For such a beautiful woman, my wife is ugly as hell when she’s about to cum. That was what I was thinking only moments before this shit all started.
I was on top of her, doing what we do. I loved watching her as we fucked. I loved the sight of her big old titties flopping back and forth as her body strained under my actions.
I got an evil smile on my face as I suddenly stopped moving. The look on her face was priceless. Her eyes shot open and her mouth started to gasp.
“No no no no nooooo!” she screamed. “Eric, Honey, keep going, baby! I’m almost there.” I moved my pelvis just a bit. It was a hint that I COULD continue.
“Make me cum, baby,” she whined. “Please! I’ll do whatever you want. You can bust my ass tonight when we get home, I swear it, just keep...”
A couple of more strokes and she was purring like a kitten again. I grabbed her around her waist and started pulling her to me harder and faster. She loved it. Her features morphed again into that tightly drawn mongoloid mask she assumed just as she let go of her senses and screamed.
A few seconds later I gave it my all. I started slamming into her unmercifully, even though she was done and lying there like a bowl of Jell-O.
Seeing her face and knowing her as well I do, I knew what was coming as her face got its own evil look. The bitch was about to cut me off. It was the whole, “I got mine ... so we’re done scenario. But I wasn’t having it.
I reared my hips back and slammed into her so hard that it broke the slats holding the mattress up and the bed fell.
“Ohhhh,” she croaked. “I couldn’t tell if it was pain or pleasure she was feeling. But all of a sudden both my balls and my backside fired simultaneously.
Of the two I think the fart felt better going out. Unfortunately, the smell prevented me from enjoying the feeling of cumming in Dana.
The look on her face though was awesome. She was still lit up from her own climax and then I added to her blissful feelings by shooting my warm sperm deep inside of her.
Her smile got ever broader to the point that the woman I’d loved for ten years was actually ugly. Then her nose twitched as she caught the first whiff of the far. Her face went from pure elation to abject disgust in a fraction of a second.
“Ewwww ... Shit!” she croaked. “Eric there must be something dead inside of you!”
I heard the sound of small footsteps running down the hall so I quickly snatched my robe off of the bed and retreated to the bathroom.
Only a second or two later, my ten-year-old daughter Erica popped her head around the corner and scanned the room.
“Oh, my Gawd!” she screamed with the indignation that only a child can muster. “What happened in here?”
With my robe wrapped tightly around me, I stepped back into the room and regarded the scene with her.
“I don’t know Pumpkin,” I said, affectionately rubbing her head. “I was in the bathroom ... but it looks like your mom farted so hard that she broke the bed. Let’s get out of here before that smell poisons us too!”
As we turned to leave I saw an evil glint in Dana’s pretty face. “Eric ... you’re gonna get yours,” she said lifting her middle finger.
“Didn’t somebody tell ya?” I asked. “I already did. It’s running down your legs.”
Even as Erica pulled me from the room in the midst of telling me something about what she and her best friend were gonna do at swim practice, Dana took her finger and stuck it into the soup between her legs. She lifted the finger to her tongue and tasted it. My dick sprang back to life in an instant.
I was still running that image through my mind as my daughter and I walked down the hall.
“Somebody needs to fix this bed today,” she screamed.
It was a typical suburban Saturday. The three of us were all busy and things all rested on a schedule as tightly bonded as the atoms on the edge of a knife.
I took my daughter to swim practice, stopping off to pick up her best friend Kylie on the way. The girls would do a group swim and a few practice races followed by a workout in the weight room. While some of the girls were training with weights, the coaches would pull each girl out in turn for individual coaching and or time trials to assess progress.
When Erica was younger I used to sit in the bleachers and watch her for the entire practice. I’d probably still do it if she hadn’t told me that it made her nervous. Her exact words were, “Look Daddy, go out and live YOUR life and let me live mine.”
