The Six O'clock News Slot

I swung by his office about 11:15 and suggested we eat at a place a couple of miles from the office where we would be unlikely to see anyone else from work. We drove to the restaurant in silence. I didn't want to get into things and have to stop, and he recognized that I wasn't interested in small talk.

When we'd ordered our lunches, I sat there for a minute, uncertain where to start. He looked at me sympathetically and said, "It's Carol, isn't it?"

His comment was like lancing a boil, and all the nasty infectious stuff seemed to pour out of me. He listened in silence, letting me lay out all my fears and my uncertainties. When I eventually ran down, he shook his head. "Damn, I would never have believed this. I thought you and Carol had the happiest marriage in the world."

"Me too, Lou, me too," I nodded sadly.

"So what are you going to do?" he asked.

Just his simple question seemed to crystallize my thoughts. I knew I had to do something; I couldn't just sit there in agony any longer.

"Lou," I said, "the only thing I can think of is for me to go over to the station and see what's going on for myself. If I'm wrong and it's perfectly innocent, hopefully I'll be able to sneak out of there without being seen, and Carol will never know what an insecure idiot I've been."

"And if you're right?" Lou asked quietly.

"I don't know, Lou, but at least I'll know where I stand. That's better than the agony I'm going through now."

"What about Susan?" he asked.

"I've already thought about that," I told him. "When we get back from lunch, I'm going to call Mrs. Alsop and ask if she can keep Susan late tonight. She's offered to do that before, so hopefully that won't be a problem."

We finished up our lunch and headed back to the office. I was still in turmoil, but at least I had a plan, something to do to get some resolution to the situation. I guess even condemned men feel some relief when execution day finally comes.

Mrs. Alsop told me she'd be glad to help, but she asked me not to be too late. "Please be back no later than 11:00," she told me. "I have to get started first thing in the morning."

That didn't give me much time to see anything, but it was the best I could get, so I promised.

After work, I drove back over to Mrs. Alsop's house to let Susan know about the change in plans. At first my little girl teared up when she realized I wasn't there to pick her up, but Mrs. Alsop came to the rescue. "We're going to have a pizza party, Susan," she told her, and Susan brightened visibly at the thought. I paid Mrs. Alsop for the extra time, and also gave her the money to order pizza for everyone. It was the least I could do. Then I headed out before Susan could become upset again.

Now the only question was how to kill a few hours. I went home and fixed myself something to eat. Then I proceeded to pick at the plate for half an hour before scraping the food into the trash. I should have realized there would be no way I could eat. I cleaned up the kitchen and puttered around the house, looking for some way to distract myself.

The more I thought about it, the worse I felt about my plan. The news wouldn't be over until 10:30; how much could happen in the next thirty minutes? Worse, what if Carol came straight home? She might beat me back to the house before I could collect Susan and return. What would I say then?

All these doubts and fears were paralyzing until I remembered the resolve I had felt at lunch with Lou. I had to do something, even if it failed. I just couldn't let things go on the way they were.

By then it was almost 10:00. My plan was to get over to the station while the news was airing, go in just before it ended and see what I could find. There normally weren't too many people at the station that late; just the engineer, two camera men and the sound engineer. Hopefully, there wouldn't be any other visitors, and I could stay out of sight.

When I got to the studio, I immediately realized my mistake. Sitting there in the lobby was old John, the night watchman. I'd completely forgotten about him. He knew me from previous visits, so there wasn't a problem gaining entry, but I'd have to sign in. So much for going unnoticed!

When he saw me come in, he looked at me curiously. "Evening, Mr. Bailey," he said. "Come to watch the news?"

"That's right," I said, and signed his log book.

He gazed at me with a strangely sympathetic look. "There's not going to be any trouble, is there?"

"Oh, no, of course not," I quickly replied, and went on back toward the studio.

"What did he mean by that?" I wondered. Then it hit me: "He knows."

Oh, shit.

I made my way back to the set and peered through the overlap in the blackout curtains. The news had just ended and Carol was pulling off her lavaliere mike. Then she headed back toward her dressing room. I circled around the studio to follow her, but to my surprise, Carol didn't go into her dressing room; instead, she headed down the corridor to the green room.

