The Hell You Will

THE HELL YOU WILL This story is a little different. I hope you enjoy it.

I arrived home on a Friday night, thinking that after a tough week on the flight line, I could enjoy myself in the company of my pretty wife. Three kids, out of the house and more or less on their own, after 22 years of marriage. Maybe we could go out and have a pleasant evening.

My name is David Collins, mild-mannered A&P mechanic and crew chief of arrivals and departures, day shift, for United Airlines, after 25 years of working the garbage shifts. My wife Judith Collins was the charge nurse at Central Hospital, day shift, labor, and delivery. Both of us making good money, me just a little more than her (union, you know) but comfortably upper-middle class. I pulled the pick-up into the garage, in its usual spot, and closed the garage door. If we were going out nice, it would be in her Lincoln Navigator. If it was country/western night, my F-250 was the chariot of choice. The night would be my wife's choice (wasn't it always?). Either way, it didn't bother me. If momma's happy, daddy is ecstatic.

I walked into the kitchen from the garage and perused the mail on the kitchen table. I heard a noise upstairs and then the padding of little feet coming down the steps. My attractive forty-two-old wife entered the living room in a shorty robe that never ceased to get me excited when she wore it.

"OH," she exclaimed. "You're early! I, aah, I didn't expect you for another hour or so."

I looked at my watch and realized I was early. But not that early.

"What gives? Where are we going? "

"Well, I am going out. I don't know what you are doing."

O.K., my weekend just went to shit. "What do you mean, you're going out? Where, and with who??"

Her eyes strayed to the small overnight bag at the end of the couch.

"UHHH, I have a date with William Strathmore. It's for the weekend. I'll be home Sunday night, and we will talk about it.

"'WHAT THE FUCK DID SHE JUST SAY??', I thought.

"I have to finish getting ready." She turned and raced upstairs, and I heard the door slam. 'THE HELL YOU WILL," I said.

My first thought was I needed reinforcements. I pulled out my cell phone and speed-dialed my daughter. I was not going to be made the bad guy by he said, she said.

"Hello, daddy. What's up?," she answered cheerfully.

I grabbed her mother's purse and emptied it onto the coffee table.

"I need you to get over here right away. Your mother hurt her head, and she needs us. I've got to go."

"Daddy? DAD??," I heard as I hung up. The next all was to my number one son. He got the same message, with the included, "Call your brother and tell him to get here-QUICK." "DAD, WHAT THE FUCK.....?" as I ended the call. Then I speed-dialed her parents and said the same thing. There was equal confusion at their end and some yelling as I disconnected the call.

Judith's pocketbook spilled the usual contents- credit cards, keys, a twelve-pack of Trojan condoms (!!!!!!- I had had a vasectomy), and a confirmation e-mail from the Marriott Hotel in Kenilworth. Rooms 703 to 710. 'THE HELL YOU WILL,' I thought.

William Strathmore was one of the pediatric surgeons at her work. I had met him at the hospital Christmas party several times in the past five years, and the guy was slimy. And that was the best thing I could say about him. His wife was drop-dead gorgeous, but I got the impression she had had it with him.

I confiscated her credit cards and her car keys. Then I took the e-mail and put it in my pocket. (Just in case.) I picked up her cell phone and unlocked it. ( Her code was our anniversary date, and the number three, for our children. Security; HAH)

She was still busy upstairs, so I got a hold of the emergency call list from her job and looked up the good doctor. His cell phone would not help, but his home phone might. I dialed it, and after two rings, someone answered.

"OH, honey, I was waiting for your call. I don't recognize the number, though. Is every thing all right??"

"Is this Mrs. Strathmore?" I asked.

"Yes; who is this, please."

"This is David Collins. My wife is a charge nurse at the hospital where your husband works. I don't know if you remember me?"

"Yes, Dave, as a matter of fact I do. My husband and I were talking about you and your wife a couple of nights ago. I was expecting a call from William when you rang. What can I do for you?"

"So your husband is not home?" I asked.

"No, he's in Boston at a surgical conference. Is everything alright??"

