The Polac

This story has no sex in it so if that's what you're looking for then skip this one.

As you can tell by the title this is a story about someone of Polish descent. Let me say that I have a lot of respect for the Polish people. They have been persecuted both physically and in jokes for many years. Those that I know are loyal, trustworthy, hard working, and at times hard drinking (especially during Pulaski Days).

I hope that you enjoy this, however, even if you don't I would appreciate any comments you have.

*****

"I'M LEAVING!" I exclaimed.

"GOOD! AND DON'T COME BACK!" was my wife's reply.

Normally I would reply with, "FUCK YOU!" as I walked out the door, but tonight I didn't want my last words to her to be so uncivilized.

We had had that same verbal exchange numerous times before throughout our 14 years of marriage. I always came back though. Not this time. She would realize within a few days that I meant it this time.

Jenna, my wife, had been getting more and more verbally abusive these last 6 or 7 months. I didn't know what was going on. Her snide remarks were biting, to say the least. I was starting to avoid her as much as I was able to with out making it worse.

I started staying at the car lot longer and longer every day. Sometimes even getting home after Jenna and Carrie, our 13 year old daughter, had already eaten supper. I would have to fend for myself. Sometimes there were leftovers. Lately, however, I think they ended up in the trash before I got home.

My name is Kurt Kaminski. Technically my name is David Kurt Kaminski, but my fathers name is David also, so they started calling me Kurt early on so there was no confusion. No, I'm not a Jr. My dad's name is David John Kaminski. Why he didn't just make me a Jr is beyond me. I would have been glad to go by Jr or even DJ, but no I would either go by Kurt or DK, and DK just didn't sound right.

Yes, I'm Polish, well actually I'm American of Polish descent. Yes, I've heard all the jokes. Well, probably not all of them, they seem to make up new ones every year. I've heard the relatively innocuous ones like; "Do you know why Polacks spell their name with 'ski' at the end? Because they don't know how to spell toboggan." To the more insulting; "Do you know why Polish and polish are spelt the same? Because they don't know the difference between shit and shinola."

And, of course, I've heard worse that I won't repeat here.

Being the only person of Polish descent that I know (other than my dad) living in this small town of about 10,000 people made me the target of a lot of those jokes. Technically I'm only half Polish, the other half (my mom's side) is German, French, Irish and English all mixed into one. But, since my last name is Kaminski, I am Polish.

But I digress. Getting back to the issue at hand.

My wife, soon to be my estranged wife, is not who I believed her to be. I learned this a mere 4 weeks ago.

As I've said before, I was spending more and more time away from my wife due to her abusive attitude. After coming home to no supper on a number of occasions, I had decided one Monday night to grab a meal at a local restaurant. I was in a booth, just about ready to order, when I overheard two guys talking in the booth on the other side of the partition. What caught my ear was the phrase that included the word Polack in it. I listened closer and heard one of the men say, "So you've been fucking the Polack's wife for how long?"

"Since before they were married. In fact, I fucked her on their wedding day and he was clueless. She had to have my cum running down her thighs as she walked down the aisle."

I didn't recognize the first guy's voice, but the second I recognized. It was my best friend George Kerry. I sat there stunned. I know they continued talking, but I didn't really hear anything else until I heard George say, "Yeah, we get together and fuck at least twice a month. Kurt is so busy at the car lot that he doesn't even know what's happening. Again - clueless."

Just then the waitress came by to take my order and I said softly, "Sorry, I've got to go." I left, heading away from their booth so they wouldn't see me.

I couldn't believe it. My wife, Jenna, with my best friend. He had even been my best man at my wedding. He is also my mechanic, well he will be for only a little while longer. He is not actually "my" mechanic, because officially he is an independent contractor that I use exclusively to do all my repairs and inspections of all my cars.

If you haven't guessed it yet, I own a used car lot. Yes, I am a used car salesman. I've heard all those jokes and insults also. My business, however, is very good. People know they will get a great car, at a good price. They also know I stand behind my cars. If there are problems, I take care of them.

