Aftermath - What Really Happened

The Aftermath- What Really Happened When SHE Finally Returned

These stories keep on coming.

This is in response to GodivaFan's story "February Sucks-Leap Night". The story has been up since 10/22/21 and I reiterate, NOBODY LIKES IT! As of April 16, 2024, it still earns only 'shit stains on the wall'. 425 comments and only about 5 (and I'm being kind) are positive. I agree, wholeheartedly.

This is my response, again from Jim's side alone. It has been said no response was allowed to the bitch's selfishness. This should suffice. I promise, no more "February Sucks"' stories-from me. Promise.

Reviews were right-it sucks. This is the next part, from Jim's side. I struggled to keep it in Jim's perspective. No input or peak to Linda's side. It was tough. But you'll see.

Enjoy, please.

Jim was despondent, to say the least. His marriage was finished, his life was finished, everything was finished. How could she do this? WHY would she do this?

All that was left was how to salvage his existence from the smoldering wreckage. He had left Morrison's, went back to the hotel, grabbed his stuff but left hers (See if she can remember where she left her things; you know- sexy undies, cosmetics, husband??) Then he left, and checked out, headed for home.

Home?? You've got to be kidding. More like a haunted house. And he was the newest 'ghost'.

Well, this 'ghost' was about to be haunting somewhere else.

Jim pulled up in his drive, and parked the Ford Explorer in the driveway, next to his F-150 4×4 pickup. He went into the house and it hit him. Silence. Like a tomb. He started to cry. He sunk down in the living room and bawled. He kept thinking of his kids. It just pulled him farther down the well of despair.

For the next hour, he wallowed in self-pity.

Then, his mind snapped. It just broke. He went to the liquor cabinet, picked up the half-empty Chivas Regal bottle, smashed the neck off it, and sucked down a good six ounces worth. He shook a little and spun and threw the bottle at the fireplace, smashing their framed wedding picture over the top of the mantel. He screamed and immediately sobered.

"That's enough of that," he said out loud.

"I'm not going to take it any longer. Not anymore."

He strode to his office and booted up his computer, glancing at his watch--10:24 p.m.

'Let's see how much pain I can dish out to her before I leave.'

Because he had decided that that was his only option. Payback would be a serving of exactly what she had done to him, their children, and their respective families. He accessed their bank, moved all their savings and different accounts for vacations, household expenses, clothing, and such to his checking account. Total:$17,638.38. Not exactly Warren Buffet, but they were middle class. He took $2500, leaving the rest there, and moved that amount to their savings account. Then he closed the other accounts, except savings and checking accounts. Then he drew up letters, one to his mother, one to her parents. Detailing the events of the night and that he was leaving. Then releases to the major news outlets and newspapers, laying out everything that had happened.

Dates, times, names and locations, and what he was going to do, and why. Dishing out her treatment to him as retribution.

He loaded them and put them all in files, to be sent out at his discretion. Then he wrote a letter to Emma, and one to Tommy, to be opened on their eighteenth birthdays. He printed them out and sealed them in envelopes. He would not be the bad guy and he would hope that Linda would fess up to the actual events leading up to the separation. But if not, then the children would eventually know why their father left. He went into the bedroom that used to be theirs and pulled a duffel bag out. No suitcase. He got underwear, socks, sneakers, hunting boots, three pairs of jeans, three flannel shirts, six t-shirts, and his shaving gear. Then he grabbed his fleece-lined flight jacket, and his parka, and threw them on the bed. He stripped, went and showered, and then dressed in clean clothes. He put on his beat-up steel-toed work boots, laced them, and stood up. Took a deep breath.

'It's time to leave,' he thought. He grabbed his N.Y. Giants ball cap, his coats, the duffel, and left his room-for the last time.

Downstairs, he made coffee and while he waited for the pot to finish, he grabbed a yellow pad and wrote.

'Linda- goodbye. Eat shit and die, hopefully painfully. Guess who??'

He threw it on the kitchen counter and then threw his wedding ring on top of it. Then he went into the den, opened the safe, got his.357 Colt python, strapped the holster to his belt, slipped the revolver into it, and grabbed the two boxes of ammo, his passport, the extra cash he had been squirreling away for their vacation, and their marriage license.

