Valentine’s Day Disaster

Author's note: No sex no gun fights no car chases.

****

It was Valentine's Day. It was also our 25th wedding anniversary. And that morning I had learned that I was to receive a long-awaited promotion to Vice President of my division at CYO, Inc.

With that trifecta of good things going, I had made reservations at our favorite restaurant and had picked up a rather extravagant bouquet of flowers, as well as a corsage for my wonderful wife to wear with the new dress she had shown me. I was wrapping up my tasks at my desk at 3:30, hoping to slip out by 4 o'clock, when my phone chirped. I could see it was our daughter Jennifer, at 23 years old a new recruit at a small real estate firm in town.

"Hello, my daughter Valentine!" I said, with a big smile. "How are you on this beautiful day?"

She hesitated for a moment, and I thought I heard her sniffle. "You have to come home, Daddy, something terrible has happened."

Alarmed, I asked, "Is it your mother? Is she hurt?"

"No, she is not hurt. But you have to come home right now."

"Jenny, you are scaring me. What is going on?"

"I will tell you when you get here. I can't talk about it on the phone. It's too hard."

I grabbed the flowers and a gift bag with a silver necklace and earring set, and headed for the door. "Something's come up at home and I have to hurry," I told Jan, my trusty assistant.

"Something has come up or something is going to come up when you get there?" She teased, looking at the front of my trousers.

"No, this is some kind of crisis. Jenny just called and said I have to hurry."

"Well, good luck. I'll hold down the fort - there's nothing much going on anyway. Tell Lauri I said happy Valentine's Day."

With that I bolted for the elevator and the front door. I made good time driving home in spite of traffic, but my mind wasn't on the drive, my mind was busy trying to figure out what in the world might have happened.

Lauri and I had a happy marriage. Well, it had been happy most of the time. There was one rough patch early on when she had had an affair with my best friend, George Atkins, who had introduced Lauri and me. We were married as both of us were starting our working life, and we had settled into a very comfortable and happy relationship. Our senses of humor - important to both of us - had complemented each other, and our values and belief systems meshed nicely. We became the quintessential middle class suburban couple, except we were convinced we were doing it right - avoiding all of the clichéd stereotypes you read about.

We enjoyed similar activities, shared friends, and had an active and interesting sex life. We were adventurous at sex, but without any particular kinkiness.

My heart sank as I drove up our street toward the house and saw an ambulance in the driveway and a police car parked out front. I also saw George's car in the driveway, pulled up to the garage door, with the ambulance behind him. I was relieved to know that whatever had happened, George had been able to get there quickly and help. Then my heart sank when I saw a medical examiner's car parked in front of the house. What could have happened? Jennifer had told me Lauri was okay. I couldn't imagine.

I parked in front of our neighbor's, as close as I could get to the house. Leaving flowers and gifts in the car, I jumped out and walked quickly toward the front door. Jennifer saw me coming and came out to intercept me in the driveway. She had been crying, but was trying to be strong and cope with the situation, whatever it was.

"You can't go in yet, Daddy," she said. "Let's go to the back yard and sit in the garden. I have difficult things to tell you, and I want you to be sitting down."

My first reaction was to say "Bullshit," and push my way to the door, but Jennifer had never spoken to me this way, and I sensed that I had best go with what she was suggesting.

We walked around the house to Lauri's pride and joy, her garden. Years before she had shown me a drawing and I had put in flagstone walkways and had constructed raised beds for her beautiful flowers. Just the night before she had been looking at seed catalogs and home and garden magazines looking for ideas for this year's floral display. She didn't always win the Garden Club contest, but she was always in the running.

So, Jennifer put her arm through mine, and led me to a bench in the back. We sat silently for a moment as she gathered her wits, and as I tried not to explode.

"Daddy," she finally began, "something terrible has happened. Something that will break your heart."

"What has happened to Lauri?" I demanded. "Did she fall? Was she attacked? What's in the hell is going on?"

"It isn't Mom," she replied. "It's Uncle George. He had a heart attack, and he died."

