Chapter 3

When he pulled into the driveway he saw Joanie’s car. Damn the luck, he thought to himself; he’d been hoping she wouldn’t be there. Resigned, he got out of the car and walked to the front door. Unlocking the door he went and headed to the bedroom to get some clean clothes. Then he heard Joanie’s voice from the kitchen.

“Mike? Mike, dear God, where the hell have you been? Are you alright?” There was concern in her voice.

“Me, I’m fine, I just thought I’d spend a night on the town, why?”

“What do you mean, why? Because I was worried. Mike, what’s going on? What’s gotten into you?”

“What’s gotten into ME? That’s a good one,” he was actually laughing now. “Well, I went for a little ride last night, just cruising. I went to Kmart, then I cruised over to the Out-Of-Towner Motel parking lot. After that I didn’t feel the need to come home.”

He was still smiling as he watched her face. There was an odd expression as his words sank in. At first she went into denial.

“Mike, what are you talking about? I don’t understand.”

“Give it up Joanie, don’t play that game.”

“Mike, you’re making some sort of mistake, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No mistake, darling, you’re forgetting what I do for a living. I can recognize cars, yours and I’ll know that Seville when I see it again. So, the question isn’t what’s gotten into me, it’s who’s gotten into you? Oh, and that damned sombrero, or whatever the hell it was you were wearing, yeah, that really fooled me. HA!”

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re as pure as the driven snow,” again laughing he shook his head. “You’ve been caught Joanie, face up to it like an adult not like the spoiled brat you are. For once in your life act like a grown up for Christ’s sake.”

He wasn’t prepared for her reaction, it was one of anger rather than the shame or contriteness one would have expected. She attempted to turn the table on him.

“What have you been doing anyway, spying on me?”

“Why not? I had good reason to,” his calmness surprised himself. “You’re the one who’s been cheating, not me.”

“Well, did it ever occur to you that if you’d spent more time at home with me, instead of spending all your time at work, then maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t feel the need to look elsewhere for some attention?”

“No, because the reason I spent so much time at Herring’s was so I could pay for all the shit that you wanted. Congratulations, by the way, at least you just admitted you were running around. That’s the first step.”

“That’s it, put the blame on me. That’s your way of dealing with it. Typical, I’m always wrong, you’re always right.”

“Put the blame on you?” He burst out laughing again, this time in incredulity, “Who the hell else should I blame? Jesus H Christ, did somebody put a gun to your head? If they did, tell me and I’ll blame them. In the meantime it falls on you, toots.”

“You’re God damned impossible,” she yelled.

“And you’re fucking nuts,” he laughed. “Now I’ve had enough of this. Time for me to get cleaned up and go to that evil place and earn some money, you know the thing that drove you to infidelity.”

“So, you don’t want to talk about this?”

“Nothing to talk about, the marriage is over,” he was speaking calmly in a matter of fact tone. “Now, we can end it simply and equitably, or we can get bogged down in the trenches. It’s up to you, the hard way or the easy way. I frankly don’t care all that much. I’ve pretty much done things your way as long as we’ve been married, so I’ll do this your way too. Let me know when you decide.”

Her face red with anger, she glared at him, then exclaimed hostilely, “What’s the use?” turned and went into the kitchen.

Mike watched her go, he shook his head, and went to the bedroom for some clean clothes. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen next, but the emotional side of it was over, he couldn’t help but think it could have been worse. He laid a fresh set of outer clothes on the bed, took a robe and underwear with him to the bathroom were he showered and shaved. His calm outward demeanor bellied an inner anxiety. He wanted to get out of the house as soon as possible, away from any further unpleasantness.

Returning to the bedroom, he finished dressing. When he walked out and down the hall to the living room he saw Joanie sitting in a chair, glaring angrily at him. He exhaled heavily and shook his head in resignation. He realized the drama wasn’t over. He smiled at her.

“Well, what’s up, buttercup?”

“I take it you still don’t want to discuss this anymore?”

