Part 1: Suspicion, Discovery, Distress!

We were at a dinner party at my house. It was late winter, early spring, call it whatever you want. Snow was still on the ground, it was still too cold to be outside, so my wife decided to get our friends together for some kind of feast inside. I had no problem with that; whatever Daphne wanted she got.

All our age appropriate relatives and friends were there. I say age appropriate; we didn’t invite any moms or dads. Oh they were all still alive. Daphne, my wife’s name is Daphne, just didn’t want any ‘older people’ on hand who might ‘dampen’ the fun. Dampen was her word for wet blanket.

We’d already eaten. My wife had mixed up a big seafood salad, plus there was pizza, and some fixings for subs. For sure, anyone who’s ever been around my wife knows when she plans something she goes all out. I had my portions already ladled out; I have a few stomach problems and Daphne always made sure I didn’t get sick.

Anyway we were all sitting around the family room when my sister started asking one of her usual asshole questions. Hillary, Hillary’s my sister, she’s a year older than me, and she’s married to a real stand-up guy named Wallace, Wallace Ford.

Well Hillary looked at Ralph, that’s Ralph Stevens and she asked this really stupid question. Ralph’s an old friend, actually these days he’s more acquaintance than friend. He’d been away almost all winter down in the Cayman Islands doing God knows what.

Hillary looked at Ralph, Ralph’s married, and she asked, “I know Ginger hasn’t, Ginger’s Ralph’s wife, but suppose you caught your wife cheating on you. What would you do?”

Old Ralph listened, smirked a little; then he looked around the room. He looked at me, at my Daphne, then at Hillary, at Ciara who was another married woman in the group, and then he looked at his wife. Remember Ralph’s wife’s name is Ginger. With that kind of half smile that’d made Dick Cheney famous Ralph replied, “Oh, I don’t know. I guess I’d have to hear her story.”

Hillary didn’t let up, “Yeah, but would you forgive her?”

Ralph grinned and answered, “Yeah I guess so why?”

Then Hillary turned to Ciara’s husband, “What about you?”

Ciara’s husband crossed his arms over his chest and grunted, “I’d have to kill the bitch,” he laughed and then added, “yeah, I’d drown her in the bathtub.”

Hillary went round and round asking the same question over and over. Then she got to me, “Tell me Cale. What would you do if you caught Daphne with another man? Would you forgive her?”

I’d already mentally rehearsed my answer. I smiled over at my lovely 5’4”, brown haired, brown eyed little girl and answered, “My Daphne would never cheat. She loves me” I watched as Daphne blessed me with one of her winsome smiles.

Then Hillary turned the tables; she looked at Daphne and asked, “Have you ever cheated on Cale?”

Daphne blushed bright red, “Why no Hillary. I could never do that.”

I looked from my Daphne to my sister. My sister Hillary had a kind of odd look on her face; a look that kind of said she knew something, like maybe there was more to the story. Anyway Hillary went on to the next wife and asked the same question.

By the time she got back to Ciara I think everybody was a little bit fed up. I put a stop to it. I told my sister, “Come on Hillary, what’s the point?”

She just shrugged and grinned, “No point; just thought I’d ask around.”

Everybody laughed. I laughed too. I thought Ralph laughed a little louder than most. His wife didn’t laugh at all. My sister was trying to make a point; just what it was I didn’t know, didn’t care either. I mean really, to think my Daphne would even consider cheating; I mean I know she was just like me and I never did and never would. For sure I looked at other women, but it was mostly just to see what they had on. If I liked the clothes they had on I’d try to find where it was sold it so I could buy it for my girl.

The party ended about an hour later, and Daphne and I sort of just piled the dirty dishes in the sink. We’d used mostly paper plates anyway. We’d farmed our three kids out to Daphne’s mom and dad so it was just us for the night. I’d been real careful; I’d only had one drink, a Jim Beam and Coke, heavy on the Coke.

With everything stacked and the furniture put back my gal and I went off to bed. We had a nice time. Daphne and I have been married fourteen years, and we’d dated pretty much exclusively for several months before that. About our sex life; I guessed just regular old fashioned sex was what we had.

