Using Fiction to Alter Reality

I wrote a light look at fiction creating reality. This, hopefully, is a more realistic look at how fiction might cause events. It was fun to write about an author writing about the same topic the story which contained the character was about (or something to that effect).

The story was posted briefly, taken down, and is presented in an improved form - at least in my opinion. Hope you're in agreement.

He Was Warned

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Janet Monroe

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Once a cheater, always a cheater.

A cliché? I don't think so. More of an axiom. Still, you find poor weak-minded, love-sick, idiots who believe their particular cheater is different from

all

others. Worst of all, I am among that group, who are bound for as many disappointments as they will allow before they put their foot down and act. You'd think I was not playing with a full deck.

I am Janet Monroe. The cheater in my world is Luther Monroe, my husband. This is the third time I have caught him. Never been much of a baseball fan, but three strikes and you're out has a ring to it.

Luther is a good man. Well, sober he is a good man. When he's had too much to drink - he's usually a good man. He rarely has too much to drink.

Trouble with "usually and rarely" is they don't fit with never.

There is one other thing about my dear husband. He would love to be dominant to my submissive, I'm not talking whips and bondage - at least I don't think so. He's only wanted to make demands of me and have me kowtow. You know, take me rather than love me. I just don't like that.

I suppose that is why I

forgave

Luther, both times, 'though saying I forgave him is only directionally true. He got himself in a situation and found a woman who liked his aggressiveness. He was

truly

remorseful(?)

He had too much to drink and this woman was so into him. He was weak. It would never happen again.

I was caring for our eighteen-month-old daughter. We were trying for our second. I had put my career on hold for six to eight years, because we wanted children. I had not given it a thought, but when my husband turned out to be a cheater, I was liable to end up on the short side of things.

It might be different for others, but to me, the big loss was the discovery my husband believes I would see him as a victim.

I guess he thinks I chewed a few too many paint chips as a kid.

A few cocktails, a girl shakes her tail in his face, and he just can't help it. Nonsense. He was out looking to be victimized and let it happen.

I get angry with friends who say they got on the scales and found they were thirteen pounds overweight. Bullshit. They weigh exactly what they want to weigh. Junk food doesn't take from your brain - it adds to your ass.

So, I have a husband who is going to go where he doesn't belong, drink more than his libido can manage, give into his urges, and make up for it by being sorry.

I'm the one who will be sorry - if I don't get myself prepared to do what I need to do the next time he is sorry.

I am not one of his airhead bimbos - but the dolt thinks (dolt thinks - there's an oxymoron) I am.

I called my former employer and started negotiating to go back, into a job I'd have had - if I'd not taken leave. Understandably, they were reluctant, but after some negotiation, we came to this understanding. I would get an MBA in the next two years and participate in several projects, by zoom - at an extremely low wage. A chance for me to prove and improve myself and earn my way into that bigger job.

Nearly four months passed before I could get enrolled in an executive MBA program, at the State University in our city. Classes were on Tuesday and Thursday, every term - for two years. I had to find daycare for our daughter, Sarah. That hurt me more than anything - hubby's philandering with some submissive floozy was forcing me to turn a part of my daughter's formative years over to a stranger.

I found a woman, who had a degree in child psychology, and wanted to operate a small daycare facility, from her home. She thought she could oversee 6-8 children - currently she had three. Sarah made four.

I was able to take Sarah, primarily on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and drop her, at my convenience. I could pick her up, any time before 6:00pm. It was a perfect arrangement.

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A little more than a year passed, dumbass, as I now refer to my husband, cheated again. I had about a year to graduate, go back to work full time, and be rid of him. This time there was no confession, no fake sorrow, just the stench of her on him. I chose not to acknowledge the indiscretion, then.

A couple of weeks later, unexpectedly, I upped my warning about further cheating. I told him if I caught him again, I'd castrate him. He was all,

what does that mean? Why bring that up

? He thought he was being clever. I looked at him, the lights were on, but nobody was home.

