Divorce Among Friends

Mary Joe: "Which may not be long if he finds out."

Jamey (now with a moment's hesitation): "You're ... you're not going to rat me out; are you?"

Mary Joe (with a sigh that -- even with the fence and fifteen feet of distance -- could not be missed by the PI's microphone): "No. I am not going to rat you out. But, I am not going out of my way to lie either. Do you hear?"

I clicked the remote, stopping the playback. During the playing of that excerpt of their conversation weeks ago in North Carolina, I had alternately watched Mary Joe's expression get gloomier, and Roy's get angrier.

"You bastard!" Roy said to me. "You had no right to eavesdrop and record my wife! I ought to sue you myself for invasion of privacy or ..."

"SHUT UP! Like Ronald Reagan said in the Republican primary debates in 1980, I PAID FOR THIS MICROPHONE! I also was the paying owner of the timeshare swap. And, because I suspected Jamey of cheating, I had also bought a second resort 'week' that I put to use as a timeshare owner by 'gifting' it to my PI. So he had every right to be there and record 'nature sounds of the beach.' It is just too bad that my cheating bitch of a soon-to-be ex-wife and your more-than-willing-to-cover-for-a-cheater wife happened to be talking while my PI was testing his nature-sound recording equipment on the patio next door to their -- well, my -- vacation unit."

I sat back and took a breath before continuing. "And, the judge in Charlotte was very sympathetic to my case, since that conversation ALSO happened in North Carolina."

Roy was very pissed now. "Well, you can just take these papers and shove them up your ass, Bud. I am not letting you take my wife to court and embarrass her in public; even if it does take place over in Charlotte."

I smiled and pulled another large envelope out and slid it toward him. "Oh, she won't be the only one who is embarrassed in public ... BUD!"

Roy angrily picked up the second envelope and almost tore it as he pulled out the documents contained therein.

It only took him a second before he stood and I could actually see spit fly as he shouted, "You son of a bitch! You have GOT to be insane!"

"You are served as well, Motherfucker," I said as calmly as possible; even though I was even more angry at Roy and his role in this whole mess -- as he was about to find out.

"What do you mean by 'Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress'?" Roy shouted.

I smiled at him and said, "In essence, in those states that do not allow for law suits under the rubric of Alienation of Affections, they often have provisions for suits against those who cause 'Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress,' abbreviated as IIED -- and Tennessee is one of them.

"This is where I sue you for, and I quote, 'outrageous conduct with the intention of causing -- or reckless disregard of the probability of causing -- emotional distress on the plaintiff -- that would be me; and that the plaintiff suffers severe or extreme emotional distress; and that the actual and proximate causation of the emotional distress by the defendant's outrageous conduct,' unquote -- the defendant being YOU, Asshole!

"Emotional distress can mean mental distress, mental suffering, or mental anguish. It also includes all highly unpleasant mental reactions, such as fright, nervousness, grief, anxiety, worry, mortification, shock, humiliation and indignity, as well as physical pain. Believe me; my attorney and I have gone over this extensively and I have studied it well."

"When did I ever do anything like that to you, you shit?" Roy shouted.

I raised the remote again, and said, "How about at the Wagon Wheel, where you know that I am a regular ... YOU SHIT! I knew that, with as big a mouth as Mary Joe had, she would at least have to tell you what she had learned about Jamey's infidelity, so I asked the PI to keep track of you two and what you said about me as well." I clicked the remote and the sound system gave off the distinct sounds of a busy bar, from which we could all hear Roy's unique Tennessee-touched New York accent contained in his loud voice. The context of the recorded dialog would easily lead the listener to believe that Roy had been sort of 'holding court' during the event.

Roy: "Yeah, she's out banging her boss and the dumbass is sitting at home; fat, dumb, and happy."

Mary Joe: "Roy, please; I told Jamey we would not tell on her. If you don't shut up ..."

Another male voice: "And you say your friend is named Clint? Is that Clint Hood, the guy who comes around here about three times a week? He plays darts and pool with me and couple of friends of mine every now and then."

Roy: "Yeah, that's him. And he really is a friend ... a stupid friend, but still a friend. He's fun to keep around to beat at golf and to be able to talk about as he gets his ass cuckolded by his old lady and her boss."