I thought about sex and our sex life. I wondered if many people cheated because of sex. I wondered why married people even did cheat. To me if a person loved someone enough to marry them, why would they break that person’s heart by being unfaithful? I supposed me and Daphne’s sex life was what it was supposed to be; we cuddled and snuggled and kissed, and then when the time was right I crawled on top and we made love.

Look I’m not saying we’re a couple of Puritans, but we were kind of laid back, and to be honest, all that wild and exotic stuff just never was us. I mean of course I liked to go down on her. I liked it when I got to nibble on her little knob. I enjoyed licking and nudging up and down her inner and outer labia. I liked kissing that sweet crinkly little outlet where her brown stuff came out, but I never forced myself on her in that way. I always thought all that anal stuff was sort of degrading, and I knew she never especially liked doing me, she didn’t like getting her face all gooey and sticky, and I’d never ask her to swallow.

Hey, I’m not bragging. I guess every guy thinks he’s got something special. Well I really do. I’ve never measured, but I mean I’m a pretty big guy. If I’m not careful I could hit Daphne’s cervix and hurt her.

I can say there’ve been a few times I’ve gotten so excited that I didn’t hold back. I just let go. I mean I pushed all the way in; she didn’t like it, it hurt her. Let me tell anyone listening; I’d never ever, I mean never, not ever, do anything to hurt my girl. She made my babies. She’s my girl; she’s the main reason why I get up in the morning, her and my kids.

Daphne’s a little older than I am. I’m thirty-five and in the prime of life. Daphne’s thirty-six; she’ll be thirty-seven soon so there’s maybe five months when she’s two years older. Like I said she’s 5’4”. I’m 5’11”. She weighs, I think about 120lbs. I come in at 180lbs. She has brown hair. She keeps it mostly in pigtails, but sometimes she makes one long ponytail. I have brown hair. She has brown eyes. I have brown eyes. All our kids have brown hair and brown eyes. I know this is all extraneous bullshit, but it’s like we’re all a boxed set.

The party happened last Saturday night. Sunday we went to church. OK, we’re Presbyterians. Then Monday it was back to work. I’m an investment analyst for a brokerage firm whose home office is in New York. I got my MBA at the local prestige state university and went right to work. My wife is a loan officer at a bank near where we live; she started out as a teller right out of high school, took some college classes, and worked her way up.

In the job department Daphne actually got a little head start on me; she was the one who put me through graduate school. We were already married and had our first kid. Our oldest is Geena; she’s thirteen. We have two more; Brandy’s eleven, and Michael’s only six. We love kids, and we’ve talked about making one or two more, but with our careers and the costs of raising the little buggers that’s been kind of on hold. Daphne’s getting a little long in the tooth for that now anyway.

I was back at work Monday morning. One of the first things I do on Monday’s; that is after my coffee, is a last minute check on the markets from Friday, then a quick look at my favorite funds, and last I check my emails. I got a funny one this morning.

I read this one email; it said, “You were at the party. You heard the questions. You don’t know it, but your wife is a round heeled slut. Don’t believe me? Check around.”

Well I deleted that sucker right away. Nobody calls my wife a slut. Hell, the damned message was anonymous. Actually it wasn’t; they really aren’t. I just didn’t care about the message, and I didn’t care to find out who sent the slanderous piece of trash. It was probably a joke anyway. I shunted the comment aside and went on about my work. Come on, Daphne a slut? My Daphne? Not a chance. Never!

All the rest of the week went just about the way it was supposed to. Oh there were some problems with the market, but it was the usual stuff. We were near the end of the month, and that meant the usual profit taking, a few corporations had made some bonehead decisions, there was always something with Syria and Iran, someone seemed to be dickering with the gold market again, and the crap with the Crimea could impact activity with the EU. I packed up Friday afternoon, skipped the occasional drop off at the tavern, and went on home.

Saturday was the beginning of spring so I started to pull out the lawn equipment. Yeah I’d left some gas-oil mix in the weed whacker, but I’d drained both lawnmowers. I got the rider up, unbolted the two blades and took then inside the shed for a sharpening. I was just about to rip into the first blade with one of my granddad’s old files when I got a visitor.

The kids were out; Geena was at a friend’s, Brandy and Michael were at my mom’s, and Daphne was out shopping when Hillary, remember my sister, walked in on me.

Hillary eyed me up and down, “Didn’t you get my email?”

I was sort of surprised, “What email?”

“About your wife. You know.”

