Big Mouth Ch. 02

By nine o'clock both kids were in their beds and I was in the den watching CNN to see what other conflicts were going on outside of my own. It seems the world was even more screwed up than my own life, for now anyway.

I saw her standing in the doorway. How long she had been there was anyone's guess. She had this blank look on her face almost like she was trying to read my mind or get a little insight into what was going to happen in a few minutes.

"You want to talk now?" she asked, almost afraid of what I was going to say.

"Not really, but we might as well," I replied not having a clue how to begin. "Here," I finally said, handing her the test results.

She looked at the ten or so pages and then looked back up at me. "I don't understand what do all these lines and graphs mean."

"Well, let me give you the short version. To the question of do you love me? Your answer of yes was deemed truthful." She smiled looking rather confident at that.

"To the question of have you ever physically cheated on me, you answered no, and that also was judged to be a true statement." Again she smiled, I continued without a smile. "I kind of expected your answer to question number three, 'Was Brian a better lover than me?' but it hurt nonetheless to hear it confirmed by Luke."

"Steve, I don't know what to say only that I wanted to be totally honest with you especially after everything that has happened."

"Well, I guess you were brutally so, especially after saying that you sometimes thought about others when we made love. It just confirmed what I heard you say that day in the kitchen."

"Sometimes I just fantasize about other men like when you eyeball some hot girl at the mall or a busty one at the beach who's wearing next to nothing. There really isn't a difference."

"Heather, I beg to differ. I never used my thoughts of another woman to get me off, can you say the same?" The look she gave me told me I was right.

"Steve, you're a wonderful lover. Even Brian never got me off every time."

"That's supposed to make me feel better, knowing that I'm not totally lame? For Christ's sakes, Heather, do you know what it's like to hear from your wife that you can't satisfy her?"

"Steve, I never said that. I told Luke that you do satisfy me. I didn't lie."

"Well, do you remember that he asked you that question twice?" She looked at me like she didn't understand what I'd just said. "Heather, he asked you that question twice, he just rephrased it the second time around."

"Like I said, he proved I was telling the truth, didn't he?" Heather replied.

"Inconclusive. Inconclusive is the best he could come up with from your answers.

"That doesn't make sense."

"But it does. You just said that even Brian didn't always get you off, and if you were telling the truth that he was a better lover than I, there is no way I've been satisfying you all this time."

"Steve, now you're twisting around what I said."

"But I'm not. The only question he asked you that he couldn't tell if it was true or not was that one."

"He didn't say I lied when I answered 'yes,' that you do satisfy me, did he?"

"No, but he couldn't confirm you were telling the truth either."

"Stephen Moore, I love you and I know that you love me, that's all that matters." Like with her answer to that question, she was wrong about that also.

We talked, or should I say she argued with me for the next couple of hours telling me I was wrong, and this whole thing was being blown totally out of proportion. She kept saying she did love me and that was all that mattered. Luke had confirmed she did love me and she did want our marriage to continue, it was a long night. At two o'clock I told her my brain was mush, and I needed sleep.

We slept together, but for me it wasn't the same anymore. Even though I requested some space, by morning we were entangled with one another—so much for space.

I lay there awake thinking about yesterday, listening to my wife's soft breathing next to me. She had completely shattered my storybook illusion of what I thought my marriage was. Now, where do we go from here? Do we just pickup the pieces and move on? Can we? Can I? That was the million-dollar question and at seven fifty-five in the morning I had no definitive answer. That didn't stop my brain from going into overdrive.

"Why are you watching me?" My wife asked when she opened her eyes and saw me looking at her. "Am I drooling or something?"

"No, just thinking about us."

"Are you okay? Better yet, are we okay?" I didn't have an answer for her, and after my delay she knew it was better not to push it. She said nothing, just looked at me. I think she wanted to fool around, but didn't know how to say it. Normally I would have jumped at the chance, but nothing in my life was normal anymore.

