Reevaluating a Life and a Wife

Thank you to everyone who read my first submission and especially to those who took the time to comment on it. Not providing the wife's viewpoint and her silence was designed...I just don't care for the same tired old justifications and in the end does it really matter? Some of you understood my purpose and enjoyed it, others understood but felt it didn't work and some of you missed my point. That is my failure as a writer and hopefully, I'll improve based on this excellent and constructive feedback.

I'll consider writing a prequel from her perspective.

TCct

****

"Mr. Chris Watkins?"

"Shit" I thought but I didn't flinch or miss a beat in my conversation with Kevin the bartender. I had only been back in Texas for six months after a 3 year self-imposed exile. How did she find me? And more importantly why? I didn't turn around or acknowledge him in any way. I was just about to deliver the punch line to a particularly dirty joke when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Mr. Watkins, my name is Rob Morgan. I have been hired to find you"

I raised an eyebrow at Kevin and turned my head ever so slightly. "Did you want to keep that hand, Robbie?" I felt his hand leave my shoulder and I turned back to Kevin and delivered the punch line. He laughed heartily and popped another Shiner Bock for me and told me it was on the house as he ambled down to the other end of the bar still chuckling.

"Mr. Watkins, we have business to discu --"

I interrupted him "My name isn't Watkins and I have no business with you unless you want to hire me to weld something. If not, well, we have nothing to discuss."

"Mr. Wat.." that was all he got out before he hit the floor. I put 20 bucks on the bar, and massaging my right hand waved to Kevin and rose to leave.

"Mr. Watkins you are a hard man to find and I have no intention of starting my search over again." I looked down at the Taser gun he was aiming at me (at my crotch no less, the little piss ant!) and even though he was sprawled on the floor at the time it was pretty intimidating. As he stood he wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth, " I have no qualms about using it. So sit your ass down and let's have a chat."

I glanced at Kevin who was heading our way and waved him off. He paused, nodded and then said, "Let me know if y'all need anything, Bill."

"Thanks, Kevin, I will" I turned back and looked at the Taser-toting asshole.

"Who the fuck packs a Taser in Texas?" I chuckled and leaned in a little closer to him. "Do I know you, boy? "

"Fuck you, Mr. Watkins."

"Your manners need some work, son. You can't have been raised in Texas. Why don't you call me Bill and then tell me who you are what the fuck you want."

"Bill. Is it? Okay...Bill"

"Kevin, set us up with a couple of beers and put it on Robbie's tab." I smiled, sat in the nearest booth and asked "so why don't you tell me who this Watkins guy is and why you have such a big stick up your ass about him?"

"Okay, BILL, we'll play it your way. For the moment anyway. Mr. Chas Watkins was a successful, wealthy Dallas businessman who disappeared without a trace just over 3 years ago. He is married to a Mrs. Amy Watkins and they have a daughter, Sarah, she's 23. My name, as I told you, is Rob Morgan. I have been hired to find Chas Watkins and return him to Dallas."

"Really? Three years you say and without a trace? What's that got to do with me? You seem to have mistaken me for him but I am neither Chas Watkins nor a successful businessman. My name is Bill Grant, I weld shit for cash, play a little guitar - badly - and travel some. "

****

I had been so careful. Before I left I paid a lot of money for a completely new identity. Since then I had grown my hair and beard and lost about 30 pounds of fat and then added about 20 pounds of muscle. Amy wouldn't recognize me if I spat on her (I'd have to remember put that to the test if I ever saw her again).

When I left Dallas I drove north and west for 3 days, stopped and found a trailer for lease, enrolled in a welding class at a local community college and started my life over. I left everything but cash in Dallas; a high paying job, 2 homes, cars, credit cards, keys, cell phone, clothes and a lying cheating cunt of a wife.

I paid cash for a used Ford F-150, registered it in my new name, and drove it to a music store where I bought a used but beautiful Martin Dreadnought.

I didn't take anything with me but the clothes on my back.

I rarely stayed in one place more than 6 or 8 months and always paid cash. I didn't have any credit cards or a cell phone. I worked for cash, under the table, didn't file a tax return and almost always stayed out of trouble. It had to be Sarah. I couldn't cut her out completely.