I replied, “No I don’t know.”

“She’s cheating on you.”

I put the file down, “Come on Hillary. I don’t need this.”

She got up real close. I could smell the mint on her breath, “You don’t think so? Grab your coat and I’ll show you.”

I was a little pissed. This was kind of a surprise. Hillary and Daphne were really close, “Damn it Hillary. What’s into you? First it was that crap at the party. Then I guess it was you with that stupid email, and now today. What’s up?”

“Grab your coat. I’ll drive.”

I threw the file on the workbench and reached for my coat, “This better be good,” she didn’t say anything. I followed her out the back door and to her car.

Hillary drives a Durango; she and her husband are into Chrysler products. I’m a Chevy man myself, I drive a Chevy pick-up; regular bed, extended cab. Our older brother, his name is Chris, he’s a Ford man, or at least he used to be. We hardly ever see him anymore. Honestly he’s been gone for years, and I miss him. Chris; he’s the man!

I got in Hillary’s Durango and she drove us down to the Holiday Inn. There are two Holiday Inns in our immediate area. She went to the smaller one; it was back behind an old factory that’d been converted to a bunch of small businesses, mostly software operations.

We pulled up and parked in the back lot. This was a two story facility. There was curbside parking in front of the first floor rooms, and parking for second floor visitors across the drive. Hillary looked at me and said, “Watch room 241.”

I was really dubious. I thought this was a total waste of time, “You know all this?”

She pointed at the door, then she checked her wristwatch, “I figure she told you she went shopping. What time should Daphne be getting home?”

I looked at my watch, “I don’t know I guess maybe an hour or so.”

Hillary just watched the door, “I followed her when she left your house. Her car is right over there.”

I looked; damned if it wasn’t!

Hillary didn’t look at me. She just watched the door. I was into it now too. We waited in silence for maybe twenty minutes before the door opened. Out came my wife! I started to feel sick.

Hillary whispered. I couldn’t imagine why she decided to whisper, I mean why now, she said, “Watch who else comes out.”

I watched as my wife, my wonderful wife walked across the parking lot, unlocked, and got in her car. Just as she began to pull away a second person emerged from 241. Son-of-a-bitch! It was Ralph Stevens! At that moment Daphne’s car sped by. I know she hadn’t seen us. By the look on her face she was intent on something else. I wondered what it could be. Then we watched Stevens sidle down the steps and over to his car, a fucking Camaro. I opened my sister’s side door and tossed my lunch. Baloney has never been my favorite lunchmeat anyway; it was even less flavorful coming back up.

I watched Stevens as he pulled away. That smarmy bastard had a silly assed smile on his face. I had my hands on my sister’s dashboard. I couldn’t think. I just felt all quivery. I was like real weak all over. I mean I’d read and heard crap where guys caught their wives and how they’d jump up and down and cuss, or how they ran up and beat the shit out of the guy. I swear I never felt so feeble. I couldn’t have beaten up a girl scout.

I looked over at my sister. I wanted to cry, but I held it in. At that moment I couldn’t think of anyone I hated more than Hillary. She’d done this to me. She’d shown me something I never believed could have ever happened. I couldn’t think of a way to express myself.

I looked at my sister. Didn’t I just say that? I remembered back when I was a teenager and one of my best friends had a bad heart. We’d never known it at the time. Well one day he up and died. He just dropped dead. I remember how angry I got at the doctor who told us what had happened and then what had been wrong with my friend. That was how I felt right then. Something had died, something I knew had died and like my friend it could never be replaced.

I shook my head and looked down, “Take me home.”

Hillary said, “I’m sorry Cale. I just wish...”

“Just take me home Hillary.”

The drive back home only took about twenty minutes, but it seemed like forever. I’d seen movies where the condemned man had to walk the distance from his jail cell to the place where they’d finish him. In the movies they call it ‘the longest mile’. The drive from that Holiday Inn to my house was like that. Twice we had to stop so I could lean out the side. Nothing came up, but it sure felt like something might. I knew I’d never stay at another Holiday Inn again, not ever.

Hillary dropped me on the street in front of my house. Daphne’s car was parked in the driveway. We live in a ranch type house. The original structure had three bedrooms and two bathrooms. One of the first things we’d done was to add on a two car garage with a big room over top. It was like a big playroom. We had a ping pong table and a couple silly games like a hockey game in there. With three kids currently in the house and the real possibility of adding at least one more Daphne and I had agreed we’d build on again soon.