The green room is an area where guests can wait and relax before going on air. But there are never any guests on the 10:00 news, I thought, and indeed the whole area was in darkness. When she opened the door, however, I could see that one of the table lamps inside was on, and I could see a male figure sitting in one of the lounge chairs. Then the door closed and no light or sound came from within.

My heart was pounding and I didn't know what to do. The door wasn't locked, so I could go barging in there and demand an explanation. But if it was an innocent meeting – if Don Sanchez was in there, for example – Carol would never forgive me. Yet if I stayed outside, I'd never know what was going on.

I had just decided to burst in and the hell with the consequences when I remembered something. On the far side of the room was a small window that allowed station personnel to check on the guests unobtrusively without having to disturb them. In fact it was Carol who had pointed it out to me when she gave me a tour of the station when we'd first arrived.

I quickly headed around to the side where the observation window was located. As I went, I checked the time. Damn! It was 10:45 already! I'd have to leave quickly to get to Mrs. Alsop's house by 11:00.

I eased down the darkened corridor, and could see faint light coming from the small observation window. As I peeked in, I could clearly see Carol. She had stripped off her dress and was standing there in a flimsy black bra, garter belt and stockings, and a black thong. I'd never seen that set of lingerie in my life. She was wrapped in a tight embrace with a man who was running his hands over her back and her ass as though he owned her, which I suppose he did at the moment. They were locked in a passionate kiss.

I pulled out my cellphone and began taking video. The light levels were low, but the black lingerie seemed to make the light on her skin that much brighter.

The man slid both his hands down to her ass cheeks and pulled her tightly to his groin. I could almost hear her passionate moan as she arched her back to push her crotch tightly against his. As she leaned back, I realized that the man embracing her was none other than her co-anchor, Ted Stevenson. Then, she slid down his body and began to unbuckle his pants. I knew what was coming next, and I wanted to put a stop to it right then and there. But as I turned and headed back toward the door, I glanced at the time. It was almost 11:55. Dammit, I HAD to get Susan.

I ran down the hallway and into the lobby, nodding at Joe as I headed for the front door. "I'm sorry, Mr. Bailey," he said.

"Damn," I thought, "does everybody but me know what's going on?"

I hopped into my car and broke the speed limit getting over to Mrs. Alsop's home. As she let me in, I found my Susan already asleep. Bundling her up in a blanket, I picked her up, got her things, and turned to leave, thanking Mrs. Alsop for keeping her.

She looked at me strangely, and asked, "Are you alright, Mr. Bailey?" When I stared at her uncomprehendingly, she said, "Your eyes." Only then did I realize that tears were running down my cheeks.

"Oh, that," I said. "It's nothing, I just got something in my eyes when I got out of the car."

I thanked her again and took Susan out to the car, buckling her up with the seatbelt even as she was still wrapped in the blanket. I don't think she awoke for the drive home, and I know she continued to sleep while I carried her up the stairs and laid her in her bed. She looked so sweet and innocent, and I was filled with longing for the innocence I had lost tonight.

I got a beer out of the refrigerator and sat in the darkened den, waiting. Everything was quiet. Oddly, my mind flashed back to my grandmother's death. I'd gone into the chapel where her casket lay, and had been aware of the silence then, made greater by my deep sadness. It felt the same way now.

It was almost 1:00 a.m. when she came home. She came into the kitchen and switched on the light. When she spotted my form sitting there in the unlit room, she was surprised. "Tom, what are you doing up?"

"I was waiting for you," I said in a flat, emotionless voice.

"The guard told me you'd come by the studio. Is everything alright with Susan? Where is she?"

"Mrs. Alsop kept her late for me. She's upstairs in bed now."

"Well, if you came to the studio, why didn't you come and see me?"

I tried to steel myself: this was it. "I did see you tonight. I saw you go into the green room with Ted Stevenson."

"Oh, yeah, we were just having a little meeting after the news."

"Carol, I went around to the observation window. I saw what kind of meeting you were having. I even got to see the new lingerie set you've been hiding from me."

At least she had the decency to look embarrassed. "Oh, Tom, I'm so sorry."

Now my anger was rising. "Are you sorry you did it or just sorry you got caught?"