So, I’ll drop her off, then go back to the house and wash my car. My car is a spotless 2013 Boss 302. I have to admit that I baby the car. It has never seen rain and I’m pretty sure it has no idea that snow exists. I only drive the car in June, July, August and September on days when there is a less than 10% chance of rain.
I have another Mustang for April, May, October and November. The rest of the year and on shitty weather days I drive a Jeep. A lot of people don’t know this but Jeeps love rain and snow and mud.
Anyway, while I’m washing the car and dropping Erica off, my wife Dana does the shopping for the week. She comes home and drops off the groceries. We put them away together and then we both head off to our Saturday activities. There are times when two of us or all three of us do things together, but most of the time we separate.
So that Saturday after a few veiled threats and flirtations as we put the food away...
“That bed had better get fixed ... Mister!” she said.
“You’d better remember to pick up some lube,” I said.
“I don’t buy the stuff for your precious Mustangs,” she smirked. “I always get the wrong stuff, remember?”
“Not that kind of lube, dummy,” I said grabbing her butt. “Somebody promised to let me bust their ass, remember?” Her smile was so cheesy that I knew she was planning something.
“Well nobody’s ass is getting busted in a busted bed,” she said. “You put up the rest.” She walked over to me and ran her fingers through my hair then ran up the stairs.
She came back a few moments later with her yoga mat and her yoga bag.
She kissed me and shook her head looking at me.
“Yeah, I know,” I said. “The bed is still busted.”
“No, I was just thinking how lucky we all are to have each other,” she said. “I love you Eric.”
“Yeah yeah,” I smirked. “All of the love in the world won’t save your ass. You shouldn’t have offered...” she stuck her hands over my mouth to silence me.
“Eric, do you really think I would ever say no to ANYTHING you want ... EVER?” she asked.
“Okay it that’s true ... why the hell don’t I have a GT500?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes at me, put on a pair of those huge ugly sunglasses that women seem to love and headed for her yoga class.
That was when I began to really relax. I had about three hours to wash my car before the car show I was going to would start. I had done the car’s interior the night before, so all I had to do was the outside of the car.
Waves of love washed over me as I soaped a tiny section of my car’s exterior then rinsed it. It wasn’t just love for the cars, although that was there too. I was truly happy with my life.
I had a wife who loved me and whom I was totally in love with. We had a beautiful daughter who was the apple of my eye. Our house was almost paid off and my future in my chosen career field was awesome.
Maybe it was my fault. Maybe I shouldn’t have stood there with a bucket of car wash solutions and cleaners and gels counting my blessings. Maybe my thoughts of love for my life were simply too tempting for the fickle fates. Perhaps they thought that I had it too good and needed to fuck with me.
On the other hand, it could simply have been numbers or the odds. Maybe it was simply time for a very long run of good luck to turn to shit.
It started out very innocuously. I felt a vibration at my waist. I answered the phone to the voice of a hysterical woman.
“Eric ... Oh God ... I’m so glad you answered. I can’t get Dana on the phone. Ronnie had a heart attack and...”
“Slow down Nancy,” I said. “Are you at a Hospital?”
“We’re in the ambulance,” she sobbed.
“Nance ask the ambulance driver which hospital you’re going to,” I told her.
“Cee-Cee-Cedar Springs of Michigan,” she told me.
“Nancy these days a heart attack is serious but not always deadly,” I said. “It’s bad but we’ll get through it. Stay calm, I’ll round up Erica and meet you there as soon as I can get there.”
While I was talking I was rinsing every trace of soap off of my Boss 302’s paint. I could always wash the car later but I didn’t want to risk damaging the paint by leaving soap residue on it.
I jumped into my every day Mustang and backed out of my driveway. I tried using the car’s synch system to call Dana, but I knew it wouldn’t work. I also knew that it was the same reason Dana’s mom hadn’t been able to get in touch with her.
The yoga studio that Dana attended was a very traditional studio. Students were not allowed to bring their phones inside because the ringing of a phone could supposedly disturb the sanctity of the pure yoga environment.
