By way of introduction.

First, except for the sexual hang ups the woman described here is real. Everything else is fiction. Second, this is carvohi, not your typical BTB, so be forewarned. Third and last, no politics.

Now to the story.

“Merrily Meredith”

At twenty-eight, married five years, and with a promising career in education George Mason believed it was time he and Meredith started that family they’d been talking about. Yet, he knew something was wrong.

George met Meredith while they were both attending the University of Maryland. He was a senior and she was a sophomore. Meredith was one of the quiet brainy ones. Everybody knew at least one of them; the small, quiet girl, glasses, soft open cardigan sweater tied off around the shoulders, pony tail, the one who always sat on the side in class, about mid-way, took copious notes, never volunteered, never broadcasted anything, but everyone always somehow knew she got the highest grades.

George saw her in the library and thought he’d try his luck. He asked her out, she refused. He asked again, and she said yes. After that it was just a question of first him, then her graduating. He got a job as an elementary school teacher with the Montgomery County school system in Maryland. Meredith came out, and secured a job in a U.S. Congressman’s office. They got married and were on their way.

Being a man in elementary school was almost like a ticket to promotion. By his third year George was already an administrative assistant. That shut down any free time in the summers, but it meant a little better money and more responsibility.

Meredith’s opportunities came a little differently; whereas George had come east from Iowa, Meredith was a home-grown cookie. Her dad, being an influence peddler in Maryland politics easily secured his daughter a position. To be sure, Meredith was no slouch, but things just naturally fell in her lap. Within a few months she was involved with a congressman’s office scheduling, procuring, and planning, and that meant some traveling. Though most of her traveling was only between her congressman’s offices and Thurgood or Dulles airports it still got her out, and there were occasions when she did to leave the D.C. area. Every little trip, even to just appear at an airport holding a sign, was a heady boost to her already healthy ego. George couldn’t complain; he’d used his sex and Iowa background to secure his promotion. Thanks to Kevin Costner and other such ridiculous things people mistook Iowa for some kind of heaven. George liked Iowa, but he was prescient enough to know even in the Garden of Eden there was sufficient dissatisfaction to break the only rule they had.

So what was wrong? George couldn’t put his finger on it, but he knew Meredith was changing. When they were first married Meredith was always eager to attend George’s various social and professional functions, but lately she found reasons to beg off. He didn’t mind; she had little to say, or contribute for that matter, when she did go. On the other hand, at the outset with her new job she often pleaded with him to come. As of late, he was neither invited nor informed of such activities. He didn’t miss the activities, but he did miss not being told.

He understood some things. His colleagues were mostly women, and they mostly fit two categories, older ladies who, though polite, treated Meredith as if she were a child. Whereas the second category included younger women, some married, some young and impressionable, and some unmarried or divorced and often in “the hunt”. Meredith was a brilliant young woman who easily recognized condescension, boredom, and predatory behaviors. No, his colleagues were not Meredith’s cup of tea.

By the same token he was uncomfortable around many of her colleagues. Reasonably well educated men in their late twenties or early thirties all wearing expensive suits and well-tuned egos. Most had misconceptions about their professional importance, and worse, their political and social opinions. The women had their own specialties, from the true professional, the husband hunters, the one-night-standers, and the housewives playing at being in politics. George could tell it was that last category Meredith liked the least; perhaps it was because she was afraid that was where she was headed.

George tolerated the women; the men were a different story. Most of the men in Meredith’s milieu were honest and upright, but there were a few who looked like they had perpetual hard-ons, he trusted Meredith, he didn’t trust them.

Cars had emerged as an interesting hierarchical concept. When Meredith was in college her dad had bought her a nice Hyundai. It worked well while in school, but after a few months at her new job she’d bought herself a sleek dark metallic brown Lexus sport coupe. George had two vehicles; a used mini-van he’d bought for field trips, and an even older Jeep Wrangler. George liked to camp and fish so he especially liked the Wrangler. When they were dating and during their first months of marriage Meredith liked to camp and fish too, or at least she pretended she did. Since she’d gotten her job her social landscape had changed; she’d traded in the fishing rod for four inch heels, and the tent for the late dinners, the theater, and the opera.

