I Never Saw It Coming

"Sir, we'd like to see the car right now, please."

My car being a 2002 wasn't new and even though it was repaired after the night I rammed Bob' car, it had its share of dents and scratches. But it was paid for and still ran great. One of the cops went back to his car and got a camera while I went inside the house and hit the garage door opener. They went to the front right side of the car and started taking pictures.

"Can you tell me how you got these scratches and marks on the bumper?"

"Not a clue if you really want to know. I bought this car new and after eight years there are bound to be a few nicks and scratches. Now that I've answered all your questions, maybe you can answer one of mine? What's going on and what does this have to do with my car?"

"Mr. Moore, there was a hit and run accident yesterday afternoon and the witnesses said it was a black sedan with dark windows which matches the description of your car."

"And a million others in this town," I replied, getting a little annoyed.

"Why me? Did my license plate match the vehicle or did anyone identify me as the driver?"

"The two witnesses only saw the car."

"Well, as you can see, there isn't any significant damage to the front end, and I can account for my whereabouts from about eight a.m. until six o'clock yesterday. Why pick on me?"

"It's your history with the individual and your threats that prompted this visit. We will be on our way now. We appreciate your cooperation."

"Wait a minute," I yelled to the two of them as they started walking back down the driveway to their car.

"Who was I suppose to have run over anyway?"

"A Mr. Robert Kelly." I started to smile.

"Is he dead?"

"No, Sir, but in critical condition." They paused a minute and then continued walking back to their car. I waved goodbye to them, went into my house and opened a bottle of wine. I ordered a pizza and ate almost all of it. I managed to drink the entire bottle of wine, though, in celebration.

The neighborhood was abuzz with gossip about Bob. "The guy just can't get a break," some said, while others declared, "He got what he deserved." Me? I was in seventh heaven. Two days later Bob took a turn for the worse and passed on.

I looked good. A new suit, a fresh haircut, and polished shoes rounded out my outfit. I even stopped off and got my car washed and waxed on the way there. It wasn't packed but there were a lot of people milling around outside of the funeral home. When I arrived everyone who was talking suddenly shut up and watched me walk up and go inside. I didn't sign the book, just walked briskly down the main aisle.

Kathy looked up and saw me. I smirked inwardly when I saw the shock of me being there register on her face. My two children were sitting next to her and smiled at me. It took Kathy all of fifteen seconds to get to her feet and try to intercede before I got to the open casket, she didn't succeed, another inward smirk.

From the moment I started walking down the aisle I'd been drawing it up from my inner bowels and by the time I got to the open casket I had more than enough in my mouth. I looked down at Bob lying peacefully in the casket and spit into his face. I had enough spit that it dribbled down his face onto his white shirt.

Kathy screamed at me, all the while crying and calling me every name in the book. This time the smirk was on my face.

"Two down, one to go," I said to her. That stopped her in her tracks. She was still crying but now had a look of fear in her eyes. "I warned you," I said softly, and walked out of the now quiet funeral home.

I was questioned twice more by the cops over the next month. Kathy insisted just because it wasn't my car that didn't mean I wasn't involved. They never caught the driver and after a few months it became old news.

When the patrol car pulled onto my driveway I had expected it. When they told me to they were taking me to the police station I wasn't even surprised. I locked up my house and looked at my neighbors watching me being put in the back seat of a patrol car for yet another time.

"Mr. Moore, do you know a David Kent?" One of the two detectives asked, sliding his picture in front of me.

"Sure do," I replied.

"How do you come to know Mr. Kent?"

"I hired him to watch my ex-wife," I said, speaking in a matter-of-fact voice. "He's been watching her on and off for about a month." I pushed the picture back to the detectives.

"And why did you hire Mr. Kent to watch your former wife?"

"Detectives, my ex-wife seems to have a black cloud hanging over her head since she took up with her now late husband. Because my children are living with her, I felt it was my duty to make sure nothing happens to them. So I hired David to watch them, mostly at night, to make sure my kids were safe."

"Well, your ex-wife notified us that she thought she was being followed and watched. She saw your Mr. Kent on more than one occasion and called us. When we picked him up yesterday imagine our surprise when we found out you hired him." The officer said quite sarcastically. "Mr. Moore, this comes very close to harassment and you still might be charged if it continues."

"I'm just looking out for my children's safety, that's all. I couldn't care less if something unfortunate happens to my ex, but my two kids are a different matter. If this is a problem then I'll rely on your department to make sure my children remain safe."

"Mr. Moore, it's not against the law what you're doing, but it is stretching the limits. Why don't you just talk to your ex and try to work something out?"

"Last time I tried that, I went to jail." They let me go, but for the third time they said they were going to keep an eye on me. They really did need to come up with a better line.

I didn't pay David to be inconspicuous. I wanted him to be seen by Kathy. The next guy I hired was even less inconspicuous and looked a whole lot meaner—like someone out of a Hell's Angels movie. He cost me thirty dollars an hour and only worked three hours every fourth night, but I got the effect I wanted. You see, I wanted to try and drive my ex over the edge. I figured if she has a nervous breakdown I'd get the kids full time. We were a family, the kids and I, but I wanted what had been taken from me.