I thought it was STUPID and often reminded Dana that we had a child and emergencies popped up all the time.
“WE ... have a child, Eric,” she always told me. “She has two parents. And she always calls YOU first anyway.
I’m sure I don’t need to point out that you have quirks of your own. Like the fact that you spend a ridiculous amount of money on probably twenty or thirty different products to wash your car, but you only spend three or four dollars on the cheapest possible shower gel you can find to wash your own ass with. Who does that?”
The antiquated “no phones,” policy was only one of the reasons why I hated the yoga studio.
As I pulled up in front of the small building and saw the sign it all came back to me. The sign out front had a depiction of a huge cartoonish bear on it.
He was smiling and bent over in an odd position on a mat. The sign read, “Yoga Bare.”
At first, I thought it was just spelled wrong. But it was a supposedly clever play on words. At least that was the way they explained it to me when I pointed it out to them.
“Don’t you get it, Honey?” Dana told me. “The bear is naked.”
“Yep the place is traditional. So traditional in fact that all of the practitioners are naked. I forbid Dana to attend. She went twice as much.
“Eric, I’m a thirty-four-year-old woman,” she laughed. “I’ve already had a kid. Except for you, no one is interested in my sagging boobs, flabby tummy, and fat ass.”
“Bullshit, Dana,” I gushed. “You may not be a spring chicken anymore, but you’re still hot and you know it. You just want to parade around in front of those young guys and tease them.”
“Eric, drive me to the club and pick me up,” she said. “Take one look at those hot, incredibly built young girls and you’ll see that none of those guys will even look at me twice. Besides most of those guys taking the class are gay.”
So, I did. I took her up on it and it blew my mind. There were a couple of fat women who were trying to lose weight, but the rest of the women in the class looked like the waiting room at a casting call for a beauty pageant.
They were all different too. There were long legged beauties with small pert breasts. There were thick legged cheerleader types with huge racks. And they even had some of those alien looking women that were so popular in porn. The skinny women with giant boobs and huge asses that just didn’t seem natural on the same body.
As hot as I thought she was Dana barely made a ripple in that pond of pulchritude.
But God dammit Dana was mine and I didn’t want her showing my stuff to freaky looking hipster nerds with long beards, weird ass haircuts and odd glasses who talked about saving the fucking planet and hated my cars.
“Do you have any idea how much damage you’re doing to the environment every time you drive that thing?” One of them asked me.
“I’m a proud American,” I smirked.
“What does that have to do with anything?” he asked.
“The president says that all of that shit about global warming and the environment is a hoax,” I told him.
“Well what about all of the noise it makes?” he said.
“Music to my ears,” I smiled. He just rolled his eyes, got onto his bicycle and rode away. I hoped his beard would get caught in it and ripped off of his face.
I put my foot down and Dana ignored it. It wasn’t like I could punish her or anything ... she’s a full-grown woman. So, I acted like a child. I sulked and stopped talking to her.
I even stopped sleeping with her. That got her attention. For me not to constantly pester her about sex was serious. She started trying to tease me. She was flashing her boobs or her ass at me every chance she got.
“The guys at your yoga class get to see a lot more than that,” I laughed.
“Yeah but they don’t get to touch it,” she said.
In the end ... she won. I lasted about three weeks before she stepped into the shower with me and gave me a blowjob that turned my hair from straight to curly.
She led me straight from the shower to our bedroom and proceeded to turn me inside out. She drained me of every ounce of bodily fluid. I didn’t have enough moisture left in me when she was done to even form a good gob of spit.
“Eric ... stop being an asshole,” she told me. “The only one being hurt by this is you!”
And she was right, going without sex had been rough. I figured she’d give up yoga just like every other workout fad she’d been through. And there had been a lot of them. Each one of them had left us something to remember them by.
All she had left of Aerobics was the leg warmers. All she had left of Tae bo was the video tapes that were keeping the table in the garage from wobbling. The P90-X DVDs made great coasters and so on.