George didn’t mind very much. The theater was often quite good, but the opera, well, the dancers were pretty, but he didn’t get it; he didn’t understand a word. Meredith, on the other hand, spoke Italian and German, and was good with French. It bothered him that after a few trips she’d started to find reasons why he shouldn’t join her. Usually she explained the theater trips had become a part of her job; she was expected to attend but only as a sort of social assistant fetching drinks at intermissions and such. George didn’t like it, especially that she was often out quite late.

He missed not having Meredith along when he went camping. He thought she liked the outdoors. The mountains of West Virginia were beautiful; maybe not like the Rockies, but still pretty good. He fantasized about taking his own children on excursions one day. He missed her on his camping trips, but he had friends who were usually glad to go, sometimes he took a female colleague. He didn’t think Meredith knew, but by then he doubted if she would have cared.

There were other things, things he’d only recently seen, things he considered real issues. His middle name was Trace, and for much of their dating and early marriage she used that. She’d said George sounded awkward. More recently George had reappeared as part of her lexicon. He didn’t mind much. After all he’d heard the name George all his life, but the way she’d started to twist the word had become bothersome. At home she’d occasionally referred to him as Georgy, and once even Georgy Porgy. Back in Iowa that would have resulted in someone getting a good punch in the nose, but the way Meredith used it he couldn’t quite tell if she was being insulting or stupid. He complained once, but she’d protested innocence, even claiming she thought it sounded affectionate. He didn’t believe her.

She’d gone too far once. They were out with several of her colleagues. They’d been discussing something coming up in Congress, and he’d made a comment. She turned and said, “Well Geeeooorge that was pretty far off the mark.” Her friends laughed, but he didn’t. Later at home when he brought it up she claimed it was intended to be a good natured phrasing. He didn’t believe that either.

Another issue that had raised its ugly head was what occurred in the bedroom, or lately had stopped occurring in the bedroom. Meredith had been a virgin when they married. Her vagina had been incredibly small, so small in fact they’d skipped coitus the first few nights.

George hadn’t been with many women, but he’d never had the trouble she presented. She’d been incredibly tiny, almost hairless, and he’d been careful to be as gentle as possible. Even so it hadn’t been until the third night of their honeymoon that he’d actually penetrated her. She cried so. He felt terrible. He never wanted to hurt her. She’d accused him of being a brute, and she behaved all the next day as though she’d been crippled. It had taken time, but eventually she’d come to enjoy the sex and the intimacy it encouraged.

Sex, or the act of making love remained a simple affair. He’d tried to go down on her, but she’d fought him tooth and nail, even to the point of leaving the bed. Of course fellatio was out of the question, and anything even approaching her posterior was vehemently opposed. He couldn’t explain it except to say it had to be her strict Catholic upbringing and the private schools she’d attended. John Calvin, though devoutly anti-Catholic, would have been proud of her, yet she liked to dance, go to parties and nightclubs, and she enjoyed wearing pretty, even provocative, clothes. In fact her wardrobe had been experiencing something of a metamorphosis; the heels of late had become significantly higher, her skirts were appreciably shorter, the blouses tailored more tightly, and the cleavage more apparent. She was dressed like “she” was in “the hunt”.

Recently even straight sexual congress had extincted itself; she simply refused. She didn’t complain of headaches or fatigue; no she averred on the grounds simply of personal lassitude. She said “we”, or he, was sexually boring. She said one time that living and sleeping with him was akin to living and sleeping with a child. Something wasn’t right! Of course, he understood the character and type of some of the men she had associations with weren’t what he considered especially healthy.

George knew they were drifting apart, and he didn’t know what to do about it. He loved her desperately, and he believed she still loved him, but something was going on, and he had to find out.

George had several good friends; several former college classmates and fraternity brothers. He called one of them, a guy named Frank Hawks. Frank was a brilliant man, not particularly ambitious, but a deep thinker. “Frank,” he said, “I’m worried about Meredith, and I was wondering if maybe I could talk to you.”

