The Key 23

Another thank you to blackrandl1958 for her editing prowess and the crew at Specialized Iterations for their help to fix mistakes and make improvements.

Rafael Bayne and I were sitting at breakfast in our hotel chatting idly, both of us probably figuring up the healthy commissions we were going to make when Zimantou Inc. executives signed our company's software proposal for $12 million later that Wednesday morning.

We then would fly back from Wichita, Kansas, to Indianapolis, Indiana, then I would drove home to Fort Wayne and be eating another of my wife's great dinners by 6:30 PM.

Not many men had it as good as I did, I thought as I sipped my coffee. I had a beautiful 47-year-old wife who looked 10 years younger and who was an excellent cook, and, of course, a healthy commission check about to come my way.

Life was indeed good, and then my Goddamn cellphone ruined things by ringing.

I looked at the caller ID and did a double-take, which caused Rafael to look up concerned as well. The caller said he was someone with the Ohio State Highway Patrol. I was pretty sure I didn't know anybody in Ohio.

"Les Kendall here," I answered as I would any other business call. "How may I help you?"

I heard an intake of breath, then a hesitant, young-sounding voice came on the line.

"Uhh... Mr. Kendall... this is Sgt. Michael Derwitz with the Ohio State Highway Patrol. Your wife, Emily, has been in a serious auto accident and was taken to the University of Toledo Medical Center..."

The voice talked for about a minute longer after he told me my wife was in the hospital, but I honestly only heard, "wah, wah, wah." The only thing that mattered now was getting to Toledo.

"What's wrong, Les? Anything I can do to help, just ask," Rafael quickly communicated.

"Emmy's been in a car accident near Toledo. You have to finish the paperwork on this deal and I have to get to my wife. Got it?" I said rapid-fire.

"I'm on it. You go and see to Emmy. I'll let the office know what's happened. Good luck with everything," he responded.

I literally ran back up to my room, gathered my suitcase and stuff and called the airline to change my flight back to Indianapolis. Wichita is not exactly a major hub, so there aren't a lot of flights from there to anywhere, but I was able to get on a 9:45 back to Indy. Fort Wayne has its very own airport, but Wichita to there wasn't happening.

I knew it would take me about nine hours to get to Toledo, so I called my in-laws from the car first and told them what was happening. They lived in Pittsburgh and could be in Toledo in about four hours. I then called our son at the University of Georgia and our daughter at the University of Colorado and told them what I knew, which wasn't much. It was my son who was the first to wonder what his mother was doing outside of Toledo in the early morning hours when she had to teach in Fort Wayne that day.

"Not a clue in the world, Jake. Not a clue in the world. I guess I'll find out when I get to the hospital," I told him. "Mom's parents are heading there now. I suppose they'll call me when they find out."

I pulled off the highway about halfway through my trip and called the hospital. First, I endured the switchboard bingo, then I got the runaround from the emergency department. I hung up and called my father-in-law.

"What's going on, Dad? I'm not getting answers from the damned staff there when I call," I said.

"It's not good, Les. She's in a world of hurt," he said. "Apparently a semi moved over on top of her. Crunched her pretty good. There's a lot of people scrambling around. The only thing we've been told is that she's hanging in there."

I was probably an hour away from the hospital when my father-in-law called back, sobbing. He was mostly incoherent, but I figured out he was telling me Emily was gone. I pulled the car over to the shoulder of the road, turned off the engine and exploded into tears. My wife of 24 years, my best friend and my soul mate, was gone.

I must have cried for 15 minutes before I was able to get a grip on myself and pulled back onto the highway, although at a much slower speed. I called both kids and gave them the bad news. They took it about as badly as I did.

My in-laws and I hugged it out in the room with Emily's dead body when I got to the hospital. She looked horrible. The doctor came by and told me she died of massive internal injuries, although she also endured many broken bones, cuts and scrapes.

A state trooper found us after some time and gave us the details of the accident report. The accident happened at approximately 5:45. Emmy was heading west toward Fort Wayne on US 24.

