Dealing with Jessie

Yes, though Jessie said she didn't care, they still bought a live tree; the girls still wanted it that way. Gary liked a live tree. They had a cat, a grey tabby named Jupiter who was eight, and a nine year old chocolate lab named Daisy. They were both good with the trees, but anyone who owned a lab knew that with their tails, anything could happen. Jessie wasn't very fond of Daisy, she said she preferred a smaller dog.

He saw Jessie cross the dance floor; she looked peeved, and her makeup didn't look quite right. He hadn't decided anything yet. What was he going to do? Well nothing at the big party, certainly nothing in front of girls when they got home, but he wasn't going to hide his head in the sand. He decided he'd have to bring the issue up on the way home.

Jessie sat down at the table. She was pissed that she hadn't been able to find her husband. "Where have you been," she asked? "I've been looking all over for you. You had me worried."

Gary tried to hide the smirk he felt coming on. He bet she was worried, worried he might find out what she'd been doing. He felt his blood pressure rising. Jessie could be a tyrant, but he had a temper too and what he found out tonight was almost too much. He gripped the table; he had to think of the kids. He replied, "I felt a little nauseous so I stepped outside for a while."

He watched as Jessie tried to hide the scowl forming on her face. He'd grown increasingly tired of her nasty behavior lately, her indifference regarding anything he had to say, her sometimes open condescension, and her occasional belittling remarks. Now he understood where it was coming from.

She said, "You could've told someone. I've been worried."

Gary mumbled under his breath, "I bet."

She hadn't quite heard him, "What did you say?"

He answered, "I said I bet you were worried. Where were you?"

She glowered, "I have a career. Remember?"

He half grumbled, half laughed, "Oh yeah, that."

"It pays the bills," she taunted.

Gary yawned, "Think I'll get something at the dessert bar, then maybe another drink," He got up and started toward the dessert buffet. He heard his wife mutter, "Lard ass." He felt in his pocket, he still had the panties, and they were still damp.

They hung around a while longer. Jessie had to finish her rounds. From his seat he watched as she briefly talked with Snyder. He noticed Snyder cast a quick look in his direction. Gary pretended not to see, but he wondered what Snyder was thinking. He wondered what she was thinking too. He thought if it wasn't for the girls this would be his last night with her, it might be anyway.

Jessie had to stay till the last horn blew so they didn't get to their car till after 2:00 a.m. Though he drove, it was Jessie's Mercedes, his Jeep Cherokee, the Chevy pick-up, and Dorothy's Rav4 weren't suitable for a big event like this. The valet brought the thing around. He helped Jessie in, got in himself, and they started for home. It was only a forty minute drive, more than enough time to bring up the panties.

On the way home Gary kept below the speed limit; early Saturday morning, slick roads from a misty rain, and his own indecision about how to handle what he needed to do. As they puddled along he asked, "Have a good time? Get anything accomplished?"

Jessie felt slightly ill, too much alcohol and rich food, plus the uneasiness she'd been suffering as a consequence of her encounter with Jeff Snyder. Why'd she do it? And that stupid bet. She knew she had to follow through; he had her panties, how stupid had she been? She refused to look at her husband; he was clueless, stupid and clueless. She replied, "Yes, it was fun. Met a few new people, and yes I think I did make some headway on a few things. That Langobard contract looks like it's coming together. How about you? Did you have a good time?"

Gary was disgusted with himself; he needed to put the whore in her place, shove her fucking pants down her lovely throat. "Pretty much," he said, "there were a few moments I felt like something slipped, like something terribly wrong was happening, but overall it was good night." His stomach was churning and his chest hurt. He wondered if Jessie could tell. He doubted it, she was too self-absorbed.

She didn't like the sound of his voice, he sounded tense, she knew the tone; something was brewing. Did he know something? Had he found out? She didn't know what to do with her hands, she started fidgeting. She had to stop before he noticed anything. She slid her hands in her coat pockets, an expensive mink with a fox collar she'd bought a few weeks back. She'd seen it on a display manikin and had to have it. If Gary knew how much it cost he'd blow a fuse, but Gary didn't know anything about their finances or her income. He was stupid that way. "Something slipped," she asked? She hoped she sounded concerned, but she really could care less. She tossed out a remark he'd understand, "Throw your back out dancing with one of our young secretaries? Get in an argument with one of the lawyers about the proper way to swing a club?" She laughed, "Just wondering." It was a softly mocking laugh, she knew her husband disliked golf and seldom played. Why didn't he speed up? She was tired and had a headache.