"Steve, what the hell do you want?" A distraught Kathy screamed into the phone.

"I want you to fucking die, that's what I want, Kathy." That must have shocked the shit out of her because she hung up immediately.

I was waiting on my porch. "You guys are late," I told the two police officers when they came up to my door.

Kathy was charging me with threatening her life, but this time I'd already contacted my lawyer. He was waiting at the station for us when we arrived.

"My client did not threaten his ex-wife," my attorney told the police. "He merely said that he'd like to see her dead, not that he was going to do it."

"Well, she took it as a threat on her life, and was concerned because she's still being followed by people hired by your client."

"Look, it's not illegal to have someone watched and unless you have a recording of Mr. Moore saying he was going to have Mrs. Kelly killed, you don't have a case and you know it."

"Mr. Moore, why don't you just move on? So she left you for someone else, it happens everyday. It's a shame you had to go to jail, but I understand those charges are already off your record. You're driving her nuts and if she snaps and someone gets hurt, we're going to come looking for you." He wasn't smiling. "Is there any way we can end this?"

I talked to my lawyer.

"All my client wants is his children back home with him. If Mrs. Kelly will give up custody he'll back off one hundred percent."

"We have nothing to say about that, that's for the court to decide."

"Well, you asked and we told you. So, if there is nothing else, my client and I will be leaving." And that's exactly what we did.

I was having breakfast and reading the newspaper on the deck the following Sunday morning when I heard the front door bell. I didn't have a clue who would be up this early calling on me. I opened the door and there stood Kathy's parents.

"Steve, do you have a minute to talk to us?"

"Sure, come on in," I said, greeting the two of them. They were in their Sunday best. I figured they were either coming back from or on their way to church. "Can I get either one of you a cup of coffee?"

"Nothing for us, thank you."

"Well, what brings you around here?" I asked.

Kathy's father started right in. "Steve, I'll get right to the point. I know what our daughter did to you wasn't right especially with you having to go to jail and all. But, she is our only child and we don't want anything to happen to her, if you know what I mean?"

"Look, I am not out to put her in the grave no matter what she thinks. She has made some bad choices and now she's paying for them. All I want are my children back. They're better off with me especially since she's having a run of bad luck. I'd hate like hell to have something happen to them if something unfortunate befalls her, if you get my drift." They just stared at me not knowing what to say at this point.

"Steve, we'll talk to her, but you know how she is." Kathy's mother said, trying to overcome the discomfort they felt over my last statement.

"That's where you're wrong. The woman I married way back would never have cheated on her husband or thrown him to the sharks. I don't recognize who she is now, other than being the mother of my children. I'd like to see her die a horrible and painful death. You see, I don't forgive and I sure as hell don't forget." With that said they made a hasty retreat. I think I got my point across.

Thursday evening I finally received the visitor I'd been expecting all these months. It was just after seven and starting to get dark. She must have walked because I didn't hear a car drive up. She rang the bell; I looked through the peephole and let her in. She was already mad when she walked through the door. I had half expected a phone call but this was much better, her being here in the flesh.

"Come on in, Kathy, can I get you something to drink? Acid, hemlock on the rocks?" I said, shutting the door behind her.

"Very funny, you really are an asshole, you know that?" I reopened the door for her.

"I think we're about done, nice of you to stop by. By the way, have a short, miserable life, why don't you?" I said, still holding the door open as she looked at me.

"I'm not going anywhere until we have this out." She gingerly sat down on one of the living room chairs.

"Suit yourself." I closed the door and went into the kitchen for a glass of wine. "Now, what brings you to my humble abode?"

"Our humble abode. Remember, I still own fifty percent of this house."

"Less what I've paid on it since the divorce," I reminded her.

"Well, I want this place sold. What's it going to take to get you to drop the price?"

"An act of God or you willing to make up the loss we're going to take plus interest."

"Done, make it happen," she spit out at me. "I just want you out of this neighborhood and away from me."

"That, my dear Kathy, is never going to happen."

"You still hate me that much?"

"More than you can possibly imagine."

"It was shitty the way it all went down, but I never set out to get involved with Bob, it just happened." She couldn't think I was that stupid or naïve.

"Bullshit, Kathy, nothing just happens. Unless he put a gun to your head, you went willingly. Was he so much better in the sack that you destroyed our marriage and our family?" My anger was surfacing again.

"It wasn't about the sex, it was more so that he needed me. He had no one and I guess we just fell in love because we ended up needing one another."

"What were you doing, fucking social work? I needed you, our kids needed you, our fucking marriage needed you, but you're saying your wet puppy needed you more? Now he's six feet underground and a hell of a lot less needy." I smiled, enjoying every fiber of that memory. "I only wish I had been driving the car that ended his miserable existence."

"Steve, you've really become a hateful man, haven't you? To take enjoyment from another's misfortune is really sick."

"I'd like to say I was self-made, but you and the dead guy had a hell of a lot to do with it, my dear."