At this, the audio Roy led the bar crowd in a rousing round of derisive laughter.

I clicked the remote and looked at him. "Well ... Friend! I guess I must be a WHOLE lot of fun to keep around and make fun of with a crowd in which I am pretty well known, since I spend quite a bit of time there in my down time ... Well, I used to. Now, because of Jamey's actions, and YOUR big mouth, I am going to have to find a new hangout where I can enjoy a beer and some pool and darts, along with whatever NEW friends I might make ... after I sue your ass, that is, and drop you as a friend.

"OH, that's right ..." I said with a crude grin, "I've already done that."

I held up another document that was not in an envelope. "This is the preliminary report from a therapist that my lawyer got for me and whom I saw last week. Yeah, he pretty much authoritatively says that I am suffering emotional distress in the form of mental anguish, grief, anxiety, mortification, shock, humiliation and indignity; and all of that has contributed to the beginnings of acid reflux that constitutes evidence of the degrading of my physical pain."

Roy and Mary Joe were standing now; both of them angry and embarrassed, but silent.

I said to them quietly, "Feel free to show yourselves out; and I will see you in court."

Roy was still shaking in anger, so Mary Joe gathered up all sets of the documents with which they had been served this evening. She touched Roy's elbow and he looked at her. She mouthed, "Let's go," and they started toward the door.

Roy went out first and Mary Joe looked back before leaving. I heard her say quietly, "I'm sorry," just before I heard the storm door close softly on its hydraulic closure.

****

Several weeks before:

Swat!

Larry Klugh's smooth stroke and easy follow-through made me jealous every time I saw him with a driver in his hand. The drive off the tee that he routinely nailed often made up well enough for his lousy wedge shots and the rest of his short game; so he could usually carry the day on the course when we played.

We were at the driving range, each hacking away at a bucket of balls and carrying on a friendly conversation. I was very much in need, at this point in my life, of the company of friends and some diversionary activity and conversation.

Larry and I had met and shared a couple of courses over a decade ago in college at UT Chattanooga, and had maintained a good relationship over the years. It had not grown really close until each of us had joined the same country club right before he and Angela got married. I had received an invitation to their wedding, and, a year later, when Jamey and I had tied the knot, I had reciprocated by inviting him and Angela to attend ours. Since then, we had gotten to the point that they were another of our favorite couples with whom we could associate and relax together and share life experiences.

"I'd dump the bitch and burn her at the figurative stake," he said as he looked up to track the progress of his ball, now in flight toward the 300-yard marker.

"Okay, but how do you handle the fact that, even though she is a cheating, conniving, and lying cunt, with whom you have invested years of love into the relationship; love that just does not die overnight ... or even over months, or possibly years?" I was trying to feel my way along here emotionally. I had already discovered enough about Jamey's infidelity to determine that she and I were soon to be history as a married couple.

But ... God ... as angry as it made me; it was still painful as well. I really had loved Jamey with all my heart; and, truth be told, I still did -- despite her cheating. I just needed to hear the opinions of some other people that I knew and trusted, so that I could do what I needed to do and not feel so ... so ... isolated, I guess.

"Simple," Larry replied as he placed another ball on the tee fixture on the mat beside mine. He rose to talk to me before addressing the ball, and said, "Well, not really so simple, I guess; the poor guy would probably go right on loving her for the rest of his life, to some degree. But, the sensible guy applies one of the basic economic rules of business -- never try to recoup a sunk cost or throw good money after bad; with the expectation of getting back to the same point you were before the situation started to go bad in the first place. It never happens."

Pausing before he lined up his driver, Larry asked me, "Why all this interest in cheating spouses all of a sudden? You're not ...?"

"NO!" I answered quickly. "I ... just ..." and then I lied, "heard rumors about some dude where I work; that his wife might be hooking up with some Jodie on the side. And I was just wondering what to tell him if he asked my opinion about it. So, I am asking several friends what they think about it as I sort out in my own head just what I would say; that is, if I said anything at all."

This seemed to mollify Larry. He simply nodded and addressed his ball. Then he made another one of those beautiful drives that made me absolutely crazy with jealousy.