“That’s right,” he kept his voice down. “Honestly, Joanie, I don’t see what there is to talk about. You admitted you were having an affair when you tried to push the blame on me. I’m not interested in any stupid rationalizations you come up with. What’s done is done, what more is there to say?”

“That’s it? You’re a really a cold hateful bastard, aren’t you?”

“No, not really,” he stopped to think for a moment. “Hateful, I don’t think so. The thing is, I don’t hate you, I hate what you did. But, you were just being you, perhaps you couldn’t help it. Joanie gets what Joanie wants; that’s always been the way. I just don’t understand, if you wanted out of the marriage, why didn’t you just say so? Why did you play me like this? You could have had a divorce anytime you wanted.”

“Maybe I didn’t want a divorce, maybe I was just looking for something that’s missing. Has that occurred to you at all?” She seemed unnerved by his calm demeanor.

“Swell, you wanted to have your cake and eat it too, married with a little on the side. Well it doesn’t work that way, Joanie. Enough is enough. You’ve been cruising on your looks your whole life. A wink and a smile and you get everything your way, even with me. Well that ends here, at least regarding me. The party is over, maybe your boyfriend will put up with this nonsense, but I’m done. But still, I don’t hate you, I’ve just had enough; you went too far this time. So, I wish you well, I hope you find happiness or whatever in the hell you’re looking for, it just won’t be with me.”

She sat staring at him for a moment. It almost seemed as if she were digesting his words, then she blurted out, “Oh, go fuck yourself.”

Mike shrugged his shoulders, put his coat on, and whistling “Zippidy Do Da” walked out the door. The whole morning with Joanie had made no sense what so ever to him, so it was time to move on.

As he drove to Herring’s, he began to wonder how he should handle that situation. He felt he should just let it be known that he was leaving Joanie, there was no sense in hiding it. The exact reason was another matter, the specifics were nobody else’s business. Then he thought the details were going to get out eventually anyhow, they always did, so perhaps it would be better to get it out in the open and be done with it. Finally he decided to go about his business, do what he had to do, and neither volunteer nor deny anything. Let it come out on its own.

When he arrived at Herring’s, it was anti-climactic. It was as if nothing important had happened, nothing had changed. Donna hadn’t said anything about his situation to anyone, then again, why would she have? As often happens in life, he had been worried for nothing. He decided that his idea of not saying anything but not hiding anything really was the best course of action. He was pleasantly relived.

He headed to what he laughing referred to as his office. Four fiberboard walls, a cheap desk covered by a wood laminate to make it look good, and a bunch of nonsensical plaques and awards on the walls, all designed to impress customers when they came to sign the final paperwork involved in a purchase. It was a glorified cubical disguised as an office, nothing more. He’d always viewed it as one of the tools of the trade, but today as he looked around at it, the absurdity of it all hit him. He realized he’d been nothing but a glorified con man all these years. He sold cars for other people, in this case the Herring family. He’d added to their wealth and received a small cut of the action; it wasn’t what he’d envisioned for himself fifteen years ago. He’d sold himself out for a good looking blonde, Joanie, the ice princess, who had left him out in the cold.

He took off his overcoat and hung it on the rack in the corner. He started to take off his sport coat, then inexplicably changed his mind. The standard dress at Herring’s in the colder weather was the long sleeved sweater with Herring’s logo on the left breast that the company provided. It wasn’t required, but it was expected. He looked at the two on hangers in his rack and decided against them. He never liked them and preferred his sport coat or just his sport shirt. He’d given too many years of good service to the company to be intimidated by some silly nonsense about a sweater. He was tired of being treated like some kind of school kid forced to comply with a stupid dress code. He was an adult and knew how to dress appropriately.