About 15 or 16 months after I bolted, I sent her an email to let her know I was alive. I sent her another before every move from a public library computer just to let her know that I loved her and was thinking of her. I never told her where I was or why I left and I didn't respond to any of her questions about either subject. She could squeeze that out of her bitch mother.

Shit, shit, shit.

****

"Well, Bill" sneered Robbie, "as I was saying, a little over 3 years ago Mr. Watkins just up and disappeared and no one seemed to know anything about it. For the first year or so the police followed up, rather casually in my opinion, and many suspected he either ran off with another woman or that he was the subject of some foul play on the part of Mrs. Watkins. It was a difficult year for Mrs. Watkins, personally, professionally, financially."

"She had tried to liquidate some of their assets but didn't have a power of attorney and couldn't get Mr. Watkins declared dead so she was stuck. There was money in the bank but few new funds coming in so she went through those rather quickly. She hired a lawyer to help her get her husband declared dead. Unfortunately for Mrs. Watkins about sixteen months after her husbands' disappearance their daughter Sarah received an email from someone claiming to be Mr. Watkins.

"Of course the daughter was elated but it made having Mr. Watkins declared deceased a difficult proposition. At that point the police closed the case and Mrs. Watkins hired my firm to find one Mr. Chas Watkins and bring him back to Dallas to face charges of fraud and enable Mrs. Watkins to secure sole access and control to the marital assets."

"The poor dear" I tittered. "She's sounds in a pickle. So tell me, Robbie, how do I fit into this little made-for-TV-movie?"

"Well, Mr. Watkins, may I call you Chas?"

"You can call me Bill like everyone else."

"I am authorized by the State of Texas to forcibly, if necessary, escort you, Chas Watkins to the Dallas County Sherriff to answer to charges of fraud and abandonment."

I laughed out loud, much to his annoyance. "That's a big mouthful for a little guy, Robbie. Your story is cute but what fraud has been committed? When did bailing on a shitty marriage become a crime in Texas and why would the Dallas County Sherriff give a shit? That dog just don't hunt, Robbie! I would say, that if you ever do find this Chas Watkins you'll have to do a better job threatening him. He doesn't sound stupid to me. Seems to me that convincing him that he should return to Dallas is a long shot and I suspect that if he just up left he had a good reason. Let me help you out with a little role-play, Robbie. Why should he go back? What's in it for him? I'm guessing you'll have to dig pretty deep to come up with an answer to those questions."

I emptied my beer bottle and swallowed. "You can put your little laser pointer away now, Robbie."

Under the table I pulled the slide back on my glock -- he really ought to pay more attention to people.

He lost a little of his color knowing there was a round in the chamber of the 9mm currently pointed at him and gently placed his Taser at the spot on the table I was indicating.

"I'd like to tell you a story, Robbie. It's a story a friend of mine told me, oh I'd say about 3 years ago. You listening? Good."

"How about a couple more beers and a basket of wings, Kevin? My man, Robbie here is on an expense account."

"So there was this guy I met about 3 years ago, let's call him Chas. He was married to a woman, we'll call her Amy and they very coincidentally had a daughter named Sarah. This is the story my friend 'Chas' relayed to me."

****

I can tell you the moment my marriage ended.

Or at least the moment I knew it was doomed.

It was Amy's 50th birthday. We had decided to celebrate her 50th birthday at our weekend home in the country, just the two of us.

She had always been a quiet woman who had no interest in parties or elaborate affairs. We are fairly well off and because of that she had everything she needed and wanted. That made gift giving difficult but I spent months thinking about what to get her, subtly feeling her out in conversations, polling her friends and I was happy with the gifts I chose for her.

She,apparently,was not.

It was clear the moment she saw them. Her face fell...just for an instant before the mask of forced appreciation descended as she thanked me. We had been married for 24 years at this point and I thought I knew her well and it was obvious to me that she had expected something quite different.

