What She Had Done...

Copyright @ shuttlepilot

All rights reserved, 2011

Davis Hill sat in the other chair across from the counselor and felt like staring at the picture of Yosemite on the wall. It was his fifth session with the man and he didn't feel any better nor did he see a real solution to his problem.

"Mr. Hill, what your wife has done is, without a doubt, the most painful form of abuse that one spouse can inflict on another."

"I'd have rather died than experience this." Hill looked at the painting, again, wishing he was there.

"You're going to have to decide if you want to stay married or not. If not, then I'll help you work your way through it but, if you do then you're going to have to be kind, patient and understanding of why she has done what she has done." He wasn't sure what Hill was looking for. He, himself, would have cut his losses, already, but he was bound to try and help the man save his marriage, that is, if he still wanted to, which was becoming less and less likely as each week passed.

"I don't understand her. She says she loves us both and can't make a choice. If forced to, she says she will give up both of us. I guess I still want to work it out but she is spending quite a bit of time with him at her work. They even go on out-of-town business trips together. I think he might be married, but I don't know; I've never seen him... she might be lying about the whole thing and he's someone else, altogether."

The counselor noticed that Hill was burning a hole through his painting and was glad he wasn't Superman or there'd be a missing wall behind him. Of course, if the man was Superman instead of Clark Kent, his wife's lover would be halfway to the moon by now.

"My wife says she is very confused and needs time. She will not tell me when she sees him or talks to him. I've always tried... I've always done everything for her to pursue her career but how long should I wait? I can't continue like this forever and I'm not sure I love her, anymore."

Finally, thought the counselor, the man is putting on his cape.

*****

"I see all our paperwork is in order. You're getting a very good rate, 3.75 percent. I see you've had the house since 1995." She looked at the clock, hoping that he'd hurry with the paperwork. It was almost four and she had a date for the night.

"I bought it with my parents as an investment. I never thought I'd actually live there but it's been a very nice house. I need to take care of some things so refinancing is the only choice."

"I'm sure everything will turn out... and here's your check. Please sign here, here and here."

Hill walked out of Western savings and loan a few minutes before four o'clock with $568,000 in a cashier's check. He would have preferred cash but realized that was an impossibility. His next stop was at Bank of America where he closed out everything, taking another check for close to $700,000 and five thousand in cash.

He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. "I've got it," he said to Sister Karen, seemingly the only friend he ever had in life, especially now.

"I'll be there," the nun said, "traffic's a little heavy. Give me another ten, fifteen minutes." She said a prayer to her God, hoping She would understand. "For it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord." Sometimes, though, She needs a little help.

"OK, thanks." He disconnected and drove the three miles to Torrance Savings. Waiting in the lot, he looked in the visor mirror, not wanting to look to morose but he couldn't help it. His wife had initiated the entire situation and now he was just doing his part to bring it to a less-than-satisfactory conclusion, but a finish, just the same.

He saw Sister Karen's Camry pull into the lot and he locked his car and walked into the building.

The nun, fingering the cross on her lapel as if looking for courage, walked up to the safety deposit teller and signed in. She nodded to Davis and he joined her as she went into the small room.

"Thanks," he said, handing her the two envelopes.

"I'm sorry, Davis, I really am," she answered, giving him her other key to the box and waited while the teller took it and relocked the box into its vault space. "You keep it. Here's the 'power of attorney' document for this box." Sister Karen looked at Davis, seeing the pain in his eyes. "Dave, I'm..."

"Don't say it, Karen. I know. It's just... ah, forget it. Thanks. Here..." He handed her two thousand dollars. "Use it as you need it."

"Call me, OK? I'll pray for you... and her... and whatever you decide."

"I will. It'll be a while, though." He was embarrassed, needing her like this. The trust he had in her should have been for his wife... he had made such a mistake, all those years ago.

"Just don't make it too long, all right?" she said and rolling up her window, drove away.

*****

Davis lay on the bed, staring at the dark ceiling. "How long," he asked his wife of twenty-three years.

