Chapter 5: Scenes from the Home Front

On his right hand Billy tattooed the word "love"

And on his left hand was the word "fear"

And in which hand, he held his fate

Was never clear

Weeks before the counseling started. Sunday—"Black Sunday"—long after dark:

Mike and Jennifer were downstairs, in the family room. The flickering images on the television and the glow through the doorway provided the only light. The television was muted; the only sounds in the room were those of Jennifer crying and Mike yelling.

"DID HE HURT YOU? DID HE RAPE YOU?"

Until this moment, Jennifer had anticipated that if Mike were to discover anything about her adventure with James, she would tell him about Peter's scheme and James' role in it, and Mike would forgive her. Just this day, in fact, Jennifer had assured herself that Mike would not be angry with her, that he would applaud her for standing up to those bastards, and that their marriage would quickly recover. However, in the face of Mike's blistering questions, Jennifer began to realize how wrong she'd been.

For one thing, Jennifer had never seen Mike as angry as he was now. His anger was raw, but there was calculation in it. She was terrified by the way he moved (no, prowled) around the room, by the growl in his voice, by the almost predatory look in his eyes.

In this moment, Jennifer realized with amazement but certainty that her husband Mike Chancey was capable of killing someone. Maybe her, though he hadn't laid a hand on her; on the contrary, he'd been keeping a distance between them. But James ... Peter ... one or both of them, Jennifer thought, could be injured or dead before the night was over.

Yet Mike wasn't a natural born fighter, much less a natural born killer. James was taller, stronger. Mike could take Peter in a fistfight, no doubt, but Jennifer did not put it past Peter to have a gun in the house.

Every possible outcome appeared to be a tragedy: Mike in jail, the hospital—or the morgue. A scandal, no matter what. Mike could lose his job; Jennifer, the respect of her colleagues. Family, friends, neighbors ... it would all go to hell. Jennifer had no desire to protect James or Peter, of course, but she had to protect her family from what a vengeful, rampaging Mike might set in motion.

Jennifer was also beginning to realize that deep as it was, Mike's love for her would not easily move him to forgive what she had done with James, despite the circumstances. Even with respect to the minor details that he'd discovered—he didn't even seem to know the worst parts—Mike was being anything but forgiving. Not only was he angry at her; he was incredulous, confused, humiliated, and maybe even suicidal.

Indeed, Mike was coming at Jennifer from so many different angles—with so many different emotions—what she thought to say one moment sounded illogical or inflammatory the next. Seeing her rock-solid husband of twelve years in such a free-fall, she realized that her marriage was in serious trouble. She decided she needed to contain the situation—do some kind of damage control, keep her worst indiscretions from coming to light—or she would lose her husband, and Mikey would lose his father.

Such were the reasons why Jennifer assured Mike that James had not mistreated her, and why she did not even mention Peter and his sick scheme. Such were her conscious reasons, more precisely; they were how, this night and in the coming weeks, she would rationalize her decision to keep the spotlight off James and Peter. Subconsciously, however, she had other motivations.

All through her adventure with James and even in its aftermath, Jennifer had convinced herself that she'd done little or nothing wrong—and that when things eventually got tough, she'd managed a sort of triumph. But as the confrontation with Mike unfolded, that delusion was starting to crack. As it did, she began to catch glimpses of the horrors the delusion had concealed. Those horrors threatened to send her reeling.

If Mike were to confront James or Peter, he would likely learn the full story. Then, he would confront Jennifer with it—and her delusion would become untenable. She would be forced to confront the horrors she had so far suppressed—a confrontation that would shatter her pride and potentially drive her to rash, tragic measures. Ergo, a confrontation between Mike and James or Peter had to be prevented.

So Jennifer pointed no fingers at Peter, nor even at James. James' true nature, and his connection to Peter, went undisclosed. But what Mike already seemed to know, Jennifer confirmed:

She met a man at the gym. They became friends. He invited her to join him as a volunteer at the hospital, and she jumped at the chance. Then came the night when the boy Kevin died. It sent her into a deep depression, and she accepted James' suggestion that they go have a drink. Then things got a little ... touchy-feely ... but she righted the ship before it sank.