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A Month Passes

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It was a typical morning. Luther said, "Say, I'll be home a little late tonight. I have a business dinner." Wednesday

business dinners

were becoming the norm for dumbass. He had to stay home with Sarah on Tuesday and Thursday evenings because I was picking up two extra courses, with an evening executive MBA program. All the students, except me, worked fulltime during the day.

"What time will you be home?" I was sure he had no kind of business, other than monkey. But it was a few more months before I could walk away with all I wanted.

"Shouldn't be too late, 9:00 or 10:00. Oh, what is the name and address of Sarah's daycare?"

Sarah has been going for well over a year. He has not had reason to know the name or location in all that time, now it is a question. I wonder why? I swallowed my question, smiled, and said,

"Barnett's, 13129 145

th

St." It must be in the cheaters' manual to presume your spouse has only one oar in the water - when the truth is cheaters are generally sharp as a marble. Sorry about the mixed metaphor, just thinking about this and suddenly - I'm not all there.

"Okay, thanks, it occurred to me I ought to know that." He walked out of the kitchen toward the bedroom. I was working in the kitchen. I know he did not expect me to follow, but I peeked around the corner. He reached in an inside coat pocket and got a phone. The phone had a green case. I went back to the kitchen.

He carries his phone in his pants pocket. It has a black case. The cheating bastard has two phones. He needed daycare information for his new girlfriend, or one of them... Well, that could be useful. I need a look at that phone.

Dumbass came back into the kitchen; we exchanged our usual goodbye kiss, and he was off. I had everything ready, it was time to get Sarah up and give her breakfast.

For the first time, I was confident I would get my revenge on dumbass, it was a war of wits and only one of us was armed.

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I was reading about segmenting markets when the phone rang. Ugh, I hate calls on the landline. Caller ID says "Kathy Barnett," so I answer.

"Kathy, what a pleasant surprise - how are you?"

"Better, Janet, thanks to you. Having the two new children is going to help, a lot. And from such a famous family!"

Well, dumbass wasted no time. I don't want to let Kathy know I have no idea what she is talking about - well,

who

she is talking about. "Locally, famous, I guess." I took a shot in the dark, maybe that would prime the pump.

"You must be kidding. Ron Ward has written three best sellers. He might not have been famous six months ago, but he is national figure now."

"I am behind the times. I haven't read anything unrelated to marketing or finance in a year. To tell you the truth, my husband works with his wife. Neither of us knew to whom she was married."

"Oh, so you don't know Mr. Ward?" Kathy sounded apprehensive.

"No, I've not had the pleasure. I'm sure Luther hasn't, either - he'd've mentioned it."

Kathy's disappointment showed, "I was hoping you could introduce us.

Oh well.

Now, maybe I can introduce you. He is the primary child-care giver in the family. His wife is an executive with some tech company, but you said you know her."

A first-class slut who is fucking dumbass.

"I'll look forward to meeting him."

She thanked me again for the referral. I marveled at the serendipity. Mr. Ron Ward is in the same circumstance I now find myself, though he may yet be unaware. Newly wealthy, and the primary care giver - and about to get absolutely raped in divorce court. If he's game, he'll make a great partner. This is dumbass' third strike.

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Ron Ward

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"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair."

I'm Ron Ward, and I wish I'd written those words, instead Charles Dickens did. I had been running them through my mind because they fit my life right now. I was a full-time financial analyst and part-time author until a few months ago. My third novel,

Fiction to Fortune

, became a number one best-seller. Shortly after that, my first two novels' sales skyrocketed, as well.

The novel was a James Bond-type, spy thriller. The villain was an unscrupulous, wealthy, well-connected, hedge-fund manager. Careful study made him expert in how news stories impacted stock and commodity prices. Rather than wait for news - to then respond as did everyone else - he developed ways to leak false stories in a way that gave them the appearance of authenticity. He made huge financial moves before the false stories appeared and as the rest of the financial world followed, he took profits, before his falsely created bubble burst.

