Chapter 2: An Almost Total Loser

I called myself an almost total loser, only “almost” because I had one good friend. And to be in possession of a good friend, in my view, was one of the things that showed I was not an absolutely “total” loser after all. There is, however, another reason reinforcing this fact, but I’ll you about that later.

My name is John Logan. I was born in a construction worker’s family and grew up to be a tall, brown haired, gray-eyed man. My Mom was a supermarket cashier and I had two younger sisters, Beth and Eve. As I was the eldest sibling, I learned to be responsible in the family. My Dad, a very hardworking and honest man, drilled good work ethics and deep moral principles into me.

We lived in a small house and my father and his colleagues helped each other build their own houses. The firm where they worked lent them the equipment and instruments to complete the task. I worked with my Dad to build our house with this method while I was still in high school. When our new house and swimming pool was ready, Dad and I went to help his colleagues in their projects. I garnered invaluable experience in the construction industry doing this and, as I did well at high school, Dad sent me to college to be an architect.

I was a good student at college too, and my practical knowledge won me praise several times during my studies. It was soon apparent I was clearly more drawn to the execution of a construction rather than design.

I must mention that I have a funny preference for milk over beer, but I hid this while at the college.

I lost my virginity after high school graduation but I didn’t have a steady girlfriend. I dated several girls at college and finally met Amy. She was tall, brown-haired and brown-eyed and very confident, studying economics and to become a finance expert. I fell for her and we found we were sexually compatible so life followed a proven path: we were in love, and marriage after college was unquestioned. My father-in-law, a successful entrepreneur, gave us a rather large sum of money as a wedding present. We spent it to purchase a half-ready house, which my father and I could easily finish. Meanwhile I worked at a construction firm and Amy was at a local bank. No sooner had we moved in than Amy got pregnant and we decided to keep the baby. A year after our first daughter, Caroline, was born we had our second, Zoë.

Amy remained at home with the girls and I worked hard at the firm, becoming, due to my efforts, one of the foremen responsible for building completions. My income grew accordingly and now my salary made up for Amy’s missing income while she stayed home with the girls. When Zoë was five we took our daughters to kindergarten and Amy found a good job at a local bank.

I worked with an architect, Carl Adair, who came to us right after graduation. He was talented in finding new projects. We often had lunch together, often discussing founding our own firm. He persuaded me we would make a good pair as owners. He and his dad had a little joint venture, which Carl planned to use as the basis to finance the start of our business. As for me, I had to rely on my dad’s savings. Eventually, I asked Dad for the investment, and like Carl’s father, he seemed quite enthusiastic too. He wanted 25% of the firm in return but promised to help us with good, skilled workers, who we badly needed. Besides, I could always purchase his stake back from him later. Carl’s dad gave his son the money as a present, and also provided us with a discount loan. That was how we founded our construction company.

We worked hard, but I tried hard to avoid that having a negative effect on my sex life. I thought I was successful in this, as we averaged sex three times a week which is supposedly the norm for a married couple with children.

Years passed, and our eldest, Caroline, went on to primary school. She found a friend there, a nice little girl called Emily who often came to play with Caroline and Zoë. Emily’s father, a widower, Tom Coustou, usually brought her and became a regular, welcome guest in our house. He had lost his wife to leukemia before Emily started school. We all pitied them, but Amy was especially sympathetic to Tom. She talked to him in the kitchen for hours while the girls played and I watched TV in the living room. I was so clueless!

Now that I come to think of it, the painful moment of my waking up to my wife’s real nature came when Tom entered our life. So thanks to Tom, she could not steal another ten years life period from me before her perfidy will have crashed down on me. I’m very objective now, but I spent almost two years in hell gaining this objectivity.

A month before the end of the school term Tom announced he was transferred to the Seattle branch of his company and they were moving there immediately after school ended. We were sorry to hear that as my daughters would lose Emily and Amy and I would lose Tom, whom I still believed to be a good friend. Two weeks before they left, however, when they came to visit us, my eyes were finally opened.

As usual, I was watching TV alone, because Tom went to the kitchen to talk with Amy and the girls played in their room. Staring at a sports match I began to feel I could do with a snack, I got up and went to the kitchen. I stopped dead it the doorway, petrified by the sight of Tom and my wife having sex! Amy was bent over the kitchen counter and Tom was fucking her from behind.

“ ... Tom, you’ve been a great lover for the past half year ... it’s pity it’s over now,” moaned Amy in a low tone.

“I regret it too, my dear” whispered Tom.

I stood there for a moment and then went for my baseball bat. I saw red and couldn’t control my rage. Yet when my hands firmly clenched my bat, all the possibilities flashed in my mind. I hesitated. If I broke the bastard lover boy’s legs or arms, he would be in hospital in our city and therefore keep his present job. I would go to prison for three years, while my wife and the lonely Tom would live together. After the divorce they would go to Seattle with my daughters ... I gave up the baseball bat solution and went back to watch TV.

