There is no sex in this story.

I hated the rain. I sat in the cab of the truck watching it hit the windshield and listening to it bang on the roof. It wasn’t a nice soft summer rain; it was a gully washer. When the wind blew, I could see the sheets of water washing across the parking lot. It wasn’t a hurricane, but it sure looked like the newscasts that you saw on TV. The AC unit on top of the Heritage Cottage Buffet would just have to wait until it stopped. There was no way that I was going to go up on the roof and work on anything until the weather cleared. Hell, I wasn’t even supposed to be here. Wednesday was my day to work in Allentown. Of course this was an emergency, and I was the best-qualified man for the job. Actually nobody else wanted to drive this far for a service contract job.

The Heritage Cottage Buffet is part of the York Holiday House Motel. It was one of the older types with outside entrances, but that was offset by the cheap rates. I think more people used the restaurant than the motel. Right now most of the guests were checking out. The maids were staying under the outside canopy, close to the building to avoid the rain. It was a long boring wait, that is until the beige VW convertible pulled into one of the closer parking spots. I could not make out the license plate number from across the lot, but I swear it looked just like my wife’s bug.

Amanda and I had been married for almost twenty years. We had two daughters; Colleen who was 18 years old and starting as a full-time student at Kutztown University in three months, and Brenda, who just turned 16 years old and was now in full-fledged Goth rebellion mode. Two perfect opposites.

Although Amanda and I went to High School together, I didn’t really meet her until later, when she was working as a waitress at a local diner. My time in school was not the happiest of my life. I had a terrible stutter as long as I can remember and the teenage angst that came with it was awful. I became withdrawn and sullen. I spoke only when it was necessary and then, usually, in as few words as possible. My teachers were instructed never to call on me in class. I don’t know if that made things easier for me or harder. Most of my classmates considered me to be slow. I never felt that way, because I had no points of reference. I always knew when I was being taken advantage of or baited in some way. On occasions, I had resorted to physical means to stop some type of harassment and it always seemed to work.

I was halfway through a technical course in air conditioning repair when I finally got to meet Amanda. Actually, the first time that she took my order at the diner was the only time I spoke to her. I hadn’t dated in school, for obvious reasons, and I had absolutely no social skills to speak of. For over a month, all I did was order my meal, eat it and leave; with a generous tip of course.

Amanda was always polite and always pleasant. I felt comfortable being close to her. It took a lot of courage on my part, but I did eventually ask her out on a date, which she readily accepted. She didn’t seem to mind that I let her do all of the talking. When I did say anything, I tried to keep it monosyllabic. She was well aware of my speech impediment but was careful not to purposely mention it in any manner.

We dated for several months before things got serious; by that I mean sexually. It was obvious the first time, that I had no experience at all, but she was very understanding and was able to get us through it without too much embarrassment. Although I never mentioned it, I got a distinct feeling that she had done it all before. I really felt that it was her business and that I had no need to know what she did before she met me.

We had a small civil ceremony right after I finished tech school. I had a full-time job waiting and the pay was better than I had expected. Amanda continued to work at the diner until she got pregnant with Colleen. From there on, she was a full-time wife and mom. We weren’t rich, but we were comfortable. Life was good.

Just out of curiosity, I kept trying to see the tag number on the beetle, but the heavy rain made it impossible. A silver Mercedes parked aside from the bug and an umbrella got out with a man under it. I was impressed with the way he coordinated the move. He walked to the VW and opened the driver’s door. I felt a knot in my stomach, as I watched Amanda get out of her car and join arms with the man. They half ran and half walked to the motel canopy. They were laughing as he closed the umbrella and got out a room key from his coat pocket.

I sat in the parking lot for over two hours. The rain had stopped, but I didn’t care. I got out of the truck just long enough to go over to the Mercedes and remove the vehicle registration from the glove box.

They finally came out of the room and were still laughing as they walked back to their cars. Before Amanda got into the VW, she gave her gentleman friend a quick kiss on the cheek; the kind that a wife gives her husband, not her lover.

She never noticed my truck sitting across the lot. She seemed to be oblivious to everything except her companion. I was crying as I watched both of them leave the lot. I never fixed the air conditioner at the Heritage Cottage Buffet.

It took less than an hour to get back to the shop. The boss was upset that I hadn’t completed the job, but that changed to utter disappointment when I informed him that I was quitting. He didn’t argue with me or ask for an explanation. When I got to the bank I cashed my severance check and withdrew all but $6000 dollars out of the various bank accounts. The savings account was supposed to go for the new house and the money market account held the girl’s college fund money. Now they were both empty.

While I was driving to Kutztown, I realized that Brenda was never going to be going to go to college. The only thing lower than her grades was her attitude. I couldn’t figure out what I had done to turn her against me, and I was afraid to ask. Actually, she was just as surely with her mother as she was with me. Colleen and Brenda were both raised exactly alike but turned out totally different. I felt a small pang of guilt, which quickly passed, as I paid Colleen’s college tuition ahead for the full 4 years. It was close enough to home that I did not have to worry about dorm fees and a meal plan.