"Tom, I'm sorry you saw us like that. I didn't want you to find out this way," she said quietly.

"Are you going to leave me for him?"

She fell on her knees in front of me and grabbed my hands. "Oh, honey, don't even think that. Of course I'm not going to leave you. This is just a little adventure I'm having, a little fling. It'll probably be over soon, and then everything will be back to normal."

I couldn't believe my ears. "'It'll be over soon.' You mean you're not going to stop? You're going to continue cheating on me?"

"Baby, it doesn't mean anything. It's just a chance for me to do a little experimenting with Ted. It won't last. Just let me have my fun and then I'll be back with you like always."

"I can't believe this, Carol. You're asking me to accept being a cuckold while you two fuck each other's brains out whenever you want. How could you ever think I'd stand for that?"

She stood up and stepped back to look at me. Her voice was quiet and had lost all its warmth. "Tom, you really don't have a say in the matter."

"Don't have a say? I'm your husband, for God's sake! If you won't stop this, I'll have no choice but to file for divorce."

She looked at me coolly. "I really don't think that would be in your best interest, Tom."

Her calm demeanor made me even more angry. I wanted her to show some kind of remorse, to beg for forgiveness or at least acknowledge a little of the pain I was feeling. Instead, she was telling me to accept her behavior and pretend like it wasn't happening. I couldn't believe it.

"Given your actions tonight, I'll be the one to decide what's in my best interests. And I can tell you now I'm not going to stand for this."

She crossed her arms and spoke to me like she would lecture an errant child. "Tom, listen to me. If you file for divorce, you'll be the one who'll lose – big time. You'll lose your daughter because the court will award custody of Susan to me. You'll only get to have her maybe a couple of weekends a month plus your birthday and some holidays. Regardless of how we divide our assets, I'll get the house because I'll be raising Susan. And, of course, even if there's no alimony you'll still be paying child support."

"Wait a minute," I yelled, "you're the one who's committed adultery."

"Tom, this is a 'no-fault' state. The court doesn't care who did what to whom, all it cares about is the welfare of the children. In the case of a four-year-old girl, the mother gets custody every time."

She paused to take a breath, and then continued. "If you don't believe me, go get an attorney and ask him. You'll find out I know what I'm talking about."

Her tone softened. "You don't want this to happen, Tom. I don't want it to happen either. I want our family to stay together. This little adventure I'm having doesn't have to affect us. Just think about it."

As I sat slumped in the chair, she came over and kissed me on the top of the head. "Just think about it, Tom. Now, I'm going to go to bed." With that, she turned and headed up the stairs.

I'm not sure how long I sat there. Thoughts kept flashing on and off in my mind, and every thought brought a different emotion: anger, loss, incredulity, sadness, bewilderment, fear, rage, frustration. I felt that I had to make some plans, had to do something, but I had absolutely no idea what. That Carol would cheat on me was unthinkable; that she would propose to continue her affair was so far beyond my imagination that I felt paralyzed.

Finally, I pulled myself to my feet and dragged myself up the stairs, exhausted by the rollercoaster of events and emotions I had experienced tonight. I fell heavily into bed and almost immediately fell asleep.

Despite the fact that I was bone weary, my body automatically awakened at 6:00 the next morning. Mechanically, I showered, shaved and dressed. Wild impulses flew to mind: to run away and hide, or wake Carol and shake some sense into her, or kidnap Susan, or just go back to bed and never get up again. But when I went to Susan's room to look in on her sleeping form, I knew that I had to keep it together for her sake. Doing something stupid would only get me in trouble and likely cost me any chance I might have to keep my beautiful daughter. I knew I had to put her first, to be strong for her sake.

So it was that I completed my morning routine and headed to the office just as I did every day. I was able to go on auto-pilot and complete all the tasks required to get me to work. But once I arrived and sat down behind my desk, every reflex deserted me, and I put my head down on my desk in a daze.

"Tom?" It was Lou. "Are you OK?"

When I didn't answer, he came into my office and closed the door behind him. "What happened?" he asked in concern.

So I told him, every sordid detail, as much of last night's conversation as I could remember. Once I started, I couldn't stop.

