Edited by Barney R. Adjusted further by me. All errors are mine.

Author’s note: Military, medical, monetary, and legal mentions are all figments of my imagination.

It was a warm, sunny, January day and I was in a window seat in first class flying out of Mexico City. The twin volcano summits were showing above the clouds. The view should have been exciting and picture postcard perfect. I was lost in thought and hardly noticed. There were some decisions I needed to make and I did not want to make them. I should not have to make them.

We met when I was reenrolling in college. She was in line to register right behind me. The person behind her, a Goth looking girl with a major case of ‘the angries’, was causing her some distress. The Goth was not paying attention to her surroundings, was having an intense argument with someone on her phone, and was gesturing all over the place. After being smacked the girl behind me started looking for a way out. I pulled her in front of me and pushed the arguing Goth girl out of line and away from others. She reached back to slap me when the security personnel grabbed her and escorted her out.

I moved back to the end of the line. Everyone moved out of the way and allowed me to move forward so I ended back where I started.

Once I was back behind her the frustrated young lady said, “Thank you, I was just about to go to the end of the line to get away from that bitch.”

Laughing I said, “Tell me how you really feel. I am Roger Greely by the way. Could I buy you a cup of coffee when we finish here? Coffee only, I don’t want to make a ‘significant other’ angry.”

“Coffee sounds great. I’m Karen Craig,” then she continued with some vehemence; “and there is no other, significant or otherwise. The bastard was cheating on me. I walked in on him in my bed with a blonde airhead sucking him off while he was munching on her bush.”

“Don’t be so bashful Karen; you need to really tell me how you feel.” Then we both laughed.

It turned out Karen was 20 to my 22, and 5’ 6” or 7 to my 6’ 1”. She had long black hair, brown eyes, and a very balanced figure. I guessed (in my mind) that she might tip the scales at 120 lbs. maximum. She had porcelain skin, a light dusting of very light colored freckles. She was and is a true ‘Black Irish’ beauty. She was a returning sophomore, and I was a Junior transfer.

We went for coffee, and discovered that we would have some classes together mostly because I took correspondence courses while I was rehabbing did not cover some of the required subjects.

I told Karen; “I have just finished two and a half years of a six year hitch in the army. I was mustered out because of an off duty injury. I was in downtown D. C. when a taxi jumped the curb and hit the group I was with. I covered up my two companions and had both of my legs ran over and crushed. Both had to be totally repaired with wired up bones and steel rods from just below the knee. On long days or stormy days, the aches are so bad I have to watch out for tears. Crying is not supposed to cool.”

What I didn’t explain was that because I was off duty I was able to sue the cab company and get a very large seven figure settlement. I put that money into a trust fund that focused on real estate investments. I hired a national real estate corporation to oversee acquisitions and disbursals, but not manage the fund. The fund managers received their compensation based upon the performance of the fund. If the fund lost money, they got nothing, but if it made money, their compensation was on an upward sliding scale topping out at 15% of the profit of everything over $250,000 annually. I took about a third of the yearly profits as my stipend.

Karen was fascinated with my story and asked if we could do coffee again. I suggested that we make it a regular Thursday thing. We both had 2 o’clock lectures and then were done until the following Monday. She thought that was a great idea.

That went on for about a month and we told each other our likes and dislikes. We talked about our dream jobs, and as we had declared our majors, it looked like we would both be teachers. My major was secondary education with minors in financial planning and Spanish. Her major was elementary education and a minor in Spanish.

I finally decided to ask Karen for a real date. She laughed and said; “I thought you would never ask. Of course, I would love to go out with you. What did you have in mind?”

“I have been a serious supporter of the local semi professional theatre group, and they are having their season opening night for their gold sponsors. I have two tickets to the show. They are doing ‘The Importance of Being Earnest’. Does that sound like something that would interest you?”

She laughed and reached in her purse and showed me two tickets. My seats were better so we used mine. Then we gave hers to a couple of students in the drama department at school.

That started the dating/mating dance. Karen was not bashful about her wants and needs, and after the third date, she moved out of the dorms and in with me in my apartment in an off campus fourplex that I owned. I somehow forgot to mention to her that the building and the ones on either side were mine. I just told her I maintained them for free rent.

We dated through the rest of our college times. After I graduated, I asked her to marry me and she said yes. We planned to marry after she graduated. We had done the meet the ‘rents and family, and my family loved her. Her parents were not so outgoing, but I did not get any negative comments or actions. Karen explained that compared to my family hers were not very demonstrative.

A small fly in the ointment was that none of the school districts within decent commuting distance of the university were hiring. I didn’t need the money, but I hated to just sit around, so I signed up to substitute for Spanish or math.

I was on a three-week assignment in the farthest away district that I had applied to. It was a nearly two-hour drive to and from the school so I stayed in the town for the week and only went back to the apartment on weekends. Friday morning of the second week at the school, the AC and boiler failed so everyone was sent home. I knew Karen did not have any classes and she had not mentioned any major papers or assignments she needed to study for so I was surprised when I called the apartment and no one answered. She did not have a cell phone so I couldn’t call her unless she was at the apartment.

