Chapter 1: Don't Get Upset
Interesting.
I was sitting in the cab of my Toyota Tundra letting the engine run. Thirty below on a dark mid-November afternoon in Fairbanks, Alaska, you needed to let your vehicle warm up. I had only been in the doctor's office for about an hour, but it was long enough that a ten minute engine warm up was necessary. It also gave me time to gather my thoughts before I headed home.
I turned on the cab light and picked up the papers the nurse had given me as I was leaving the office. The important page was on top: Notice of Venereal Disease Infection in large letters and right under it was my name, Carl Stevens. Two types of VD, recently contracted, probably in the past 4 or 5 weeks. And at the bottom of the page, a list of all my sexual partners over the past 6 months and only one name: my wife Annie.
I had my annual physical on Tuesday, and I was complemented by the Doctor: excellent health for a 57 year old. Then his office had called Wednesday and asked me to come back in. Something came back in the lab tests, and they wanted to talk to me in person.
Alaska has one of the highest VD rates in the nation, and the medical community was very aggressive in their VD treatments and in identifying infected sexual partners. The doctor made me promise to bring Annie in for an exam on Monday, as his office was closed on Fridays in the winter. If she didn't come in on Monday morning, the doctor would report her to the state health Department, and a Health Officer would visit our house that afternoon.
I work as a managing engineer for the state transportation department. My engineers design roads and airports for northern Alaska. It is interesting work. When my engineers encounter problems they follow the three "don'ts" and three "dos" that I established: Don't get upset; Don't feel sorry for yourself; Don't make assumptions; Do investigate the facts; Do formulate a plan; Do execute the plan.
Now I was going to follow my own process. I took a few deep breaths, closed my eyes and went to the logical, rational place in my mind that my inner engineer knew so well.
Emotions temporarily contained. I chose not to get upset.
I smiled. My inner engineer always enjoys a challenge.
I put the medical papers in my briefcase, turned off the cab light and headed to the Safeway pharmacy to pick up the prescriptions the doctor had sent over. I texted Annie's cell phone to see if she wanted me to pick up anything else at the store. No response from her by the time I checked out at the store, so I left.
Chapter 2: Don't Feel Sorry for Yourself
Leaving Safeway, I headed out onto the Parks Highway. We lived in a small, well-insulated 2-bedroom house near Ester, about 7 miles south of Fairbanks. It was a little isolated, but it had a great view of the Brooks Range.
I parked in the heated garage next to Annie's SUV and went into the house. As I opened the house door, I was greeted with the aroma of baked salmon. Annie was a great cook, and our freezer had an ample stock of Alaskan fish and game, enough to last the long winter. I shed my coat and boots and entered the kitchen.
"Hi, Carl!" Annie said with enthusiasm as she gave me a quick kiss. "Salmon for dinner tonight!"
"Hi, Annie, it smells delicious. When do we eat?"
"Your timing is great. We eat in ten minutes, so go wash up and change your clothes."
"I had to stop by Safeway on the way home, and I texted to see if you needed anything," I stated.
"I put my cell phone on the charger in the office," she explained as she removed the salmon from the oven. "I guess I didn't hear your message."
I nodded in acknowledgement and left the kitchen to clean up and change clothes.
Over dinner we talked about our day. Annie asked about the second doctor visit.
"Well, the lab tests came back showing that I had a urinary tract infection," I lied. "I have to take antibiotics for 3 to 6 weeks, and no sexual contact at all during that time. I will have to go in and be tested several more times to be sure the infection is gone.
"And you have to be tested, too, Annie."
"What?"
"The doctor said that this infection can easily be transmitted between us, so it is highly likely you are infected, as well. I made an appointment for nine Monday morning. I can go with you."
"Damn!" she yelled. "I don't like doctors, and I don't like taking drugs!" She paused. "And I don't like missing love making. 3 to 6 weeks. That sucks!"
Up until six weeks ago Annie and I had a great sex life for a couple in their late 50s. We usually made love 2 or 3 times a week, with plenty of spontaneous kissing and making out whenever we were home together. Since Annie returned six weeks ago from a trip to see her mother we had only made love occasionally.
Annie was 59, and we had been married 22 years. We were deeply in love. Earlier in our history, we both had cheating spouses: she in California and me in Anchorage. We both came to Fairbanks to start over again. Our courtship was long, almost 2 years, but we had trust and betrayal issues to work through. We vowed never, never to cheat on each other. That vow became the foundation of our relationship and our marriage. And we trusted each other completely.
Chapter 3: Don't Make Assumptions
After dinner, I helped Annie in the kitchen, washing and cleaning up. Afterwards she asked me to join her in the living room to cuddle and watch television.
"Go ahead," I offered. "I need to check home email. I'll join you in a half hour or so, okay?"
"Sure thing," Annie responded.
I went to our home office and logged in to my home email account. I found the last 3 months cell phone statements for both our cell phones. We had a family plan with shared minutes. The cell phone bill was set up as an auto-pay, and the statements were emailed to me. I rarely did anything more than glance at the statement before moving it to an archive folder.
Annie had returned from a four-week trip to the San Francisco Bay area about six weeks ago. Her 89 year-old mother resided in an assisted living complex in San Jose, and Annie was committed to seeing her mother every year. She also had several old friends in the area that she saw during her trips. In previous years she had taken two-week trips, but this year she announced that she needed to spend more time, as her mother may not have much time left.
Engineers love numbers, patterns and puzzles. I transferred the cell phone call records to a spreadsheet and began looking for regular patterns. It was easy. Annie called or received a call from a Bay Area telephone number between 10:00 to 10:30 am each Monday, Wednesday and Friday when I was at work. Sometimes the calls were short, a minute or two; other calls lasted 20 to 25 minutes. She also often called a number with the same area code on the weekends at the time when I was usually working out in the gym at the Alaska Club.
The weekend number was easy to find on the internet: the home phone for Bill and Carol Pike. Bill and Carol had been Annie's close friends for over 30 years. They had helped her when her first marriage collapsed, letting Annie stay in a room over their garage for 6 months while she put her life back together before her move to Fairbanks.
I ran into a blank wall with the weekday number on the internet, so I called it on Annie's cell phone. The number rang five times, then went to voice mail:
"Hi, this is Bill Pike. I'm out of the office right now, so please leave a number and I will respond to your call when I return." I hung up.
I saved the spreadsheet, closed the programs and shut down the computer. Then I joined Annie in the living room watching television. My emotions were churning and angry, demanding to ask Annie questions, but my rational mind said, "Not yet. Be patient. We need more facts."
Chapter 4: Investigate the Facts, Part 1
It was a normal Friday morning in most respects. I arose early, and Annie slept-in. Annie had taken an early retirement from the Fairbanks School District at the end of the last school year, and she had settled easily into home life. "I spent over 20 years getting up early every school day," she announced upon retirement. "I'm sleeping in from now on!"
I loved Annie, but I enjoyed quiet, peaceful mornings to myself. I went through my usual rituals preparing for work, with one exception. I removed our tiny digital video camera from the home office, set the timer for one-hour record beginning at 9:45 am that morning, and placed it on a bookshelf pointing at Annie's favorite chair in the living room. I placed the camera between two books, rendering it almost invisible. Annie always sat in her large, leather chair when she read or talked on the phone.