I gave naked yoga six months tops. We were well into the seventh month and I was still passively protesting. She had tapered her yoga sessions down to twice a week. She went on Saturday mornings and Wednesday nights.
She had noticed that we didn’t have sex after her classes. The Wednesdays she always whined that I didn’t massage her after the class. But we both knew that putting my hands on her would have led to sex, so I always found something else to do. She grudgingly accepted it.
But not having sex on Saturday nights, especially if we’d gone out or even if we’d done some family activity that brought us all closer together, really pissed her off. We always ended up arguing about it.
Erica had to end a couple of them. She’d knock on our door and ask what we were fighting about.
Dana always told her that I was spending too much money on those damned cars again.
“But Mommy, Daddy loves those cars ... And I love my daddy,” Erica always said. And Dana usually caved. She always got a weird look on her face and to tell me the truth I always got a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. Having that little girl defend me just sent shivers down my spine and butterflies in my stomach. I always hugged her and felt so much closer to her at those times.
It always made me feel like there was no possible way for me to love her any more. It was as if my heart would burst from the amount of feeling I had for my daughter. I mean shit I love Dana, but I would literally die for Erica.
I always carried her back to bed, even though she was ten and supposedly beyond such things.
When I got back to our room the arguments were usually far from over. We just expressed our points in whispers to keep Erica from hearing us.
“Why are you such an asshole about this?” Dana whispered. “I put up with your running. I put up with your borderline insanity over Mustangs...”
“Dana it’s not the same thing,” I whispered back heatedly. “When I go out to run, I’m fully clothed and I run alone. When I’m done I come right back to the house...”
“And plop your sweaty ass down on MY FUCKING FURNITURE,” she hissed.
We waited a moment before continuing because her voice had risen to the point where Erica might have heard us.
“And as far as my cars are concerned,” I continued. “I always ask you before buying a car or making any major purchases. Even though it’s my money I ask you because we’re married so everything is OURS!”
She nodded her head.
“But if everything is ours, why do you get that sour ass face every time I ask you to drive one of OUR cars?” she asked.
“Because you have your own car,” I said.
“AND?” she asked.
“And your car is all dented and dinged up,” I said sheepishly.
“So, you think you have to protect OUR cars FROM me,” she smiled. “And yoga is just my way of protecting my body. Yoga is the way I stay in shape so you don’t have a wife with a fat, out of shape body. Eric, I can’t run, I can’t lift weights, but I can do yoga.”
“Why can’t you do yoga with your clothes on?” I asked.
“It’s not the nakedness,” she whined. “I just like this place and the people in it. But when you reject me, it just makes me feel like some nasty skank.”
We always agreed to think about it, but we had never settled the argument.
“Hey Eric,” said the receptionist at the yoga place. She always got a dreamy look in her eyes when I spoke to her. She was a twenty-year-old Indian girl who although pretty ... looked like she needed a few yoga sessions of her own.
“Hey Indira,” I smiled. “I know I’m not supposed to go in there, but this is an emergency. She’s gonna be pissed that I snatched her out of class, but her dad had a heart attack.”
I ducked into the class and saw nothing but naked bodies. I was trying not to stare, but God damn it ... I saw a woman with an ass like two basketballs side by side. And I saw ... peeking out from between two widely spread legs a shaved pussy with lips so pink they may have had lipstick on them.
The one thing I didn’t see was Dana.
The instructor came over to me. He was one of those thin, uhm ... hairy almost androgynous types with very long hair and a beard. I couldn’t remember his fucking name to save my life, but when Dana and I talked about him I always called him Jesus.
“Eric, Dana is in the office getting one on one instruction from the guru,” he said with what sounded like reverence or maybe lust. He looked at me like we were friends or something. Like I’d actually be friends with a long-haired yoga monkey who hated my cars, only ate vegetables and rode a bike everywhere.
“Keep this between us,” he whispered. “Dana’s been working her ass off to fit in, but this is a very advanced class and she’s really not on this level yet. So instead of letting her hold the class back, the guru gives her extra tutelage to help her advance to this level while we do the more difficult poses.”