Frank answered in the affirmative, and they met one Saturday afternoon at a coffee shop on a side street outside Gaithersburg. George could do it because Meredith was allegedly out of town in Philadelphia with another colleague rounding up data about a lobbyist.

When Frank and George met Frank offered several alternatives that might explain Meredith’s changed behavior, but none of his offerings seemed satisfactory to George. Frank finally hit upon the one thing that George most feared.

“George,” Frank began, “Meredith is a remarkably attractive woman, surrounded by men who would probably do almost anything to take advantage of her.”

George nodded.

“I’ll go on,” Frank said. “I never thought of Meredith in the sexual sense. She’s more scholar than sex pot.” He held up a hand, “I’m not denigrating her appeal, but I am suggesting her disinclination to use her charm to influence men has probably proven to be an inducement to some of the ‘less scrupulous’ to as they say, ‘put the make’ on her.

He smiled, “Then there’s you George. You’re a good looking fellow.” He laughed, “That’s not a come on, but you are an elementary school teacher, a man who works with children, and a man I’d say who has always been very considerate of other people, especially women.”

George tilted his head, “So...”

“George,” he said. “She sees you as weak, lacking in masculinity.”

“You think that,” George asked?

“Hardly,” replied his friend Frank. “I know you. I’ve seen you. We played college ball. I think Meredith wanted a lion, but she married a panther.”

George thumped his fingers on the table, “That isn’t helpful. I need to know if I still have a wife.”

Frank asked, “You want me to follow her?”

George stopped thumping and took a sip of his latte, “You could do that.”

Frank nodded, “No problem.”

George hated to involve his friend, but they worked it out. Frank, being self-employed and moderately wealthy would be able to drop whatever it was he was doing to keep tabs on Meredith.

There was no activity on Meredith’s part for several days. There was one occasion where she was sent to greet and pick up a contributor flying in from Arizona, but that wasn’t the kind of thing George was worried about. Then, at last, he found out she’d been scheduled to fly up to Hartford, Connecticut. She, of course, made no mention of it. He’d made the discovery by discreetly investigating her I-Phone. He had to chuckle; for all Meredith’s savvy, her choices in passwords were juvenile.

He called Frank, “We’ve got Meredith flying to Hartford this Thursday.”

“Good,” replied Frank, “Get me a ticket. I’ll take it from there.”

George got it, and Frank took it.

Meredith had met Frank casually on one or two occasions back in college, but that had been years past. Frank didn’t think Meredith would remember him. He assumed he could follow her without too much difficulty. One thing George had done was to affix an application to Frank’s I-Phone whereby he would know Meredith’s precise location wherever she went.

Frank was at the airport and watched her board. He followed. She was in the preferred section, he in coach. The flight was quiet. He had no difficulty following her when she got off. She had a rented car waiting for her. He secured one for himself, and followed at a safe distance. She went to the downtown Marriot. He went to the nearby Hilton. Once ensconced he crossed and went to the Marriot front desk where he asked the concierge if he might know if Meredith Mason had checked in yet. The concierge checked his listings and explained they had no such Meredith Mason on their schedule. Frank smiled and proffered the name Meredith Sullivan. The concierge smiled and replied that yes, she had checked in. He asked Frank if he cared to leave a message, but Frank declined.

It was interesting to Frank that Meredith had used her maiden rather than her married name. This was apparently not a trip just for professional business. He re-crossed the street, found a coffee shop, went in, secured a drink, activated his I-Phone, and pulled out the novel he’d been reading.

Around 6:30 p.m. Meredith came downstairs, stepped outside and secured a cab. Frank dispensed with his drink, went out, obtained a cab, and followed. She didn’t travel far, just a place a couple blocks away. She got out and went in. Frank followed.

When he got in he had no trouble finding a place with a reasonably clear view from the bar. Meredith had gone to a table already occupied by a very tall and very good looking gentleman. Using his phone Frank took a couple quick shots. He ordered a roast beef sandwich, and proceeded to take periodic shots of what was going on.

From what he saw Frank was sure this was a man Meredith knew quite well. She’d been certainly glad to see him. They’d exchanged an embrace before they sat down. From his perspective he thought their conversation was quite friendly, even animated at times. He took a few long shots.

