Edited by Barney R.

I met Sara shortly after I was mustered out of the army after three years of service. I was going to night school and working full time in a factory. That Friday I had an exam in my class and when finished I could leave. I finished the test about the same time as a friend of mine and we decided to go down the street for pizza and beer.

We had been in the pizza parlor for about 15 minutes when I saw her. She was standing up after getting out of the booth that she and her friend were sitting in. She was tall; she had an oval-shaped face and long, long brown hair that reached to middle of her back. When her friend stood up too it was obvious to me they were headed to the office (ladies’ room) for a committee meeting.

My friend Pat noticed them at the same time, and went over to Sara’s friend and asked if we could join them. It seems that he knew the friend and wanted to hook up with her again. Pat was something of a hound dog.

Let me describe myself. My name is Allen Tompson. At the time I met Sara, I was a 23, part of an inch short of 6 feet tall, and as my mother called it rail thin. My eyes were and still are, a changeable blue to steel gray (Sara always said that she could tell my emotions by my eye color); I had short brown hair and could in no way (in my mind) be described as handsome. I was also not looking to start a serious relationship. I had been out of the army for just over 7 months when we met and just wanted to finish school and get a permanent job.

After the committee meeting was over Pat and I joined the girls. The introductions were made and we sat down and proceeded to get to know each other. About an hour after we were seated, Sara started to hold my hand under the table. I thought that this was nice, but strange as I had never had such a beautiful lady take notice of me before.

I got Sara’s phone number and called her the next day to ask for a date. She was genuinely surprised that I called and said yes. She said that she thought that I was ‘shining her on’.

We dated for a year and on the next Valentine’s Day, I asked her to marry me. She said yes. So much for not looking for a serious relationship.

There were a couple of flies in the ointment; she was a virgin, and I was not all that experienced, and I was about to graduate when I got an offer for a job 200+ miles away in Chicago. We had not set a date but talked of the following summer sometime. The job presented some difficulties. Because I was the newbie, I got a lot of night and weekend ‘on calls’, which meant that I could not get home every weekend. I found that when I did get home we tried too hard to fill the time up and ended up arguing a lot. We even broke the engagement once (for about 6 hours).

After a few months on the job, an opening in the company came up that was back in my home town. My boss knew I was not happy in the big city, and offered me the transfer. I accepted and took a week of time off to move to my new apartment.

I had not told Sara about the transfer, I just showed her the apartment and after walking around in it, she got this questioning look on her face and asked whose place it was and where did I get a key for it. When I explained about the transfer, and that I rented this apartment, she jumped on me and gave me a kiss that I still remember some 40 years later.

Life went on and we got married on June 1, 1974. We went on our honeymoon to the Dells area of Wisconsin. We moved her stuff into ‘our’ apartment and started married life. Life was good. In 1975, it sort of kicked us both in the teeth. I was laid off from my job as the company folded and Sara lost her job to an owner’s daughter. We lived on unemployment from February until I got a job offer in late August in the biggest city in our state. It was for a position that was about 140 miles away from where our families were.

The offer was just too good to turn down, more money than we were making combined at our old jobs, all the tools I needed, and a company car. We located a very nice apartment that was bigger than most houses of the day. It was in a newer complex that did not take off as the investors wanted; so it was in our price range.

After a few months on the job and after I finished company school, Sara wanted to get pregnant. I also wanted to start looking for a house. Our problem was we had very little for a down payment and prices in the area we lived in were rising fast. We found a two-bedroom bungalow on a large lot just outside of town and moved in late February and Jason was born in September.

The weekend commutes back to our families became a normal occurrence. After a few years, the company had an opening in our home town and I took it. We sold the house and moved again. All of a sudden we had a built-in babysitting service in Sara’s mother and her sister Lois.

Life was good, normal, and routine. We went to work, (Sara found a job in the biggest bank in town) went out as a family on Fridays and as a couple on Saturdays. Sara and I decided that one child was enough and that the surgery for me was less risky than for her so I got clipped.

About six years later I was hurt on the job and was at home, for what turned out to be over a year, until I could resume working. I received a large settlement from the jobsite because of some shoddy safety practices and also received worker’s comp.

That’s when the fecal matter started to hit the rotating air mover. Sara had been working late a lot at the time, but it was tax season, and I (fat, dumb, and happy) thought it was just normal. One Saturday morning she went to the store and as we were unloading the groceries, her purse fell out of the car and spilled in the driveway. Sara didn’t notice, so I started to pick stuff up and put it back in her purse. Then I found the packages that kicked me in the gut. One of the packages was birth control pills and the other was an open box of condoms. I put those packages in my pocket and put the rest of the things back in her purse.

I was shocked, hurt, and very angry, and Sara saw the look and when she finished putting stuff away. She asked, “What’s wrong, honey, are you angry about something.”

I laid the packages in front of her on the kitchen counter and left the room. I went up to our bedroom and closed the door and started crying. Sara came upstairs and knocked on the door and I just yelled “Go away you slut, until you’re ready to tell me everything I don’t want to see you. You should probably go to your mother’s until you decide if you can talk about it and then call me.” I heard a sob and a couple of minutes later heard her car go down the driveway. Luckily Jason was at her mother’s already; so he did not see or hear any of that.