He was making money hand-over-fist, until the unthinkable - his "rumor" came true. He "predicted" a third-world dictator would stop mining operations in his country, interrupting the flow of rare earth materials. The dictator read the story, liked the power such a move would give him - and stopped mining operations.

The villain then saw his opportunity to create reactions to the dictator's move which would create world chaos. Fortunately, before the world economy collapsed, the spy-hero caught the villain - and wrote several "rumors" which brought the world back from the brink - as he always did.

It was the first time I'd used the notion of fictional writing creating real events. It would not be my last.

The book sale successes were only beginning. I was suddenly contacted by all manner of people wanting to make the book into a movie and people who wanted to represent me - taking much of my earnings to keep others from taking much of my earnings, or so it seemed to me. Surely, the best of times.

But it was also the worst of times. Someone said, nothing succeeds like success. I can only presume that person was never successful. Success fucks up your life, big-time. Everything changes. Sure, you can get a wider seat on an airplane, but suddenly, there are demands to fly everywhere, all the time. People seek you out - no one will leave you alone. You get the point.

All the change was hard on my marriage. Well, I'm not sure of that - something has been hard on my marriage. My wife, Maureen is the organized, logical one. She and a couple of college friends joined a new tech company right out of college. They are a great team. Within a few years her group was essentially running the company, which had grown more than 20-fold, in that time. I know my success has changed her sense of order - but this seems more than that.

Maureen and I have two beautiful children. Our older child, Ben is three and his little sister, Andrea, is going to be two in three months. Maureen's title is VP of Sales and Marketing for Widgets, Inc. She took a two-year leave of absence to have our children. Ben was born a day her leave of absence began, and she was back at work six months after Andrea was born. I stayed home with the kids.

Maureen's spontaneity is close to zero. She liked me in a steady, less-than-her-income job, with aspirations to be a writer. That guy could reliably stay at home with the kids and do what he was told. I asked Maureen if she knew of anyone who used daycare. I was dumfounded. She was unhappy. "This is not what we agreed to. The children need us."

"Well, pardon me for saying so, but your use of

us

is rather generous toward yourself, don't you think?"

"No, I don't think and how dare you? We agreed, our lives were such that we could have children and you would stay home with them. Now, you want to galivant around."

"

The lady doth protest too much, methinks,"

(Hamlet). Having an occasional meeting and a monthly book signing was hardly galivanting. "Maureen, calm yourself. I am hardly galivanting. I spend most of every day with our children. And what about your sudden change in work habits? A night or two every week with some after-hours function?"

I know she values stability, but for a while now, that has meant my stability - she could do as she pleased.

"Don't you dare throw that it my face. This is not about me. It is about your not living up to your commitments."

"I am not doing this with you. You've something else on your mind and we aren't going to get at it by harping at me."

I made my point. The argument stopped and she gave me the daycare name a few minutes later.

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I was amazed at Barnett's Daycare, all because of Kathy Barnett. She had a young child and wanted to be a mother and needed to make a living. She was highly educated in child psychology and decided to have an exclusive daycare center as her way to meet both her goals. Our two settled into her care, quickly.

I really did not like leaving my kids, but she was so good, it made it almost painless. Well, until the day I dropped them off and met Janet Monroe. I dropped the kids off and was almost back to my car, a woman approached.

"Ron? Ron Ward?"

This is so cool. Fans recognize me.

"Yes, I am, thank you for reading my books."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I've not finished it, but my name is Janet Monroe, I think we need to talk."

Well, shit, this is embarrassing. Nothing like being so full of yourself you presume people who approach are fans.

"Well color me embarrassed; might I ask about what you wish to talk?"

She looked at her feet. Well, in her case, she looked down, her bustline hadn't allowed her a view of her feet since grammar school, I'd guess. "I wish we could talk privately and get to know one another for a bit. But thinking about it, were I you, I'd want to know why some stranger wants to talk. There is no easy way to say this. My husband and your wife are having an affair."

I let out a sigh, "So, that's what it is."

She looked confused, "Excuse me, that's what what is?"