Unaware, Frank hadn’t realized that Meredith had noticed him. He also didn’t know she’d remembered and recognized him. About mid-way through her meal; she stood up, took the strangers hand and walked over to the bar.

She got to the bar, smiled broadly and said, “Hi Frank. Did George send you?”

Frank didn’t know what to say.

She didn’t wait, “Guess you’ve got me by the GPS. How about that. I suppose old Georgy Porgy wants to know what’s going on.” She grinned maliciously, “Tell you what. Let’s get a moving picture for the old boy.” She turned and smiled at her friend, “My husband’s the suspicious type.”

The man said nothing.

Frank took his phone and began to do as she suggested.

She stepped a little closer, “Why don’t we get old George on Face time Frank?”

Frank asked, “You sure you want that?”

She chuckled, “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Frank face called George.

George picked up, “Yes?”

Frank said, “She’s right here.” He pointed his phone at Meredith and her friend.

Meredith smiled, “Hi little guy. Watch this.” She turned, leaned up and planted a big kiss on the stranger. Turning back to face the phone she said, “This is Murdock Savoy. He’s my boyfriend. What do you think of that Geeeooorge!”

George watched his wife with the other man. It was obvious to him they were more than just platonic. He flipped off his I-Phone. He’d seen all he needed to see.

Back at the restaurant Meredith saw her husband had shut down. She looked at Frank, “It’s not what you think. I mean I didn’t mean to do it. I don’t know what came over me.”

Frank stood up. He dropped three twenties on the bar, “You can work that out with your husband.” He put his billfold away and left the bar. His work was complete. He felt sorry for his friend. He thought, ‘Hell of a way to find out about the wife.’

Back in Maryland George was overwhelmed. His wife had been cheating on him. He broke down and burst into tears. Yes, he cried. He sobbed. His life was over. He looked around their house. It was a nice house, not new, but a nice two story in a good neighborhood with good schools. What was he going to do? He loved her so. He’d heard about things like this. He had friends who’d dealt with it. He couldn’t believe it, but he had to, he’d seen it. She’d said “boyfriend”. It all added up. Back in 2006 when they’d married he was what she wanted; a quiet, regular guy, but since then with her career, her new friends and new relationships, he’d been steadily losing ground. Now he was nothing.

Yes, he loved her, but he was still a man. Back in Iowa he could hear his father, “Son, it’s time to cut bait and move on.”

He thought, ‘Cut bait. Move on.’ He hated to do it, but she’d made the choice, it was out of his hands. He liked the house, but without her it meant next to nothing. They’d gotten it for a song back when everything was underwater. This was Maryland. They’d divorce. Everything would be split fifty-fifty. Her salary was about the same as his, another “thing” he supposed. That probably meant no alimony. There were no children; he felt bad about that. He’d be completely out of her life in less than a year.

George slowly trudged upstairs. It was time to pack up and leave.

Back in Connecticut Murdock Savoy looked at Meredith, “What was that about?”

“My husband, she said. “He’s the jealous type.”

Murdock frowned, then growled, “Damn it Mrs. Mason I’m a happily married man. I have children. Now I’m on somebody’s cell phone. It’s in the “cloud”. What if my wife finds out?” He stepped back and away as though he were about to leave, which was exactly what he intended to do. He said rather flatly, “Mrs. Mason I don’t think my client will be interested in anything your people have to offer. You’ll have to find someone else. Sorry.” He turned and walked away.

Meredith was dumbstruck. She’d only intended to aggravate her husband. Now she’d lost a client, someone her congressman was hoping for. It wasn’t about an endorsement, it was about hundreds of thousands of dollars, perhaps millions that could flow into their campaign accounts. She’d really made a mess of things. What was she going to do? She could lose her job. Her father would be furious. And George. That idiot! Why’d he send Frank Hawks up to Connecticut? She’d have to set him straight. But first she had to get Mr. Savoy back.

The next day she repeatedly called Savoy’s office, but she’d been blacklisted. She called her office and spoke to her supervisor. She tried to explain what had happened, but her explanation had no merit. Savoy had already informed her supervisor and laid out everything.