She seemed surprised at his question. There was a long silence. "Christmas..."

"Christmas... what was it? A gift to yourself?" He tried hard to keep his voice level like he had promised the counselor... like he had promised Karen... like he had promised himself. It was SO damn hard.

"It wasn't... yes. It was just... I don't know. Something was just..." Talking about it actually made her ashamed as she realized what she had done to her husband.

"Missing?" he asked, wishing he was dead. "More exciting?"

"I guess." There was a sadness in her voice and she felt caught between her husband and her lover... between heaven and hell.

"Here? In this room? On this bed?" He could feel his voice starting to rise.

"Yes... I'm sorry." And, she was, too... she just couldn't make up her mind. Why couldn't she have both? Why couldn't he understand? She had wants and needs and desires, just like everyone else.

"Ah, Jesus Christ, Stacy... here? Where we sleep? Where I sleep?" Davis got up and left the bed and went into the living room, shaking his head in disbelief. It was once thing to know it; it was another thing to KNOW it. He went into the kitchen and pulled the Southern Comfort and the remains of last night's cherry pie out of the refrigerator. I never used to drink but things change, don't they? At least, it's good pie. He put a spoon to the dessert and started to eat.

The morning sun found him still sitting at the kitchen table, his glass half-empty and the pie gone. Stacy hadn't even bothered to see if he was OK. He went back to the bedroom, dressed and left, driving to his office. He had calls to make and people to see.

*****

Davis returned to the marriage counselor, more for his own need than hers. He was having a hard time accepting what the man was telling him, forgiveness... He still wasn't sure if he was going to do anything more than what he had already done but he had to exhaust every possibility, if just for himself. Thank God, the twins were both out of college, one in the Army and the other in medical school. My daughter, the lieutenant... he never thought he'd ever say something like that.

"Davis!"

"OH! I must have zoned out, there, for a moment." Hill went back to staring at the painting.

"People have affairs because their needs aren't being met at home, so they look for a lover that will. Your wife's lover is doing something for her that makes her feel so good she is willing to sacrifice the happiness of her children, her family and you just to get it. What does her lover do for her that is that important? What does he give her that you have not given her? Can you change so that you can meet that need? Of course, this is if you want to try and save your marriage."

"Probably fucks the hell out of her... I don't know. I don't understand her anymore. I don't know what more I can do or what he's doing that I haven't. She refuses to say anything. It might be just the sex but it's still a betrayal of everything we promised to each other." Hill gripped the chair's arms, his fingers turning so white it hurt.

"You're both meeting different needs. That's why she can't decide what to do. She says she loves you and that may be the case, especially since she was still sleeping with you. You are meeting some of her important needs with security and companionship and shelter and he's probably all about the sex but neither you nor her lover meet enough of her needs for her to settle on one of you. If you could do what this other man is doing, the conflict would be ended and your family would be secure."

"Assuming I still want her back..."

"Assuming you still want her back."

*****

Davis thought back eight months when he went for a routine annual check-up. A week later, the clinic had called, asking him to return and the doctor told him he had syphilis. "There's some big mistake," he told her, "that's impossible."

She looked at him and quietly asked, "Davis, are you sure? You've..." I hate this, she cursed silently. I can tell he's innocent, just by looking at him.

"Never," he told her. "I don't do that." Ah, shit. "No chance it being the toilet seat?" He tried to laugh but he knew he was going to cry, it suddenly hurt so bad.

"Well, we've got to get you on penicillin today. I see you're not allergic to it. Now, if you have a reaction, it'll be within a couple of hours... chills, maybe a fever, just being tired... I'd like you to stay here in the waiting room until..." She looked at her watch. "...let's say, three o'clock and I'll check you again. I'll want to see you again in three months, to make sure and maybe three months after that."

"No mistake, huh?" he asked, grasping at something, anything.

"No... I can run the test again but I routinely have it run twice when there's a positive, by two different labs. You'll need to talk to your wife."

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. I'll talk to her." Damn bitch.