Lou just sat there with a stunned look on his face. He was shocked when I told him what I'd seen in the green room, but he was blown away by Carol's attitude about her affair. "Damn," he said, "she's got a lot of balls to ask you just to sit there and accept her cheating."

When I'd finally finished, he sat up and looked me in the eye. "Listen," he said, "Carol has changed. I don't know what's done it – maybe her success has gone to her head – but she's not the same woman I met when you guys moved here. And that means you have to change the way you respond to her. You can't assume she has your best interests at heart any more. It's up to you to look out for yourself now, pal."

He stood up. "The first thing you've got to do is consult with a lawyer. I can't believe she can get away with this crap. You can't rely on what she says, you've got to find out for yourself."

"Hell, Lou," I responded, "I don't know any lawyers in Birmingham."

"That's where I come in," he smiled. "My roommate in college went on to become a lawyer, and he's in practice here in town. I'll bet he'll see you today if I ask him. Let me go make a phone call." With that, he was gone.

In no time he was back in my office holding a slip of paper. "You've got to love those old school pals," he crowed. "You've got an appointment for 1:00 p.m. today. Here's his name and address; he's expecting you."

"You're a lifesaver, Lou. At least this gives me something positive to do."

"No problem, buddy. After you've met with him, come back and tell me what he says."

The meeting with the attorney didn't go like I had hoped. He shook my hand and invited me into his office, then asked me to tell my story. I gave him the high points and then got to what I really wanted to know: what were my options in a divorce?

"Tom," he said, "it used to be that there was a good guy and a bad guy in every break-up. The court would listen to the two parties argue and then apportion blame. It was a no-win situation: 'He said, she said.' There was no way to determine who was right and who was wrong. Trials went on way too long; they were tying up the court system."

"Finally, somebody came up with the idea of 'no-fault.' That meant that unless a crime had been committed, the court didn't have to worry about who did what to whom. All it had to deal with was deciding on a fair division of the marital property and the welfare of any minor children. Lots simpler for everyone."

"OK," I said, "but what does that mean to me?"

He sighed. "In a nutshell, it means that what Carol told you is right. Unless she's an unfit mother – doing drugs, criminal neglect, that sort of thing – the court will give her custody of your daughter. We can try for extensive visitation rights, but Susan is going to live with Carol, and Carol will pretty much determine how often you get to see your daughter. And even though Carol earns more than you, you'll still be expected to contribute to the cost of raising your daughter in the form of child support."

"What about the house?" I asked him.

He shook his head. "Well, you both bought the house, so it's a joint asset that will be divided between you. But the court's primary concern is the child's welfare, and it doesn't like to uproot children unnecessarily. So the most likely outcome is that Carol will get to live in the house until Susan turns 18. After that, the two of you can put the house on the market and split the equity according to the final property settlement. But for the next 14 years, the house is hers."

"But she's likely to move on to another media market in a few years," I objected.

"Then you can sell the house at that time. But until that happens, she stays put."

I sat there shaking my head. "Damn it, she knew exactly what she was talking about. I'm screwed."

"Sorry," he told me as we shook hands, "it isn't always fair, but it's the law."

As I drove back to the office, I felt like I had been sent to purgatory. I couldn't figure out what sin I'd committed, but I was sure as hell was being punished.

Lou was eagerly waiting for me to return, but one look at my face and he knew the outcome without my having to speak. "Damn it, Lou," I said, "it's just not fair. She's got me in a bind, and I can't do a thing about it. She can act like a whore, and unless I want to give up my daughter and my home, I have to grin and bear it."

I began to pace around the office. "I'm beginning to understand why some men murder their wives."

"Don't even joke about that, Tom," Lou was quick to say. "I know you want to get her out of your life, but if something were to happen to her, I don't want to have to testify that you were here making threats."

"Okay, okay," I agreed, "I couldn't and would never do anything like that. It's just that I feel like the ancient mariner, and she's the albatross around my neck."

As I passed by the window in my office, I glanced out and began to groan. There across the street was a billboard that had just gone up. It had a giant photo of Carol and Ted Stevenson staring intently at me with the caption: "Birmingham's Choice for the 6:00 News Slot."