You Cant Throw Everything Away Ch 02

Shuttlepilot

all rights reserved, 2011

**********

Bill sat at his desk, aiming paperclips at his coffee cup by the door. The box was almost empty and he only made three. Horrible, he thought. How could he be that bad? If he picked up the whole box and threw it all at once, he'd probably have better odds.

It was time to face the situation, he knew. No more running away from his troubles. He thought about his trip. He didn't know who he was angrier at: his parents or himself. Growing up, one summer's vacation was a three-day stay in San Diego and the next a four-day trip to San Francisco. Occasionally, usually September, they'd travel north to Solvang. He remembered watching Carpinteria through the car's windows as they drove past on their way north. Not once did they ever stop at the beach town.

After he started college, all his time was spent studying or working at the grocery store. His parents insisted he work through college and by the time he found employment with his law firm, his billable hours were higher than anyone else's. No, he thought, never any time for anything.

Bill actually thought when he made partner and married, he'd have time to spend with his wife, enjoying life... but, for some reason, a few years ago, she just seemed to lose interest in going anywhere with him. What had happened? Try as he might, he couldn't get her to explain other than her continual "it's in the book." Had it, he asked himself, become a marriage of convenience, for her? Why couldn't he figure her out? What the hell was in that book?

First, he had to answer something else bothering him, ever since he returned from Indianapolis. Bill picked up the phone. "Hello, Mom? Yes, it's me. How come we never went anywhere for vacation when I was growing up?"

He listened. "Yes, but, what about..."

He got up and walked to the corner window, looking for his Dodge. The Challenger, in its reserved spot, wore its shiny white paint with pride. Vanishing Point, he thought, didn't end too well, either. He wished his dad was still alive. He could have given him the car back as a present.

A knock, knock, knock on the door brought him back to the real world. He turned. "Yes?" Now what? he wondered.

Eileen, walking in, looked down at all the paper clips on the floor and frowned. "I've got you an appointment for tomorrow morning, eleven o'clock. It's the signing of the Krandell merger. Fortunately, they didn't call while you were gone."

"Thanks." At least, there wasn't anything worth doing, today. He threw another paperclip at the cup. He missed.

Bill struggled through the rest of the morning; with nothing to do, it just dragged. He read the Krandell papers three times. It was all there, he saw, leaving the new merged company in a stronger position than either alone.

Eileen knocked again. "There's a Jeanette Rector out here and she'd like to talk to you."

"Ah, Jeez," he groaned. His wife's best friend... what could she possibly want? Did JoAnne send her?

"All right, send her in."

"Will you want coffee or anything?" Eileen asked.

"No, I don't think she'll be here that long." He stood up and went to the doorway. "Good morning, Jeanette."

"Hello, Bill. Before you say anything, Joanie doesn't know I'm here and I'd like to keep it that way."

"OK, I think I can understand that. I'll be blunt. What do you want?"

Only a hint of red gave evidence to her discomfort. "You know why I'm here. May I sit down?"

"I suppose so but what can you possibly say that would make this better for me?"

Jeanette sat and shifted uneasily in her chair. "Do you still love her?"

"Coldly put, Jeanette, that's problematic. Whether I do or don't has nothing to do with her behavior. You've known me for how long? Almost eleven years, right? Have you ever known me to treat her anyway but the best way possible?"

"It's either a 'yes' or a 'no', Bill. You're just angry that your pride has been hurt."

"Oh, no... that's not it... well, maybe, yes, a little but that's not the biggest problem. She didn't dent my car. Is she still adamant that I've cheated on her? She still insists that I'm no good in bed, doesn't she? How'm I supposed to deal with something like this? on our anniversary, Jeanette... our anniversary. That's really cold."

"You haven't, have you?" she asked. "No, I didn't think so. As far as... the other thing, that can be fixed. It's just a matter of working together."

Bill tapped his fingers on the desktop. "Look, Jeanette. You're a nice person and I don't want to sound too harsh but here's the deal: I've never cheated on her... hell, for that matter, I never would, I wasn't brought up that way, that's all and for her to accuse me SO easily just because some idiot wrote a book and went on TV... shows no respect for me or for the marriage vows I made with her. That's a hurt that goes to my heart. Just because I'm a guy doesn't mean I don't have feelings. Why do women never believe men have feelings? Besides, how do I know that she..." He left the rest unsaid, looking for some clue from Jeanette's reaction but could seen nothing new.