"Look, Mrs. Strathmore, I don't know how to say this, but I don't think he is. I just had a confrontation with my wife, and she told me she was going out on a weekend at the Marriott in Kenilworth, ending on Sunday night."

"WHAT? WHAT ARE YOU SAYING???"

"I think we are both being lied to. I have an e-mail confirmation for the rental of seven adjoining rooms, on the seventh floor, from today through Monday."

"I saved your number, Mr. Collins. Let me get back to you."

I had had enough of this bullshit. I looked on the emergency call list and found the listing for the head of H/R at the hospital, Corinne Adams. I knew her; she and my wife were good friends. I knew her husband. He was a police detective sergeant. I dialed her cell. Almost immediately, she answered.

"Hello? Who is this?"

"Corinne, this is David Collins, Judith 's husband." I heard 'OH, SHIT' under her breath.

"Yes, Dave, what can I do for you?" Definitely rattled.

"I think there are some improprieties going on between Dr. Strathmore and my wife, and I want it investigated and stopped."

"I'm sorry, Dave, I can't talk now. I have to go." Click. WOW, that was weird.

Almost instantly, Judith's cell phone rang. On the third ring, with my stomach churning, I answered it. Without waiting for me to say anything, the caller started. "JUDITH, HE KNOWS. HE KNOWS

EVERYTHING. WHAT DID YOU SAY TO HIM??"

Then I shit on her parade. "NOT EVERYTHING, CORINNE. But I'm getting closer." The shrieking gasp for breath on the other end was most enlightening.

"Good bye." CLICK. I immediately looked up her home phone and dialed it.

Four rings and a man answered.

"Look, I don't want to upgrade my cable service."

"Jerry, it sounds like you're having a bad day."

"Who is this?"

"Dave Collins, Judith's husband."

"Yeah, nothing but sales calls and spam. What's up, Dave?"

"UHH, is Corinne at home?"

"Naw, I'm babysitting this weekend. Corinne's at a 'team-building' weekend sponsored by the hospital, down in Philly. Why do you ask?"

I took a deep breath and told him everything I had learned and suspected.

"And I suspect there are more than the three of them involved."

There was silence on the other end. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking??."

"I don't know what I'm thinking. But I know one thing. She isn't leaving here tonight, even if I wind up in jail."

"I'll get back to you if I find out anything. DON'T DO ANYTHING STUPID!!" Jerry was a cop, and I could hear the wheels turning.

Then Judith came down the stairs looking like a high-priced call girl. Red silk sheath dress. Cleavage almost to her waist and split up the right side, clear to mid-thigh. She saw her pocketbook dumped on the table.

"What the fuck....? I have to leave here, and you dumped all my stuff out." She started to pick everything up, and I shouted, "OH NO YOU DON'T!!! YOU'RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE. NOW SHUT UP AND SIT THE FUCK DOWN!!!"

She quailed and said, "You don't own me. I can do anything I want to!"

"Is that a fact? Well, then, so can I. How's this?"

I reached up and grabbed the plunging neckline on her dress, ripping it downwards. Suddenly she was basically naked, standing in her open cup bra, French-lace garter belt, and her lace top smoky gray seamed stockings. She screamed and wailed,"MY DRESS!! "

"NO, BITCH, it's not your dress. I bought it for our 25th wedding anniversary, along with most of the underwear you're almost wearing. If you're going anywhere tonight, it won't be in that dress."

Then my cell phone rang. "Hello?"

"Dave Collins? This is Mary Strathmore. I'm sorry to tell you, you were right. I called the police and reported the car stolen. I had bought it for him, and it was registered in my name. They pulled him over about five minutes ago. He claimed that he was my husband and that he had a right to drive the car."

Through a strained voice, she chuckled. "They called me from the spot of the traffic stop and told me what he said. That he was my husband. I could hear him in the background when I told the cops it was impossible; my husband was in Boston. The bastard gasped and said he wanted a lawyer. I have to go down and fix the mess. He has been arrested and the car impounded. Tell your wife I'm coming for her next."

We had been on speakerphone as soon as I realized who it was.

Judith gasped and screamed, "WHAT DID YOU DO, DAVID?? DAMN YOU!!"

Right about that time, my children showed up and blew through the front door.