It didn't sound so bad, Jennifer thought. It wasn't so bad, she told herself! Except...

Except for the fact that she'd kept Mike in the dark about all of it. Not just with omissions, but with lies—outright lies. Now, Mike was crucifying her for those lies.

The lies also impeached her credibility on other matters. Mike refused to believe that she and James had just been friends. He also refused to believe that they'd not had sex that fateful night that Jennifer had come home late.

Eventually, Mike wrung it out of her that James was very attractive, that she'd enjoyed his company at the gym and hospital, and that on the night of Kevin's death, things had gotten more than just a little "touchy-feely." Before she knew it, she'd admitted to some heavy petting and kissing. Under Mike's withering stare and loud taunts, she might have confessed more, when suddenly...

"Mom, Dad ... why are you yelling?"

Mikey's heartbreaking but timely appearance interrupted Mike's questions. While Mike went upstairs and sat next to Mikey's bed, Jennifer remained downstairs and warred with herself over what more she should say. Once Mikey was asleep, Mike rejoined Jennifer in the family room, but the fight had gone out of him. He was sullen, distant, exhausted.

Jennifer pleaded for forgiveness and rambled about how she loved him, but Mike seemed to have closed his ears to her. The more he withdrew, the more hysterical Jennifer became, until she was screaming for him to speak to her. It was then that Mikey again stirred and cried out for them from upstairs.

This time, it was Jennifer who went to Mikey's room to reassure him. Meanwhile, Mike—deciding he'd had enough for one long and terrible day—retired to the spare bedroom they kept for guests. He did not reemerge that night nor answer when Jennifer knocked.

Retreating to the master bedroom, Jennifer slept alone ... for the hour or so that she actually slept.

It was a Friday afternoon, nearly three weeks after Black Sunday, and just before the couple's first session with Dr. Seymour:

Mike, having worked longer hours Monday through Thursday, left work early to pick up Mikey from school. He intended make the Friday pickup a regular thing, like his Monday and Thursday pickups had been—before Jennifer had quit the gym, making them unnecessary. Jennifer could have handled Fridays as well, but Mike wanted it otherwise.

Shortly after Black Sunday, he'd done some research online about children of divorced parents. The studies were frightening. He also read some anecdotal discussions and skimmed reviews of autobiographical books on the subject, which were even worse. Every time he thought about leaving Jennifer—or kicking her out—he thought about the consequences for Mikey ... and managed to get through another day.

On this Friday, a lot of kids were playing in the yard. Mikey was playing with Bobby Davis, who had become one of his better friends. Mike caught up with them and was soon playing the "shark" to their "minnows." As often happened, other kids joined in, and a good time was had by all—especially, Mike.

Gradually the ranks thinned, until the only kids left were Mikey and Bobby. Bobby's mother, Collette, was nowhere to be seen. Mike decided to stay with Bobby and see him home if necessary.

Bobby seemed desperate for attention—especially from a male adult. Bobby's father, Mike understood, had no real involvement in the boy's life. Apparently, the father now lived out of state. Bobby had no siblings, either. His mother seemed to have no friends with children, maybe no friends at all.

They played for a long time, but eventually, Mike had to take Mikey home. Mike went to his car, wrote out a note that he had picked up Bobby, and left it on the afterschool care center door. Then, with Bobby navigating, they made their way to his house.

They knocked on the door. After two more attempts, they were about to give up when Collette Davis appeared. At first she seemed confused; then, realizing that she'd forgotten to pick up Bobby, she became hysterical. She thanked Mike profusely while hugging him and crying. Mike was a little taken aback at having a woman in his arms—especially, a woman who had expressed much interest in him—but it felt good.

Also, he didn't want to leave Bobby alone with her while she was in such a state. So, when Collette invited him in, he accepted—though when she offered him a drink, he politely refused. As Collette poured herself a drink, Mike noticed that there seemed to be quite a lot of drink around and many unwashed glasses.

