I see contests announced, but I'm never any good at writing to an opportunity. I guess I lack discipline. In this instance, I got lucky. I wrote this story for no particular reason other than to explore the topic of healing, but when the 2024 Winter Holidays Story Contest was announced I thought that for once I had a story that fit the contest. So I'm entering this story with no expectation of winning.
There really isn't much here. A man is betrayed in the past, he struggles, and in time with the help of a loving family he finds himself again. There is no BTB or RAAC, no steel pipe to the knees, and definitely no Navy Seals or Super-Secret Agents. There is just a man, his parents and kids, and healing. Oh, and there's no sex. Sorry.
>>> >>> >>>
The things a man does for his family should earn him accolades and medals. Society should applaud every husband who stands up and keeps his commitments. Wouldn't that be something to see?
It's been four years since the divorce, and I was sitting in my parents' living room watching football with the people I loved and hated the most. I didn't say that right. I loved some of them and I hated the others. There was no in-between. Thanksgiving is a big deal for my mother. It's right up there with Christmas. In her mind, we give thanks one day and a month later we celebrate with gifts. For four years she'd invited me to both and for three years I declined. I told her, "I'll come if Peggy and Fuckwad aren't there." That was my name for her new husband, Bill. It was Bill she was cheating with when she left me.
"Henry, I wish you wouldn't talk like that. I thought I raised you better."
"Sorry, mom, but that's how I feel. If they are there, I won't be."
"Henry, you have to understand. Peggy won't bring the kids if she can't come, and she won't come if Bill isn't welcome."
"Mom, I'm your son. She cheated on me, and he's the one she cheated with. I'm not going to play nice. If I have to be in the same room with him, I'm going to get myself arrested and they aren't worth it."
"I wish you would reconsider."
"Sorry, mom."
Anyway, every year since the divorce that was the way it went. This year for the first time, I agreed.
"Oh, Henry, I'm so glad you decided to join us this year. You don't need to bring anything. It's all taken care of. Just come and enjoy. Your dad is looking forward to seeing you and the kids will be so surprised." I imagine they will be.
"Just tell Peggy to keep Fuckwad away from me. I won't seek him out, but if he gets in my face, I can't promise what will happen."
Mom looked worried. Peggy was never very good at doing what she was told. It seemed like everything was a deliberate act of defiance with her. When we were first dating and married, we went on some terrific hikes in the mountains on the western part of the state. I swear if she were walking too close to a cliff and I shouted, "Be careful!", I think she'd take two more steps just to prove she could. Then as she fell off the mountain, she'd shout, "You aren't the boss of meeeeee!" I used to worry about that, but I confess that in recent years the thought gives me a degree of pleasure.
Despite what my mother said, I wasn't going to arrive empty handed, so I made my now famous horseradish, chipped beef and jalapeno cream cheese ball and bought a big box of crackers to go with it. I love those flavors, but in the past, I seldom got to enjoy them because Peggy is lactose intolerant. The fact that Bill couldn't stand spicy food was just an added bonus. My kids have always been like me and loved that combination, so whenever we made it, we would gather around the plate and giggle while making faces. For my dad, I made it a point to make a Cobb salad heavy on the tomato, blue cheese, and bacon just the way we both like it, and we could eat it as a snack before the meal was served. Dad and I are both big fans of bacon and blue cheese. If I was going, I was intending to spend my time with the people that were important to me and ignore the others.
With preparations made, I dressed in my sharpest casual clothes and headed over to my folks' place. There's no harm in looking sharp while pretending to say, "Oh this old thing?". The only rule is a man can look it, but he can't say it. I knew that Bill would wear a suit with that fancy gold watch of his and a few other bits of bling, but I also knew he was now about twenty pounds overweight while I'd become a gym rat after the divorce. For that matter, I knew that Peggy had put on a few pounds of her own.
Thinking of all that bling took me back to the day Peggy left me. She was sitting in the living room wearing her best business suit with her suitcase by the door. The room looked surprisingly uncluttered when I realized that all the bric-a-brac that she'd bought throughout our entire marriage including the porcelain statues, the first editions she never read, and the cups and saucers we were never allowed to use were all gone along with that ugly, overly ornate display cabinet. I had to listen to her gripe if I spent $40 on a new fishing reel, but she spent $2000 on the first edition of a book she never read, and heaven help me if I questioned the wisdom of her purchase.
"What's going on, Peggy?"
"I'm sorry, Henry. There's no easy way to say this. I'm leaving you."
It's funny what runs through a man's mind at a time like that. I wasn't broken up. Truth be told, I welcomed the decision. What concerned me was the kids.
"Where are the kids?"