"That's a cop-out and you know it. Sixty percent of the marriages today fail and do you think everyone of those spouses goes around hating the other?"

"I couldn't give a rip about anyone else's marriage but my own. How long was I the stupid, gullible husband?"

"Does it matter?"

"To me it does. Two months, three, five?"

"About five months if it makes any difference. It just happened the first time and I almost told you about it that night. I was so devastated." She said it so calmly it almost sounded scripted.

"But you didn't, and I guess you weren't that devastated because it happened again and again. How many times did you fuck him in our God damn bed?"

"Never! I never would have done that to you," she said angrily.

"I guess it was okay to fuck him everywhere else, huh? Do you know that a lot of our friends saw what was happening, but they never had the balls to tell me? It only goes to show you simply can't trust some people. You sure as hell proved you couldn't be trusted."

"So, where do we go from here? This house is our last connection to one another."

"How about the kids?"

"I'm not giving them up and there isn't anything you can say that will change that." My mind was now moving a thousand miles per hour.

"Kathy, I'm not going to even try to convince you. You were awarded full custody because of what you drove me to. If I hadn't gone nuts on Bob and his car that day, I would have stood a fifty-fifty chance of getting them. Bob got exactly what he deserved and now that just leaves the two of us." Her eyes got a little wider.

"Steve, are you threatening me?"

"Me, deprive my kids of their natural mother?" I said dripping with venom and sarcasm. "I would never do that. But if something should happen, you know like if you had a heart attack, or are struck by lightning, or are involved in an accident, I just want you to know that I'll make sure the kids remember you always. And if you have any last requests, I wouldn't wait too long before putting them down on paper, you never know when something might happen." I'd heard that line in a movie when the hit man had told his mark to get his affairs in order. I hoped it would have the same results.

"I'm out of here," Kathy said, standing up. "We had twelve good years. In a way I'm kind of sorry it ended." She tried to give me a kiss on the cheek; I pushed her back with both hands almost knocking her over.

"Don't ever try and touch me again, you fucking slut." That took her by surprise.

"I'm sorry, I just thought..."

"You thought what? That you and I were now okay with each other? You make my skin crawl." My eyes were breathing fire.

"Sorry," she said all flustered, her eyes wide with horror.

"Don't be because I'm not." She walked out the front door and started down the driveway.

"By the way, you know that look you just gave me? Bob had the identical look on his face just before the car struck him that night. Too bad I didn't have a camera or I could show you." I shut the door, but not before watching Kathy run for her house.

THE END—PART TWO—MOVING ON WITH MY LIFE

In truth, I was the one who started the fire at Bob's house. Two Gatorade bottles of gasoline and a lit cigarette was all it took. I made sure everyone was gone from the house. I had hoped that it wouldn't be reported to the fire department until the house was totally ablaze—so much for that plan. It took less than five minutes start to finish, including tossing the plastic Gatorade bottles into a neighbor's recycle bin. I had excused myself to go to the bathroom, made my way out the side door and through the backyards to the back of Bob's house, no one even missed me.

I'd like to take credit for Bob's death, but I can't. It was Bob being in the wrong place at the right time, or just plain dumb luck. If he would have looked both ways like his mother probably told him to as a kid he'd still be alive. No matter what I say, Kathy and her family still think I was involved, and in one way I'm sorry it wasn't me, but there was no way I would have done it. I'd been locked up in jail once and I never wanted to go back, especially to the joint up north.

Anyway, by now Kathy was probably at home locking the doors thinking she's next on my list. Am I going to go after her? Not on your life. I'll just drop hints and innuendos until I drive her nuts and the court gives me back my kids. I will, however, tell any prospective homebuyer about the arsonist in the neighborhood who still hasn't been caught. You see, I like living just where I am, especially with my two children being just up the street. Who knows, when they turn thirteen they might just decide to live with their old dad. Well, I can hope.

The only good thing that has happened to me during all of this was I met someone I think I may have a future with. Her name is Ellen and she works for the State Department of Corrections. I had to check in with her the first year after I was let out; just to make sure I was adjusting, rehabilitated, and doing okay. Ellen is tough and she takes no crap. After getting the formal garbage out of the way we began to talk and found out we may have feelings for one another. Ethically Ellen could not date me until my year of probation was up, but finally we were able to go out on a real date. I told her I had major trust issues and she one-upped me by telling me that most convicts lie to her in one fashion or another. So now we're both trying to move forward and in the process deal with our trust issues together while getting to know one another better.

Ellen got me thinking about what I've been doing ever since that whore of a wife walked out on me. She showed me my actions were keeping me from having any kind of a real life and having any meaningful relationships. She told me it was time to move on. She further convinced me, when she told me if I fucked up and got thrown back in jail, my ass would be hers to do with as she wished. "And darling, I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy," she explained, with a smile that made the hair on the back of my neck stand straight up.

And you know what? I believe her, I really do. And when I'm with her, she keeps things interesting because as tough as I think I am, Ellen is one lady I would never cross. Even better though, is knowing in my heart, she would never cross me either. I think I am finally ready to move on with my life and open myself up to love once again.