By the time Collette finished her drink, she seemed reasonably re-composed. Mike excused himself from the table and collected Mikey. Bobby was despondent to see him go.

Collette said something about Bobby and Mikey having a play date, maybe even a sleepover. Trying to deflect the suggestion, Mike said "maybe." That was good enough for Bobby, though; he leapt into his mother's arms with joy, and she beamed back at him.

As they said their goodbyes at the door, Collette again hugged Mike and thanked him for "rescuing" Bobby. This time, Mike couldn't help but notice the press of her breasts against his chest. He even caught himself checking out her ass over her shoulder, before snapping out of it and breaking off the embrace.

As they climbed into their car and drove off, they waved one more time at Collette and Bobby. Bobby's eyes followed Mikey. Collette's eyes followed Mike.

Mike's eyes were on the road, but his thoughts were of Jennifer and Mikey. Had he just glimpsed their future? Jennifer, a drunk and a slut; Mikey, alone and forgotten at the schoolyard?

No—not on my watch. Maybe this therapist will be able to help Jennifer and I get back to ... what? Normal? Hard to imagine ... but even if not, even if all we manage to do is coexist in the same house—well, at least Mikey will have a better life than that poor Davis kid.

The following Sunday, after the couple's first meeting with Dr. Seymour:

Jennifer was tidying up the kitchen. Mikey was playing a video game. He had the TV to himself; Mike had gone to a bar to watch football with a friend.

A bar! He hasn't done that in years. He's been so content to watch at home ... to be at home...

The therapist had asked about how Mike and Jennifer had met and fallen in love. Well, it hadn't happened at a bar. In fact, it almost hadn't happened at all.

When Mike came into her world, she'd noticed him and thought he was cute; but while he'd been friendly to her, he hadn't hit on her. She was used to men coming on to her, and though she rarely actually dated men, she liked their attention. Mike's shy, straightforward manner—there didn't seem to be a slick bone in his body—was such a contrast to the bravado of the guys with whom she usually flirted.

And that's partly how we ended up being an item. I couldn't figure out why he wasn't flirting back, even though we were spending more and more time together. He seemed interested in me, but there were no moves ... so I put a few moves on him! Just to salvage my pride, at the beginning, maybe. Next thing I knew, though, I was desperately in love with him! He just kinda ... snuck up on me.

Jennifer suddenly felt anxious. She couldn't figure out why.

Moves ... just to salvage my pride...

Before she could dwell on it further, Mikey burst into the room and opened the fridge to get something to drink.

"Hi!" she said to him. "How's your game going?"

"Okay," Mikey answered, "but I'm stuck on this one level. When's Dad coming home?"

"He'll be home for dinner," she replied, trying to sound cheerful.

"That long? But how am I going to figure this out by myself?" Mikey complained as he headed back downstairs.

Jennifer had been wondering the same thing, before they found the therapist. Jennifer had no one else in whom to confide, from whom to seek counsel. She couldn't trust her secrets with her mother; her mother would tell her father, and hurting another important man in her life was not an option. She didn't want any of her friends to know what was happening, and she didn't expect that they'd be able to help anyway. In fact, she'd not had to rely on friends much since she'd gotten married.

Mike's been my best friend, my confidant, my advisor.

Not being able to talk to Mike was killing Jennifer. She didn't like the policy he had imposed of not talking about their troubles in the house, but she understood his motivations, and she was grateful that he'd proposed counseling. She'd been surprised when he insisted on seeing a female counselor; surely, she'd thought, he'd prefer a man.

But Mike has never had a problem opening up to women. I remember being amazed at how readily he shared secrets with me. Unlike any other man I'd met. And I guess Mike figured he already brings a male perspective to the table ... maybe he doesn't think there's anything he needs to hear, in therapy, from another man.

Mike's given reason for insisting on a female counselor, however, had been different.

He thought it was important for me.

