February Sucks

"Do you want me to change?"

"No, the kids would know something was up. Let me wash up and then let's eat. It smells delicious." I held her as her breathing settled down.

"Thank you, Jim. I love you."

I don't know how I made it through that evening, pretending to enjoy everything, but I did. I can't say I won any Oscars; Linda wasn't fooled a bit. But the kids didn't notice anything off, and that was what I cared about.

Linda started whimpering and babbling almost the instant the kids were in bed. I shushed her.

"Linda, I get it. I understand. You wanted to show me in every way that you can think of that you love me and you haven't changed. The problem is you're wrong: everything has changed! When I opened the door, I swear I saw Asshole right behind you, holding you in his arms. I know that's not what you meant," she had started whimpering again, "and believe me it's not what I wanted, but that's what I saw."

She nodded sadly. "What happens now, Jim?"

"I really don't know, Linda. For tonight, I'm going to the Willing Mind. I'll be home by 11. Okay?"

"Okay, Jim." She squared her shoulders and met my eyes. "I know this is hard. I'm starting to get an idea just how badly I've hurt you. But I know the man I married. Hard things just bring out the best in you. They always have. You may not see a way forward now, but I'm betting my life that you'll find a way that will work for both of us. I love you, and I believe in you, and I trust you with everything I have."

I sighed as I pulled on my coat. "What if the man you married isn't there anymore? What if he died Friday night, or was it Saturday morning?"

"Then I would know, because I'd have died, too. But I don't believe it, not for a moment. Maybe you're right and we've changed, but at the bottom of everything, I'm still just plain old same old me, and you're still my hero." She stood there, still wearing her beautiful blue party dress, her blue eyes flashing. She looked a lot more heroic than I felt. I gave her a little smile to honor her courage, and went out.

It wasn't fair, damn it! It just wasn't fair. She made the choice, for all that she said there wasn't a choice; she had the great night (and morning) with a great guy -- sports hero -- sex god while I suffered alone; all our (former) friends apparently thought this was just fine. My life had turned into a total shit storm, and I hadn't even done anything! And now I was the one who had to "find a way forward that will work for both of us." Shit.

I had told my former friends that I saw no reason to stay married to Linda. I still didn't. I couldn't imagine making love with her. It wasn't just the inevitable (negative) comparisons with Asshole, though that would be bad enough. One of my favorite pastimes, imagining my wife as she looked when she was ready to make love, was now a complete turnoff. It almost made me sick. Even seeing her around the house was painful. That's why I spent so much time at the Willing Mind.

I did need to make some decisions, so I guessed I should find out what my options were in a divorce. L.W. was a family friend from my Granddad's time. He'd mostly retired from law practice, but was still sharp as a tack, wise as Sophocles, and tough as nails when it came to anything our family needed. I saw him one night after work and told him the whole sorry tale. He sat and thought a moment, and hummed a bit of a tune.

"All the girls he does please, and my love he has stolen away," he finally said.

"Huh?" I responded. He was used to that from us younger family members, and just smiled.

"You remember the old song about the man on the flying trapeze? It's about a guy whose girl ran away with the guy from the circus. It's at least 150 years old, has to be. So you see, it's nothing new. It's been happening to ordinary guys like us, probably since the gladiators. At least Mr. LaValliere was kind enough to return Linda to you. The poor circus guy never did get his girl back."

"So why do women go along with this stuff? Why do they let it happen?"

"You remember when Tiger Woods got himself into such a mess a few years ago? I remember watching an interview with one of his, ah, paramours. Her brief affair with Mr. Woods -- I think she only met him three times or so -- ended her marriage, and left her a single mom with a son of about six. Mr. Woods couldn't remember her, even when shown her picture. (At least, that's what he said.) After all that, this woman still said that Mr. Woods was a good man. Even after all she'd lost because of it, she didn't seem to have any regret for her affair with him." The old man paused and shook his head.

"Has Linda said she's sorry she did it?"

"Well, no, but..."

"I wouldn't expect her to. Right now, she's sorry you're hurting, and perhaps somewhat afraid for her marriage, but odds are she's actually glad she did it, and wants to stay that way."

I remembered what she'd said about the Maserati and I knew he was right.

