"There's more. Nobody in the family likes her. Even my kids can't stand her." She smiled a little when she said that.
"Now you're making things up."
"No, I'm not. Jake, you have a good heart and you see the best in people. You see what they can be, but some of us see what they are. I can't put my finger on it. I don't know exactly why I don't like her. I just know she never rang true. I always thought there was something false about her."
"Well, I guess I can't say you're wrong now, can I?"
"Sorry, Jake. I wish I weren't right. I never wanted to be right about her. What are you going to do now?"
"Divorce her. Find an apartment someplace. Simplify my life. Pick up the pieces and start to rebuild."