However, if Mike had assumed that Jennifer would relate more to (and more readily take guidance from) another woman, then he'd underestimated how catty some women can be. From the moment they'd met, Jennifer had been sizing up Dr. Seymour. She'd been alarmed by her air of authority, by the way Mike treated her with respect, by her big tits...

I don't like it that he's meeting with her alone this week. Mike should be talking to me, not her. I'm still his wife. He's hurting, he's vulnerable ... he shouldn't be alone with her.

Suddenly, the feeling of anxiety Jennifer had experienced earlier returned. She assumed it was jealousy. That would indeed be an unfamiliar feeling to her.

I've never had to compete with another woman for Mike's love or attention. Never been jealous, never been worried that Mike might stray.

Ever since Black Sunday, though, Jennifer had seen threats everywhere. She tried to reassure herself that despite Mike's current coldness, he still loved her deeply and could never have feelings for another woman. However, the faith she'd previously held was badly shaken.

Despite how much I love Mike, I developed feelings for James. I didn't mean to, didn't want to, but it happened. I didn't understand it at the time, but after I learned the truth about James—well, obviously it was manipulation. It wasn't my fault.

Jennifer's anxiety spiked. She felt a throbbing in her head, like something was trying to break out, escape. Rather than let it come to her, though, Jennifer tried to fight it off.

Anyway, I'm over James now. Totally. He was a fraud and a bastard. There's only Mike, only Mike...

Her thoughts didn't help. In fact, Jennifer's anxiety only grew worse.

Mike snuck up on me ... desperately in love...

Suddenly, Jennifer heard the garage door opened. Mike was home. She waited for him to come to the kitchen, but he didn't. Eventually, she found him downstairs, playing the video game with Mikey.

A week later—the Sunday after Mike's first solo therapy session:

Mike lay in bed. All weekend, he'd been thinking about the questions Dr. Seymour had posed to him. He went through them again.

"What do I want?" I want my damn life back.

Jennifer had voiced a similar thought when they'd first met with Dr. Seymour. She'd told Dr. Seymour how she wanted things to be the way they were before. The doctor's response had been less than optimistic.

"It's possible that things will never be the way they were before. Not everything that is broken can be put back together. Hopefully, nothing here is really broken—but if it is, your future may depend on building a new relationship rather than reconstructing your old one."

Broken? Try shattered, Mike thought. And new construction, reconstruction—whatever. Mike wasn't interested in concepts; he just wanted to know what to do. Unfortunately, he had nothing to go on. No inkling of why Jennifer had "crashed," as Dr. Seymour had suggested.

He could understand Jennifer finding someone else attractive. He didn't like it, but he wasn't so vain or proud to find the notion impossible. Also, Mike admitted to himself, even he wasn't above noticing attractive members of the opposite sex. It didn't mean he didn't love Jennifer. It just meant he had a pulse!

But I've never sought out another woman's attention; never needed it. Keeping Jennifer has been my only ambition.

As he'd been talking to Dr. Seymour about his past, Mike had been thinking of more lyrics from the song that had come to him on Black Sunday.

Mike had sung those lyrics to himself countless times while he'd been wooing Jennifer. Still, he'd proposed to her, and she'd accepted. But now, twelve years later, his nightmare had come true. Jennifer had been tempted by another man.

Perhaps Jennifer had gotten carried away, swept up in something that she never intended to happen. Perhaps the whole thing was just a huge mistake on her part, a tragedy. But Mike found little comfort in that possibility; it suggested a startling lack of self-control.

Plus, there was the darker possibility. Had it not been a mistake? Had she intended to cheat? Intended to divorce Mike and take up with Coltez, only to find that Prince Charming wasn't so charming—and change her mind? Had she come crawling back to Mike, only because she had no other option? Was all this talk of loving him, of remembering her vows, just her way of trying to salvage the situation?

Mike remembered what Dr. Seymour had said.

I think in your case, we will find some reasons. But I want you to think about the possibility that there was no reason—at least, none that will ever make sense to you."