Daphne liked having babies; I think she liked to nurse. I know she was sure a good mother – the best if you ask me.

We lived in a good neighborhood. There was almost no crime, the streets were quiet and clean, we had good neighbors, and the schools were good. We picked the neighborhood and the county mostly because of the schools. Of course the other biggest reason we chose the area was because both sets of parents lived here.

The house had a cellar too; it was pretty nice. The front of the cellar was only partly finished. There was a laundry and a storage room in the back. Behind the main house I’d had a heated shed built. That’s where I’d been when Hillary showed up earlier.

I walked up the driveway and in the front door. I walked into the foyer and passed by the living room which was on the right. The dining room was on the left. Immediately to the left partially separating the dining room and hallway was the stairway that led upstairs. The hallway led down to a first floor bathroom just on the right; then there was an eat-in kitchen off to the left at the far end of the hallway. That’s where I went.

As I passed by the living room down the hall I paid a little closer attention to the pictures. There were pictures from our wedding; there were the kid’s pictures from some of the things we’d done over the years. There were a couple really nice family portraits. There was one picture of Daphne holding our oldest girl right about the time she was a year old. While I walked along and looked at this stuff I thought all this was just so much garbage. A couple hours ago it meant something; it was the legacy of a happy family; now it was like it was nothing, it meant nothing. I wanted to cry, but didn’t. I kept shaking. I felt so nervous.

I’m not the kind of guy who can hold things in; that includes food and feelings. I mean I’ve read where men catch their wives cheating and they can keep a straight face. They can hide their emotions. I read where they hire detectives to get pictures. They go to the bank and divide the money. I’m not like that. I’m just not built that way. I wasn’t thinking about some settlement, or how to protect my assets. I had no assets. All I had was dead. I mean, were they even my children? Jesus, if I ever found out they weren’t I know what I’d do. I’d buy a pistol and kill myself. There wouldn’t be anything to live for then anyway.

I went into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and got out a Pepsi. I heard my wife upstairs. It sounded like she was separating laundry. She was singing and humming a Miranda Lambert tune; the one where the girl cuts her hair with rusty kitchen scissors. We’re country music people. For the girls it’s Taylor Swift, Martina McBride, and Miranda. Me I’m more the down home type; for me it’s George Strait, Alan Jackson, and of course the ‘Old Possum’. He died not too long ago.

I sat down at the kitchen table and waited. I thought about Tammy Wynette; that was George’s old wife, she’s dead too. Damn, whatever happened to ‘Stand by your Man’? I felt so sad.

After about ten minutes Daphne came down with a basket full of dirty laundry. She’d changed her tune; instead of ‘My Momma’s Broken Heart’ she was singing ‘Fastest Girl in Town’.

I thought, ‘How appropriate.’

Like I said I’m not a wait and see kind of guy. I was a nervous wreck. My hands were shaking like I had Parkinson’s or something. My mouth was dryer than the Sahara Desert.

Daphne walked in the kitchen; the cellar door was at the far end of the kitchen. She had to go through the cellar to get to the laundry room. As she passed by me she smiled but didn’t say anything. I did. I said something.

I leaned around slightly. I had to get this off my chest, “I saw you at the Holiday Inn today.”

She kept walking, but then she stopped. She had her back to me so I couldn’t see her face. She put the basket down, turned around and said, “What does that mean?”

I felt like I was a dead man, I rasped out, “I saw you with Ralph Stevens at the Holiday Inn.”

She looked surprised, or at least acted like it. I couldn’t read anything in it. She put her left hand on the oven. She looked kind of down and away. I thought she looked older, “You didn’t see me. I was at the mall.”

I wasn’t angry or anything. I think I was just a little numb, kind of like a zombie. I know what I saw. I fingered the Pepsi in my right hand, “I saw your car. I saw you come out of room 242 at the Holiday Inn. I watched Ralph Stevens follow you out,” I realized I got the room wrong.

Daphne got like real diffident, “You didn’t see me!”

I couldn’t talk about it. Everything, our marriage, our life, all of it, all of it was gone, kaput! I felt like I should be mad or something. I just felt dead, I answered, “Yeah sure. Well I guess I’ll be leaving in a few minutes. I’ll pack everything I can now. You can explain things to the kids when they get home,” I got up and started for the stairs. I felt like an old man.