"How did it happen?" I asked. "Why was he here?"

Jennifer choked. She wiped tears from her eyes, and took another second to compose her next words. She took my hand in her two hands and looked into my eyes, her face full of sorrow. "Dad, he had a heart attack while making love to Mother. I'm so sorry."

My blood ran cold. The world began to spin and lights flashed behind my eyes. Jennifer put her arms around my shoulders and hugged me and kept repeating, "I'm so sorry, Daddy. I'm so sorry. Mother is having a breakdown. She is distraught, ashamed, and terrified of what you will do. She's sitting on the couch rocking back and forth saying, 'Oh no, George. Oh no, Brian.' Over and over. Her eyes are blank. She doesn't know what's going on around her. That's why I had to bring you out here first, to prepare you. If you had just barged in I think she would have died on the spot."

"Where is George now?"

"His body was still in your bed when I got here. But they were getting ready to take him out when you arrived. I think he's probably gone by now.

Just then a policewoman came out the door and spoke to Jennifer. "Miss, they are ready to take Mr. Atkins out. Can you help your mother to the other room so she doesn't have to see it as he goes out the front?"

"Yes, I'll be right there. Daddy, I need to get back in to be with Mom. Can I tell her that you'll come in a few minutes? Do you want to see her? Can you keep it together? I'm afraid if you say the things you want to say right now it will send her to a place and she'll never come back. I know you are hurt and I imagine you are angry. But she's my mother, and I have to look out for her no matter what horrible things she has done. And believe me, I'm as angry as you, and I also feel betrayed. I'm hanging on by a thread here. I'm trying to have your back and her back, and I hope you can have my back and help me save my mother."

"You go. You can tell her that you have explained the situation to me, and that I am very upset, both with what she's done, and with the loss of a man I have thought was my friend. But when I come in I will not attack her. I have loved your mother for a long time, and I don't want to push her over a cliff. She has nothing to fear from me right now but sadness and disappointment."

"Thank you, Daddy," she said quietly. She gave me another hug, then began a slow walk to the house. As shocked and devastated as I was, I had to be proud of the way our daughter was handling this situation.

*****

It was as if I had been clubbed over the head. I had always assumed my friend George and I would grow old together. We had joked about running a 10K when we turned 90. George and I had blocked shoulder-to-shoulder on our high school football team's offensive line, and had become best friends.

We went to different colleges, George to the state U and I to a small college, but hung out when at home for breaks and summers. George met and fell in love with Cindy at college, and he also became friends with Cindy's roommate, Lauri. They double dated with Lauri and her boyfriend Karl, and all grew close.

After graduation George and I both found jobs on our home town, and soon after Lauri also moved to town and reconnected with Cindy and George. They thought Lauri and I might be a good fit, and invited us both to their apartment for a cookout.

Their hunch that we would hit it off was on the money, and we began dating, becoming serious after a few months. We were married the next June, and my life seemed complete. A good starting job for a young man, a pretty and smart and loving wife, with a great sense of humor and a really creative spirit, and before long a home in the suburbs.

We spent a lot of time with George and Cindy, weekends, dance nights out - we even went on vacation trips together a couple of times. That second trip was when trouble began.

One afternoon Cindy and I left the hotel together to run into town and pick up some supplies (snacks and booze). George and Lauri went down to the pool for a swim, and wound up in the hot tub. The strong friendship that had grown between them got the better of them, to hear them tell it, and they found each other kissing, then making out. Fearing there might be people around, they did not go too far in the hot tub, but went back up to our shared room. They must have gotten it on in a hurry, because by the time Cindy and I returned with our bags of goodies, they were both showered and dressed and looking innocent.

Neither Cindy nor I smelled a rat, and our shared vacation went on without a hitch. If we had been more alert we might have noticed that Lauri stayed closer to me and George stayed closer to Cindy. They told us later they were so ashamed of what they had done that they wanted to take no chances on temptation getting them again.