Meredith never got Savoy back. He was a lawyer, a representative for Carothers Incorporated, a powerful subsidiary of one of the world’s largest pharmaceuticals. They wanted her congressman’s vote, but they wanted a “clean” vote.

When she got back to Maryland following her trip her supervisor was waiting. She was given one hour to clear out. She’d lost an important account, and she’d lost her job. She knew what she had to do; she had to get home and straighten things out with George.

Late that afternoon she was standing in the center of their bedroom. All her husband’s clothes were gone. He’d even taken his favorite cds. There was no note, no message, and no forwarding address. Luckily she had his professional information. She called the school and reached his secretary, a very nice, polite, older lady named Mildred Offenbach. Mildred answered on the second ring, “Hello. How may I help you Mrs. Mason?”

Meredith was abashed. Of course, the school had a phone monitoring service. She responded, “Good day Mildred. Is my husband there? May I speak with him?”

Mrs. Offenbach replied, “Sorry Mrs. Mason, but Mr. Mason is in conference and is not to be disturbed.”

Meredith insisted, “This is important. Please tell him his wife is on the line.”

Mrs. Offenbach politely responded, “I’m sorry Mrs. Mason, but Mr. Mason left word he wasn’t to be disturbed, especially by you.”

Desperate Meredith pleaded, “Mrs. Offenbach. Mildred. Please. Get my husband.”

Mrs. Offenbach answered again, “I’m so sorry Mrs. Mason, but I have my instructions. Mr. Mason specifically said he was not to receive any calls or messages from you. I’m sorry. I have to hang up now.” The phone went dead.

Meredith started to shiver; it was like someone had walked over her grave. This couldn’t be happening. What had she done?

Indeed, George had moved out. He found a small apartment outside the county where he worked and settled in. For the first several days he felt like a rudderless ship adrift in stormy seas, but he knew that would fade. Would he miss Meredith? That was a given. Could he go back? That was out of the question.

For the next several days he did what he always did best, he researched. He read everything he could about infidelity: its causes, consequences, and most of all its repetitious characteristics. He discovered what he already knew; marriages aren’t based on sexual attractiveness or the personable nature of its partners. The basis of all marriages was trust. He could love Meredith. He could continue to enjoy the little they did in bed. He and she could be like two peas in a pod on every issue. None of it would matter; her behavior had broken that one indelible bond, that single indispensable link. He might be miserable. He probably would never find another woman. It didn’t matter. With regard to Meredith he could never go back.

He knew he didn’t want to quit his job; ‘turn tail and run’, as his father might say. Besides he enjoyed what he did, and he liked his prospects. The county of his employ was considered the wealthiest in the nation, and was well connected not only with the Maryland State Board of Education, but with several Federal agencies. Without Meredith he’d be lonely, but being without Meredith meant he could devote all his energies to his career.

He was going to move on. One morning he got up, checked the Internet, then the Yellow Pages, found a law firm, and made a call.

Meredith was desperate. Why had she hugged that man? She didn’t even know him! What was she trying to prove? She sort of understood George’s misgivings; she’d been terribly busy. Regarding her career she’d been making real headway, and George just didn’t fit in with her crowd. Other men were always looking at her, some had tried to get her to go out. A few even had made some disparaging remarks about George. Had she bought any of it? Well, had she? She thought back on the things she’d been saying to George. Maybe she had said a few things he didn’t like? Maybe she had been a little critical, a little off putting, but he should’ve known he was the only one. Jiminy, she loved the silly boy! That was it. He wasn’t a boy. He was a man, a man full grown, a man with a career, a man people respected, smart people respected. She guessed she just wasn’t as smart as she thought she was.

What was she going to do? He’d moved. She didn’t know where he lived! When she called his office his secretary, none of the secretaries, let her talk to him. If she could just talk to him. She needed to see him. If she could talk to him she was sure she could straighten the whole mess out. It was a good time now. She’d lost her job. They could start that family they’d talked about. She wanted to be a mom, she’d always wanted to be a mother. She bet she’d be a good one too. They could do all the things George liked to do. Heck, who cared about a few mosquitoes, a handful of ticks, or a snake or two. She’d put up with it. She had to see him. She just had to talk to him, get him to understand.