He returned to the kitchen, tore the marriage license into four pieces, picked up a carving knife, and laying the pieces against the wall, drove the knife threw them. He went to the refrigerator, grabbed the ketchup bottle, walked back over to the wall, and proceeded to decorate the license, the knife, and the entire wall in red.

By now, the coffee was done. He pulled out a travel mug, filled it, fixed it the way he liked it, stirred it, and put the top on it. He put the carafe back on the hot plate and then filled the reservoir up with water. Thank God they had one of those cheap coffee makers that wouldn't shut off. He opened the refrigerator-freezer doors, jammed a chair in the front of the two doors, and pulled the plug out. He grabbed another knife and cut the plug off the wire. Satisfied that he had caused some grief in her life, he collected his things and made his way to the garage.

He opened the garage door. Then he went to his gun safe. She would never let the gun safe in the house. Said it was gross and dangerous. Didn't fit the 'decor' anywhere. He opened it and retrieved his Winchester pump, his Weatherby 30-06 rifle, and all his ammo. He locked up the safe. Then his sleeping bag, two-man tent, ground cloth, and fishing gear. He went to the F-150, opened the cap in the back, stowed everything in, grabbed the two five-gallon jerry cans, and secured them to the inside of the bed, and closed it up. Again, thoughts of his poor children and what would become of them surfaced in his mind. He moaned and staggered against the truck.

Was it the right decision? WAS there a right decision?? He had no idea. No matter what he did, he was screwed. It would haunt him for almost four years. A living hell, a torment that would eat away at his SOUL for the foreseeable future. But he felt it was all he had. And it was what SHE had given HIM.

He got in, tossed the house keys on the floor of the garage, and didn't even bother to lock anything or close any of the doors. With all the lights blazing, he backed out onto the street and drove away.

He checked his watch. His Stauer Due Volta watch, that Linda and the kids had given him for Father's Day the year before. SHE had shown him the ad that said, "For the Man Who Gives Everything and Expects Nothing."

Huh! Bullshit. But it was a nice watch. At least, he thought it was.

He also thought it was expensive.

Huh again. Turns out she had paid $79 for it, on sale. That's about the sum total of his existence.

Sorry.

It was about 1:30 a.m.

He drove to the office of LW Sterns, a long-time family friend who thought of Jim as a 'second son', and always said that he thought Jim and Linda were 'the real deal, and were in it for the long haul'. He parked, on the street, and sacked out, setting his cell phone alarm for 8:00 a.m. The melodious alarm went off six hours later. He stretched and yawned, then finished the remains of the lukewarm coffee and picked up his cell. He thumbed LW's number and waited. He knew it was early, but he had to keep moving, and he wanted to get this done and be gone before he was caught. If she, or anyone else were even looking for him. The phone picked up.

"Hello?", said the strong voice on the other end. Even at eight in the morning, the man was calm and together. No trace of sleep, or irritation. Just LW. A rock in time of crisis. Well, that's what he needed now.

"LW, I need you right now. Can you come to your office? And can you get a notary here, too? I'll explain everything when I see you. Then we can talk. Please?"

"What's this all about, son? Is everything O.K.? Is Linda alright?"

"Not over the phone. If you can't come, then you'll have to hear about it like everyone else- by word of mouth. Please, LW. For my sake, sir."

"Alright, son. Give me about an hour. Don't do anything dumb, at least till I get there, hear??"

"Thank you, sir." He ended the call.

Fifty minutes later, LW Sterns pulled up and got out of his Caddy. He locked it up and saw Jim approaching with an armload of papers. Handshakes were exchanged and the two men turned and went into the five-story building where LW's office was. A brief elevator ride to the top floor and then down the corridor to LW's office.

The office of one of the top litigators in the area. And Jim's long-time friend. He was more like a father figure to him, since Jim's dad had passed away when Jim was three years old. LW had stepped up and been there for the boy, who was his best friend's son. They went in and went to LW's office. He turned on the coffee maker, and dropped into his chair, motioning for Jim to sit across from him, and then checked his voicemail. Then....

"Alright, son, what's this about?"

Jim spilled everything, starting with leaving for the weekend away and ending with the call to LW that morning. By the time he was done, he was seething, but in control and not crying. Pissed, but not emotional. Yet. He thought of his children. He shuddered again.

LW listened, occasionally making a note, but not interrupting. He finally sighed, pushed the yellow pad across his desk, and squeezed his temples as he shut his eyes.