“I won’t say a thing,” I lied, intending to spill my guts as soon as possible hoping to get her to quit and go to a yoga studio where she could keep her fucking clothes on. He pointed at a door in the back.
Just before I got there my phone buzzed telling me I had a text. I glanced at it just as I got to the door. It was from my mother in law, telling me the room my father in law was in.
I opened the door and everything went up in flames. Luckily, I still had my phone in my hand. With two touches, I put my iPhone into HD video mode and started recording.
There she was, my wife, the chubby love of my life doing a really advanced yoga pose with an older Indian guy. She had her leg up on his shoulder, displaying extreme flexibility.
He was thrusting a short but really thick dick into her. Dana had her arms around his back helping to pull him into her. Her head was tilted back and her eyes were closed. She had a huge smile on her face. His eyes were closed as well and he was chanting. I have no idea what the fuck he was moaning about it could have been yoga related or perhaps the language barrier just made gibberish sound like something more than it was.
They were both headed for the nirvana until my loud, cold words broke the spell and denied them their bliss.
“Hey guys!” I said throwing the door open widely enough that all of the yoga students in the class could see what was going on. Their eyes popped open displaying surprise and several other things. “What yoga pose is that?”
They quickly tried to get away from each other and in the process the guru pushed too hard against Dana’s over extended leg. She screamed and fell heavily to the floor, writhing in pain.
He looked at me and at the shocked faces of all of the yoga students in the open doorway.
Dana even through her pain had the presence of mind to try to lie her way out of it.
“Eric, Baby,” she moaned. “It’s not what you think.”
“What is it then, Bitch,” I growled. “Cause what I think is that you were fucking this Hindu Horn dog! I mean I may not be an expert but that looked more like screwing than yoga.”
“Ereek ... I know theess looks bad, but what you think you saw you did not see,” said the guru a balding middle aged Indian man that I’d met a couple of times before this.
“Oh Shit ... he’s quoting Will Smith,” I said. He looked confused and that confusion was still on his face as I approached him. Then realizing his danger and my temper the guru jumped back landing lightly on the balls of his feet in what looked like a Karate stance.
It just looked ridiculous with his legs bent into a near crouch and his hands balled into fists. His balls dangled just below his short thick dick that was still obscenely shiny due to a healthy coating of my moaning soon to be ex-wife’s pussy juice.
I looked at his dick and he went into self-preservation mode. He stood straight up and his hands dropped to protect his gonads. That was when I punched him in the mouth as hard as I could.
As my fist hit his face, his neck bent backwards to absorb the shock and his body followed his head. The guru went down heavily and spat out a couple of teeth. My hand hurt so badly that I never wanted to hit anything again.
I reared my foot back and planted it between the guru’s enlightened legs so hard that he slid almost a foot across the wooden floor. The yoga students that were still watching all winced from the guru’s protracted, high pitched scream.
As I turned to leave, I stopped in mid step and turned back to Dana who was moaning on the floor. She was bent over clutching her thigh.
“Eric, we ... I’m sorry, Honey,” she whined. “Eric my leg hurts really bad. I think I need to go to the hospital.”
“Good,” I spat. “That’s where I was coming to take you. While you were in here fucking this fraud, your Dad had a heart attack!”
The shock on her face doubled. I started walking towards the door again. “Eric wait!” she whined. “Are you still going to the hospital? I’ll ride over there with you. I can’t drive with my leg like this. I can’t even move it.”
I turned back to her again. “Dana remember when I first bought my newer Mustang? You were worried about me using the car to hook up with women like I was having some kind of early onset middle aged crisis. You made me make a solemn promise. What was it?”
I scratched my head as if I was trying to remember. “Oh yeah!” I said. “You made me promise that no skanks or sluts would ever get into my car and considering current circumstances I’m afraid I can’t offer you a ride.”