During the match I worked out the following plan: I would divorce my wife, not immediately, but in four or five months’ time. The postponed divorce would give a last family summer to my daughters. Then school begins again and it would be difficult to move them to Seattle during the term. So I would have the chance to see my girls after the divorce.

Keeping in mind that Tom was lucky to move to Seattle to avoid my wrath, I played the role of a calm, sleepy husband when Tom and Emily said goodbye and left for home.

We went to Myrtle Beach for two weeks in July and I played with my daughters a lot, for I knew this holiday with them was the last for a long time. I treated my wife like a no-charge escort and she never noticed the change in my attitude until the end!

I counted the months and found a good divorce attorney at the end of September. I wanted a simple divorce, because family law in our state did not provide a no-fault-option divorce. My lawyer told me I had little chance of getting custody of the children, because I couldn’t prove my wife’s extramarital sex in our house near our children. I should have taken a video or some photos. I had missed that point, and in such cases, unfortunately, the court rarely gave the children custody to the father.

As for property division, I wanted to give the house to Amy and keep the shares in the company as my own.

My lawyer prepared the documents and I asked him to wait for the right time to serve them on her. I proved to be a very good fortuneteller, because soon after, Amy and I got an E-mail from Tom saying he had met a divorced woman with a daughter and he and Emily had moved in with them. I knew this was the right time to start the divorce.

At the start of November I talked with Carl, telling him I needed some time for a family matter. He said it was OK.

I had to act quickly to arrange everything. I transferred half of the funds in our joint account to a new personal account first thing in the morning. Then I took the girls to my parents’ right from the school, and put the divorce documents in my bag. I had located an apartment and took my most important personal belongings there. After that I came back home, put the rest of my stuff in my car, and sat down in the living room to wait for Amy. When she arrived from work she was quite mad at me.

“Where are the girls?” she demanded. “You went to the school for the girls and you didn’t say anything about it. Did you forget to phone me?”

I looked at her calmly. “Amy, I want a divorce and I’m moving.”

She was astonished first, but she regained her composure quickly and attempted a counterattack. “You ... Why ... Have you got a new slut?”

I kept my tone reserved. “I caught you with Tom in the kitchen during his last visit. I decided to divorce you that evening, but I wanted to spend one more summer with my daughters. But the perfect time to leave you has now arrived.”

I was not completely honest, because I had waited for Tom to settle completely in Seattle, but a cheating wife didn’t deserve fair treatment or honest confessions. She responded calmly as if she had opened the Cheating Wives Handbook at the relevant chapter in her mind.

“John, that was a one-time mistake ... it won’t happen again ... I’m so sorry about it.” She forced out a teardrop. “Please, Dear, let’s work on it together ... we must ... We have two daughters and they deserve a normal family life. I’ll be your faithful wife in the future ... I promise. Please, John! Let’s stay together for our daughters’ sake ... I only did it because I felt so sorry for Tom, a widower and a single father, having to leave his native city with his daughter ... Please, forgive me! It was just a one-time stumble, that’s all it was, really! We must stay together ... Think of our daughters!” she begged and would have continued for God knows how long.

I interrupted her tirade, “I heard you talking about a six month affair. That certainly isn’t a one-time mistake.”

She began to cry. I thought she was giving up the struggle as she sat down and wept a while.

“Thanks to my desire for a last family holiday with my daughters, our marriage got some months grace, you see. But like I said, I’m moving now,” I repeated, just to make sure she got he message.

My soon-to-be-ex-wife wiped her eyes and stood up.

“You’re a liar!” she shouted at me, all of a sudden, “You waited until Tom had settled permanently in Seattle ... I can see that clear enough. OK, honey, you’ll get what you want. I won’t fight against the divorce, but you won’t see the girls much, I promise you that. No one can make me let you...”

Her unexpected outburst took me by surprise, “No one?” I coughed. “Courts ... lawyers...”

She looked straight into my eyes, “Lawyer or court is one thing, but I’m not going to budge!”

Amy stood in front of me proudly, head high, satisfied to have found a retaliatory weapon. That image was engraved in my mind forever.

I told her where our daughters were and quickly left.

The divorce was quick. Amy got the house and I got the company shares. The court gave me two days a month with my daughters from Friday afternoon to Sunday evening. That was not much but I got Boxing Day and my birthday weekend too, so I thought I could put up with this schedule after all. However, Amy took her revenge seriously, and she kept finding a way to prevent me from seeing the girls despite the decision of the court. There was always some school program or other event for the children to attend at the weekend so my court-ordered time with them was reduced to mere bi-monthly events. My lawyer was honest and told me plainly that it would be a waste of time and money if I went to court again; my wife would remain the custodial parent and still be able to not obey the judicial decision.