****

Larry looked at me sympathetically now as we all heard Roy and Mary Joe's car start outside at the top of the driveway that sloped down to my house. Angela was quiet and looked at the center of the coffee table.

Condensation on the glasses left there had dripped down to the level of the coasters, but did not threaten to roll off onto the finished wood. I suddenly recalled how Jamey would pitch a hissy fit at me for getting moisture spots on the wood furniture.

Mama Connie quietly asked Dad if he wanted another beer. Dad shook his head, 'No,' and looked at me with his own version of a sympathetic look.

The silence was finally broken by Angela, as she said, "So, Clint; not only are you divorcing your wife; you are divorcing your friends as well?" Her tone was not overly condemning of me, but it was definitely not in the category that one might call supportive.

"Angela, you and Larry are Catholic, right?" I asked, surprising the both of them with the seeming non sequitur.

"Yeah, but what has that got...?" Larry answered for his wife; a mildly confused look on his face.

"Are you familiar with the Catholic view of Excommunication?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's where the Church puts you out..." began Larry.

"No," I interjected. "I may be 'just a Methodist,' but even I know that the Catholic Church considers that one of its members actually excommunicates himself ... or herself ... by withdrawing voluntarily from actions, thoughts, and practices that would normally keep him or her in full communion with the rest of the Catholic faith community."

I leaned forward as I continued. "Formal excommunication by the Church is really just public recognition that the culprit has voluntarily separated himself or herself from full communion with the Church in the first place.

"In the case of divorce proceedings," I said, now steering the analogy around to the case in hand here tonight, "the court simply recognizes formally and publically that one or both parties have already withdrawn from full participation in the marriage.

"What I am doing, in my suits against Roy and Mary Joe, is simply getting the courts to recognize formally ... and, hopefully, as publically and embarrassingly as possible for those two assholes ... that they voluntarily withdrew themselves from my friendship by what they did; both the acts of commission as well as the deliberate acts of omission as they relate to covering for the actions that led to my divorce from Jamey."

The others sat silently for a few seconds as they tried to absorb what I had laid out mentally. The silence was then broken by the swish of the next large envelope that I tossed on the coffee table. Larry looked up and caught my expression of sorrow as my eyes locked on his. His brow furrowed, giving him a quizzical look, until he saw my eyes shift pointedly toward Angela as my mouth tightened into a thin line.

Angela suddenly looked terrified and shifted her eyes from me toward Larry, with an imploring look in them. I guess she suspected what might be in that cursed envelope.

"Are you divorcing us too, Clint?" Larry asked sadly, as he looked down at the envelope; then at Angela; and then at me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but my words caught for a second and I had to blink away the start of tears. I knew this would be painful for my friend. But, if I did not carry through with my plan, then I would be just as guilty as those whom I was confronting tonight. I would also be such a hypocrite.

"No," I finally answered and then I cleared my throat and said, "Just her." I now looked pointedly at Angela and she had her eyes closed and just shook her head, as if she could ward off what was coming by denying it.

"What do you mean ... 'Just her,' ... I ... what ... Angela?" Larry was very much taken by surprise.

All Angela could say at that moment was, "No, no, no, no ..." softly over and over.

"I'm sorry, Larry," I said, "but you need to hear this." With that, I clicked the remote to activate the next recording that was cued up.

(Sounds of waves and an occasional sea gull; then the sound of the closing of a sliding patio door; evidently to keep the air conditioning from getting out and the mosquitoes from getting in)

Angela: "Hey, Girlfriend; why are you sitting out here all alone on such a beautiful evening? Thinking about how much you miss Clint?" Pause... "Or how much you miss Doug?"

Jamey: "Shut. UP. Girl!" (Sound of patio chairs sliding). "I was just thinking that I might have screwed up big time by confirming Mary Joe's suspicions about Doug and me."

Angela: "You mean you told her?"

Jamey: "Well, I just confirmed it when she asked. She already seemed to have it all figured out. But she said she would not let on."

Angela (after a very audible snort): "Right; as much of a blabbermouth as Mary Joe is, you can bet that she will tell Roy right away; she just won't be able to contain herself, knowing that juicy bit of gossip. And, as for Roy..."