I guess that got her. She must have realized she’d been caught. She called out, “No! Wait! Cale it was just a thing. It doesn’t mean anything. It was nothing. It was just ... just kind of a stupid meaningless thing. It doesn’t mean anything ... I mean ... not to us.”

I tossed the Pepsi toward the sink. I was careful not let it hit her or let anything spill out anywhere. I answered, “Yeah I agree. I guess it was a whole lot of nothing about nothing. Just nothing,” I looked at her, “Match, set, point. Game over,” I think I got that wrong. I didn’t care I turned around and started back up the hall to the stairway that led upstairs to what had once been our bedroom. She didn’t follow.

I got upstairs, pulled out my ‘two-suitor’ and my ditty bag. It took me less than ten minutes to pack just about everything I’d need. I figured I got everything that was necessary. I guessed she’d be changing the locks once I left. If she did I’d just buy new stuff to replace what I couldn’t take now. I was certain I’d never set foot back in this house ever again.

I stopped at the bathroom that adjoined the bedroom for just a second. I leaned over. I had to puke up the Pepsi. I just couldn’t keep it down. My head felt fuzzy. I had a really bad headache. I saw those bright sparky things a person sees just before they pass out. I was all woozy and dizzy. I grabbed the bathroom door and knelt down on the floor until the spell had passed. For a second I thought maybe I’d have a massive heart attack. I thought that would be OK; that would fix the problem. It didn’t happen. I didn’t die.

I carried my suitcase and ditty bag downstairs. I looked neither to the right nor to left. I went straight for the front door. I didn’t hurry, but I didn’t tarry either. She was the murderess not me. I got to the front door, opened it, took the house key off my chain and tossed it on the chair nearest the door. I walked out, closed the door, walked to my pick-up, got in, started it up and drove away.

Daphne didn’t call out after me or anything. I did see her standing at the front as I pulled off.

I thought maybe I should get out on one of the highways; one of those high speed two lane highways where cars meet each other. I could pick up speed, get up to about seventy miles an hour and just cross over into oncoming traffic. I’d end it all right now, today! I gave this idea some very serious thought. I even thought of a place where I could be the most certain I’d be killed, but I changed my mind. I wasn’t chickening out or anything; I just thought why would I want to I kill somebody else too?

I kept driving. There were places where I could just drive off the road real fast. I’d crash into a tree or fly into a ditch, or fly into some really deep hole. I could do that, and then I wouldn’t have to worry about anything anymore. I’d be dead. I didn’t do that either. I thought about my kids. I knew they were my kids. I mean Daphne could be fucking every guy in the county, but I knew who my kids were, and the last thing I’d ever want to do was to leave that kind of example behind for them. They say a child of a suicide is sixty times more likely to commit suicide themselves than a child without that example. I read that someplace. Durkheim I think.

There was only one place I could think of to go. I could go home; not my home where Daphne was, but back home to my parent’s house. I knew them. I’d known them all my life. That was smart! I knew I could count on them. I pulled my truck around and started for home. I could talk to them, maybe I could get my head together, and then I’d get my life back on track. I’d do a reset. I’d start over.

I got to my parents. I told them everything I knew. At first they refused to believe me so I got Hillary on the phone. They couldn’t deny what she said. She also said she’d be over to fill us in on all the rest of the grisly details.

My mom and dad said I could have my old room back for as long as I needed it. They made me promise not to do anything crazy; they wanted me to cool down. I told them cool was one thing I was; cool as a corpse, like dead.

One thing I did do was to call Ralph Stevens. Old Ralphie boy was in the middle of some marital problems of his own. The scuttlebutt was he’d gotten caught with his hands in another man’s wife’s panties so I had nothing on him. Hell, I sort of figured who the other wife was. He was some kind of hot shot ATF agent or something; he could probably kill me using one hand!

Look, no one should get stupid and ask if like I know any Martial Arts. I knew a guy named Art once, and every now and then I see a county car with ‘Marshall’s Office’ painted on the side.

I got Ralph on the phone, “Hey Ralph this is Cale. You know your old buddy Cale McCallister,” I could kind of sense he knew what the phone call was about.