Gary listened, he had golf clubs, good ones, she'd bought them, and he played every now and then, but it wasn't something he especially liked. In some ways it reminded him of N.A.S.C.A.R.; people watching over-paid drivers in overpriced cars no one would dream of driving on the street making left hand turns for hundreds of miles on an oval track. Golf was a game where grown men in phony collared shirts silently cursed and cheated because they couldn't get some rubber ball into a hole. The courses themselves he thought were an abomination, a waste of good farmland. Then with the girls there wasn't much time for golf. Their oldest Dorothy played, but she did it mostly for her mother. Neither of the others had any interest. Their second girl Melanie was like him, a hunter. He figured Jessie threw in the golf as a reminder that only the "up-scale" types like her lawyer pals bothered with golf, just a minor put down, no big deal. He bet that cocksucker Jeffrey Snyder was a whiz at golf.

He glanced over at his wife. "No," He said, "nothing like that. I got in a conversation with some of the boys about sex."

She glanced back, "One of the men start hitting on you?" She touched his cheek, "You are very pretty you know." She knew that always pissed him off.

"No, nothing like that," he said, "more about who's been screwing who at the office."

Jessie's antennae went up. The asshole was as transparent as glass, he knew something. She feigned ignorance, "Get any dirt?"

"Maybe," he said. He thought, OK, times up. He pulled her panties out of his jacket, "Ever seen these before?" He thought he'd handled it pretty well. He hadn't lost his nerve and he'd kept his cool, no anger. He even made a joke out of it. Hiding the very intense anger he was feeling he laughed to himself, let's see how she gets out of this.

Jessie looked at the panties in horror. How did he? Had Snyder given them to him? If he had that would sure make it impossible for her not to go through with her promise. Why had she done what she did? Why had she made that stupid fucking bet? She had to hide her feelings. When Gary got really mad, he was a crazy man, and what she'd done was sure to make him mad. His anger usually worked in her favor. He'd blow up, yell, holler, and cuss, but then just as fast he'd stop. He'd start to feel guilty. Sometimes she even got him to apologize when the cause of the argument was something she'd done. He really wasn't much of a fighter, at home he fancied himself as something of a peacemaker. If she could tough it out maybe she could bully him into silence. She had to bluff her way through this. She grabbed the panties, and with belligerence said, "Where did you get these?"

He responded, "I bought em. Got them in one of the bathrooms upstairs. A guy was bragging how he'd made it with a colleague, how he fucked the shit out of her on a table. They're yours aren't they?"

She rolled down her window and threw them out, "No they aren't! Who told you they were?"

"One of the guys," he said, "counting me there were four of us."

"Well they weren't mine," she said crossing her arms with finality. She smiled thinking, they're gone, out the window, there's nothing to fight about. Nothing happened.

Gary was mad. He couldn't think of a time he wasn't angrier, he was furious! He knew they were hers, throwing them out the window didn't change anything, but he had to hold it in. "I think they were," he said, "I know they were, but all you have to do is pull up your dress and show me yours and I'll know they weren't."

That did it, this was it! She knew it and he knew it. He added, "Show me your panties Jessie.", but she was damned determined not to admit anything. She went full bore total war, "They weren't mine, and no, I'm not lifting my skirt. If you don't believe me. If you don't trust me, you can just kiss my ass!"

Inside his stomach was tied in knots, his chest hurt; it had been back at the gala when he was seated at the table waiting for her to return from wherever she'd been that his stomach first started up. Now it was ten times worse, and the Bourbon he'd been drinking wasn't helping. All he had to do was agree, say OK, and that would be the end of it. He could let it go, pretend what happened hadn't.

Half way home he asked, "Who was the guy?"

"There was no guy," she said. She couldn't sit still, she kept crossing and uncrossing her arms, twisting in her seat, and crossing and uncrossing her legs. He knew! God damn it he knew!

He watched and thought, this was classic Jessie. "Just lift your dress honey. Let us both off the hook." He said it as a tease, but it wasn't.

"No" she shouted.