"I'm telling you," he continued, "that she's wrong. What if it's just an excuse... what if she's found..."

He toyed with one of the few remaining paper clips. The notion to take a last shot across the room surfaced for a second but seemed silly considering everything that was happening.

"The whole bedroom issue, that's something else, entirely. She told me that I don't get her off fast enough. What the hell? I thought you women all wanted somebody who took their time to pleasure you and that you're always complaining about somebody who's too fast." He was exasperated.

"I've got to admit that was strange to me, too," Jeanette responded. "I don't know what to tell you about that. She said it was in some book. If you still love her, though, you've got to work this out. When you took off she was a wreck. I had to stay with her the whole time."

"Jeanette, you're a good friend to her and I respect you for that but what you're asking me, right now, really hurts. How could she be a nervous wreck when she attacked me? I'm the hurt party, here. She's done all this to me. What am I guilty of? Loving her for ten, eleven years? For trying to make sure that she enjoys her time in bed? And, now I find out that none of it mattered?"

"I don't know," Jeanette said. "I don't think she expected you to leave. What are you going to do?"

"I truly don't know, either. It's like I don't even know who she is, after ten years. I've got a lot of thinking to do, about her and me and us. If nothing else, my little trip across the country has shown me there's more to the world than the four walls of this office and the drive home.

"You know, he went out of his way to show me Memphis and Nashville? That was so cool." He unbent the paperclip and held it between his fingers.

"You know, I was blaming myself we never went anywhere anymore but then I realized that SHE never wanted to go anywhere. She just wants to stay home, watch TV and I take her out to dinner when she wants. It never really occurred to me because of the way I was raised. What kind of life is that? I've done everything I can except tie her up and drag her out of the house. Before that night, it was almost two months since we'd been out to dinner. She always said she was too tired or not in the mood... for anything."

"I'm just..." she started to say.

"What? Look... I'm hurting here... two different things, at once. I... we, could work out one or the other, but, both? Help me out, here. I'm at a loss as to what to do."

Jeanette stared at him. "Obviously, I need to talk to her, some more. Other than that, I'm as confused as you are, providing you're telling me the truth."

After she left, he opened up the 'net and googled for marriage counselors.

Dinner was at Denny's, again. It was strange; he could afford to go anywhere but Denny's blasé decor matched his mood. Bill picked at the turkey's stuffing, moving it around the plate and through the brownish gravy. He had no appetite and the heavy food sat in his stomach like a brick. He thought if he ate any more, he'd vomit. He threw a ten down on the table and walked out.

Strangely, she was in the kitchen, listening to the radio. He thought she'd be out looking for someone else, now that she made it clear she believed he was cheating and not to her liking in the bedroom. Bill put his coat away in the hall closet and went to the bathroom.

Later, he sat in the den and looked at his new issue of Model Railroader without really seeing anything. That was another thing that didn't seem to have worked out right. You have the time or the money or the space, he thought... but one of the three was always missing. Maybe, a trip north to the Cascades to watch trains would be fun. Could they still go... as a couple? He shook his head, wondering where he'd be in a month.

By that evening, Bill sadly realized he had to do something drastic, for no other reason than his own self-respect. Sleeping on the couch only hurt his back and what pride he had left. She had not even commented on his absence from their bedroom.

He started to move his clothes into the front bedroom, the one that would have been for their child... the child that had never come. "Children," she had said, "it was too early for children." She was still young and wanted to have fun but had fallen into just staying home... unless, she wasn't. It had never occurred to him that she might be fooling around but now, the idea was chilling. How else would this new dissatisfaction arise? Maybe, it was all a sham to divorce him. Offense is the best defense but he couldn't find it in his heart to accuse her of adultery.

Now, he was grateful there was at least one less broken heart to deal with. How do you explain to a small child that the mother is an idiot? or, a cheating woman that trashed your marriage?