I was just going through the motions for the next few days. I got calls from my mother, Sara’s mother, her sister, and many of her coworkers, but it was more than 10 days before Sara finally called. She asked to meet with me and we set it up to meet in a local restaurant. I got there a few minutes early and got a booth. Sara arrived and came in with a strange man holding her hand. She saw me and could tell (my eyes) that she screwed up again. I paid for my coffee and walked past them without a word. The man snorted as I was going past. I hit him with all of the built-up anger that he caused and he went down to the floor.

I left the place and drove home to wait for the police to come and arrest me. They never showed up, but my wife did about an hour later. I met her at the door and told her she could not come in but I would talk to her on ‘her’ deck (I had built it a couple of years earlier for our anniversary). She was crying, but nodded and went and sat in one of the chairs.

I came out with two coffees and a tape recorder and said, “I want you to know how much you hurt me with what I found in your purse. Then when you said you wanted to talk, you showed up with the Bastard who you hung my horns on with. Do you care at all for my feelings?”

Sara sobbed and started crying some more. It was several minutes later that she finally got under control enough to start talking. “Allen, it was not something that I wanted to happen, and it was not that I found something better. I was just working and found that the attention I was getting from people, mostly the men at work was like a drug. I resisted for over a year, but about 8 weeks ago, George...”

“I DO NOT want to know his name, and if you say it again, you can leave because this conversation is over” I shouted.

“OK,” she said; “I pushed all of the people away but found I was still flattered. Then while I was at lunch, one of the married guys from work started getting obnoxious and had to be stopped. The man you saw me with today stopped the jerk and asked to sit with me.”

“After that, he sat with me and we talked every time I ate in the cafeteria. One thing led to another and the late nights where I was supposed to be at work ended up at his apartment...”

“Hold on for a minute, is that the first time you have cheated on me? Is Jason my son? Will you submit to parental testing (this was long before current DNA was available)? Has it stopped, or are you still FUCKING him?” I asked, angrily.

“Yes, it is the first and only time I have cheated, as you call it.”

“What else do you call it?”

She did not answer that but said; “Jason is your son, and I will have him tested to prove it.

“How about STD’s. Will you get checked for them, I have no way of knowing if you used the condoms every time and I do not know if I believe you if you say you did.”

“OK” She answered, “now for the last part, no it is not over. I am filing for a divorce and we will be together while we are waiting. All I want is my clothes and my car. The house, the savings, and all of the other stuff you can keep. I will ask for joint custody with unlimited visitation for Jason.” She continued; “He and I have talked and after we get married I am going to try and get pregnant again.”

I said; “I will agree to all of that except, Jason cannot live with you while the divorce is not final. If I find out you have him at HIS place, I will countersue for adultery and let all of your friends know about it. It is just a thought, and I still do not want to hear his name, but what is the bastard’s job at the bank. Also; what makes you think he is not married, or that you are the only one?”

“Don’t you dare say that about him, G ... he’s a good man, and...”

“If he is so ‘good’, why is he sleeping and having sex with a married woman, and did you ask him if he is married or if you are the only one

I saw a look of understanding, surprise, concern, and sorrow come over her face before she sobbed; “Oh my god, what have I done?” and she got up and left in a big hurry.

I turned off the recorder and called a friend of mine who is a criminal attorney and asked for the biggest and meanest divorce shark he knew. He dropped the phone and then picked it up and said “Why you know Sara loves you; what did you do?”

“I didn’t,” I said, “Sara did and tried to introduce me to him today.” I also asked if he knew a good private eye, and I explained my concerns about what this jerk was doing with and to Sara and the possibility that he was using his position at the bank as leverage to pressure her.

“Jane Munch is the shark you want, she is a death sentence to cheaters. As to PI’s I use the FATMAN agency. They are the best, most honest, and most discrete agency I have seen.”

“I’m sorry you have to go through this Al. Call me if you need a shoulder to cry on.” With that information, I hung up and called Ms. Munch. She said she would start the ball rolling and also recommended the same agency.

After all of that drama, I sat back and took a deep breath and contemplated what I was going to do from that point on. The phone rang, and it was Sara’s sister Lois. She started by asking why I was causing her family so much trouble. I stopped her right there; “ask your sister about her boyfriend and why she tried to introduce us.”

I then continued; “I am coming over to pick up my son, and if you let your sister take him, I am calling the police and having all of your charged with conspiracy (I know, it would never work) to commit kidnapping.”

“If Sara is there, tell her to leave until I get Jason. Also tell her that if she wants any of her stuff that is here, she needs to come and get it before Tuesday, because Tuesday the locks will be changed. Oh, yah; tell her she better not bring her ASSWIPE with her to pick up her stuff. If she does, she won’t get in the house and her stuff will end up burning in a pile in the back yard.” I hung up.

I got Jason, got a lot of dirty looks from Sara’s family, and went back to the house. I checked the answering machine and there was a message from the Investigator to call him.