A couple of months after we returned, we again had a cookout, this time at our house. While I was busy preparing the grill and Cindy pitched in to help with the side dishes, Lauri and George made eyes with each other, then snuck upstairs. They confessed their lust for each other, stripped and fucked on our bed. Horrified and ashamed of what they had done, they cleaned up quickly, dressed, and came back separately. We trusting spouses didn't suspect.

Long story short, the two of them got together several more time in the weeks to come, until eventually they slipped up and Cindy caught them. Lauri had left her messy panties on the floor in the bedroom after one of their trysts, and Cindy found them. She grilled George until he confessed everything. She called me and we had an emergency meeting. George and Lauri were teary and ashamed, professed their love for us, denied that what had gone on between them had been serious, and begged forgiveness.

This may sound strange, but we were all such good friends that in a way it almost seemed natural that there might be some side action. Cindy and I were angry and hurt, but on some level I think we both felt like under different circumstances they same thing could have happened between us, so we let them off the hook.

Lauri and I slept separately for a while, and conversations were awkward, but little by little we drew back together. We began sleeping together, eventually having sex, and then Lauri announced she was pregnant with my baby, and that sealed the deal.

Life returned to normal, we all became comfortable with each other again. George and I went to ballgames together and we all hung out. Cindy took and active interest in helping Lauri with her preparations for motherhood. George helped me paint the spare room we were converting to be the nursery. When Jennifer was born beautiful and healthy, we all celebrated together. As she grew up she came to know our friends as Uncle George and Aunt Cindy.

Our good times together were shattered seven years ago when Cindy found a lump in her breast. She had surgery, she had chemo, she had radiation - all the techniques and tactics modern medicine had to offer - but after two years of fighting the good fight she died. George was inconsolable. Lauri was crushed. I was very sad, but had not been as close to her as the others, so I had to be the strong one and help the others through it. They had had no children, but in many ways had been like second parents for Jennifer, keeping her when Lauri and I had to attend a banquet or work thing, and all of us spent lots of time together.

All of these memories flowed in a torrent through my brain as I sat there, trying to process what Jenny had told me.

*****

I waited five minutes, then followed her into the house.

Coming in through the kitchen door everything looked normal. It was the same house I had left in the morning. All the dishes and appliances and furniture were right where they had always been. The room was the same color, the late afternoon sun coming in the window looked the same as it did every other day. But suddenly it felt like somebody else's house. It was as if I was walking in on one of Jenny's real estate showings.

I passed through into the living room, and there she was. My loving wife. The one I had bought flowers and jewelry for just that day. She was sitting on the couch, wearing a robe and clearly naked underneath. Jennifer sat beside her, holding her hand. Jennifer had tried to prepare me, but nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. The lively, clever, beautiful woman I had loved for so long was gone, replaced by a hollowed-out husk. She looked tiny, huddled with her head down, her eyes locked on the carpet in front of her. A pile of tissues had accumulated on the floor as she had wiped her weeping eyes and dropped them.

Jennifer looked up at me, hopefully, sadly, unsure what I would do or say. I did and said nothing. I fell into a chair across from the couch and just sat, looking at the miserable tableau. I really had nothing I could think of to say that could possibly meet Jennifer's request not to be hurtful. So I just sat. Just then Carol, our neighbor to the west, came down the stairs. She had seen the commotion and had come over to see if she could help. She wasn't a particular friend, but she was a nice person and a good neighbor. She asked me if she could get me anything, and I asked her fur a tumbler of Scotch. "Don't worry about counting fingers," I told her. I found out later that Jennifer had asked her to go upstairs and straighten up the bedroom - the scene of the crime - so the outrage that had been committed there would not be in my face when I went up.

Carol brought me my drink and looked at me and at Jennifer to see if there was anything else we needed. "Thank you for being a friend," I told her. "There are some flowers in my car parked in front of your house. Lauri won't be needing them. Please get them and take them home and put them in water as my thanks for your kindness. And Jenny, there is a gift bag in the car with some jewelry. It is yours. I need to call the restaurant and cancel our dinner reservation."