"Dad, what's going.......MOM, ARE YOU ALL RIGHT??' said Dave Jr., number one son. My daughter Hayley rushed in and went to her mother's side.

"Are you all right, mother? What happened to your dress??"

"Your father ripped it!! "

All eyes turned to me with murder in their hearts. I was not about to be cowed by this. Michael, son number two, shut the front door. "What the hell, mom? What did you do?"

"Tell them why Judith. Go ahead. Why do you have a twelve-pack of Trojan condors in your purse? Are you going to make water balloons, or what?"

"I don't know where they came from. They aren't mine," Judith said in an almost unhearable voice.

"And where were you going? A weekend of sexual excess without your husband. Isn't that what you had in mind??"

"I can do what I want to. It's my body!!". As soon as it came out, Judith realized what she had said. In front of her children. In a more subdued voice, she said, "Well, I can."

Young Dave rolled his eyes and went into the kitchen for something to drink. A few minutes later, he returned with an envelope.

"Here, dad. It's addressed to you." He looked at his mother with contempt on his face.

Judith shrieked and came up off the couch, the remains of her dress falling to the floor.

"DON'T READ THAT!!" she yelled. Hayley rushed to help her mother with her lack of modesty.

"SHUT UP, JUDITH, AND SIT BACK DOWN!!!" I said.

I opened the envelope and read- 'My darling husband, my sister is caring for mother, and needs some help. I am going to be with them this weekend and will be home on Monday evening. Kisses and hugs, Judith.'

The kids looked at each other and didn't know what to think. I realized she had written the note before she had confronted me. Her confusion and panic would be her downfall.

Then, as if the fates were eating popcorn and watching this show, the front doorbell rang, and before number two son Michael could open it, in rushed Judith's mother and father.

"Judith, are you all right??" said her mother.

Her father roared, "WHAT'S GOING ON HERE???" Judith passed out.

"Hi, mom and dad. Welcome to shit storm central. Your daughter just managed to destroy our marriage and probably ruin her life and career," I fumed.

Her mother and my daughter were trying to revive Judith, and her father was doing a slow burn. I brought them up to date on what had transpired, and the atmosphere got colder and colder. About then, Judith came too and looked around. In hysterics, she begged her mother to help her.

"Help? You want help?? How about we call your sister for help? You were going to help her with your mother. Maybe she can return the favor."

With that, I handed her father the note and dialed her sister. As he read it, the phone rang.

"Hello? Is this David??"

"Yes, Mavis, how's it going? How is mom doing? Is she alright??"

"Oh, yes, she's doing fine. Judith is really a big help. I don't know what I would have done without her."

"Can I talk to her, PLEASE?" I asked.

"OH, well, she's busy right now. How about if I have her call you back in a little bit??"

Mom grabbed the phone and snarled at her other daughter.

"THAT WON"T BE NECESSARY, YOU SIMPERING SHITHEAD!!"

"MOM???" screamed her hysterical sister. Judith broke down again and tumbled to the floor. She now was almost totally naked in front of her children and her parents.

"DON'T bother checking on 'my health' again, Mavis!!" She ended the call amidst strangled screams from daughter number two.

About that time, my phone rang again.

"Hello?" I answered.

"David? This is Jerry." He sounded like I felt. "You were right. I got a search warrant for the seven rooms at the Marriott. We raided them based on the missing persons warrant I had sworn out and found twelve other individuals.... including my wife. Three male doctors, four female doctors, four female nurses, and one other female H/R team member. And my wife. I'm sorry, Dave. Really sorry."

"So am I, Jerry. But it is what it is. Thank you."

I turned to my soon-to-be ex-wife.

"Get upstairs and put some decent clothes on. Then get out of my house."

She dragged her sniveling ass to a standing position and turned to go upstairs.

She stopped said, "Please don't throw me away like this!!"

"OH, You mean like you threw our marriage away with your 'It's my body, I'll do what I want' bullshit?? I have been tempted like you wouldn't believe. I could have fucked the little waitress at the diner where we used to have coffee after the night shift. I could have had the woman at the Lincoln dealership where we bought the car. HELL, your own sister even came on to me. But I was in love--with you, bitch. And this is the thanks I get. Get out of my life, cunt."