Even though the rest of the weekend was strained, we muddled through as best as we could. Our kids filled in the gaps of silence. Still I was looking forward to going back to work on Monday.

The next two weeks weren't much better. We talked, acted like we were a loving family, and even had sex a couple of times. She didn't give me a choice the first time. Heather came out of the bathroom completely nude, turned off the overhead light and flipped on her small night table light. I had on a pair of boxers and without saying a word pulled them off.

I thought I was going to lose it when she wrapped her lips around me, but that was just done to get me hard. She threw a leg over me and for the next seven minutes rode me to her heart's content.

Physically she was wet enough that I slipped in without any trouble. She made all the right sounds. Her body appeared to love every second of it, and in the end Heather climaxed just as she had over the last ten years. We held each other as we both came down—no matter—it just wasn't the same. She'd proven herself to be an award worthy actress because right now I couldn't tell if she'd really climaxed or if she'd faked it—I couldn't tell before and I sure as hell couldn't tell now. Life was a bitch.

For the next eight weeks I smiled and tried to put my marriage back together. Heather was putting forth a hundred and ten percent, while continuing to walk on eggshells around me. We didn't have a marriage. We were simply two people trying our best not to piss the other off. We may have been smiling on the outside, all the while feeling empty inside.

I brought it up or more so told Heather not giving her an option.

"You want a three month separation? I don't understand, I thought we were doing better?"

"Define better, Heather? We talk about nothing of any significance, we do nothing without the kids, and even when we do make love it's almost like it's scripted and planned. There is no real love making like I thought we used to have. It's just raw sex, now we ask the other instead of just going ahead and doing it. We are each afraid of trying or doing anything that might upset the other, and unless I'm wrong, you're not even getting off half the time. You don't ask me to do anything to you anymore, and sometimes you're so wet it's almost like you've already done yourself, and I'm an after thought. I just need to get away from here for a while to get my head straight."

"You're just going to leave? How about Robert and Amy?"

"I know we can work out some type of schedule. It's not going to be easy on any of us. I just need to get away so I can think."

"So, in other words you want to see if you still want to be married to me. Is that about right?" I didn't answer—there was no need.

"Do you plan on dating while you're out there on your own? How about me? What am I supposed to do while you're trying to find yourself? Maybe I should be the one to leave, this way I can figure out if I even want you back."

"Frankly, Heather, I don't give shit what the hell you do, to be perfectly honest. You started this whole thing. I'm just trying to see if there is anything left of what we once had to start over with. So if you want to go out there and find yourself a big cock and fuck yourself silly, then I say go for it." It was going downhill fast. We were both angry and it was coming out in verbal shots at each another.

A full ass-kicking argument is what we had. All our problems were thrown up into each other's face, and by the time it ended I'd packed two suitcases and was on my way to the Red Roof Inn.

With my cell off I stewed, fighting the urge to get hammered, knowing it wouldn't solve anything. Tomorrow was a workday and one thing was for certain, no matter how this all washed out, I would need that job to support myself down the road.

Sorry, is what we both told one another two days later. Heather still couldn't understand why I had to leave, wondering how we could resolve our issues apart. Truthfully, I couldn't see how we could resolve them together. I would pick up Robert and Amy every Wednesday, and would have dinner at home as a family every Sunday. It was getting expensive being away from home, and a couple of times I almost broke down and went back then remembered that wouldn't solve anything.

I went out with one or two of my buddies every once in a while, but they had good marriages. Since Heather and I were no longer a couple, neither one of us fit in with our old group. The women sided with her saying it was nothing more than a bruised ego thing and the guys told their wives that Heather was totally out of line, and in the same circumstances they would have done the same thing. Then I took it up a notch.

My self-esteem was at an all time low. After almost two months I'd made the decision—I wasn't going back. Heather had humiliated me beyond all belief, and now I had serious doubts if I'd ever been worth a damn in bed with anyone. Some people might say it was just a guy thing and I should suck it up and go back home, but in my feeble brain I kept hearing those words she spouted off so casually that Saturday. What guy wants to stay married to a woman who disrespects him in that way, not to mention thinks he's lame in bed?