"You've probably never watched the tell-all shows on daytime television. That's just as well, watch them too much and your brains will turn to mush. But you can pick up hints about women's behavior there that you wouldn't get anywhere else. Not from what they say, of course, and certainly not from what the 'great experts' say, but from what they actually do. One of the more common scenarios is a woman who had an affair or a one-nighter with a famous person. And you know what? They may have had great careers, children and grandchildren, whatever, but what they're proudest of is that Mr. Whoever saw them and had them for a night or three. You know that not because they say it, but because their one time in front of a big audience, that's what they want to talk about. Sometimes that's how the poor sap of a husband finally finds out. But with very rare exceptions, married or not, they're glad they did it. It's something that they think sets them apart from the ordinary, and they don't want to give that up, or have to regret it."

"Something to tell their children, eh?" I said bitterly.

"No, not their children," L. W. chuckled. "Their grandchildren. They don't want their children to go and do likewise, but they'll want their grandchildren to know they had a life, way back when."

The old man turned serious. "You want to know what your options are for a divorce. They aren't good, for either of you. I assume you're both still working where you were, making roughly the same money?" I nodded. "Then most likely you won't have to pay much in alimony, but they'll stick you for child support. She'll get primary custody, so she'll get the house, but you'll still pay about half the mortgage. What do you have in savings?"

"We were pinching pennies to save for a bigger house, so there's some money there." My sadness deepened as I thought about the house we were working toward, where we would raise our children and grow old together.

"That will be split evenly. As you can see, the net result is you'll both be hurting financially for quite a while, unless one of you remarries for money or wins the lottery."

L. W. sighed. "As your attorney, I'll draw papers for you if you ask me to. As your family friend, I won't file them for at least 90 days. That's a standard cooling-off period, and you need one. You need to figure out what there is in your life that you'd give anything to preserve or protect. I know that used to be Linda; now you need something, or better yet someone, to live for. Find that, and let that guide your actions.

"Good luck, Jim." I shook his hand and we parted. He'd given me a lot to think about. What did I have to live for? That was easy: Emma and Tommy. I would give anything, and do anything, to preserve and protect them. How did I do that? What did it look like? Hell if I knew.

The idea that Linda might never be sorry for her night with Asshole was a new and depressing thought. Did that mean she would do it again if the chance came, with Marc-Asshole or some other asshole who thought he was entitled to her? And then expect me to just understand because most of her friends would have done the same? Shit. Was the only way to have a happy, faithful marriage, to marry someone nobody else would ever want?

Linda wanted to talk Sunday night after the kids were in bed. Dee had called. Monday week was St. Patrick's Day, and the group was getting together at Brennagan's for drinks and dancing. It was a work and school night so they wouldn't be out too late, and they all hoped we would come.

"It will do you good to be out with our friends, Jim. I think you've been spending too much time by yourself, and our friends are worried about you."

"That's nice. They weren't worried about me when they were covering for my wife while she betrayed me."

"That's not fair, Jim. They do care about you, and you know how much you've enjoyed being out with them."

"They want me to show up so they can pretend everything's okay so they won't have to feel guilty about helping you cheat. Screw them. I'm not going."

"Okay, I can see why you feel it might be too soon for that. But we can't let this turn us into recluses. We need to get out, and they are our friends."

"So go, then. They're your friends now anyway, not mine. I'll even watch the kids so you don't have to find a sitter."

"No." Her response was instantaneous and unequivocal. "My place is wherever you are, unless and until you tell me differently. I think we should go, but if you aren't going, neither am I. I'll call Dee tomorrow and tell her. The one thing I want in life right now, is to do whatever it takes to get you past this so we can move forward together. You're stuck with me, buster." There was a smile on her lips as she said it, but her eyes had never been more serious. I still couldn't help it.

"Yeah, until..." Her smile evaporated. "Never mind. We've been over that, we don't need to rehash it."

Linda looked at me seriously, but kindly. "What can I do, Jim? Please tell me. I really mean that."

"I know you do. I also know you can't un-fuck Asshole." I took a deep breath. "I saw L. W. Thursday night."

"Oh? Where did you run across him? How is the old curmudgeon?" She smiled as she said it; she'd always had a soft spot for him.