I chewed on that thought for a moment and then asked her how she really felt. She assured me that she was happy but the smile she wore was forced. I pressed the issue and she finally acknowledged that the gifts were not what she was expecting and she had hoped for something a little more...well, she wasn't sure what exactly, just not these. If she didn't know how the hell was I going to know?

I apologized for ruining such an important milestone for her and told her that I would do my best to make it up to her. She told me that I could make it up to her if I wanted but that she was really surprised that her 50th didn't rate more thoughtfulness from me.

Huh?

I tried explaining to her my reasoning for each of the gifts but the more I said the more irritated she became with me. In the end I promised to make it up to her and she responded "If you'd have given me enough thought to begin with you wouldn't have to try to make it up to me and how do you make up for this kind of fuck up? I'm never going to turn 50 again!." Then she told me she wasn't feeling well and wanted to go home to Dallas.

We rode home in silence both of us seething.

We almost never married.

We were in a long distance relationship while I was away at college (she is 3 years older than me and had already graduated) and while I was visiting her for a long weekend I caught Amy cheating on me. We had been strolling downtown when we were stopped by a tall, older man (probably 50) who hugged her affectionately. Amy introduced the two of us and when he shook my hand he smirked at me. He fucking smirked!

His was a weak handshake and my father taught me to always be cautious around a man with a weak handshake. My guard was up and I took an instant dislike to him. "Nice to meet you, Dan, are you a friend of Amy's father?"

I couldn't put my finger on it but there was something off here. Amy was a little flustered and he had acted a little smug. While she was at work later that day I did a little digging and found out they had been seeing each other for about a month. I found their love letters for fuck's sake! She wasn't even hiding it. We had agreed to be exclusive. When I confronted her she of course denied it; they were only friends.

I told her to fuck off and left immediately.

I didn't call or write her and didn't take her calls. I threw her letters in the trash without reading them. Her fiends began calling and I ignored them. Then she had my friends calling me pleading her case. I told them all to tell her she needn't worry that she was free to fuck and marry her 'grandpa' now.

I fucking hate being lied to.

Ultimately, she came to see me and over time managed to convince me to give her a second chance. I did, but I kept her on a very short leash for a very long time and told her in no uncertain terms that if she ever cheated on me again, we were through.

Two years later we married.

She never did admit to the cheating.

After 11 years of marriage Amy threatened to divorce me. I was drinking too much, working too much, travelling too much and she was no longer interested in sharing her life with me. We argued. I told her that while I could not curb my travel, I could cut back on work a little and certainly would reign in my drinking. I begged her to think of our young daughter, Sarah. She eventually agreed but I was saddled with some pretty severe restrictions and she set about separating our finances and lives.

She told me she was just preparing for the inevitable. I complained that she didn't seem to really want to have this work and she just shrugged her shoulders and left the room.

I was determined, however, and over the next couple of years she relaxed. Mostly, I think because I started making several times what she was (actually I paid more in tax then she earned in a year) and separate finances only benefitted me, allowing me to pursue my own interests without having to discuss things with her. I bought a couple of motorcycles, a large sailboat, took flying lessons and bought a Cessna. I wore designer suits and drove a late model BMW. I bought our second home in the countryside, a 50 acre weekend retreat, without any financial assistance from her.

I always contributed to the household first, paid for all of the family vacations and still I was living a life she wanted a bigger piece of.

So she relaxed.

I am not convinced that we ever really recovered from that episode.

Two years ago I had come close to divorcing HER.

Over the years Amy became more combative with me - she had become a shrew, and I her employee. We rarely had sex (maybe twice a year) and when we did it was more like we were both scratching an itch. There was no intimacy, no love. I was sure she had cheated on me over the years but I had no proof. I don't think she had any long term affairs, just a lot of one night stands during her travels for work.

She had gotten better at cheating and hiding it.

Our daughter had just left for college and one evening after a rather nasty and public attack on my character and attractiveness I had had enough and I gave her an ultimatum; either we work on becoming a stronger, more loving couple with better communication and an active fulfilling sex life or we go our separate ways. I no longer wanted to live like people simply tolerating the presence of one another.