As I finally left the room I noticed that less than five minutes had passed. It took less than three hundred seconds for me to morph from happily married man to miserable soon to be divorced guy.
I was so lost in my misery that I failed to notice Jesus and one of the guru’s other disciples standing in my path.
“I called the police,” he proudly stated. “You can’t leave.”
“Yeah,” said the other bearded hipster behind him. This one was covered in tattoos and wore glasses.
“Look Jesus,” I said. “I’m pretty sure that not only are you dedicated to that turd over there, but you’re an environmentally conscious, thoroughly modern, enlightened human being with the good of both the planet and humanity as the driving force of his existence...”
He broke out in a smile and nodded at the other guy at what he thought was me praising him.
“ ... but if you don’t get your bearded, patchouli vaping, vegetarian ass out of my way I’m gonna stick my foot so far up your ass that the hole it leaves will swallow your bike seat so you won’t be able to get home.”
“That’s how you Neanderthals always handle a confrontation,” said the tattooed guy. “You always turn to violence.”
I quickly but gently plucked his glasses off of his face and put them on the floor near him.
His shriek was louder than the guru’s screaming.
He dropped to his knees looking for his glasses. Jesus moved out of my way, wisely. Unfortunately, there was a sickening crunch as his foot touched what he thought was the floor.
“Please tell me you didn’t step on my fucking glasses!” yelled his angry, nearly blind friend.
“Sorry,” said Jesus, earnestly.
“You’re gonna be,” said the other guy angrily. I couldn’t help but be disgusted at the sight of two naked bearded men rolling around on the floor on top of each other.
As I passed through the reception area, the tranquility of the studio was shattered. Indira was fending off a group of angry patrons who all wanted their money back.
It took me ten minutes to get to the hospital and five minutes to find my mother in law.
She looked as if she’d been barely holding on. It was as if she needed to be strong just long enough for someone else to come in and take over the burden. As soon as I hugged her, she fell apart and started crying.
“They had to put a stent in one of his arteries,” she sobbed. “That’s it. He is now officially a vegetarian. No more fried foods for him. No more barbecue and beer. No chops, no chips, no sauces, no dips ... none of that unhealthy stuff.” I squeezed her and nodded my head.
“You’d better wait until he’s fully recovered to tell him that,” I smiled.
“Why?” she asked. “It’s not like he has any say in it. I’m putting my foot down.”
“Yeah but when he finds out that he can’t have any of his favorite things, he’s gonna wish he hadn’t made it.”
“Where’s Dana?” she asked.
“She was at yoga,” I said truthfully. “I told her what had happened, then I came over here to be with you. I’m sure she’s either here already or on her way.”
“You’re a good son in law, Eric,” she said, hugging me.
About a half hour later the surgeon came in and told us that everything was fine. My father in law would make a full recovery and with some strict dietary restrictions and some mild exercises could live a long, full life.
She suggested that he not return to work for three weeks to a month, longer if his job involved anything physical. At that point, my mother in law started asking her questions and the surgeon looked frustrated. She took off her surgical cap and the mask and I recognized her. She was a pretty but older Indian woman that I’d seen a couple of times before. I just couldn’t remember where.
After the surgeon left my Mom in law and I went up to the room. We’d been there about ten minutes when they wheeled Dana into the room in a wheel chair.
“How’s Dad?” she asked.
“What the hell happened to you?” asked her mother.
Dana looked pleadingly at me before answering. “I sprained some muscles in my upper thigh at yoga,” she said. “How’s Dad?”
Her mother filled Dana in on her father’s condition but Dana never took her eyes off of me. I was wracking my brain trying to come up with a way out of there.
“Uhm ... how was the car show?” Dana asked me tentatively.
“I didn’t get to go,” I said. “Your mom called me and some things are just more important.”
“Yep, you always put family first,” said Dana. “You can forgive the people you love for anything. Sometimes things just happen and we have to stick together and move on. As long as we stick together and forgive each other everything will be great!”