This was way too much. "Bullshit," he shouted back! "It was Jeffrey Snyder. Fucking Jeffrey cock sucking Snyder! What a piece of shit! And you fucked him! There were four of us in the god damned bathroom, all of them lawyers, and all of them from your firm. I don't know about the others but I'm sure Snyder knew me." Gary was livid. "He fucking bragged! He fucking said you were eager for it. He said you liked it. You bitch! You fucking bitch! You wanted to give him a fucking blow job! You fucking whore! I had to buy your fucking drawers. I gave him that fucking watch you bought me. I was glad. I never liked it anyway."

She started yelling back, "All right! All right! There was someone, and yes, he got me! So I fucked a guy at the big dance! So what! He wants to be a partner like me. I might need his support, he might need mine; it's a reciprocal arrangement. It's my body!" She was really winding up. She yelled even louder, "It was part of an arrangement, part of a deal. It happens all the time. A quid pro quo!" she turned and glared at her husband, "as if you even know what that means." She was red hot! She added, "It had nothing to do with us. It wasn't even sex, not good sex anyway," she looked over at her husband, faked a smile and more quietly said, "Not like me and you."

Gary was going to throw up. He pulled to the curb, opened his door, leaned out, and heaved. Northing but booze and phlegm came out.

Aghast, she watched. He wasn't going to give in, the 'coward of the county' wanted to fight. She had to get control. Once he closed his door she turned on the charm. Be rational, Gary likes that. Calmer, she started back in, quietly, "I'll need his help. I need to make partner. He'll need mine; it'll be good for both of us, good for the girls, and good for you too." She felt better; he still looked white, but he wasn't yelling.

It was hopeless. He didn't know what to say. Calm, she wants calm, she wants a quiet reasoned discussion. She thinks she can bullshit her way out of this. "Jessie," he said, "You were my sweetheart. We're married, forsaking all others. Remember?"

She bristled. What a milquetoast! She'd give him his forsaking all others! She lashed back, "Like you've been so goody goody! I know about you and those young chippies, all those pretty young student teachers." It was a stunning claim and she knew it, but what the hell? She'd put him back on his heels.

For Gary it felt like she'd taken a knife and cut open what was left of his stomach. He'd never, not the whole time they'd been together done anything. "Jessie," he said, "That's not true. I've never..."

Listen to him whine, she thought. She wasn't listening. Let the limp dicked fool cry. She decided to go for the glory, total victory. Win! She had to win! "Bullshit. You think I don't know? The girls talk to me. They tell me everything!"

Scarcely a mile from home he slowed down. Mad beyond all reason he struck back, "That's not true and you know it. Jesus Jessie! You fucked a guy on a table at a dance to get a promotion. He said you were waiting. He said you liked it. He bragged about it before a bunch of other men. He was waving your fucking panties around like they were some fucking flag! Damn it Jessie, what's wrong with you? Don't you know what you did? What you've done? Twenty years wiped out, and for what? A fucking promotion?"

She screamed back! It wasn't a screamed response, just a loud harsh scream! "Let me out! Let me out of the god damn car!"

Shaking all over, pissed beyond all imagining he retaliated, "What? Are you crazy? Pull over? Here?"

She yelled again, "Pull over. Let me out. If you don't I'll jump out!" She cracked open her door.

Jesus, he thought, why hadn't he locked the child safety locks? Now she could, she might jump out. He pulled over.

She'd rolled down her window. It was cold out. She jumped outside, slammed the door and yelled, "Get the fuck out of here!"

He shouted back, "Jessie!"

She started walking away. She was crazy! He saw her mink and purse still on the passenger's seat. She was out there in a fucking almost backless dress with a strapless bra. What was he supposed to do? He should pull away. He bet she deliberately left her shit in the car. Should he drive off? Sure. Why not? Then what? Go home and tell three girls he'd left their mother out on the highway with nothing on in the cold, in the dark, alone, at four in the morning? Of course not, he followed along in the car beside her. Damn her, it was breezy out. Arms clasped around her shoulders he saw her shiver. He yelled out the window, "Jessie get back in the fucking car."

She ignored him.

He yelled again, "Jessie come on. It's cold out there. You'll catch your death. Damn it Jessie think of the girls."

She stopped. She didn't look at him. She kept shivering.