"I went to his office. On a legal matter."

Linda turned pale as a ghost. "No..." she whispered. Suddenly, she was sobbing uncontrollably.

She threw herself on me, burying her face in my shirt. She was shaking all over. I'd never seen her so undone, or even imagined she could be. I wrapped my arms around her. Even if I hadn't loved her, I'd have done at least that much. Finally, I could make out words through her sobbing.

"I never meant this... never, never this! I didn't go looking for this, never. Him or anyone. You know I didn't, you saw it all. I never would have done that. I... I... I love you so much, Jim, and want you. Only you. Jim, please believe me. Please tell me I didn't ruin everything. I'll die if I have, Jim, truly I will. You're the strong one, Jim. Please tell me we can fix this. Please give me some hope. Please, dear Jim, please tell me you love me."

I sighed. I couldn't see her face, but I could still feel her shaking. My eyes filled as I grieved over what we once had. Still, I couldn't lie or avoid her request.

"I love you, Linda." My tears fell into her hair, as hers soaked my shirt. But all of our tears, and I knew there were many more tears in our future, would never wash out what she did that night. It would always be a part of us. What did that mean for us, for Emma and Tommy? Heaven only knew. And so far, at least, it wasn't telling.

Dee called me at work, or tried to. I hung up on her when I knew who it was. Dave called me a few minutes later to chew me out and tell me she was trying to be my friend.

"She's the woman who helped my wife cheat on me. She's no friend of mine."

"Jim, she's your friend and Linda's. She wants what we all want: you back to your old self, and you and Linda together."

"You can come back and tell me that after your wives have cheated on you."

"Is that what it will take? Really? Then call Dee and set up a time. Do it, Jim! Do her first, because she helped Linda the most, then do the others. We'd all prefer that to your breaking up with Linda."

"But... I... that would make me..." I stumbled to a halt.

"Jim, don't you see? You and Linda are the best of us. You're the ones we rely on, the ones we look up to. Why do you think you're always the designated driver: just because you can't hold your liquor? No, because we know you always think ahead and you'll do the right thing. Hell, when LaValliere was coming to our table, Linda was the only woman who didn't check him out, remember? If you two can't make it, what chance do the rest of us have?"

"I... I don't know what to say." I'd certainly never thought of Linda and me that way before.

"I know it's tough, buddy. I know you're bleeding all over the floor, and you're wondering if it will stop before you run out of blood. I understand why you won't come for St. Patrick's day. I do. We'll miss you, but we understand. Whatever you might think, we're your friends, and we want what's best for you."

My life settled into a pattern. Work, home for dinner, clean the kitchen, time with the kids, then some alone time at the Willing Mind. Linda was getting more listless by the day, and I looked ten years older than I had a month ago. All right, maybe five, but I knew I was going to have to do something before we shriveled up and died, or exploded, or something. I just couldn't figure out what.

Lynn was my favorite waitress at the Mind. She was in her forties, with a plump, motherly bustle about her. Give her a few years and she'd be a Norman Rockwell Thanksgiving grandma. She was very good at her job, and never really talked with anyone, and certainly didn't flirt. So I was shocked when she leaned over the bar and started with me.

"All right, what's so terribly wrong?"

"Um, uh, what?"

"Look, you come in here maybe once a month at the most, and now you're here almost every night for a couple of weeks. What gives?"

"What, you don't like the tips?" I smiled hoping she wouldn't take offense. She shrugged.

"If you don't want to talk, that's fine, but you're obviously not getting anywhere just sitting and stewing about it, so you might as well tell me. It might be an improvement."

I sighed. Was I that obvious?

"Yes, you're that obvious. Now spill. I haven't got all night."

Despite how impatient she sounded, she listened intently as I told my sorry tale. Again.

"So what do I do now?" I concluded. "Everyone's telling me I'm making too big a deal of it, that almost any woman would have done the same thing she did. Is that even true? How can I be sure of anything about her after this?"

Lynn thought a moment. "I hadn't intended to tell you, but she was in here this afternoon."

"Linda was here? What did she want, to make sure I wasn't picking up anyone?"

"No, though I knew she wanted to know that, and I told her. No, she came to ask me to take care of you: make sure you didn't drink too much, and got home safely. She's genuinely worried about you, Jim."