“Dana what the hell are you talking about?” her mother asked. “Eric knows that your father didn’t intend to have a heart attack just to keep him from going to his car show. No one has to forgive anyone. You’re not making any sense.”
Dana looked stupid as she tried to find a way to explain what she’d said. That was when I saw my way out.
“Dana with your leg yoga’d out you’re not going to be able to pick Erica up from the mall. I’d better go and get her,” I said.
“You two can stop by here and pick me up later,” she said.
“It would probably be better for you to go home with your mom,” I said. “She shouldn’t be alone at a time like this. l’ll call you later.”
I hugged her mom one more time and took off like I had a rocket up my ass.
I went to the mall and waited in the parking lot. I had no idea when Erica and her friend would be ready to leave. I texted her and told her to let me know when to pick her up.
I sat in my car and looked up divorce lawyers on my phone. That was when the pain of what had happened hit me. Up until that point I’d been just rolling with the punches in an attempt to keep moving so it didn’t really hit me.
With nothing to do except think, the heartache settled in. In a way, my father in law and I had a lot in common. Maybe not in a physical sense but in a metaphoric one we were running parallel.
We’d both started the day out as happy family men. And at roughly the same time our hearts had been nearly shattered with life changing consequences.
His heart problems were physical. Mine were emotional. He would have to change his lifestyle if he wanted to survive. My lifestyle would also change.
He’d have to get used to a healthier diet and become more active. I’d have to make choices as well.
For both of us the day had marked the end of the innocence. He would wake up to the realization that he could no longer eat and drink anything he wanted without consequences.
I had now realized that the woman I married and loved with all of my heart had betrayed me.
My father in law might decide to never eat fattening foods again. I had to decide whether or not I could ever face Dana again. Just remembering the look in her face and that smile as that old man’s thick dick stretched her pussy made it unlikely that I’d ever want to sleep with her again.
In fact, when I thought of Dana, she was already no longer the woman I loved, I thought of her the same way I thought of a problem at work. I looked at her in terms of what did I have to do to make the problem go away with the least amount of losses and ancillary issues on my part.
I just felt hollow. I felt as if the place where my heart used to be was empty. Or maybe the heart that formerly filled that space had simply stopped beating.
As I scanned my iPhone’s screen there was a ridiculous number of lawyers and legal firms to scan through. How the hell could I ever pick one. I was nauseated at the prospect of making a list and making appointments with five or six of them and driving around to meetings with them.
The it came to me. The reason there were so many fucking divorce lawyers in the listings was because there were so many fucking divorces. I wasn’t special ... I was just another statistic. The world at large wouldn’t stop turning because I wanted to end my marriage.
Shit the world wouldn’t even slow down. Truthfully the world wouldn’t know about my pending divorce and wouldn’t care either way. I would just become another miserable divorced guy. There are millions of them in our country alone. One more or one less wouldn’t matter.
My phone actually rang as I sat there. I answered it, thinking it was Erica.
“Eric, Honey, I’m so sorry,” whined Dana. “Please forgive me. I don’t know how the hell it happened, but I swear it will never happen again.”
I didn’t say a word. The silence over the crystal clear cellular connection was deafening. I could hear her breathing. I swear I could hear her heart beating.
“Dana, was this the first time?” I asked.
“Yea ... no!” she sobbed.
“This wasn’t even the first time with HIM, was it?” I asked.
She sighed heavily and I had my answer.
“Honey ... it doesn’t mean anything,” she said. “It was nothing. It was just an experience ... just a way of trying something new and filling some time.”
“Yeah, Dana, it means something,” I said. “It means the woman I married is a lying whore. It means we’re probably not going to be married for much longer.”
My heartbeat had to be loud enough for my mom to hear it. Pain shot through me. I’ve never been punched in the stomach, but I felt the way being punched in the stomach had to feel.
I could barely breathe and I felt as if I was going to vomit at any second.
“What’s wrong?” my mother asked.
I didn’t want her to find out what was going on. I didn’t understand it myself.