He watched her, half thinking maybe he should just drive off, simply leave the bitch. She kept looking down. Of course she wouldn't look at him. She was guilty as hell. What he'd like to do was get out, rip off her dress, and leave her out there to freeze naked. He made a fist and pounded his right hand into the dash. The damn Vinyl cracked. His fucking school ring broke it. It was the school ring she'd bought him. He yanked it off his finger, rolled down his window and threw it as far as he could.

Finally she did open the door and got back inside. The first thing out of her mouth, "This doesn't mean or prove anything."

He used his side door's equipment; rolled up her window and locked the child locks. She looked cold and sick. He thought he should try another approach. If he could get her calmed down. He'd often seen her like this before; once in undergraduate school she'd become so obsessed with a particular class she went completely nuts. She'd gotten a 'B'. The girls were still babies and wouldn't remember, but she'd gone on a real tirade. She'd run through the house yelling and screaming. She'd kept yelling how she'd been cheated and that she was going to get even with the instructor. She'd grabbed the teapot and threw it, cracking the dry wall. Not satisfied she grabbed a pot and threw it out the kitchen window. He'd grabbed her, held her, and whispered to her until she calmed down. There'd been other times, there'd been a broken vase, a broken mirror once in the bathroom. One time she came at him with a music box he'd bought her. He'd gotten her under control, but she still managed to break the music box. When it was over she not only couldn't remember what she was mad about, she couldn't remember breaking the music box.

After the event with the 'B' she never saw another. In law school she got all "A"'s. He knew she'd cheated on grades a couple times, and he knew she'd taken advantage of one or two of her classmates, but he never said anything. Better to keep peace in the house, especially with the girls around. He wondered sometimes about how she managed to manipulate some of her older professors, but he never once thought she might have used her body, not her, she'd never been like that. Now, sitting in the car he wasn't so sure.

They pulled in their driveway. He had to say something. They were both still a little drunk. He didn't know what to say, but he had to say something. He knew his wife though; she was a fighter, she hardly ever backed down, not since starting at the law firm, not on anything. He had to get her to come clean, calm down, but he knew he had to be careful. He had to be firm, but he knew she needed to be mollified, soothed too.

He looked over at her. She was daring him to say something. One look and he was getting mad all over again. Who the fuck did she think she was? But he had to try, "Jessie I love you. You love me. We've always been a team. It's always been just us, us and the girls. Honey no job, no career, no promotion is worth risking everything we have, all the things we've meant to each other."

Who was he kidding? He had to get even. No compromise! No molly coddling. This was one fight he had to win! He started to go off, "Why did you fuck the son-of-a-bitch? When did you turn whore?"

She kept hiccoughing and coughing. It did nothing to assuage his rising anger. He got sarcastic. "Honey, sweetheart it's not just about the marriage vows, or one slip into adultery." Really sarcastic, openly mocking he said, "Its only one commandment, you've still got nine more." Voice louder, "It's not even about trust." He laughed. "You say the right words and I'll trust you again... like I always have. But you've got to set it right. Fuck! Apologize! I don't need a great long apology, or some slavishly beseeching little whining slut." He laughed again, "I've already got the slut. Just come clean. Say you're sorry. Say it won't ever happen again. Say it only happened this once. Say it wasn't worth some tawdry promotion at some shithole law firm where all they do is steal money from honest people anyway. Jesus, what's a promotion worth if you've got to be a whore to get it? Say it won't happen again. I'll even forgive you. I promise, we can get past this. If we can't, well shit, Katy's fifteen, in three years she'll be off to college and we can call it quits then."

She kept crying; she was breathing real deep, almost gasping for air. What more could he say? He thought he found the answer. He said, "Look darling I'll go down to your office first thing Monday. I'll find Snyder. I'll set him straight. I'll make him say you were tipsy and didn't know what you were doing. I'll tell him I won't go after him with your bosses. I'll lie and say I still have the panties. I'll say his sperm was on them. I mean with the sperm and the company's moral clauses I'm sure I can shut him up. You'll see; I'll fix it, and you'll be safe. It'll be over and we can start over."

To Gary it all sounded pretty noble. He knew any real man would kick her to the curb, but he loved her, and then there were those three angels inside. What happened next clobbered him. It shouldn't have but it did.