He replied, “How about it Cale; great party the other night, had a good time.”

I replied, “That’s not why I called Ralph old buddy old pal.”

“Oh yeah? What’s up?”

“I just wanted you to know I saw you and my wife at the Holiday Inn today.”

His voice got kind of tremulous, “Hey listen Cale; it’s not what you think.”

I was pissed now, “Oh really? Tell me Ralph; what was it? What do I think”

I could tell he was nervous. I couldn’t imagine why he’d be nervous about me. I’ was 5’11”. He was 6’4”. I was an office guy who’d never set foot in a gym. He worked out. He’d been taking martial arts since he was maybe three weeks old. Oh I was a jogger. I ran constantly; that’s what kept my weight down. But me a fighter? Never happen. If he and I got in a tussle he’d break me like a pretzel.

He replied, “Well yeah I guess it was, but it wasn’t at all how you think,” then he asked me, “What did Daphne say?”

I gulped back a tear, “She said it wasn’t anything. She said it was like nothing.”

Ralph sighed, I heard him sigh over the phone, “Yeah that’s about it; no big deal, a big nothing.”

I hung up. My life, my marriage was a big nothing. I burst into tears. That’s when Hillary showed up.

Hillary walked in and went straight to mom and dad. I heard her say, “How’s he taking it?”

My mom said, “Not good. Listen.”

I tried to stop crying; I kept hiccoughing and coughing back the tears. It just wasn’t working.

Hillary came in. I was in the living room. She sat down beside me, “I think this has been going on for about three weeks. They’ve been meeting at different places, but today was the first time they actually ... well ... you saw.”

I took in a deep breath, “Yeah, I saw.”

Dad and mom and came in. Dad sat across from me. There were only two men in the world who I had undying respect for; one was that old man across from me, the other was my older brother Chris. Right then I wished Chris was here with us too.

Dad’s an old retired steel worker. He was dying; he’d gotten emphysema from all the dust and crap in the mill. He relied on oxygen to breathe. He carried it with him everywhere. I wondered if he was one of Mitt Romney’s forty-seven percent. I put that out of my mind. I’m not a political guy except when it comes to what government does regarding money. I liked Romney. I guess I would have voted for him if I’d bothered to vote. That doesn’t mean I definitely would. Hell I don’t know. My dad always looked grey; he looked extra grey today.

They’d screwed him over on his retirement. He’d put in nearly forty years at the mill; never missed a day’s work that I could remember. He had that ‘work ethic’ everybody talks about. We all got it from him. Near the end of his career the mill was having financial difficulties. I can say unequivocally my dad didn’t cause it. A group of financial analysts took over the business. I suppose they were men like me. They took the company apart, sold off the assets, gutted the pension fund, put it all back together and said they’d fixed everything. They blamed the union for everything. The analysts made a fortune, my dad and his coworkers got the shaft. That’s capitalism; always all about the money. I ought to know. That’s what I do.

I’m sorry I said all that. I’m just feeling sorry for myself.

Dad looked at me, “Son that girl loves you. There’s got to be some explanation. I wouldn’t jump the gun. Give it some time.”

I whipped out a rueful grin, “Dad there’s only one way to spell divorce.”

Mom stepped to the plate, “Oh no honey; there’s always another way.”

I interrupted, “I’m not going back there.”

Hillary took over, “No I think she means you do something else. You could go for a trial separation or something. It’s legal. You could stay apart for like four to six months. Look you and I, we’ll find a good divorce lawyer Monday. I feel responsible for some of this. We’ll find someone who’ll give us the right dope.”

“I’m no wimp Hillary. She cheated. Ralph even admitted it. Hell Daphne did too!”

My dad took up the tune, “Cale you’re no fool. You never ever jumped into a bucket of shit without first checking how deep or how fresh it might be. Listen to your mother. Follow your sister. Get a lawyer. Check out all your options. Divorce is like the death penalty. You don’t know; there might be a way out of this.”

I crossed my arms in front of my chest, “I’m no wimp. I won’t go crawling back.”

Mom added her own perspective, “You know you can even find grains of corn in fresh shit,” we all had a laugh at that.

Hillary interjected, “You’re no wimp Cale, but you’ve been hurt. Let’s stop the bleeding first,” then she turned to dad, “Where’s Chris?”