The next day, Davis called Sister Karen, his proverbial girl next door and they spoke for several hours. Davis decided he was going to talk to Stacy, just not about syphilis. That was her problem, he decided... hers and her lover's... let them figure it out. What if it had been HIV? The more he thought about it, the angrier he became and he left work, telling them he didn't feel well. It was the truth, it just didn't show. Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!

*****

"Try and have a quiet discussion with her about what her lover does for her that you don't. You will be tempted to express your resentment over how much she has hurt you. You may even feel like telling her to leave so you can find someone who will love and respect you as you are. You might lose your temper, be disrespectful, and give her ultimatums..."

The counselor wondered if any of what he was saying was being done but he had to try. He had an oath to honor. All in all, he knew Davis was going to leave his wife, the question just became, when?

"If you do any of these things, she will withdraw even more than she already has. It will get you nowhere. On the other hand, if you can convince her that her feelings are important to you... right now, for some reason, she's not convinced you have put her first in your life." Of course, he thought, Davis' wife didn't exactly put him first, either.

"After all I've said, do you think you can do this?" Not a chance, not a chance...

"I don't know. I'm not sure it's worth it, anymore. I'll talk to you next week."

*****

There was a note on his pillow. 'I need some time,' it said. 'I'm coming back, I just don't know when. I DO love you but I love him, too.' She didn't even bother to sign it. Bitch...

Davis scrunched up the note and threw it on the floor. He opened the closet and looked. Most of her clothes were still there, so that meant something. He supposed he could find a way to check her phone records, look at her texts but what was the point? He knew where she was, even if he didn't know WHERE she was.

He went into the kitchen and pulled out the phone book from above the stove. "Goodwill? Yes, I'd like to arrange a pickup. Household goods... yes, that's right, the entire house, you're going to need a big truck. Mostly new, maybe five years... yes, everything. Can you do that, today? No... tomorrow morning? Good. Here's my address. Are you going to need any paperwork? Just identification? OK, I'll see you tomorrow... nine o'clock? Good."

*****

His cell rang that night. It was her. "Davis..." she started to say, not confident at all.

"Are you with him?" he asked. He could hear the hesitation in her silence. "When are you coming home, Stacy? The house will be empty without you." And, don't I know it.

"I... I just need some time... with him. Please, understand... if you love me, you'll understand."

Now, he was silent. Selfish bitch, throwing everything away. Well, I'm throwing everything away, too.

"Dave? Are you there, Dave?" She sounded worried.

"Yeah. Take all the time you need. I'll be waiting." Yeah, somewhere else, bitch.

"I'm... thank you, Dave. It's just..."

"That's OK, Stacy... you don't need to explain. Will you call, tomorrow?"

"I don't know... I'll try... yes."

"Goodbye, Stacy." Goodbye... forever. Oh, God...

He turned off his phone and went to the kitchen, got some black trash bags and then began putting his clothes into the doubled-up bags. He was surprised when he found his old high school letterman sweater. He remembered when Karen had given it back to him, that night he went into the Army. "I'll wait," she had said but when he went missing, so did she. For a long time later, he threw himself into whatever they had asked of him, rising through the ranks quickly until his enlistment was up and he had survived Desert Storm with a bad case of frustration in life, wondering where she had gone and who she was with.

Davis left for his last appointment with the marriage counselor. At first, he thought it strange he attend these sessions, alone, but the doctor had told him that while not common, it happened quite often. Often enough, at any rate... There was a lot of hurt, out there.

"Davis, maybe it's not so much him as it's the environment that she and her lover share that makes him so attractive. She probably spends many hours each week alone with him, where they give each other their undivided attention. That kind of time and privacy is essential in meeting most of the important emotional needs. It could be that you have not given her enough of your undivided attention in a stress-free and private environment. Of course, that's assuming it's someone she works with."

The counselor wanted him to give her six months to re-connect with him. He had tried, without letting her know he knew. He offered small vacations, taking her to Tahoe for skiing, San Diego, San Francisco. But Stacy had turned him down often enough that he knew she was torn between two lovers and when she gave him syphilis, he stopped having sex with her. He was running out of patience and she was running out of time... she just didn't know it.