Amanda was home when I arrived. I took my wet boots off at the front door as I always do. She came out of the kitchen to meet me.

“John. What are you doing home at this time? I thought that you were supposed to be in Allentown all day.”

As I walked passed her towards the bedroom, I smiled and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, similar to the one she had given her lover, three hours earlier. She looked perplexed when I did not respond to her question.

I had the first bag half-packed when she entered the bedroom.

“John? What the hell is going on? What are you doing?”

She just stood there as I continued to pack. All that I was taking was underwear, shoes, and my Dickies work clothes.

“Are you going to answer me? What happened? Just because you had a bad day at work is no reason to be leaving. I assume that you are leaving, because you are packing. Answer me damn it. I am your wife. You are supposed to share this stuff with me.”

I paused momentarily and looked her way. She knew not to interrupt me or try to hurry my speech.

“I did not work in Allentown today.” There was no hesitation and no stammering. It was a simple sentence, but I delivered it perfectly.

Amanda stood there quietly waiting for me to continue.

I finished my packing, and I paused again.

“I worked in York today.” It was another short, simple, phrase and it also came out perfectly; slow and cool.

As I was getting my shoes from the closet, I noticed my wife quietly leave the room. She didn’t say anything. She was sitting on the living room couch as I walked towards the front door. It took only a moment for me to put my work boots back on. I glanced back one more time before leaving. Her eyes were wet, but she was not crying, as she watched me go out the door. She offered no explanation and no apology.

I was just outside of Hagerstown when my cell phone rang. Under the circumstances, I guess, I would have had an easier time communicating if I had learned to text, but just using the cell phone was an achievement for me. It was Colleen.

“Hi dad. Where are you?”

“H-H-Hagerstown.”

“Mom told us that you left and I just wanted to make sure that you were all right.”

“I’m fine.”

“Dad, is there anything that you want me to do? Is there any way that I can help?”

“No.” It is difficult to have a lot of dialog with someone when the words don’t come smoothly. There were a million things that I wanted to say to my daughter but didn’t feel up to it.

“Mom told Brenda and me what happened. She wasn’t very specific, but we both knew for a while now. I am not pleased that it happened, but I am glad that you finally found out.”

“You and B-B-Brenda knew about it?”

“For about three years now.”

“I f-f-feel foolish.”

“Don’t dad. Don’t do that to yourself. You are a good father and a good husband. Don’t you ever think otherwise.”

I didn’t answer her. I didn’t know what to say and I didn’t want to talk any more. It was too much to take in at one time. My stomach was churning, but I wasn’t hungry.

“Dad? Dad? Are you there? Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine. By the way, I p-p-paid your tuition at s-s-school for you. You are all set to go.”

“I don’t care about that. I care about you.”

“Thanks, honey. I have to go now.” I turned my phone off without giving her a chance to say anything else.

I was having supper at the Cracker Barrel in Harrisonburg when I noticed a small ad for a facility maintenance manager, with emphasis on air conditioning and heating. After a quick phone call, I had an interview for the next morning. I never actually had an interview for any type of job before so I was a bit anxious. My obvious speech impediment did not help my confidence. If I got it; fine. If not; nothing lost.

Oakbrook Meadows was a small church-affiliated retirement home. It was old and looked as if it had been added on to several times. There was no structure or organization for the entire facility. It was a hodge-podge of buildings that desperately needed help.

“Good Morning! You must be Mister Tyson. My name is Don Watson. Do you mind if I call you John?”

“T-T-That’s fine.” We shook hands and I sat down.

For the next thirty minutes Don Watson gave me a complete history lesson about Oakbrook Meadows and verified the complexity of the enterprise. My initial observation was right on the money. It was a non-profit operation and they were having money problems keeping open. Over one hundred retired old people lived there as long as they could remain functional. When they got too sick or old to take care of themselves they were relegated to a state-run facility by law. The expense of outsourcing all of the repairs and upkeep was taxing their budget to the point that they were considering closing the whole place. Hiring a full-time maintenance superintendent was a last-ditch effort. Up until now, they were not having too much luck.

The salary that they were offering was really bad. What made the difference was the use of a small apartment in the basement of the main building and meals in the community dining room. It took me three days to make the apartment livable. The meals were good and convenient. It looked like things were going to be okay. I was happy.

There was a fully equipped workshop with a pile of mixed manuals and spare parts. The air conditioning and heating did not look like a problem, but I had no experience with things like dishwashers, ranges, and walk-in refrigeration units. Plumbing difficulties baffled me, but I rallied though them. I spent a whole weekend reviewing the facility insurance policies.