Admittedly, my brain was in a fog, but prompted by what my son had asked, I was more than a little confused as to why my wife would be outside of Toledo at 5:45 when she had to be in Fort Wayne to teach at 8. The trooper had no clue either when I asked that question aloud. I noticed both in-laws looked surprised as well, although my father-in-law's surprise seemed much more intense.

My in-laws followed me back to my house in Fort Wayne and the kids flew in. We took turns calling various friends and relatives with our sad news. The funeral was set for five days later. I think combined we all shed enough tears to help fill the three rivers in the Fort Wayne area.

The kids and in-laws left two days after the funeral. My parents stuck around one more day. Then I wandered around the house like a zombie for two days before I decided to start living again.

God, she was a beautiful woman. I remembered looking into those big brown eyes for the last time Monday morning when we kissed each other good-bye before I left for the airport and she left for school. I usually travelled once a month, and one of us always called the other every night I was gone. She told me that Tuesday night that our house always felt so empty when she was home alone. Now it was my turn to be home alone... every night.

I sipped my shot of Angel's Envy rye as I sat remembering our last conversation. Then Jake's voice in my head interrupted my reverie. If Emmy was home alone Tuesday evening at 9 when I called, why was she outside of Toledo Wednesday morning when she was involved in the accident?

The police had used the driver's license in Emmy's purse to track me down on the day of the accident. They returned both the purse and her cellphone to me, but I hadn't touched either of them in the weeks following. They were both sitting on a counter in the kitchen where I had put them when I got home after the accident. I honestly had never looked through my wife's phone before, because I totally trusted her and would never consider invading her privacy.

After charging her dead phone, I was surprised when I tried to open it and it was password-protected. I hadn't used her phone in some time, since I have my own, but the last I knew, it didn't have a password. Not that it was that difficult for me to figure out, since I am somewhat of a computer geek, and I knew all of her important dates and events.

Perusing the text messages, somebody named Simi—who names their kid Simi, anyway—Valentine had almost as many recent texts as her best friend, Rita Hawthorne. So he was the first one at whose texts I looked. I didn't have to go any farther.

The two had been texting each other several times almost every day for months, maybe longer, I stopped going back after a while. The only gaps in the texting seemed to be when I was away from home. The messages of the texts were both flirty and sexy... boyfriend and girlfriend at least, lovers at worst. I was both sick to my stomach and outraged as I read more. There was no doubt in my mind that Emmy was engaged in a torrid affair with this guy. Goddamn, I never saw the signs. Was I that clueless or too trusting? I guess at this point, did it really matter anymore?

Once done with her phone, I turned to her purse, gently dumping the contents on the counter. The only thing of interest I found was her keychain. It contained a fob for her car, her house key and a key that said "Covington Arms 265" on it. I had no idea what Covington Arms was, so I went to my good buddy, Google, and found out that it was an upscale apartment complex in Toledo. Shit, she had a key to another man's apartment? I saw nothing good coming from that.

The next day I worked until noon, then took the rest of the day off and drove to Toledo, arriving there mid-afternoon. I walked into the lobby of the Covington Arms like I owned the place and rode the elevator to the second floor. Assuming that the apartment owner would be working at that time, I used the key and walked in... and knew immediately that Simi Valentine and my late wife were more than lovers.

At a quick glance I saw several Thomas Kinkade collectibles throughout the entryway and into the living room and knew they were bought for or by Emily. Our house has more than a few of those trinkets as well.

I sauntered through the apartment checking things out. I could tell it was a man's place, but that a woman had been spending time there. I noticed several women's toiletries in the bathroom, but the biggest giveaway was when I checked in the closets and drawers in the master bedroom and found more than a few clothing items of Emmy's. Even though by this point I knew what I would find, I was still gutted by seeing everything.

I went to Simi's refrigerator and found several Coronas, along with an uncut lime, which I quickly cut into usable pieces. I then sat back waiting for the man of the manse to return.

He walked in the door about 4:20 and almost shit himself when he saw me sitting on his sofa. Recognition then flashed on his face, quickly followed by concern.

"Shit. Something's wrong, isn't it? I knew it. She hasn't responded to a single text or call in the last two weeks," Simi said, not bothering to introduce himself or waiting for me to say anything.