"Can't we talk? I can forgive you," she asked, standing in the doorway.

He couldn't believe it! She was still on that kick, again? He stood with his back to her, hoping that she would just leave the room. He wasn't prepared to address the issue with her, at least not yet. For a lawyer, he certainly was at a loss for words.

As much as leaving had opened his eyes to the rest of the world, it probably wasn't the smartest idea he ever had. He should have stayed and faced the issue immediately.

He turned and waited for her to move. Grabbing more clothes from the closet, he returned to the front room and dumped them on his new bed. He looked at some of the shirts she had bought... shirts he'd never worn. He had already thrown several onto the floor. One, he particularly hated but had kept because she had bought it for his birthday. Who wears taupe, anyway? It just looked dirty and old... the way he felt about his marriage. He threw it toward the door.

"What's to say, JoAnne? What's to say? You accused me of the worst thing a man can do to his wife and expect me to just talk and apologize for something I haven't done and you'll forgive me?"

"But, you don't understand..." She stood there, tears down her face. "It was all in the book, everything. YOU'RE IN THE BOOK!"

What the hell was she talking about, he wondered, I'm in the book?

"What are you talking about? I'm in the book?"

"It's in chapter three. Successful, mid-30s, your time is your own..."

"That's IT!?"

"No, there's other things there. You got that old car and fixed it up."

"It's a Dodge Challenger and it was my dad's."

"Who cares? It's just an old car. And, how do I know where you're at for lunch? You could be anywhere."

"Look, JoAnne," he started to say. When he stopped calling her Joanie and started calling her JoAnne, he didn't know but it fit his dark mood quite well. "That's it? I restored my dad's old muscle car and go out to eat lunch? Is this how little respect you have for me? Just because some dumb bitch goes on television? Jesus Christ, JoAnne!"

Frustrated, he looked at his wife. "Look, you want to go to counseling with me? Something's obviously gotten you angry with me; I don't know why or what to do about it. Where's that book, anyway? Why don't you let me read it? At least, I can see what you're talking about."

"Jeanette has it. She came over this afternoon and asked for it."

Wow! he thought. Jeanette really wanted to help! I'll have to thank her, somehow. "Well, when she's finished, then."

"Are you coming back to our room?"

He looked at his wife, hoping her face would indicate how she was really feeling. Her face was sad and angry... could that be possible? Who had he married? Had he been wrong all these years or was she just tired of him? That, as worrisome as it was, was entirely possible. Maybe, he thought, I really DON'T do it for her, anymore.

"You haven't answered my question," he finally said.

"What?" She struck a scolding pose as she stood in the doorway.

"Do you want to go to counseling and try and save this marriage? As much as I love you, I don't see any future without it."

"Can't we work it out on our own?"

"JoAnne, you've told me you don't believe me, you don't trust me. You've told me that some idiot's book holds more weight than what we've had. You've told me that I'm not that good in bed. That one, I really need to have explained to me, I really do. I have NO idea what you're talking about but I'm willing to admit you might be right. You have to help me out with that one."

"But..."

"No 'buts', JoAnne. You think about it and I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Bill laid on the bed, reading one of his wife's books, Lemon Meringue Pie Murder by JoAnne Fluke. The woman in the story, he didn't like very much. She was stringing two men along, with no plans of marrying either one anytime soon. In its own way, that was cheating.

The same thing was happening in Janet Evanovich's books. There, the sex was more blatant as that woman bounced between the sheets with a cop and a bounty hunter.

What was it with these women always wanting the 'bad boy'? Then, they complain they're in trouble when he takes off. You knew I was a snake when you picked me up, right?

Was that what it was, today? A strong woman character acting like a slut? No wonder his wife was so screwed up. It didn't help him, though. What kind of defense would that be?

He tried building a model but was making too many mistakes and stopped.

That night, for the first time in years, Bill knelt down and prayed for guidance. He admitted his church attendance had been sketchy and God seemed to have abandoned him. He found better advice from Pete the trucker than from any priest he ever talked to. How can a man who had never had any relationship give advice about marriage?