She totally lost it and turned and fled upstairs, losing one high-heeled shoe in the trip. Silence ensued in the living room.

Then my daughter said, "I'll go make sure she doesn't do anything stupid, daddy. Otherwise, I won't be able to be disappointed with her for the rest of my life."

She came downstairs about thirty minutes later with a suitcase, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. Her makeup and hair were a disaster.

My oldest son stopped her on her way out.

"Don't worry, MOTHER. Adrienne and I will schedule the wedding so that it won't interfere with one of your fuck-fests. Not that you'll get an invitation. Maybe dad can bring a new girlfriend." Adrienne was Dave's serious girlfriend, but we didn't know how serious. Until now.

Judith had stopped at the front door and lost it.

Her mother ushered her out.

Her father turned to me.

"Any way past all this? She obviously needs some help, but it doesn't seem like anything happened."

"She can talk to my lawyer about it."

"Remember, son, she loves you."

I looked him square in the eye and said, "Funny way of showing it!"

The funny thing was that they all threw the same shit out. Consenting adults, not doing anything wrong ---until they got caught. Then it came to light that the good doctor had used a company (hospital) credit card to rent the rooms and pay for the booze and food for the weekend party.

The hospital tried to dodge the publicity, but eight of the 'participants' were listed as being on the clock or at some bogus official seminar or hospital function. When this came to light, several marriages exploded. This was not the first party. But it sure was going to be the last.

I filed for divorce, but I'm basically a mild-mannered aircraft mechanic. Remember?? And I loved her 'more than my luggage,' as the movie line goes. So I let it drag while she when to counseling.

The kids were there for me and thought that at least I was making an effort. But it hurt so much, and it just came out of the blue. How could I have been so blind?? United Airlines was very sympathetic, and I got extended medical leave.

She lost her job, along with everyone else involved. The 'good' doctor was let go and then sued and prosecuted. Corinne lost her job, as did her # 2. A severe nursing shortage occurred, and several doctors' positions opened up.

My wife was the last recruited member of the sex club as they were looking for some fresh meat. She had been noticed for quite a while, and Corinne worked on her, saying she owed it to herself, that it was a lot of fun, I would never know, and, besides, lots of husbands got off on their wives fucking other men. It took six months, but they finally convinced her.

Epilogue

It took more than a year, but I loved her and couldn't live without her. The old 'Would you be better with her in your life, or out of it?.' I still watched her like a hawk. I constantly bombarded her with questions as to whether we were alright or not. When she spoke, I listened to her. To everything she said. It got so that it was driving her crazy. But, between her therapist, her parents, and our children, she knew that I was making a supreme effort. And she loved me. God, but I believed her.

I sued the hospital and Dr. Strathmore. I had to get in line behind his wife's divorce suit, but I was ahead of the other aggrieved parties. Between the two of us, we cleaned him out. I took my settlement and divided it equally amongst the remaining husbands and wives. The hospital was not so lucky. We (my kids and I) settled out of court for six figures in a sealed settlement. The rest of the plaintiffs got a total of seven figures in sealed reparations.

My sister-in-law was not welcome any where. I don't know if her parents talk to her yet.

I was lucky with the outcome.

The way it all came out.

The fact that my mind hit on all eight cylinders during the whole incident.

And the support of my kids and my friends. I didn't think I had taken my marriage for granted, but maybe I did. NOT ANY MORE!

It has taken more than a year, but we're back. AND the sex is fan- fucking-tastic. Occasionally she sobs in post-coital bliss and apologizes for all the trauma she caused. But it's getting better. And like I said, I love her. But don't think I'm a wuss.

About eight months into the shitstorm, I braced the doctor coming out of a gym he attends. I beat the living dog shit out of him, breaking three (count 'em, three) fingers and crushing one of his balls. His good looks no longer exist. Lucky for me, I was in the company of a police officer at the time. (HEH, HEH, HEH)

So life goes on. I informed him that he should have worked for a living. Maybe he could have put up a better fight.

Yeah, I know, very tacky. Tough. Don't mess with my wife, and I will remain mild-mannered.

Thanks for reading.