'I'm getting too old for this shit', he thought, as he opened his eyes and looked sadly at the young man across from him. He thought for a moment, then sighed again, feeling the constriction in his chest and he leaned forward.

"Son, you've been blindsided and crushed. I don't know what to tell you to do, so you tell me. What do you want to do??"

Jim stared at the older man.

"I want to kill them both, slowly and deliberately. But I don't want to go to jail. They aren't worth it. While it would give me immense satisfaction, it won't help my feelings of release. So I just want out. Not divorce; I want to do what she did to me. I want to leave. Walk away. Abandon her and the kids, like she did. No thoughts. Just like she did. Without a backward glance, without any notice. Just 'gone, girl.' You know, like the movie. That's what I want." He smirked and felt a little bit of peace for the first time since last night.

Last night? He had forgotten that it had only been last night. It seemed like it had been ages ago.

LW snapped him back.

"But what about the kids?"

"What about the kids? Are they even mine? Am I supposed to have any consideration for them, when she didn't? Am I supposed to worry about their welfare when she didn't even remember she had them, not to mention that she had a husband? All she thought about was herself. Well, I'm thinking about myself. And myself says 'FUCK HER'. But not by my dick, not ever again."

Yeah, I suppose I should have some compassion. But not yet.

"Now, will you help me? What can I do? If I understand correctly, I can just walk away and ignore her. It's not against the law, is it? That's what I want, just like she did to me. I left her more than $15000 and I took nothing else. Not even my tools. She has her car. I canceled all the utilities and the cable. I canceled all my insurance policies. I want my 401-K set up to pay for the kid's college when they get to be 21. Make them work for it. Also, my retirement fund, what there is of it. Put it all in trust for them. Then I'm giving you power of attorney for me so that I don't have to deal with her. Ever again. Can we do this?"

Again, LW sighed and sank back in his chair. He stared at the man. He didn't recognize him. He had truly never seen a man so completely shattered as Jim was. It scared the living daylights out of him like nothing ever had before. And he had served two tours in Nam, back in the early '70s. He had watched his wife of 50 years waste away from cervical cancer. This was worse than all that combined. And just like the tragedy of his wife's passing, there didn't appear to be anything he could do about it.

"Yes, we can do that. She can sue for divorce on grounds of abandonment. But she'll have to find you.

"Or she can post, in the local papers, of your abandoning her and the kids. Wait two years, and then it will be legal. Your kids will never get to see you. They will bear the brunt of this. And your mother will be heartbroken. Is this what you really want, Jim?

"How about counseling? Do you think talking about it would do...."

The look on Jim's face said it all and about tore LW's heart out.

"Why, so she can cry and wail and beg me to get over it? So she throws the old 'It was just sex, HONEY, it didn't mean anything, BABY. We can get past this IF YOU LOVE ME.' No, I'm not going to put up with it. She did this. She gets to handle the shit that's going to come down on her. Consequences, LW, consequences. Just like I had to handle it.

"ALL. BY. MYSELF. ALONE!!"

He hesitated.

"Is it what I REALLY want? Are you kidding me? What I really want is for this whole mess to be a dream. A FUCKING DREAM! A SHIT-FUCKING NIGHTMARE!! But that will NEVER happen. And I'm not going to sit in some God-forsaken 10 by 10 room with the bitch and some goody-two-shoes new age shrink telling me to get over it, I should forgive her, it was a mistake, it was only sex, she really loves me, think of the children, you can get past this, WE can get past this, blah, blah, blah.

"But you know what's even worse? After all the laws, the lawyers, the legal B/S, the shit about what she did and what happened, can't we get past it, what about the kids, I'll take you to the cleaners, you'll be embarrassed, after ALL this shit and everything else that I can't even think of, do you know what??"

LW just shook his head 'No'.

"After all that, IT'S WRONG! SHE'S WRONG!! I WAS WRONGED!!! And there's nothing anyone can or will do about it."

Sobbing, I finally broke down.

"I want my life back." I hesitated, briefly.

"But that's not going to happen, is it? No, it's not. So if my life is over, so is theirs."

LW thought for a moment and didn't see any way to get Jim to reconsider. He tried to stop the few tears that were starting to accumulate. No luck.

Jim sniffed hard and cleared his throat. LW sat up and picked up his pencil.