How was he supposed to live with that? And what about those final zingers:

" ... to get to the why, we might have to go over the how and what. You suspect that Jennifer hasn't told you the whole story. What you know is already killing you; are you sure you want to know more? What if there is more? Is it really going to do you any good to know? Or is it just going to set you back ... maybe too far?"

All good questions, Mike thought, but no good answers. Not yet, anyway.

He also considered Dr. Seymour's point about contributing and his own admission that he hadn't given Jennifer the slightest break since Black Sunday. Assuming Jennifer was telling the truth, there were mitigating factors. If she'd really just shown poor judgment in deceiving him, if she hadn't fooled around with Coltez before that one night, if on that night after making out with him she really had "snapped out of it" and didn't have sex ... well, shouldn't those things count for something?

And she ended it. Kicked the man to the curb, even at the cost of giving up the gym and the hospital. She also cut ties to Peter, another male friend, whom she knew I had always disliked. She did all those things on her own volition, not because I found out. She ... she regained her self-control.

Moreover, apart from the deception, Jennifer had been a loving wife during her "adventure." She'd acted strangely at times, but she'd not been mean, disrespectful, or inattentive. Mike remembered, among other things, how she'd given up one of her "days off" to prepare a special meal for him. How she'd cared for him when he hurt his foot.

And that night before Black Sunday ... best sex I can remember ... she wasn't faking it. No way.

Mike decided that the "darker possibility" didn't make much sense. Jennifer hadn't been wearing a brilliant disguise for twelve years, and she wasn't wearing one now. She had loved him all that time, and she loved him now.

There was just this ... hole ... in between.

He couldn't accept what Jennifer had done. But despite this "hole" in their recent past, maybe they could still have a future? If so, what good was beating the past to death? And if they didn't have a future, the past was irrelevant anyway. Why not make the future the issue?

Mike felt he still loved Jennifer—or at least, what she'd once been and what she might be again. Of course, she had much for which to atone; perhaps too much. Maybe the best he would ever be able to do is forgive her enough to be friends and good parents to Mikey...

But why not find out if there could be something more? For Mikey's sake, I've already decided not to get divorced and not to move out. Must I settle for that?

He realized that if he were to have a shot at something more, he would have to be open to something more. Nothing was going to come through a closed door. He would have to allow himself to want to love Jennifer; only if he fought the anger, the pain, and the humiliation could something positive develop. Fighting those feelings...

Well, that was a matter of discipline, wasn't it?

Once Mike saw the challenge in those terms, something clicked. For the rest of the week, he made an effort to improve the atmosphere in the house. Friday night, while Jennifer met with Dr. Seymour alone, Mike sat with Mikey through a movie but all the time pondered Dr. Seymour's questions. By the time the show was over, he'd made a decision.

The Tuesday after Jennifer's meeting with Dr. Seymour:

Jennifer sat in the den, staring at a photograph. It was a very old photograph: a photograph of a young girl. The girl bore some resemblance to a young Jennifer, with the promise of even greater beauty—a promise that fate had broken.

Jennifer had been just five years old when her sister, her beloved big sister, had gotten sick. For nearly a year, Jennifer watched her sister get worse and worse, until she was confined to a hospital. At the end, she was covered in wires ... tubes ... but her sister had shown such bravery. When she died, it came as a terrible shock to Jennifer. Right up to the end, Jennifer had thought that her sister was going to pull through.

I've never really recovered from that experience. Not from the pain as it unfolded or the pain that followed. Not from the pain of being unable to stop it.

During much of her youth, Jennifer had considered becoming a doctor—a pediatrician, of course. Somewhere along the way, however, she'd abandoned the idea. Perhaps it was fear—fear of not being strong enough to work with children in pain. Or perhaps it was fear of failure—what would happen if a child were to die on her watch? Eventually, Jennifer turned her efforts towards a degree in teaching. She became a Kindergarten teacher; a teacher of five- and six-year-old kids.

The same age as I was when you got sick, Sis, and when you ... strange, I never drew the connection before. The teaching, being around kids, sure—but to have become a Kindergarten teacher, specifically ... I suppose that wasn't an accident.