I actually had to have her served with a petition for divorce before she agreed to talk. We argued for days and it was the first time in years we had really communicated. She didn't want a divorce. That surprised me and I told her so. She promised that she would recommit to our relationship and work on her part of the marriage. I was skeptical, feeling like it was my money that she really wanted but I loved her and finally relented. So we agreed on new rules of engagement and communication and set about to fix our marriage.

I took the lead and pushed her and while she seemed content to travel this road with me I always felt like I was driving Miss Daisy....she was in the back seat taking in the scenery while I did all the heavy lifting. After a year, I told her I wanted her in the front seat with me and occasionally driving. She agreed but remained steadfastly in the back seat. She of course did have her own list of complaints and I listened to those, acknowledged them and began to try to address each of them.

I loved her and while she was rarely initiating anything to help improve our marriage she participated in everything I suggested and things improved. We WERE communicating better and having much more rewarding AND frequent sex - perhaps twice a week, sometimes more. She was not as sexually adventurous as she had been early on in our marriage but she agreed to try new things and seemed content.

I relaxed. We were content but I also knew she was holding back.

Several weeks had passed since her 50th birthday and things seemed to be increasingly cool between us. The affection was dwindling (at least on her part) and the sex began to gradually dry up. When I asked Amy about it she blamed it on work stress and promised that when her schedule calmed down things would return to normal.

They didn't.

She had always had to work long hours in the middle of projects so at first I didn't see anything alarming about the late nights. It did begin to dawn on me that it seemed more excessive than usual and that I was spending more weekends alone at our country home. She always had a plausible excuse, however and I decided to just wait it out a while longer.

We only had sex twice in the next six weeks. Both times at my insistence and both those times she seemed to be simply tolerating my getting off. Immediately after one lovemaking session in which she hardly participated, she rolled over to sleep and another time she simply left the room.

Evenings and weekends she was doing everything possible to avoid me. When that was impossible or difficult she seemed bored at best but more routinely simply irritated.

I remembered this pattern. The shrew was back.

Part of our work over the previous two years had been to communicate any issues we may be having before they became all out fights and if we did fight we had tried to be better, more productive in our conflicts. Keeping it as impersonal as we could, aiming steadfastly at a resolution, always trying to see the others side. We wouldn't tolerate cop outs, excuses or non-participation. We always acknowledged the aggrieved party's feelings and tried to address those issues only.

No more deflection, avoidance and blame.

When I confronted her about her schedule, lack of affection and our dead sex life she didn't want to discuss it. She put me off several times over a couple of days and when I pointed out that she was not playing by our new rules of engagement and communication she told me to shove the rules up my ass and leave her alone. I suppressed my anger and between clenched teeth reminded her that we had agreed these were important and non-negotiable. She told me to fuck off and go negotiate with my right hand from now on.

Message received, loud and clear.

Was she cheating on me? Perhaps. I didn't need to know, Texas is a no fault state, but I wanted to know. It seemed clear that our marriage was now over and if that was the case her cheating made little difference but I hate being lied to and this time she would pay for it. I had often reminded her how I felt about fidelity and honesty. I understand that you can't choose who you are attracted to but you can choose what you decide to do about it. I told her that if she was so attracted to someone else that she couldn't resist fucking them, we would divorce first. I would be hurt but I would respect her for respecting me enough to wait until we were divorced and being honest with me. We could part amicably (sort of). And I promised to do the same for her.

I had to know for certain... and I had things to do.

Before we had recombined our finances, some 8 years earlier I had syphoned some of my cash to an investment account. I had also arranged with my employer to have all of my bonuses deposited in that new account. I never told my wife about this mostly because she wanted to control our finances and I thought I could do a better job investing than she could. It turned out I was right and my investment portfolio was now very healthy. One of the benefits offered by my long term employer was tax preparation and filing services and that was the one area my wife and I never came back together on. At her insistence, 13 years ago we had begun to file our taxes separately and she saw no real benefit to changing that so we didn't. I suspected she was hiding money and decided that that allowed me to keep that investment account hidden from her. I had planned to surprise her with the money in our retirement assuming we made it to retirement.