"Yeah, well it's a little late for that."

"No, it isn't," Lynn shot back at me. "Not while you're both above the ground, it isn't. It's never too late to care."

Lynn bustled off to check on her other customers. She was right, I guess. I just wished Linda had cared enough about me that one particular night to not have... oh, well. It wasn't a busy night, and Lynn soon bustled back and picked up where she left off.

"Linda's a very attractive woman. She turned most of the male heads when she came in this afternoon, not that she noticed. But then she's not very self-confident about her attractiveness, is she?"

I was amazed that Lynn had read Linda so well in what must have been a brief encounter. But then, she's a veteran bartender and very good at her job, so I guess it came with the territory. I told her she was right.

"Think back to high school. The star quarterback invites the plain girl, or the girl who thinks she's plain, to the prom. What are the chances she'll say no? To that, or to anything that he might want?"

"I thought I had one who could," I mumbled. "I was so sure..."

"Jim, I will tell you this: anyone, man or woman, who is physically capable of the sex act, is capable of cheating. Yes, I mean you, too, so wipe that look off your face. The smart ones recognize that and take precautions."

I liked Lynn, but I'd had about enough. "So you're going to join the chorus telling me to get over my hurt feelings and just go back to how things were, as if this never happened?"

"No." She looked at me kindly in spite of my outburst. "I don't think there are any good choices for you. I sure can't see one, anyway. I think you're a good man, though, and if there is such a thing as doing what's right, I think you'll find it." Great. Someone else who expected me to figure out the right thing and do it. Why the hell did I suddenly have to be the hero?

"G'night, Lynn."

"Take care, Jim."

A couple of nights later, Linda asked me to stay home so we could talk about something that had come up that day.

"Emma's teacher called me and asked if there was anything wrong at home."

"Whu...?"

"That's pretty much what I said, too," she said with a little smile. "It seems Emma has been acting out a bit at school. One of her friends has divorced parents, and Emma has always stuck up for him when the other kids make fun of him. Today she stuck up for him with her fists."

I admit, I smiled at the thought of my spunky Emma fighting for her bullied friend. "Did she win?"

"Jim!" Linda scolded me. "Anyway, the teacher added it all up and concluded that something was wrong at home, and called to warn me that it's having an effect on Emma."

"Hmm. Smart teacher."

"She is: she's been at it thirty years and I'm sure she's seen it all. But Jim, it's obvious Emma knows things aren't right between us. We have to do something."

"I've been trying..."

"I know you have. Do you think she's picked up on the fact that you don't look at me the way you used to? That you don't just randomly touch me or kiss me anymore, like you always used to? I know I miss it terribly."

"So do I, Linda. Believe me, I do. But every time I think about touching you or kissing you, I think about how Asshole did it all and did it better. You said so yourself. Every time I want to look at you and just admire you, I think about how you'll look back at me and compare me with Asshole, and I'll never win that comparison." I sighed. "I guess I can try harder. It's just that he's right there between us, all the fucking time!" She flinched at the last words; I never used f-bombs with her. I could see her collecting her thoughts.

"I never said Marc was a better lover than you are."

"Bullshit, Linda." I interrupted her. "You did, and I have it in writing."

"No, I didn't. I said he's more experienced, which shouldn't surprise you, and as a result he's more skilled, but I never said he was a better lover. Remember I said that he played me like an instrument? For one time, one night, I enjoyed being played by an expert. But that was enough. I don't want it, or him, ever again. If I had to have that every night for a month, I would go insane.

"Marc could never love me the way you do. You do that better than I ever imagined it could be done. My body melted for him, it's true, but my body and my heart both melt for you, always.

"I've had a lot of time to think about this while you've been out at the Willing Mind. You're right, I compare the two of you. You're the only two men I've had sex with in the last dozen years, after all. But you always come out ahead. Sure he can flatten a linebacker, but what good is that to me? It's not like I keep linebackers around the house. I need a man who can change anything from a tire to a diaper and keep a smile on his face. I need a man who can understand me, all of me, not just my body. I enjoyed him, once, but I don't need him: I enjoyed you for years, and I do need you. You see, you win every time."