"Strange behaviors. Fights where we have nothing to fight about. More evenings out. A whole list of things. Oh, and a big offensive on my shirking my duties by taking my children to be cared for by strangers."

"Oh - you might wonder how I know?"

"Well clearly you are more aware than I. I must admit I am a sandwich or two short of a picnic on this whole deal."

She chuckled, "I wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed for a time, too. Then one day dumbass, oh by the way, that's my husband's name, dumbass - though some call him Luther. Anyway, one day, a month or so ago, dumbass asks me about our childcare arrangements."

I interrupted her, "I knew it. I asked my apparently slut of a wife if she knew of a daycare place and not ten minutes later, she gave me this name. She'd tried to keep me in the dark, but that let a little light in."

Now Janet was smiling. "That's how they got caught. If you ask me, neither one of their elevators goes to the top floor..."

"Oh, that's a good one, sort of like their river doesn't run all the way to the sea."

Well, can't say about your wife, but I know if dumbass' brains were dynamite, he couldn't blow his nose." We both chuckled, even silliness helps in situations like this.

Janet continued, "I discovered dumbass had a

secret cellphone

when he asked me where our daughter goes for daycare. She had been going for more than a year and suddenly the location was important to him."

"Well, obviously we need to talk. I am on my way to a book signing. Pardon me, that sounds ostentatious."

"Not really. It's Impressive. I am reading the book, I'd like you to sign mine, too."

"How about tomorrow?"

"Well, I normally stay home with Sarah..."

"You have only one? I have two, bring Sarah to my house for a play date. I'd love for my wife to catch us together - with the kiddies."

She got this big smile, "Oh, you are positively evil. I am going to like you - a lot. What time? Give me your address."

I did and we were set. Before we parted, she made me promise not to say anything to Maureen until we'd had our play date.

<><> Janet Monroe <><>

My first sight of Ron Ward was - Wow! He is a good-but-serious-looking man. The glint in his eye, when he suggested we get together at his house, belied that staid appearance.

He didn't show emotion. Any emotion. When he heard of the affair, it was like he'd solved a puzzle. Shouldn't there have been some glint of anger or anguish? Maybe he just doesn't show emotion, ever.

I thought about telling dumbass I was going to Ward's home with Sarah, then thought better of it. I didn't want him to know what I was aware of, or how I thought about it, until I could get my pound of flesh (and unlike Shylock [The Merchant of Venice], I was entitled to the blood which came with it.)

Dumbass was getting ready for work. I made his usual toast and coffee and was busying myself getting ready for Sarah's playdate.

"You taking Sarah to daycare, today?"

"No, we will be together all day, today. We are going out, though." Let's see how curious he is.

"Oh, that's nice. Have fun!" and he was out the door.

There is a correlation between curiosity and intelligence. He showed no curiosity... Dumbass was clearly several pickles short of a jar.

Sarah was all excited, "We going to see Miss Dunlap?"

"No, sweetie, not today. But we are going to see some of your friends." She seemed happy with that. Her third birthday was almost on us. At least all the trauma of shifting family-life would be gone before she really had any handle on the world around her.

Getting a young one in her car seat, along with the bare necessities for a few hours away from home is roughly equivalent to what the pioneers must have experienced loading a covered wagon. I got the necessities packed, then Sarah in her car seat. Unless we had occasion for rattle-snake serum, we were ready to take on the world.

Thirty minutes later we were at the Ward residence. It was a nice suburban home, big front yard, beautiful lawn, and garden. Clearly, the Wards had been doing well, before his novels started selling.

I was getting out of the car and Ron walked out, carrying a two-year-old beauty. I gathered Sarah and we turned to meet them.

Ron spoke to Sarah, "What a little beauty!" What's your name?"

She turned her head, still a little shy. "That's Andwea, Mommy." As Sarah said that Andrea turned and got this big smile. The momentary shyness of both - gone.

Ron looked in my car. "I'd say you have enough for the morning." He got a silly grin, "You should see what it looks like for two. They should provide a sherpa or shlepper with this regalia.