Meredith talked to her mom and dad. They sympathized, but beyond that they had little to offer. Her dad offered to keep up the payments on their house. She agreed. If she got George back, they could start their family right away.

It was a Monday, the first Monday of the month, and Meredith was parked on George’s school lot. She would wait. He’d come out. They’d talk and the whole thing would be fixed.

George looked out his office window and saw Meredith’s dark brown Lexus. He waited until the entire school cleared. There were only two cars left on the lot. He stepped out and strode directly to his vehicle.

Meredith saw him. She climbed out of her car and started toward her husband. “George,” she said. She was sure he’d stop. He was a polite and considerate man.

He didn’t stop. He kept walking. He walked right by her. He didn’t even look, and she was wearing his favorite dress, a pale green slip-over that matched the color of her eyes. “George,” she said again.

He kept walking.

She followed, “George stop. You’ve got to listen to me. It isn’t what you think.”

George heard her; ‘it isn’t what you think’, the classic line of a guilty person. He kept walking.

She followed, “George please stop. Please listen to me. George please.”

George silently got in the minivan and drove away. He looked back through his rearview mirror. She was still standing there. Damn it, she looked so pretty. Maybe he should stop? No, it was over. He kept driving.

Meredith watched as he drove down the lane and out of sight. What should she do? If she had any money she could hire someone to follow him and find out where he lived. She could ask her father to do it. No, he wouldn’t.

The next day, Tuesday, Meredith was outside again. George had taken his Wrangler. She always liked riding in the Wrangler; the windows out, both doors in the garage, the wind cascading through her red hair. George liked to ride around in the countryside. He liked Western Maryland, West Virginia, the mountains, the streams. There was a town out in the center of West Virginia, Buchanan. Nearby was a small state park, Audra. They used to camp there. He’d talk about maybe getting a job in the area. There was a college there, a religious school, West Virginia Wesleyan, a small Protestant school, she thought Methodist.

Meredith remembered George talked about applying and getting a job teaching there. He was always so confident. She remembered she thought he was dreaming. He’d never get anything like that there. How stupid she was, how silly she was. George was smart, he never bragged or made foolish claims, but when he set his mind on something he got it. Why hadn’t she listened to him? Why hadn’t she been paying attention?

She got out of her car and went to the Wrangler. She got in and sat down. There weren’t any doors or side windows, he’d have to listen to her.

From inside George watched Meredith climb in the Wrangler. He pulled out his I-Phone and called a cab. He gave them the address for the back of the school. He went out back and waited.

In the Wrangler Meredith waited too. George had disabled the GPS on his cell. She had no idea where he was, but his car was outside.

George’s cab arrived. He got in and they drove away. As they drove along he checked his I-Phone. Meredith was still waiting at the school. He let the cabbie drop him off at a Denny’s where he ordered a meal. He sat and ate his eggs, sausage, and hotcakes, while Meredith sat waiting on the parking lot. Once finished his meal he walked the short distance to his apartment. Before he took his evening shower he checked. She was still waiting. He felt bad. Too bad.

Shortly after 9:00 p.m. Meredith realized he wasn’t coming out. He’d left by another way. She broke down in tears. She climbed out of the Wrangler, walked to her Lexus, her all-important prestige car, and drove home. It would be another night alone, another night of unrelenting tears. She had to talk to hm. She had to do something.

Wednesday morning came and Meredith was ready. This time he’d have to talk to her. She got out of bed, got dressed in her slinkiest outfit, and drove over to his school. It was a large school for an elementary, more than three hundred kids. She walked up to the front, right to the front door, got out a pair of handcuffs, and cuffed herself to the door. ‘Now,’ she thought, ‘he’ll have to talk to her.’

George pulled in the lot. He liked to be early; it was shortly after 7:00 a.m. He got out of his Jeep and saw her, and saw what she’d done. He reached in his pocket for his phone, and called the police. The first squad car arrived within five minutes. This was an elementary school after all.