As rebellions go, it was a small one, actually insignificant. If anybody noticed he wasn’t wearing the sweater, they didn’t seem to care. Even Donny Herring made no mention of it. But to him it was a first step in breaking out of the mold and taking back his life. However small it was, there was a change in his attitude. In his mind he was no longer working for Herring’s, he was an independent operator using Herring Motors. They provided the cars and the sales space, and he sold what he could for a commission. Prior to this he’d felt he was a part of a team, working to advance the company; now he saw himself as an independent contractor, he would work to his own benefit.

He decided it would be in the used lot, that’s where he first made his name at Herring’s and that’s where he was going to return. The new cars sold themselves; all you did was point out the differences between models. The used lot, that’s where the action he’d liked so much in the beginning was. The game of figuring out what somebody was looking for and how much they could reasonably afford to spend, and matching them up with the best deal. No swindling or over pricing, just playing it straight with the customers; a sale for him and a square deal for them. To hell with this high pressure bullshit, he wasn’t going to screw anybody over to add a couple of dollars to old man Herring’s bank account. As for Donny and the other kids, well, let them learn how to sell cars themselves.

It was with this adjusted attitude and renewed interest in the used lot that Mike went out to the lot when a fresh consignment of used cars came in. He watched them unload, talked with the mechanics as they went over them; listening and asking questions. He wanted to know the pros and cons of each individual car, what was wrong with them, and anything else that would help him steer the customer to the right vehicle. He was always at home talking with the mechanics and he was glad to be back with them. A lot of the other salesmen considered them to be beneath them, only dealing with them when necessary and then in a condescending manner. But Mike had always considered the service department as the heart of the operation, he was more comfortable around them than he was with his fellow salesmen.

Returning from the shop, he headed upstairs to check on some invoices when he ran into Donna on the stairs. He felt a moment of awkwardness, not being sure how he should act. Donna didn’t seem to have any such problems.

“Hi, Daddy, what’s up?” Then she looked around casually and spoke softly, “Any problems this morning at home?”

“No, we had words, that’s all.”

“Good, I was worried.”

“You should know me better than that, nothing was going to happen.” He went up one step before turning around. “It was strange though, first she denied it, then admitted it, and then blamed me. Go figure.”

“Who knows,” she smiled sympathetically, “she was probably just grasping at straws.”

With that she continued down the stairs. He watched her walking away and wished he was ten years younger or she were older. A man could do worse than link up with her. Then he remembered he had willingly done worse; it was a chilling thought. He spent most of the day familiarizing himself with the inventory of the used car lot, studying it and trying to memorize it. He took a break to call a divorce lawyer and make an appointment for the following Monday. Again, nobody noticed the change in his routine.

When it was time to leave that evening he became anxious again. He didn’t know for sure what was waiting for him at the house. Visions of some sort of big scene or more of this morning’s nonsense ran through his mind. Joanie had a whole day to stew and simmer about things and only God knows what type of mood she was in. A part of him wanted to run, just go to a motel, beg Donna to put him up for another night, anything to avoid more unpleasantness. But the controlling part of his brain knew all this was unpractical; he had to go to the house. Interestingly, he no longer thought of it as home, merely the house.

That was his mood as he pulled in the driveway. There was a light shining through the kitchen windows, the rest of the house was in darkness. He opened the front door and headed into the kitchen. Joanie was sitting at the table. For a moment he wondered if she’d been sitting there all day, but decided that was impossible. He did know, however, she was waiting there for him. She spoke first.

“Hi,” that single word was dripping with resignation.

“How’re you doing?”

“Alright,” then in slow measured words, “do you still feel the same as you did this morning?”

“Sure do.”

“OK, then can I ask one thing?”

“Go ahead, can’t hurt.”

“Next week is Thanksgiving, we were supposed to go to my parents for dinner, can we still do that? No tricks or anything, but can we keep it quiet for a while, maybe until after the holidays?”

“I’ve got an appointment to see a lawyer next week.”

“I understand, I’m just asking you not to make it public until after the holidays. Do that and file on the grounds of irreconcilable differences and I won’t contest it. We’ll settle up like you said, the easy way, Just don’t make sound like I’m ... you know, please don’t do it.”