George has always been good mechanically and I keep him busy, and pay him well. I wanted to hire him, but he said he "wouldn't respect himself if he had a Polack for a boss." He said it jokingly, but I knew he meant it. In spite of that I "hired" him as my "independent contractor mechanic". He wasn't very independent though. In fact, I was his only source of income. That fact would prove to be his downfall.

I left the restaurant and drove around. "Could this be true?" I asked myself, "or was he just blowing smoke."

I could hire a PI, but if what he said was true, they only got together about twice a month. That could be a big waste of money.

What I could do, however, is check her phone and emails. That is what I decided to do.

I went home and Jenna was her usual ill-tempered self. That was okay with me, I didn't want to talk to her, until I found out the truth anyways.

After she went to sleep, on "her side" of the bed, I got up and checked her email. There was nothing there that looked suspicious. Her phone was password protected, but it didn't take me long to determine that our daughter's birthdate was the code.

I saw a few texts that could be taken the wrong way, if I was so inclined, but none to or from George. His name was in her contact list, but again he was my best friend so that wasn't too unusual.

"Maybe he was just talking out of his ass." I thought. However, her attitude lately really got me thinking that there had to be something going on with her. Maybe not with George, but maybe with someone else.

I went to bed and tossed and turned, trying to get to sleep. It came sometime after 2:43 am, because that was the time that was on the clock the last time I remember looking.

The next day, at the car lot, George came in and made some Polish joke. This was not uncommon for him, I usually just laughed a slight laugh and then let it die. Today, however, I lit into him. "George, what do you even know about Poland. I bet if I laid out a map of the world you couldn't even point to it! You make jokes, like all Polacks are dumb, but I bet they could point out the U.S, on a map and maybe even our state. Why don't you just get to work!"

George looked at me and didn't know what to say. He knew I was right, he couldn't point to Poland if his life depended on it. George was never one of the book smart people. He was good looking, had street smarts, and knew his way around an engine, but he was never college material. I guess that's why he hung around with me in high school. I helped him with his homework so he could at least graduate.

Now I was beginning to rethink my choice in friends. He was making me rethink my choice in a wife.

I went into my office, closed the door and stewed, thinking of how I could get proof of what may be going on. I couldn't confront either of them, they would just deny it. I needed proof.

I called a private investigator in Santa Fe. I told him of my concerns. He said, "With it happening only about twice a month it would be too expensive to tail them. You could put a tracker on your wife's phone. At least you'd know where her phone is whenever you checked. You could also set up cameras in your home, but unless you buy the really good ones, and by good I mean expensive, they'd probably be found. Even with the expensive ones, unless your wife is unaware of her surroundings, she would probably notice something different. I guess, if I were you, I'd put a tracker on her phone and hope to catch them in a motel or something.

I got his recommendation for the tracking software and told him I'd be sending him a check for all his help.

"I haven't done anything, you owe me nothing." He said, "All the information I gave you could have been obtained off the internet."

"Well, I called you for your expertise and you supplied me with good information, so expect a check in the mail. If you're ever in Silver City stop by Kaminski's car lot and say, "hi".

"I typically don't get down to that part of the state, but if I do, I'll look you up." He said, and I could tell he meant it.

Part of why I was successful at selling cars was because I made people feel appreciated. I learned early in life that people need to feel that who they are and what they do matters.

I looked up the tracking software and decided that I could do at least that. Then I looked up the camera and felt he had been right. He saved me money, time, and the embarrassment of getting cameras that I had no doubt Jenna would notice.

That night, after everyone was in bed, I got up and downloaded the tracking app to her phone and synced it with my phone. It would run in the background without her knowledge. I slept easier that night.

That next day at work I checked the app periodically. She was at her part time job at the University Bookstore. She only worked about 15 - 20 hours a week. She called the money she got her "mad money" and she spent it on whatever she wanted, usually going to the salon. Later I checked it and she was at the grocery store. Then later she was at home.

George was in and out most of the day, but when Jenna was home, he was at work, so at least that day I was confident nothing had gone on.