His Bacardi-helped dreams were filled with driving down the interstates and what Pete had said... "Sometimes, you can't throw everything away." Well, sometimes, you have to. He was so confused; even if they stayed together, he knew it would never be the same. He tossed on the guest bed, knocking the blankets to the floor.

**********

Bill finally fell asleep sometime after 3, woke with his rum-induced headache with the 6 AM alarm and slowly left at 7. After another half-eaten Grand Slam, he walked into his office at 9 and booted up his computer.

Eileen stood in the doorway. "Your appointment is asking to be moved forward to 10."

"Thank you. I'll see you in a half-hour and we can go over the file, one last time."

He pulled up the file and started to read it through, once again. It seemed simple enough: two smaller companies merging to stay competitive in the changing economy. Just like a marriage, he thought. He stopped reading. His face reddened and felt hot.

Damn her! How could she do that? She had no trust in him because of a Goddamned TV show. How could he deal with that? It was almost beyond help. Why couldn't he understand what to do? It had seemed so obvious before, in the truck.

He was surprised that he still was so angry. He thought he had gotten over it while riding across the country but evidently, not.

The meeting went as well as hoped. Satisfaction and signatures and champagne all around, the price of business... After they left, he asked Eileen out to lunch to celebrate.

"Not only do we have that in the bag," he said as he opened the old car's door, "but we've got their business here on out."

"You've worked hard for this, Bill."

"No, don't say that. I know full well that without you, I could have done nothing."

"Now, you're just being funny... but, thank you."

"Red Lobster?"

"Sure, why not?"

"How long did it take?"

"What?"

"The car... how long did it take for the restoration?"

"Six months. They took it all the way down to the metal. They had to send away to San Jose for the window glass."

"It's beautiful."

"Thanks." Amazing, he thought. JoAnne never even wanted to ride in the car, saying she only wanted her Beemer.

"Wood-grilled shrimp... I'd like it with the rice pilaf. Just water, please," she ordered.

"Fish and chips, butter with the biscuits, extra glass of ice with the tea."

Lunch was filled with light banter, occasionally skirting some work issue or other but mostly about the latest movie, other restaurants... it hurt him to realize that it had been forever since he had taken his wife to see a film. She was all interested and then, when the time came, changed her mind. It was frustrating for him, like she was playing him. Several interesting movies went by without seeing them. He had really, really wanted to see "Cowboys and Aliens," but it had gone by, too. She had wanted to see "Fright Night" and then, nothing. Did she go by herself? or was there something else taking place? Did she go with someone else? The thought was unsettling. He had no clue.

Did this change in attitude, he wondered, coincide with this book she kept referring to? What was in that damn book?

JoAnne had been watching Entertainment Tonight and their big piece about "Battleship," another bad guy alien movie. This one, he discovered, wasn't going to open until 2012, so by then, he probably was going to be able to see it.

"You like," he asked, "space monster movies?"

"You asking me out?"

"There's this new movie coming out next..."

"Battleship!" Yes, I'd like to see that, very much." She looked at him, determined to go see paint dry if that was what he wanted to do. His wife was a moron, doing what she had done, although she thought Bill's response WAS a little over the top.

Eileen looked at her life since her own divorce... close to 40 years old, divorced for five years, reasonably attractive but still going home each night to her stupid, selfish cat. She could feel the sand draining from the hourglass of her life.

"It's a date, then. I'll mark it down on my calendar," she quickly said, before he could change his mind.

"Me, too."

There was a nervous silence.

"What about those Dodgers?" he finally asked.

"Huh?"

He laughed. She smiled. Maybe, she thought, this situation was going to be all right.

It was more than two hours later when they returned and closed the office. "You know," he joked, "if we don't get more traffic through here, we might as well close down a day or two a week."

"There's other things to do..." she ventured.

That night, he went to a movie. It was stupid. If the apes are running around, kill them. How many apes could there be, anyway? Weren't they on some endangered list? He threw popcorn at the screen.

He asked JoAnne, once again, about going to counseling but she still had no answer. "Look," he said, "if we don't try and work this out, there's no hope. Is that what you want? I can't believe that's what you want. Just say something so I'm not beating my head against the wall, here, will you?"