I was shocked that he seemed to know who I was and didn't seem to fear that I would stomp him. Maybe because of that, I figured I would start out by giving him the benefit of the doubt.

"She hasn't texted or called because she's dead. She died in a car wreck two weeks ago... driving home from here," I snarled.

His face turned a deathly white before he let out a howl like a wounded animal. He crumpled to the floor and burst into heartfelt tears.

I was stunned into silence by what seemed like genuine grief. He carried on as if there wasn't a strange man sitting on his sofa drinking a beer. He wailed for five minutes before I heard his crying letting up.

"Hey, dude, you want a beer... got lime cut up," I volunteered.

He looked at me as if I had two heads.

"I know it hurts, man. I've had two weeks to get used to it," I said.

I got both of us a beer and handed him one. He just kept looking at me, waiting for an explanation. I took a pull on my beer, then gave him that explanation. He listened attentively with tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I didn't know," he rasped. "I'm so, so sorry, Les."

My name rolled so easily off his tongue it was almost as if he knew me personally. He could see my surprise... and discomfort.

"Of course I know who you are, Les. Emily talked about you all the time. Called you the love of her life," Simi said.

"But why you then?" I practically whispered. "If I was the love of her life, why did she need another man?"

He smiled self-consciously, I thought. He looked down at the carpet, then back up at me.

"She didn't need another man," he said. "She was my angel. She helped put me back together after my wife died from cancer five years ago. I'm a teacher as well, and we met at one of those teacher seminar things. My wife had died a few months earlier. Emily was so easy to talk to. She brought me back.

"We kept in contact after the seminar, and when she told me that you gave her permission to be with me occasionally, I was just stunned at your graciousness. We always tried to be discreet, so she would usually come here, usually when you went out of town. But it was more than just sex. We had a great connection. She called me her second husband. She always said you were the love of her life, but I was a pretty good understudy. I was happy to even be considered that."

I was gobsmacked. I never gave her permission for anything like she did.

"I never... NEVER gave her permission to become your part-time wife!" I practically yelled. "I would never give her permission to do that. She lied to you big-time."

"Oh fuck," Simi said quietly. "I even asked her again to make sure after she told me that. She confirmed it for me. I just thought..."

"You just thought I was one of those guys who liked for his wife to fuck other men?" I asked with vitriol in my voice.

"No. No. No," he rejoined quickly. "I just thought you were one of those super-confident guys that didn't mind his wife getting a little extra."

"That's definitely not me," I said forcefully.

"I'm sorry, man. Really," he said. "I believed her totally. I wouldn't have... done her if she didn't tell me that."

"So you and she had been doing it for the last four years... at least two days a month, sometimes more, I'm guessing," I said.

"Yeah... and... for the whole five days of the education seminar every July," he said. "We each had our own room, but we only used one of the rooms the whole week. That was probably the only time we weren't real discreet. There were usually one or two teachers from her school who knew what we were up to."

"But nobody ever ratted her out to me. I wonder if she told them, too, that she had my permission," I said.

He shrugged sheepishly.

"By the way, how old are you?" I asked.

"Thirty-one," he answered.

"Fuck," I said.

Despite being 16 years older than the kid, I had no doubt in my mind I could have cleaned his clock because I was bigger, stronger and meaner. I truly believed, however, that he was telling me the truth about Emmy telling him I had given her permission to have sex with him. Regardless of how much I wanted to get revenge against Simi, I knew it wasn't the right thing to do. This was mostly on my late wife.

"Explain to me how her visits usually worked. I need to know why Emmy was on the road so early," I said.

Simi explained to me that my wife usually left Fort Wayne immediately after her school day was over on the first day of my trips. She would then spend the night but get up an extra hour early to cover the extra driving distance so she could get to her school on time, then leave again for Toledo at the end of the school day. She would repeat the procedure on the second day and leave again for her school on the third day, returning to our home from school that afternoon so she was home several hours ahead of my return.

"Seems like a hell of a lot of driving for a bit of extra," I mumbled out loud, more to myself than him.