About that time, Penney Wilson, his P/A and chief notary, came in and saw the two men sitting there in what appeared to be a very tense and emotional conversation. She hesitated, but LW motioned her to come in. He introduced Jim to her and said they would need some paperwork notarized. She nodded and went to get her tablet and some coffee.

We sat and brought Penney up to speed. She had the grace to look on non-judgmentally but you got the feeling that she didn't have much in the way of 'good feelings' for my soon-to-be ex-wife. I already thought of her as not my wife- anymore. But in name only.

We drew up a separation agreement and power of attorney for LW and signed and notarized everything. The trusts were set up, with my Mother and LW as the administrators of the funds. I gave LW the letters to the kids and rose, shook hands all around with much sorrow and a somber 'so sorry' from Penney. Why did I feel very little in the way of sorrow? My life was ending, just a day later than the actual end.

I left and the day seemed not so dismal. Still cloudy and shitty, but not overwhelmingly horrible. Can't understand why not. I left for the bank and withdrew the money from the savings account and closed it, leaving the bulk in the checking account.

I got to my truck, started it up, and drove to a gas station. I filled the tank, the extra tank on the short bed, and the two 5-gallon gas cans. Then I left for a small internet cafe. I got a coffee and a muffin, (I like muffins. So shoot me) Then I spooled up my laptop and got online.

I downloaded the files to everyone on the list- her folks, my mom, then the ones to the TV news desks, and then the two local papers. Then to the Sharks front office and the NFL Players Association (Fat lot of good that will do, but, hey, now everyone knows), I canceled all our credit cards, reporting them stolen. (That's right, some SOB used my card to fill his gas tank. Dam the bad luck!) I finished my coffee and got up to leave. The weather had started to clear.

March outside of Cicero is shitty, at best. Cold, bleak, and dark, as Spring attempts to clear the air and take over, such as it is in this area. Much like my outlook on life. It was a little past 2:00 p.m. as I hit the road, and headed east, towards who knew where.

I drove for about 7 hours pulled over in a non-descript motel, and got a room. I awoke again, early, because I really couldn't sleep, and drove for another 6 or so hours, winding up in Maryland, on the Patuxent River. In the little town of Golden Beach. Small, quiet, not much going on. Definitely looked like a summer town. But in early March, not much.

I pulled up in front of a small restaurant, "Sally's", and went in. I'd have to change direction very soon, 'cause I was running out of road. On the other side of the river was the Western shore of the Bay, then the Eastern Shore, followed shortly by Delaware. After that, the truck and I will have to learn how to swim.

Sorry, humor.

It's the Atlantic Ocean.

So I grabbed my road atlas (old school, you understand), and went inside. I looked around and noticed that just before lunchtime, it wasn't too busy. On the wall inside the door, there was a good-sized bulletin board, an old-school brown cork type. The usual small town bunch of ads- help wanted, babysitting available, dog walking, cars for sale, and one 'for rent' notice.

'For Rent'- small three-room efficiency-one bedroom, sitting room, kitchenette, stall shower, quiet neighborhood, no drinking or smoking allowed. $135 a month, cash, payable in advance. Internet available, utilities included. One parking spot is included. Call, 555 xxx-xxxx. References welcome.' I grabbed the ad and turned to survey the interior again. Only about four or so people, only one sitting down at the end of the counter. I walked over and sat down.

A mature black woman in a waitress's uniform walked over and smiled at me. Her name tag said (you guessed it) 'Sally'. Go figure.

"Hi, hon, what can I get for ya?"

"What do you know about this ad?", I asked.

She never looked at the ad, never broke from looking at my face, never lost her smile. She was studying me, assessing what she saw. Finally, she spoke.

"Right to the point, huh sugar. Are you looking for a room? Short term? How about a job? You need a job, too??"

"Uh, yes, and yes, I guess."

Still, in assess mode, she nodded, reached into her pocket, and produced a cell phone. Hitting #7, she brought it to her ear and waited. Two rings, and then -

"Hey, Mai, I got a 'person of interest' here you may want to talk to."

"Yeah, looks clean, respectable, might be o.k."

"Alright, sweetie, see you in a bit."

She disconnected and put it back in her pocket.

"Sometimes they're more trouble than they're worth," indicating Verizon's finest. Then she smiled at me.

"Hungry? It's just about right for a late lunch."

"I guess. Maybe a roast beef sandwich, and a salad, ranch dressing. ....And sweet tea. How's that?"