I'm Not Dead Yet

Our lake cabin was about an hours drive from the house. It had been my parents and when they passed on, I bought out my brother's share and redid the interior. Monday I threw together a few things and headed out. A quick call to work and I was on my own for the next four days. I just needed time alone to sort out a few things without Sandy hovering over me.

As soon as I opened the door I knew something was wrong. I hadn't been there in at least four months, and when I left, the place was immaculate. Someone had been here since then. There was an empty bottle of wine on the counter and after a quick inspection; I found that our bed had been slept in. Not only slept in, someone had had sex on the bed. I could still see the ring left from what was the wet spot on the white sheets.

"Well, I now know where, and I've got a pretty good idea with whom," I said to myself as I dragged the mattress to the door and tossed it out on the lawn.

My heart was beating a mile a minute, and I was sweating buckets as I sat down in a chair on the porch.

"Steve, old buddy, it looks like you've been replaced," I said to myself as I started to get angry again. "The hell with all of them. I don't need them. I used to, but not anymore," I told myself.

Over the next four days I made up a list of what I wanted out of life, where I wanted to go, and none of it included any of my family. It was something like a bucket list without having to kick the bucket.

I got home late Friday afternoon, but Sandy was nowhere to be found. She never came home that night, and by Saturday afternoon I decided to smoke a rack or two of ribs and wait for her. I was almost looking forward to her explanation of where she'd been for the past two days, when all hell broke loose, and I had my heart attack.

***************

So that now brings you, to where I am currently. I finally called Ken from the rehab place to tell him I was still alive and kicking.

"They wouldn't put my calls through," he told me. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, but still pretty weak. It looks like I'm going to be laid up for a couple of months. I need Judy to bring by my laptop so I can keep in touch and updated."

"You think that's wise?" Ken replied.

"Don't worry. I won't over do it, but between Judy and me, we'll keep everything current," I told him.

"You know your wife was here the other day. She took something off your desk. I think it was that picture of the two of you. You guys doing ok?" he asked.

"Never better. Just have Judy drop off my computer, and for Gods sake, please don't tell anyone where I am. I sure as hell don't need any visitors," I told him. "By the way, I'm milking our health insurance for everything I can get out of it," I said with a laugh.

"That's what it's there for. Just get better and let me know if you need anything buddy."

"Bastards," that's what I called them after the second week. First they tried to work me to death in the gym, and now their trying to feed me no more than a few scraps of food.

"I've seen bigger appetizers," I said to myself looking at my dinner plate.

I was exercising four times a day and eating five meals a baby couldn't survive on, but I was losing weight. After about five and a half weeks I was less crabby and into the groove. The food sucked, and there was never enough, but I liked what was happening to me. I could walk on the treadmill for thirty minutes without oxygen. My pants were loose around my middle, and for the first time in a long time, I started feeling better about myself.

"Damn it, I can do this," I told myself.

Chapter Two

When the Good Will truck pulled onto the driveway Sandy thought they were just using it to turn around.

"Mrs. Moore?" the driver asked.

"Yes, I'm Mrs. Moore."

"I've been given a pickup order, with instructions to get with you," he told me.

"What pickup order? I never ordered a pickup."

"I know that, Miss. It was initiated by your husband, Steve Moore," he said showing me his signature on the bottom of the page. "It says here, to pickup every piece of clothing in the house that belongs to your husband. The note explained that they're not already boxed up, so if you don't mind, could you please show me where things are so we can get started? We've still got one more pickup this afternoon."

I showed them Steve's closet and dresser in our bedroom and took one of the workmen down stairs to where his winter clothes were stored. It took them just under an hour to get everything boxed up and put into the truck. I signed their receipt, and got my copy before they drove off.

"What the hell is he doing?" I thought to myself.

After the blowup in his room, I was not allowed to see or speak to Steve while he was in the hospital. The doctor wouldn't tell me how he was doing or when he would be released. When Steve wouldn't see John or Tina, I really got worried. I know he was mad at me, but that was no excuse not to see his kids.

Tuesday I snuck into the hospital and climbed the stairs to his floor. There was no way that nurse was going to keep me out this time. I waited until she was at the other end of the hall, and then ran into Steve's room.

Bursting through the door I shouted out, "Why won't you talk to me?"

A stunned woman looked at me and replied, "Because I don't know you," she said trying to figure what the hell this crazy woman was doing in her room.

"Alright, where have you moved Steve Moore," I shouted to the nurse at the front desk.

"I'm sorry. He's gone," she replied.

My eyes teared up. "When? How?" I asked. "What did they do with his body?" I cried. "I'm his wife, damn it. I have a right to know," I said getting angry again through my tears.

"When I said he was gone, I mean he checked out two days ago. And if you want any more information, you'll have to go down to the office. So if that's all, I have a floor of sick people to take care of," she told me.

The business office said Steve had been discharged and had been sent to a rehab clinic, but they were not at liberty to tell me where. Patient's orders, I was told.