“Nothing, Mom,” I lied. “Eric and I were just talking about how lucky we are that Dad is okay.”
I tried calling him again two hours later. He didn’t answer his phone or the house phone. In desperation, I tried calling my daughter Erica.
“What?” she said as she answered her phone.
“That is not the way you answer the phone young lady,” I said.
“Oh hi, Mommy,” she said. “I’m tired from all of the laps I swam and then all of the walking around the mall.”
“Where’s your father?” I asked.
“He’s outside washing his car and talking to himself,” she said. Even at ten years old there was a note of concern in her voice. “I don’t think he’s feeling well.”
“Can you tell him to come to the phone?” I asked.
“Mom you know how he gets when he’s washing his cars. I’ll tell him to call you when he’s done. Bye!” she said hanging up the phone.
I was so angry that I wanted to go home and beat her little ass. The problem was that Eric had spoiled the girl to the point that she just did whatever she wanted with no fear of reprisals.
I sat there by the phone waiting and hoping it would ring. My injured leg began to throb. I took my pain medication and was out like a light.
When I woke the next morning, the house was empty. My leg was killing me. I knew immediately where I was and why. The pain meds must have put me out for far longer than I expected, because the sun was up and out and it had to be early afternoon.
All of a sudden, I felt a chill go down my spine. I had no idea where my mother was or where Eric was. I assumed that Eric had probably skipped his morning run and would blame that on me too.
I dialed his number and it went straight to voice mail. That scared the shit out of me because I knew that Eric used a really nasty trick on his phone. Eric’s phone usually rang several times before it went to voicemail to give him a chance to answer it even if he was busy.
If a call went straight to voicemail, it meant the number had been blocked. It also meant that it would let me leave as many messages as I wanted but they would all be immediately deleted and Eric would never know I had called.
I called my daughter again. Her phone rang for a long time before she finally answered it and I could tell she was pissed.
“Yes ... Mother!” she said in a tone so chilled that it belonged in a refrigerator.
“Erica, where are you?” I asked.
“Daddy took us ... you know Sarah from the swim team and her older sister, who’s a total skank, to the movies while he did his run. Then he’s going to the hospital to visit grandpa. Did you know that that grandpa had a heart attack? Anyway, when the movie ... that I’m missing ... is over Sarah’s mom will pick us up and Daddy will pick me up from Sarah’s house ... bye mom!”
I decided then and there that when this was all over Erica and I needed to have a talk. I know all about being a daddy’s girl ... I used to be one. But Eric had spoiled the girl to the point that she only seemed to listen to him. And since he ALWAYS gave in to her, it was like a ten-year-old was running our house.
This morning was a clear case of that. Eric had quickly arranged to have something for Erica to do so he could go out and do his run, but neither of them gave me a second thought.
I calmed down after giving the matter some thought. After all my daughter was ten years old. I couldn’t expect her to have an adult level or caring and consideration. At that age kids tend to think the world revolves around them ... especially when they’re as spoiled as my daughter.
And Eric? How the hell do I even begin to describe what I did to my husband? It was going to take a lot of time and an incredible amount of ass kissing to fix what I’d done.
But I was sure it was fixable.
I took another pain pill and dozed back off to sleep. That was my pattern for the next couple of days. I pretty much stayed in bed, to let my leg heal. I did call my dad and talk to him on the phone.
It was a very lonely existence and I got the idea that my mom was pissed at me. I needed to find out why so I asked her.
“You haven’t come to the hospital one damned time,” she spat. “Eric is there every day. He even brought Erica a couple of times. He’s your dad’s son in law but he isn’t his flesh and blood offspring.”
“Mom ... the doctors say that if I stress the muscles around my hip anymore, I might need surgery!” I told her. “I promise I’ll make it up to Daddy, but he may be healed before I am.”
In desperation, I turned to my best friend, Peggy. I told her all about it holding nothing back. The idea was to get her to go and talk to Eric for me.