"You're shitting me, right? You're going to throw away ten years of marriage because of something stupid I said when I was drinking and shooting the shit with my girl friends? I can't believe you're serious." Heather responded when I told her that I was going to file papers.

"I don't want this to be any harder than it has to be. I'll be asking for joint physical custody and we can split up everything fifty fifty."

"Steve, I'm going to fight you tooth and nail on this one. Read my lips, I do not want a divorce. Can't you see that I love you?"

"You know that's one thing I do believe, it's just that I can't live with a woman I can't satisfy. A guy has to know he's taking care of business in the bedroom, for Christ's sakes."

"Grow up, Steve. You do satisfy me in all ways. Okay, so I didn't get off every time we make love but no woman does, and if you don't believe me you can ask most any woman and she'll tell you the same thing. For once, think with your big brain not the little one in your pants." She still didn't get it.

I drew up initial papers for her to look at and sent them over to the house. I'm told she immediately ripped them up without even looking at them and handed them back to the server I'd hired. That night she left me an angry e-mail stating if I persisted she would get her own lawyer and take me for everything I had. That wouldn't be too hard because I didn't have much.

My kids were now caught in the middle of our ongoing squabble and the effects were not good. They'd become clingy, depressed, and couldn't understand why we didn't all live together. Divorce does no one any good.

It was Saturday and I was having a cold one sitting at the bar at one of the local hangouts. I was not in the greatest of moods when a girl walked up next to me and ordered a drink from the busy bartender. We smiled at one another and exchanged a few words. An hour later we ended up at a table laughing and talking. I told her upfront I was married and not interested in taking it any further, she said she understood. We had a great time and by the time we parted company my mood had changed. I left feeling a lot better about myself. Maybe I wasn't the loser Heather thought I was.

How Heather found out I'm not sure. Someone had to have seen us and called her. Heather ripped into me asking who the whore was and if she was better in bed than she was.

"Heather, we just talked, and no, I didn't sleep with her." I could hear her crying on the other end before telling me how much she loved me and how sorry she was that she ever opened her stupid mouth. Our lives were spiraling out of control.

Things started to get even uglier when Heather's father got her an attorney. He told me he had nothing against me personally, but had to protect his daughter's interests. I guess I would have done the same thing if I'd been in his shoes. However, that's when the lawyers took total control, now everything went through them.

We no longer had any contact even when I went to pick up my children. Threats went back and forth, and in the end none of the supposed final drafts looked anything like what we'd originally started with. A mediator was brought in and proposed a fifty fifty split, shared physical custody of Amy and Robert, and the sale of the marital home because neither of us wanted or could afford it. Funny, because it was a lot like my original proposal, which Heather's lawyer said not happening. After two months the mediator threw up his hands when we dug in our heels, talking this to the next step.

Neither one of us were there when our case came before the judge. It should have been a slam-dunk at this point. It wasn't. The female judge—not sure if being a female had anything to do with it—after reviewing the case, refused to sign off on either one of our agreements.

She told our lawyers that she disagreed with the shared physical custody. It meant the children would be relocated from house to house every other week and would have no stability. She didn't like the fact that Heather and I hadn't given couples counseling an adequate chance, and that the financial responsibilities swung in Heather's favor against me, go figure. She pulled both lawyers in. When they started arguing again about what was fair and reasonable I think she had about enough.

"Look, I don't care what your two clients want at this point, this is how it's going to play out in my courtroom. First, I want psychological testing done on their two children. They're old enough that all this is most likely having adverse effects on them. Second, the home is not to be put on the market, and the children and Mrs. Moore are to remain there until further notice. Finally, I am ordering couples counseling for a period of twelve sessions. I will require weekly updates, and after all of this if they still want to proceed I will rule at that point. Divorce has gotten too easy, and when there are children involved they usually are the ones that end up permanently scared."