That night I decided to try to act nicer to my wife and daughter. My wife seemed to respond a little better when I asked if they wanted to go out to eat at Revel Restaurant. Carrie, however, was her typical 13 year old self, not sure if she wanted to be seen with her parents. I insisted and she begrudgingly made her way to the car.

Dinner was nice. I made a point of mentioning George in conversation and Jenna got a far away look in her eyes, but quickly changed the conversation when she saw me looking at her, that increased my suspicions. I wish I knew if what George had been saying was true. I needed some way to figure it out.

I didn't bother checking her phone that night. I hadn't had any luck with checking her phone calls or texts, so either she was deleting them right away or wasn't making them in the first place.

As I got in bed, I told Jenna, "Thanks for going out to dinner tonight."

"Thank you, Kurt. That was a pleasant surprise."

She looked at me and gave me that look that said, "You might get lucky tonight."

It had been a while, again, like I said, we hadn't been getting along very well lately.

Jenna finished her nightly prep in the bathroom and came to bed, snuggling up next to me. I had mixed emotions about possibly having sex with her. If she had been cheating on me, did I want to? I decided that until I had proof, I would let her initiate and reciprocate at that point. I would not take the lead in this.

We did end up having sex, but it was very vanilla, not worth going into any detail about. Oh well, at least I got my rocks off.

The rest of the week I kept checking her phone location and continued to see nothing out of the ordinary. On Saturday night, after she was asleep, I checked her phone for texts or phone calls and again found nothing. I was just about to a point where I had convinced myself that George was lying through his teeth, trying to impress some guy about his sexual exploits. It wouldn't be the first time, I knew that for a fact from high school.

I went back to bed and tossed and turned again. My subconscious was not letting me get to sleep. It was 2 am and I was lying there staring at the ceiling, unable to get to sleep, so I got up and went downstairs to grab something to drink. Hopefully that would help me fall asleep.

I was sitting there, a tumbler glass of Jack Daniels and Coke in one hand and her phone in the other. I decided to check her phone again. I punched in the password, my daughter's birthdate, and opened the phone up to her home page.

Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. Our daughter's birthdate was the key. Our daughter's pregnancy was a tough one, in fact we thought we were going to lose her several times throughout the pregnancy. Something about her Rh not being compatible with my wife's. It was like my wife's body was fighting the child within her. In fact, my wife was on bed rest the last 3 weeks of her pregnancy so that she could carry the baby to full term.

She did carry her to term, in fact, exactly 9 months to the day of our wedding Carrie came into this world. We were so happy.

She was healthy, but she was a difficult baby; crying all the time, not taking to a regular nap schedule, not wanting to take to Jenna's breast, you name it - she was a struggle.

My wife, in Carrie's second year, told me in no uncertain terms that "we will not be having another one." That depressed me, but to be honest, the baby was sucking all the joy out of our lives.

I mentioned that 9 months to the day she was born. They call those babies "Wedding Night Babies" because they are conceived that night or on the honeymoon. A light went on in my head. If what George said was true then there was a good possibility that Jenna was already pregnant before we even had our "wedding night".

Jenna had been on the pill. No, we hadn't waited until we were married to have sex. In fact, it was a large part of out time together. The doctor, when asked how Jenna got pregnant, said that the stress of the wedding had probably affected her hormones and made the pill ineffective. Well, if it was ineffective that night, it was also ineffective that day.

I now knew what I had to do. There was a 50% chance that I was not the father. You know the expression, "The early bird gets the worm." Well, George might have been the early bird. I think, however, in his case the expression should be "The early worm gets the bird."

I got out of bed and went into the bathroom. I found the Q-tips and went into Carrie's room. She was a sound sleeper, now. She had finally taken to a good sleep pattern when she was 4 years old. Up until then it was rough going. She was lying their snoring, with her mouth wide open. It was easy for me to take the Q-tip and swab the inside of her cheek. She didn't even wake up.

I put this in a plastic zip-loc bag and repeated the process for myself. If it turned out that Carrie was my biological daughter it would still leave me with questions as to Jenna's fidelity. If, however, Carrie was not mine, genetically, then the shit was going to hit the fan.