"Great, back to square one," I said to myself walking out the door.

Sitting in my car I planned my next move. Steve was right. I'd given up on the two of us a long time ago. His weight had sky rocketed, and whenever I said something about it, he told me not to nag him. When we did have sex, he was like a huge sack of potatoes lying on top of me. When I told him he was crushing me, he'd get upset and try to finish on his arms or elbows. By that time I was just happy to have him finish and get off me. Sex with him was no longer enjoyable, and when he even mentioned the word sex, my stomach would tighten up.

We did it maybe once a month, and that was only after he whined about it for a day or two. I guess you could call it pity sex because although he got off, I never did. I was getting really frustrated, and that's when Rick came into the picture.

I first met Rick when we joined the country club. They had a dinner and dance once a month and he would always come alone. During the night he would dance with all the available women. As the evenings progressed Steve would be off drinking or feeding his face, and Rick and I would dance the night away. It had been a long time since anyone had held me like that. Soon the routine became one of dancing a few numbers and then sitting and talking on the patio until it was time to leave ... or until I spied Steve looking for me.

After a couple of months we met for lunch one Saturday afternoon while Steve was off golfing. We had a couple of glasses of wine and everything just seemed so right.

We ended up in the back seat of his car making out like a couple of teenagers. We did everything there was to do without taking our clothes off. I jacked him off and he fingered me until I climaxed at least twice. It had been so long since I'd felt this way.

We straighten our clothes, kissed goodbye and I headed back to the house. I didn't even feel guilty until I was in the shower trying to get myself off again while thinking about Rick.

"What the hell was I doing? I'm fooling around with some guy in the back seat of his car and now I'm trying to get off while thinking about him instead of my husband. How sick is that?" I said to myself getting disgusted at what I was doing. The problem was I no longer felt sexually attracted to my husband.

I nagged Steve for the next two weeks about his weight and tried to tell him how sexy he'd be if he lost forty pounds, but he never got the hint. He just got angry with me again. Everything came crashing down when he wanted to fool around one night after dinner. It was a disaster of a session, and he got mad and went into the bathroom. I felt bad, but not that bad. He slept in the spare room that night and was gone before I got up the next day.

I had the dark brown touch the following morning at work. Everything I touched turned to shit. I was feeling sorry for myself and did something stupid. I e-mailed Steve and basically told him that it was all his fault last night because he'd walked out on me. He however came back with a real eye opener.

"Whomever I was cheating with, I'd better stop if I still wanted to stay married," was all it said.

Shit, there was no way he could possibly have known about that Saturday. However, if he were taking care of business at home, it never would have happened. And, it's not like we had sex or anything; it was only a little fooling around, that's all.

I guess I never should have answered his e-mail when I was mad, because I called him everything I could think of. I told him I'd never cheated on him, and if he weren't such an overweight slob, we'd have more sex. I now realize that I was basically pushing him away, and I guess he was tired of arguing. That's when he replied back that maybe he should stay permanently in the guest room if I no longer wanted him any more.

It was now spiraling out of control.

When Steve got home, we had a huge argument. We threw accusations at each other and he went one way and I the other. I slept alone that night and for many, many nights after that.

It was the night of the charity auction that we finally apologized to each other. It had been tearing me apart, but I guess we were both too stubborn to admit we were either wrong or what the real underlining problem was. We had a wonderful dinner. Steve danced with me and then decided to mingle with his friends. I made the mistake of dancing with Rick. We danced maybe a little too close, and out on the patio he told me he wanted to take it to the next level ... and then he kissed me. I told him that it had been a mistake and that I would never cheat on my husband and left him out there licking his wounds.

I never saw Steve leave, nor did anyone else. The parking lot attendant told me he had left about a half hour earlier, and when I called him, it went right to voice mail. I was pissed and had one too many drinks before realizing I'd have to find someway home. Rick came over and asked what was the matter.

"Steve got mad for some reason and left. He won't answer his phone and I need to find a way home."

"Sandy, after the auction I'll give you a ride home," he said.

I shot him back the look.

"And I'll keep my hands to myself also," he assured me.

I drank half way through the auction, before we left. On the ride home I started getting angry all over again.

"How could he just leave me there?" I fumed.

I guess Rick saw how angry I was, and told me to relax. When he pulled into the parking lot by the lake I was surprised, and when he reached over to kiss me I didn't stop him.

The only reason we didn't go all the way that night was that a police car, making his rounds through the parking lot. When he hit the car with his spotlight, I sobered up in one hell of a hurry.

"Rick, take me home; now," I demanded.

When I got home, I thanked him and ran to the house. I was almost sober but angry as hell all over again. When Steve accused me of cheating, I went ballistic. What cut me to the core was when he asked me when had I given up on our marriage. I crashed inside and started to cry and tell him that I'd never cheated on him, but he no longer believed me.