I thought she might be at the library, so I when I got back to campus, I tried the apartment again with the same result. Not really thinking something was off, I drove toward the campus library. On the way, I saw Karen walking with a guy toward the library. She was holding his arm and was deep in conversation with the guy, so she didn’t notice me driving past.

I was surprised and a little disappointed that she was there so as they were near a driveway, I pulled into it and blocked the sidewalk. Seeing a guilty look, a surprised look, and finally an angry look, I got angry, and extremely hurt. I got out of my car and told them both what I thought of cheaters. Then I took the ring off Karen’s hand and told her to be out of the apartment by Monday.

I got back in my car and drove to a local hotel and reserved a room through Sunday morning. Sunday afternoon I went to the apartment and the two lovebirds were there packing her shit up. I told the guy to get his ass out of my building and wait in his vehicle. He left so quick, none of the doors finished closing before he got to the bottom of the stairs.

Karen looked at me like I was about to hit her.

I just walked into the living room sat down on the sofa and cried. When she had finished packing and loading asshole’s car; she came back and handed me the apartment keys and said the only words she had said since I had returned. “I’m sorry, Roger, but he and I were just going to the library to study. I can’t stay with a jealous asshole. If you don’t trust or believe me, you are right to end it now. We could have had a great life together. You really need some help.”

I got angry all over again. “Sorry for not letting me know before you went with him, sorry for getting caught holding hands, or sorry for getting caught at all?”

She turned away and left. I figured it was all over. Boy was I wrong.

One thing I did do, was get some counseling, after almost a year of twice weekly sessions, I found my anger tamped down and my jealousy almost gone. I still had some trust issues, but the counselor turned me on to meditation and that helped some with all three problems.

After two years of sub teaching, I finally landed a full-time position as a Spanish and home finance (checkbooks, budgets, credit cards, etc.) instructor at a charter school in my hometown. When I went to the teacher orientation Karen was there. She had been hired as a fifth-grade teacher. This school taught from kindergarten to 12^th grade.

I did not say anything to Karen, I tried, unsuccessfully, to not even look at her. After the meeting, she approached me. “Roger, can we go somewhere to talk after work? There are some things I need to say.”

Seeing that I really could not say no without showing how much of an ass I really was, I answered “Ok, let’s go to a coffee shop after this meeting and talk, I have a lot to say to you also.”

She agreed, and we met, talked, and seemed to resolve almost all of the problems. I almost got down and kissed her feet apologizing. She told me she was wrong not to tell me about her study partner.

Then I asked the $64,000,000 question. “Do you think you can and do you want to forgive me? If you do, do you want to get back together? I have never stopped caring for you. My feelings for you are very strong, and I want more than anything to try again.”

“I have already forgiven you. After we separated, I tried to look at it from your point of view, and while you were wrong, I understand that it didn’t look right. I want us to try to get past that time together. I agree that we need to start over.” Then with a little giggle and a laugh in her voice she asked. “I am Karen Craig, and who might you be?”

I laughed and replied; “I am Roger Greely, but my friends call me ‘Clueless’. How is it a beauty like you is sitting with the dumbest man in the room?”

She giggled.

We started over, and within six months the wedding planning resumed. There was still a little undercurrent of fear in Karen actions toward me. I finally had enough.

“Karen Craig, if you are in fear of me we have no chance of a successful life together. Please tell me what you are afraid of?”

She sobbed, “I’m afraid I am going to screw up again. I feel I can’t make a mistake with you.”

“Everyone makes mistakes. Our breakup was not your fault. It just happened that I jumped to the wrong conclusion and screwed everything up.”

That conversation seemed to take the edge off of our relationship, and we had a nice time fully rediscovering each other. The engagement was going along fine until Karen asked for a prenup as she thought I did not have much and she was in line for a goodly inheritance. I signed without any hesitation. I then told Karen that I owned the complex where I was living, and was not just the maintenance man. She got pissed about it and slowed things down to the point that she moved back with her parents.

Well, that, in a roundabout way, turned out to be a good move for me. Her parents took her back, but told her that she was basically a dumb bitch for getting mad when she had insisted on the prenup and then found out I had my own money.

Six months after she left and with a lot of groveling on her part we were married.

After two years of babysitting bunches of clueless, irresponsible little twerps, I quit teaching. I decided instead to try something else. I found a position at an educational book publisher. My job was to read incoming prospective textbooks and verify the accuracy and age appropriate content. (We wouldn’t want a fifth grader to be doing seventh grade work now would we?)

The job involved occasional travel to talk to the prospective authors. These travels happened about once or twice a year and would mean I was gone for from three days to a week. Karen still was teaching at the same school.

I had been on the job about two years when a prospective elementary Spanish textbook came across my desk. It was written by a K. Craig. It also included her work and school history. I was surprised and proud for her but told my boss that the author was my wife, and I felt awkward and biased trying to review her work. He assigned it to Thomas Garven, the other Spanish reviewer.