"Davis... if at the end of the six months, she still hasn't changed... if she's still seeing him, then tell her you can't take the pain anymore and move out of your house. Don't talk to her, don't see her, do whatever the law requires, but no more. Let her remember you as a kind, caring person and how hard you tried to make her happy. I know it will be hard but, thank God, your twins are grown and on their own so you don't have to deal with that."

Davis nodded his head, listening as best he could. She'll remember me, all right... kind, caring, trying to make her happy... you bet. How to tell the girls, though, that was another question.

"When you are meeting some of her needs, and her lover is meeting others, she has the best of both worlds, at your expense. Your total disengagement from her will break the deadlock and will give her lover a chance to win her over. Let him try to meet the needs that you were meeting. If he succeeds, your marriage will be over. But if he fails, which is the usual outcome, it gives your wife a chance to test the permanence of her relationship with him. When he's faced with meeting all of her needs, he may not be able to meet those you have been meeting. It's very important for you to leave her before you do or say things that will upset her. You will not be able to compete head-to-head with her lover indefinitely."

The counselor took a sip of coffee and motioned an offer. Davis shook his head, 'no'.

"If, after your separation, she comes to you later asking to give your marriage another try, you will need to determine if she is still attracted to her lover. If there is evidence that her lover really blew it with her, is completely out of her life, quit his job, moved out of state, married another woman, returned to his wife, or done something that convinces you they will never see each other again, go back to your original plan, and learn to meet her needs." It'll never happen, this guy is too angry, even if he keeps it hidden well.

"But if she is still tempted to see her lover behind your back, I suggest that you leave the area. There's a good chance that she is addicted to the man, and he is addicted to her. The only way to overcome the addiction is to have a period of abstinence. Moving away is often the only way it can be done." He drank more coffee, knowing this was their last meeting whether Davis said anything or not.

"Even if your marriage improves, your wife will still want to remain "friends" with this man. It is an arrangement that few husbands can, or should, tolerate and you will have to realize that your marriage is over, unless you're will to accept that she will cheat again." This marriage is SO over.

"Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate your help with this... very much."

"You're not taking her back, are you?"

"I tried everything you suggested but as you just said, I can't take it any longer. I want to leave before I do something that might land me in jail. He can have her. It's not a sign of weakness. I just don't want her, anymore. The opposite of love isn't hate, it's indifference."

"I'm sorry, Davis."

"So am I, Doctor, so am I. Thank you for your time."

"Goodbye, Davis. If you ever need me, just call."

Davis paid for that last session in cash as he had, all along. Besides, he smirked, the plastic won't work anymore, anyways.

*****

He spent the day wandering Del Amo mall, not wanting to return to the loveless house and its haunting memories. He still had to call the twins and let them know but that could wait until everything else was done. Why rush things before he was ready?

He spent the night at the Torrance Marriott, hoping he wouldn't by chance run into Stacy and her lover. How inconvenient would that be? he wondered. He no longer cared to put a face to the man but it would create a problem with his plans. He needed her to stay away.

The next morning, he was back at the house at eight o'clock, making sure there wasn't anything he wanted at the last minute. Karen had picked up his trash bags full of clothing, his computer, all the electronics and his model trains. He hadn't 'played' with them in years but they had been a gift from his father and he was damned if he was going to lose them. Everything had gone to her house. For many nuns, the convent was a thing of the past and Karen was no exception. The modern Church...

There was a knock at the open door. "Hello?" There were four men, there on the porch.

"Good morning, I'm Davis. You're from Goodwill, right?" OK, so that was a stupid question.

"Yes, sir. They said it would be the whole house?"

"That's right. Take it all. I'm moving away and... I'm moving away." I am SO moving away.

"Can I see some I.D., please? Just paperwork, you know. You can't be too careful."

"Sure. Here..." Davis pulled out his driver's license and gave it to the man who checked the address with his work order.