Jamey: "If that happens, I expect Roy to follow the 'Man Code.'"

Angela: "'Man Code;' what do you mean?"

Jamey: "Roy will keep what he knows from Clint in order to keep from having Clint hate him for being the bearer of the bad news."

Angela: "I hope you are right." Pause ... "Anyway, you know that I have not told anyone else since you told me about it that first time you and Doug got together."

Jamey: "And I appreciate it, Girlfriend. But, I expect part of your motive in helping me is payback for my helping you after you let your little situation almost get out of hand."

Angela: "Oh, Jamey; believe me when I say that I am truly grateful for you helping me out at the New Year's bash at the Country Club. I don't usually drink that much; and, if you had not helped me get cleaned up after you caught Javier and me fucking out behind the Pro Shop that night, then Larry would have divorced me for sure. And I am sure that he would have dug up the fact that Javier, as CEO at the club, had been arranging our meetings in the club's guest bungalows for almost a year."

I clicked off the recording. Cue the crickets and the bullfrogs for the next fifteen seconds. Then cue the sound of Angela's breathing getting heavier and louder as she approached the point of breaking out into big sobs.

Larry simply put his face down in his hands as Angela reached out ... but did not touch her now-tortured husband ... all the while, softly saying things like, "No, Larry ... it's not ... I mean ..." She could not form a coherent sentence; she was so surprised and -- I could only hope -- ashamed.

"Is the transcript of that in here?" asked Larry, looking up at me finally ... thankfully, with a look that did not seem to accuse me; but appeared to be devoid of any emotion at all.

"Yeah," I said softly, "as well as a CD-R with a copy of the audio, and a signed and notarized affidavit from my PI as to its authenticity."

"Thanks, Clint," Larry said at last, with only a quick glance at his wife before he stood and extended his hand to me. "You are a true friend to tell me; don't worry about me being mad at the messenger.

"Let's go home, Angela; you're going need some time to pack," Larry said as he began walking to the door, evidently not worrying as to whether his wife-of-the-moment would follow.

Angela looked at me and, despite her anguish at the almost certainty of losing her husband soon, displayed savage fury in my direction. "Satisfied, Asshole?" she asked with venom before turning to follow Larry out.

I don't believe she could have heard me when I said, "No; not really," softly.

****

The Previous Week

"If she is being as blatant as that; then, I guess, the best thing is to dump her ass while you are still young enough to try again, once things settle down for you, I mean."

I had just laid out my plan to divorce Jamey to Dad and Mama Connie, and swearing them to secrecy until Jamey could be formally served. Assuring them that my PI had given me enough data to make my case many times over, I informed them that I was planning to have her served in the following week; and have her moved out of my house as soon after that as possible. Thank God for Granddad's good sense to leave the house to me when he died -- and in my name only -- before I had married Jamey!

I was only about halfway toward my decision about what to do with our erstwhile so-called 'friends.' So I held off on telling my parents about that.

Looking back, I could see that Mama Connie had been a good match-up for Dad after Mom had died as a result of that drunk driver when I was just four. Mama Connie had lost her first husband in Operation Desert Storm in the nineties and she and Dad had met at a charity dinner. They had dated for over a year-and-a-half before they had finally tied the knot. Can you imagine being the best man at a wedding when you are not even seven yet? My dad and I had laughed at the pictures contained in his and Mama Connie's wedding album, especially with the one noticeable dip in the line of heads in the group shots of the wedding party that included me.

"Are you sure that you two can't work your way through this ... unfortunate set of circumstances, Clint, Honey?" Mama Connie asked sincerely. Unable to have children of her own, and with me being an only child, I guess she was trying desperately to keep me and Jamey together long enough to fulfill one of her most sought-after goals in life -- to have grandchildren to help fill the void of not having her own children.

'Unfortunate set of circumstances?' I thought. Just what was that about? I had just told her that Jamie had been cheating on me with her boss for months. That was not 'Unfortunate;' it was 'Deliberately Despicable!'

"I'm afraid not, Mama Connie," I told her as politely as I could. "If it were just a flirtation that had not gotten sexual, and if she had not gone to such great lengths -- not only to hide it from me -- but to get others to help provide cover for her affair -- No. We are done. I'm sorry."