"They're already moved into our new place. Don't worry. You can still see them whenever you want." That proved to be a lie when the court ruled that I got what today is called "liberal visitation rights".
"What's his name?"
"What do you mean, Henry?"
"There's no point in lying, Peggy. You wouldn't leave me unless you already had something lined up, and I'll find out soon enough. What's his name?"
She said it quietly like she was ashamed. "Bill Jansen."
"Your boss? You're fucking your boss? What a cliché!"
"He's a good man and he can provide for the kids in ways you never will. It's the best thing for them and it's best for me, too. In time, you'll see that. Maybe it will even be good for you. I'm not asking for any money because Bill makes more than you, so you'll even have more money to spend. This is good for everyone, Henry. You'll see."
They say that time heals all wounds, but it's not true. The wound is still there, but you feel the pain less. I missed the girl I'd married, but not the wife who left me. What I missed was coming home and spending time with my kids every night. I still went to their games and their recitals, and I got them every other weekend along with some weekdays and half the holidays, but it was never the same. You can't cram a life into every other weekend and half the holidays, but I did my best.
Anyway, I learned to make the best of it and four years after the divorce I was moving on. I adjusted to the new normal, cherished the time I had with the kids, worked too hard between their visits, hit the gym to burn off the anger and sexual frustration, and then 30 months after the divorce was final, I met Bridget. She was three years younger than me with a daughter, a dog, a mortgage, and an ex-husband who cheated on her, and she had a thousand-watt smile that lit up a room. It was Bridget that convinced me I was spending too much time and energy avoiding unpleasant situations and then missing out on the people I loved in the process. Like she said, I was just empowering them when I should be seizing my own power. I don't know how or where she learned these things, but she is a loving woman who is patient and wise beyond her years, and I was hopelessly in love with her. I was so much in love that I bought the ring and made plans for the second week after Thanksgiving, but that's another story.
I arrived at my parents' place, let myself in, and was greeted with shouts and running feet as my kids charged me and my parents walked calmly in my direction. It was the moment that I'd missed for too many years. I had almost everyone that was important to me in my arms and it felt wonderful. In fact, I was so overwhelmed that I almost dropped the food I'd prepared, but mom took the bag and with a kiss on my cheek headed back into the kitchen.
The kids were charged with energy and excitement at an age when most kids are becoming more than a little disappointed with their parents, and as we walked toward the back of the house dad whispered, "They're here. You ready for this?" I just nodded with a resigned look and entered the lion's den.
"Henry, it's so good to see you finally came to one of the family events!" She smiled with all the fake warmth and insincerity a cheating bitch could muster, and I made a mental note that she was only a member of this family to the degree that she had squeezed out the two grandchildren that my parents adored.
I couldn't help myself. "Nice to see you, Peggy. It looks like life agrees with you." She knew that was code for "You've put on weight" and suddenly she wasn't so happy. Score one for me.
That's when Fuckwad walked toward me with his hand out. "Henry, it's good to see you. How's all those wires and circuits doing?"
He knew I'm an electrical engineer with a master's degree, which didn't rate too highly in his mind compared to a corporate manager, and his greeting was just dismissive enough to pass the in-laws' test or so he thought. I turned to face my dad in time to catch the look of annoyance on his face only to smile at our inside joke. Fuckwad forgot my dad's a chemical engineer himself. I turned and walked toward the kitchen while I called out, "Dad, I made some of that Cobb salad you like. Can I get you a drink? What about you, Fu... ah, Bill?"
"Thanks. I'm fine." He didn't sound fine.
"Dad, how's the medical engineering business these days? How close are you to mass producing that new vaccine?" Okay, I'm an asshole, but I enjoy it. Dad's smile said, "Message received."
I poured two bourbons as dad joined me in the kitchen with the kids two steps ahead of him. Joy is thirteen and I suppose it's obvious that she was named in happier times. She's developing into an amazing young woman who is wise beyond her years and remarkably fearless. Greg is eleven and his biggest problem is that when boys are fearless, they also tend to lack good judgement. Here's an example of what I mean. A few months back we were hiking in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains above Santa Fe when Joy came across a rattlesnake. Now, I'd been over this with them, and she knew what to do, but she was so poised and restrained that for a moment I didn't know why she'd stopped on the trail. She stepped back, pointed to the snake, and we took a route around it to avoid any confrontation. I was so proud of her. Then Greg picked up a rock and threw it at the snake. See what I mean?
Anyway, I handed dad his bourbon as the kids unpacked the cheese ball. "Oh, good! Jalapenos!" Joy doesn't shy away from a little heat. "It's hot and creamy at the same time."
Greg was already unpacking the crackers. "Dad, did you add the horseradish?"
"Don't I always?"