"And if our clients don't agree to counseling?" one of the lawyers asked.

"Maybe you didn't hear me correctly," the judge answered, smiling for the first time during the hearing. "I'm not asking, I'm ordering it. And, if they happen to disagree or refuse, you can earn your money by explaining to them what being held in contempt means."

I'm not sure about Heather, but I wasn't happy about the results. I wanted to move on with my life, and now I was being forced to be tied to her for at a long as the twelve sessions lasted. It wasn't fair, but nothing had been for a long time. I had tried to put away a little money by renting a furnished room with a small bathroom only a half-mile from where I worked. I brought my lunch and walked to work whenever I could. In the interim I was required to pay half the bills, most of the house payment, and leave everyone, including Heather, on my medical insurance. Since I had little choice but to comply with the judge's orders, I'd be in my little furnished room a while longer.

The court gave us an approved list of five counselors to pick from. I picked one of the males, Heather picked a female, finally settling on a husband and wife team that only did their sessions in the evening. It looked like my Tuesday and Thursday nights were going to be busy for a while.

I hadn't seen or even talked to Heather directly in almost two and a half months. I still saw Amy and Robert twice a week, but as soon as I pulled onto the driveway they rushed out to my car. I never even saw Heather looking out the window. Now, I'm sitting in the waiting room waiting for Heather and our six o'clock appointment.

The first change I noticed was that her hair was now dark brown and very short. It also looked like Heather had lost a little weight, even the more than the ten pounds I'd dropped over the last couple of months. There was no smile on her face and she looked almost as annoyed as I that she had to be there.

"Heather."

"Steve," she replied back, taking a seat in the chair across the room from me.

Ann and David Taylor had to be in their late sixties by the looks of them. The meeting room wasn't very large and only contained four chairs set up in a circle. Looks like we'd be close no matter where we sat.

"Mr. and Mrs. Moore, I know these sessions were court ordered, but you might be surprised at the number of couples we've helped over the years," Ann said. I guess she was trying to put a positive spin right at the outset.

"Since we are required to send weekly reports back to the court, we do expect that the two of you comply with our instructions and homework assignments," David said, cautioning us.

"Homework assignments?" I said out loud.

"Yes, Mr. Moore, homework assignments. So, shall we begin?" Heather and I sat there looking at one another. "We've read your file, but it's not completely clear as to what started this. Maybe one of you would like to start by telling us how this all came about?" David was now looking at the two of us waiting for one of us to volunteer.

"Yeah, Steve, why don't you go ahead and tell them how you threw away a ten year marriage because I bruised your little fucking ego!" Heather said in a sarcastic tone of voice.

"Better yet, Heather, why don't you tell them how you opened your fucking mouth to our friends and trashed our marriage. Or why don't you tell them about cheating on me with BRIAN?"

"Steve, why don't you go fuck yourself?"

"Heather, why don't you? Oh, that's right, you've been doing that ever since I've known you." At that point Ann intervened.

"That kind of verbal taunting is not going to get us anywhere. I want to start with each of you telling us what happened, in your eyes. Steve, please start." Heather looked at me.

I told them in detail what happened that Saturday afternoon. From what Heather had said to the next few months that followed.

"So in other words you were angry with your wife sharing the intimate detail of your sex life?"

"Damn right. Especially since I never knew that she was sexually unsatisfied with me."

"Steve, how many times do I have to tell you that you were fine in bed?" Heather almost yelled at me.

"Mrs. Moore, you will have your turn to speak. Please let your husband finish.

I told them how angry I was, saying if I was so damn bad in bed, why had she never talked to me about it. "And you know what the icing on the cake was? When she said if I wasn't doing it for her she'd think about her love making sessions with Brian and that would push her over the top." I was almost spitting out the words looking her right in the eye.

"And who is Brian?" Ann asked.

"An old boyfriend," Heather offered up.

"How old of a boyfriend?"

"The guy I was dating when I met Steve." Ann was continually making notes while David kept looking at me and then Heather.