A fresh round of weeping came from my wife. Jennifer stared daggers at me, but didn't say a word. I got out my phone and called the restaurant. I considered leaving the room to do it, but decided to take care of it where I sat. While I wasn't going to spend any time or energy turning the dagger in Lauri, I was okay with her feeling some of my pain as well as her own.

I then spoke to nobody in particular, but just put it out there, "There is some good news today. Apart from the fact that it's Valentine's Day and our silver wedding anniversary, I also was looking forward to celebrating my promotion to Vice President of Operations for the Midwest Region. But events of the day have kind of pushed that to the back."

Lauri looked up at me for the first time. I think she tried to force a smile of congratulations, but it wouldn't come. She sobbed again and her eyes went back to the floor.

"Congratulations, Daddy," Jennifer said through her teeth. She was clearly upset with me for pushing close to breaking my pledge to be civil.

At that point, I really couldn't think of anything else to say that would not be hostile or mean, so I got up and went downstairs to what passed in our house for a man cave. It was really just a recreation room, but since I was the only one who ever went down there, it had become mine by default. I had a desk with a computer, a couch and a television. I turned on the evening news, and was almost surprised that the drama that had unfolded at my house had not made their report. Now if I had come home and surprised the pair of them in action and had shot George, that would have been headline stuff. As it was, although the result was the same for George, the event didn't make much of a ripple on the world's consciousness.

Speaking of consciousness, I had been idly sipping the glass of whiskey Carol had brought me, and had carried it down the stairs with me. It was about half gone, I noticed, so I took a big swallow and forced it all down. It didn't seem to be enough, so I went to the cupboard where I had my private stock stashed, and poured myself another tumbler. I wasn't aiming to get drunk, but I sure as hell didn't want to be sober. The sweet spot would be numb but still functional. I just hoped I could hit it.

I heard some stirring upstairs, and it sounded as though Jenny was trying to get her mother to go upstairs and lie down. I quietly walked halfway up the stairs and listened, hoping I might overhear something that would help me to understand. But they weren't talking about what had gone on. Lauri was crying again, and insisted that she could not go back to her bed after what had happened there. "I'll never go into that room again," she cried. "I have contaminated it with my cheating and I will never be able to go in there without seeing George dead in the bed. Oh God, what have I done to Brian? How can he ever forgive me?"

"Mom, come on," Jenny said. "I'll take you to the guest room and you can lie down. I have some Valium left from when I had my trouble in high school and I will give you some of that so you can calm down."

I heard shuffling footsteps on the stairs going up, and pictured Jenny helping her mother up the stairs. I went back down to my couch and took another sip of Scotch. I gave myself permission to sit and feel sorry for myself for a while before I had to resume functioning in the world.

When Cindy's illness had made human mortality very real for us, George had prepared a will. And he asked me, his best friend, to be executor. I hadn't looked at the document after he gave it to me - it seemed like such a remote issue at the time. I had just put it into our strongbox with important documents and forgotten about it. Now I was going to have to get it out and look at it. I knew I would have to call his office in the morning to notify them of his passing. First, though, I was going to have to concoct a story about what had happened that would not make my wife out to be a slut and me a witless cuckold. So lie, in other words.

I opened the envelope and pulled out the document and skimmed through it. George's affairs were pretty uncomplicated - no children, his wife deceased, no special circumstances in his financial affairs - he had about $200,000 in savings, a 401K at work and a couple of life insurance policies. I flipped to the end to see about his bequests. I was surprised, and pleased at first, to see that he had left everything to Jennifer. Well, he had no children of his own, and he had been like a second father to our daughter. But then a suspicion began to grow. Is it possible? Could it be? Surely not. Damn!

Just then I heard water running upstairs and figured Jenny had managed to get her mother into the shower. Well, at least we knew she really was her mother.

I went back and gave the will a closer reading, just to see if there were any other surprises. There were not. As I finished I heard Jenny coming down the stairs.

"I helped her shower and get into some pajamas. She's lying in bed, but not sleeping yet. The Valium I gave her is helping, and I think she'll be able to sleep soon, but I don't feel like I can leave her for long."