Sunday was a "work around the house" day and we all had our own chores to do. I took my time with them to limit my exposure to either Jenna or Carrie. I had a hard time keeping my emotions in check, so I didn't want to give anything away.

I was anxious, yet hesitant, to find out the results of my suspicions. This weighed heavily on my mind all day. Jenna asked me, "Is something bothering you Kurt?"

I had to think up something quickly, so I said, "I'm looking to buy a large number of cars at the next auction so I can fill up my lot. That will mean money will be tight until I can make some sales to offset it."

"Well, don't over-extend us." She stated.

She always said "us" when talking about the business, which I guess was good that she felt it was ours, but in reality, when I had opened the car lot I had incorporated so as to limit my liability. We live in a litigious society and I didn't want something done at the business to adversely affect my personal life.

"I think I'm going to pay off the credit cards and cancel all but one so that our credit worthiness looks that much better." I told her. This was a ruse to explain my plans to waylay any potential for her to screw me financially if and when she found out my plans.

"Whatever you think you need to do." She said nonchalantly.

That idea had come to me in the spur of the moment. It is amazing how your mind can work if you let it. That would limit any potential fallout if what I expected was true.

So, bright and early Monday morning I took my samples to the West New Mexico University and spoke with someone in the Science Department. They directed me to the Department Head. He told me that they have a cellular and molecular biology major program and that they would be happy to do it. I gave him a few of my business cards and told him that he, or anyone that worked on the samples, would get 10% off their purchase. He seemed to appreciate that, saying, "I have been thinking of trading my Camry in on a newer car. I might just have to swing by and check out your selection."

"If you don't see anything you like just let me know and I'll work with you to get you something you do like." I told him.

"Thank you, I'll do that." He replied.

I know I was smiling as I drove out of the University, but it was a worried smile. The results might be the end of my marriage.

When I had told Jenna about buying more cars to fill up my lot, it was just to cover my worried expression. Now, I thought, that's not a bad idea. I called Paul (my bookkeeper, loan officer, and part time salesman) into my office and told him my idea.

"We can make it work." He said.

"Paul, I'd like to do something else also. I'd like to pay off my mortgage on my house. Can we work out a one time payment to me so that I can accomplish that?"

"Let me take a closer look at the financials and get back with you this afternoon."

As he walked out of my office, I thought about calling my lawyer and ask for a referral to a family lawyer. I then thought, "You might be jumping the gun, lets see what the results are first." After all I hadn't found any proof yet of my wife having an affair.

That afternoon Paul showed me the spreadsheet and we discussed going forward with both of my plans.

The next two days were some of the longest. I was on pins and needles waiting for the results of the DNA tests. Late Wednesday afternoon I got a call from the Department Head, he was on his way over with the results, and to look at a car.

When he arrived I directed him right into my office. He looked at me and the expression on his face told me what the results were. Then he spoke up and confirmed it. "The two samples collected are not related."

I nodded my head and he could tell that, although I expected it, I was devastated by the news. He gave me a minute to process it, and slid the manilla envelope over with the results.

I looked up at him, my expression changed, and I said, "So, what kind of car were you thinking about?"

"Well, I know this is going to sound cliché', but I just turned 50 and I'm looking for a sports car. I was thinking of a Mazda Miata."

I told him that I didn't have one on my lot, but I was going to an auction the next day and would make a point of finding one that was both mechanically and cosmetically sound. I would call him the following afternoon to let him know what I had found.

As he left, I told Anna (my receptionist/scheduler/office manager/part time salesperson) that "I will be leaving early, but if you need me, I will only be a phone call away." I knew she wouldn't call, she rarely needed me. She could handle almost everything that needed to be done.

I drove around the town, just looking. It's strange, but things looked different to me. I called my lawyer, he was sad about the news, but referred me to another lawyer that he knew would do me right. I called and made an appointment for late the following afternoon. I grabbed a meal at a restaurant and thought while I ate.