Jennifer thought about what Dr. Seymour had told her, a few nights earlier.

Still gazing at her sister's photograph but falling into other painful memories, Jennifer recalled the day she met James.

She was at the gym. He told her that he volunteered at hospitals. Later that week, they had a longer conversation. Choking up, he told her a heartbreaking story about one of the children, who had died. He seemed to love children so much—just like she did.

"Jennifer," he said, "I think you should come with me one day. It would really mean a lot to you, I'm willing to bet. You should see these children, Jennifer. They are so brave."

"I would like that," she answered, overwhelmed with emotion and without thinking.

"How about tomorrow night?"

"Okay," she responded after only a moment's hesitation. A moment in which she wondered what she would tell Mike. She told herself that it didn't matter, that she had to do it.

Maybe I saw it as a chance to make up for chickening out on becoming a doctor. A chance to help a sick child, in ways I'd been unable to help you, Sis. Maybe I thought I could even save one, somehow...

So Jennifer accepted James' invitation and got the details of where and when to meet James the next night. Driving home, she considered how to broach the subject with Mike. Rather than tell him the truth, she decided to tell him that her friend Susan Miller had invited her.

I lied. I lied to Mike. But I was afraid that if I told him the truth, he wouldn't want me to go and we would have a fight. So I lied, but I had a good reason. How can I get Mike to understand?

As they often do, the lies compounded. The next day, when Mike mentioned Susan, Jennifer had to lie again. That night, telling Mike about the visit, she'd intentionally omitted any reference to James. And so it went on, for weeks—by lies and omissions, she deceived Mike. The worst was when he expressed interest in visiting the hospital with her. She couldn't allow that; how would she explain Susan's absence? All along, however, she thought she was telling only white lies. All for the sake of the children.

Now, reflecting on it in the den, suddenly none of it seemed so justified to Jennifer. She recalled what Dr. Seymour had said.

"Here's something else I want you to think about before next time: I want you to imagine Mike doing all the things you did. All of them, understand? And I want you to think about how you'd feel to learn about those things..."

What if Mike had met a woman at the gym? What if he'd accepted an invitation to spend time somewhere with her? What if he'd lied to Jennifer to make it happen—and then covered it up, again and again?

I would have murdered him! I would not have accepted any excuses. A charity, a Boy Scout program; no matter what the he was doing with her, I would have felt angry, betrayed. I probably would have treated Mike worse than he's been treating me.

For the first time, Jennifer realized that "explaining" the deception would not be tantamount to justifying it. She'd always known it was wrong, even while she was doing it; but she'd convinced herself it was a necessary evil. Now, she realized, that was bullshit.

I was so stupid, so selfish. I owe Mike more than an explanation for why I made up the story about Susan to cover up how I got involved with the hospital. I owe him an unequivocal apology—something more than the lame apologies I've offered already.

Jennifer felt a relief she did not expect, until she realized the deceptions were not her only transgressions. What about that awful Friday night, after Kevin had died? Why didn't she go straight home? Why did she accept James' invitation to have a drink?

I didn't think Mike could help me with the grief. He hadn't been in the trenches with me—not when my sister died, not all those weeks volunteering at the hospital. But James...

James had gone through what she'd gone through, more than once. He would understand. Only he would understand, she'd told herself.

Mike is so strong. It's not that he lacks sympathy—far from it. He just doesn't know what it feels like to lose someone like I did. To be torn up inside; shaken; devastated.

Then it hit her.

Oh god ... he ... he does know ... now.

As with the lying, Jennifer had always known that going to James' apartment had been wrong. Again, she'd convinced herself that she'd been justified. Now, again, she began to realize that her justification was weak.

What if something happened to Mike? What if he sought comfort from another woman? Like that whore, Collette Davis; I've heard about her little stunts. Oh god, Mike turning to another woman for empathy and understanding ... that alone would kill me ... and if they also ... ohmigod. Ohmigod.