"I wasn't a bit of extra," he said defensively. "She said she loved me. We loved each other. I was willing to be her second man."

"It was much easier during the summer," he added. "Since we were both off, she headed over here as soon as you left for a trip, and then she stayed overnight until the day you were scheduled to be back. And then the last two years, you let her have a couple of five-day breaks with me in the summer. I always thought that was above and beyond what a loving husband would do for his wife."

At first I was puzzled by those five-day breaks to which he referred. Then I remembered Emmy and a couple of friends had gone to Mackinac Island in Michigan for five days both this past summer and the one before. At least that's what she told me. The hamster on the wheel that was my brain was running for everything he was worth at that point. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She even took time from me when I was home to fuck her lover. I had no comeback. We both sat in silence.

His eyes unfocused and he started to cry again. I got it. I even felt somewhat bad for the guy. Not his fault he became friends with someone who eventually stole his heart but lied to him almost as much as she lied to me.

We sat in silence for another few minutes as we finished our beers. Maybe in another time and place we could have been friends.

"Do you want to take her stuff home with you?" Simi asked. "The only thing I want to keep is this photo of us. I'm pretty sure you don't want that."

I had overlooked the photo earlier when I was wandering around his apartment. It was a photo of them with Simi holding her from behind, his arms wrapped around her protectively. The two were smiling brightly looking at whoever took the photo. They looked to be every bit the lovers they were. My heart sunk even lower than it already was.

"That's a great photo, Simi. You can keep that and everything of hers that's here. I don't want a thing," I said, trying to keep the anger out of my voice.

I got up and walked out of the apartment without even giving him a proper good-bye.

The ride back to my house felt like it took forever. Anger... no, rage, was rapidly replacing my grief. Emmy had lied to me and cheated on me for four years. She had abused my trust in her and had disrespected me in a most heinous way... and worst of all, I had no way of getting closure from her... the fucking bitch!

About halfway home my focus shifted to what I would tell my kids, our parents and the rest of the families. My plate was filled with pain, and trust me, I really needed to share. Why should I be the only one to eat this meal?

I've been told that one of my better qualities is my analytical nature. I've never really been prone to going off half-cocked, especially under fire. Some people have criticized me for this trait, taking my calm under pressure for a lack of passion.

In particular, I weighed the advantages and disadvantages of telling my children... that their mother was a lying slut. I know both kids loved Emmy to the moon and back, but I now know she didn't deserve

all

that love. By lying and cheating on me, she would have caused the break-up of our family, which now wouldn't happen because she was dead. Dead because she was driving to Fort Wayne fresh from her lover's apartment in Toledo, when she should have been in our home getting ready for her day. She didn't cause the accident, but she shouldn't have even been there... if she hadn't been cheating on me!

Telling the kids would probably break their hearts and shatter their worlds, but by not telling them, I was in effect covering up for her duplicity and eating more pain. Why should that all fall on me?

Yet being a parent—a good parent—in my mind means protecting your children from as much pain as possible. When all was said and done, I knew I would take Emmy's betrayal of me to my grave rather than tell my children. Them finding out on their own would hurt, but it wouldn't have the same sting if I came out and told them: you know, blame the messenger kind of thing. I was pretty sure Jake already had an inkling that his mother was literally in the wrong place at the wrong time, because of the wrong reason.

The more I thought about that, though, the madder I got. Because she died in a freak accident, she gets to keep the kids' total love and devotion. If she hadn't died, would her cheating have come to light... and then what would have been the kids' reactions. I guess we'll never know, so I would do right by my kids.

My thoughts on the parents, however, weren't anywhere near as charitable. I figured with both sets I could share my pain—unfiltered—and they were going to have to swear never to let the kids know anything.

I invited both sets of parents to a nice dinner at a favorite restaurant the night before my kids were scheduled to come home for Christmas break. I figured my parents would have an easier time with my news but would be there to help Emmy's parents get through what I'm sure would be traumatic at best. I loved Ralph and Phyllis almost as much as my own parents, but I had to offload some of my pain so I could maybe heal and move forward with the rest of my life.