Sunday Steve never left his room, and I didn't push it. I figured we'd have words Monday, and I wanted to make sure I had all my ducks in a row. When he didn't come home Monday night, I just thought it was his way of punishing me. When he didn't come home Tuesday, I called his secretary, Judy, and was told that he had taken a couple of days vacation.

"The bastard off some where sulking," I said to myself. "Well two can play that game."

I left Wednesday to spend a couple of days with my daughter up at college. We had a great time bonding and even had a girl's night out with a couple of her friends Friday night. Saturday morning I woke up with a hangover and an upset stomach.

"Guess I'm too old for that kind of partying anymore," I said dressing to leave. I said goodbye to my daughter, thanked her for the good time and drove home. I had no more than gotten out of my car when my next-door neighbor came running over.

"Steve was taken by ambulance to the hospital this morning," she told me.

The front door was shut but the lock was broken. I ran inside and saw a few things had been moved around, and could smell the smoker on the deck. The coals were almost out, but there were two slabs on the grill. I took them off, put them in the refrigerator and opened up the yellow pages. There were only two hospitals in our area. I called Mercy General and hit pay dirt. Steve had been admitted but they wouldn't give me anything over the phone. I changed and headed out.

"A triple bypass," I almost shouted. "How long will he be in surgery?" I asked.

"About another hour," I was told. "There's nothing you can do but wait. He's got a great doctor and we caught it in time. From surgery, he will go to post-op and from there, he will be assigned a room. If you wait in the lounge, I'll come and get you when they're finished."

Can you say shit head? Because that's exactly what I felt like.

"He could have died," I kept saying over and over to myself. "When I get him home, I'm going to show him how much I love him, we'll get through this together," but I wasn't given the chance.

I finally tracked him down to the rehab clinic but he still refused to see me. I was getting pissed. Stubborn was one thing, but Steve was carrying this to the extreme. He must have found out somehow about what happened with Rick. I don't have a clue how, but someone must have seen us and told him. I just need the chance to explain to him that nothing really happened, but he was avoiding me like the plague.

Ken and Judy weren't much help, but when I found out he had his laptop I sent him an e-mail, although not like my last one.

Steve, I love and miss you; honey, and I don't understand why you won't let me see you. I know we've had some issues lately, and we've both said things in anger, but I love you and I still believe you love me. Please give me the chance to explain anything you think I've done or not done.

Steve I need you, and want to grow old and gray with you. If you won't let me see you, at least talk to me. Also, the kids don't understand why you won't see them. They came to the hospital and when the nurse wouldn't let them in your room, John got more than a little angry.

Please drop them a line, because they're very concerned also about you.

Your loving Wife

Chapter Three

I was sending an e-mail to a salesman who had lost a big order out of shear stupidity when Sandy's e-mail popped up. I finished reaming the salesman telling him if it happened again, he'd be on the outside looking in. Then I got back to Sandy's. I read it three times, before I responded back to her.

Dear Sandy, Let's cut to the chase. You haven't been my loving wife in well over a year. It's true I've put on a lot of weight, but when you got as big as a house while pregnant with John, did I belittle you? Cut you off? Skinny or fat I'm the same man you married all those years ago. Don't try blowing smoke up my ass now that I'm laid up. You no longer have any interest going to bed with me. You made that perfectly clear the last time we were together. From what I've seen and found out, it looks like I've been replaced by Rick or whom ever.

I found your love nest. You could have at least, done me the courtesy of changing the sheets and throwing out the trash. I did manage to toss out the mattress and empty wine bottles. You are right about one thing though. We will both grow old and get gray. It's just that we won't be doing it together.

Your soon to be ex-husband.

"That should shut her up," I said to myself as I hit the send key.

I made a list of all my assets. Sandy was going to get fifty percent of everything she knew about. It's the things she didn't know about I wanted to make sure were kept secret. Ken told me that if he was asked by the court, he'd have to reveal I was a partner, but if they just wanted to verify my wages that's all he would give them. The cabin was mine, a gift from my parents, and we could just keep the cars we were each driving to make it simple. I guess everything else would be thrown into a big pot and we'd each get half. I was satisfied with that.

"What Love Nest?" was Sandy's reply. "I don't have a clue what you're talking about? Our bedroom is the only love nest I know about. If you're accusing me of something, at least have the courtesy to confront me instead of playing these childish games."

I guess this mode of communication is as good as any as I replied back to her.

"How stupid do you think I am? I went up to the cabin, and found all the evidence. Too bad I was up there the week before my heart attack. Did you spend Friday and Sat at his place, or did he spring for a hotel room this time?"

I thought that should shut her up, but it wasn't more than ten minutes before I had her reply. Hell, this is the most we'd conversed in the last four months.

"Call your daughter up and ask Tina who spent Wednesday through Saturday morning with her up at the college after you so graciously disappeared Monday without telling me. And for your information, I haven't been back to the cabin since you and I were last there about four or five months ago. So if that's all you've got, it's pretty pathetic."

Could I be wrong? Regardless, the last two years of our marriage have been a real turnoff.

"John, dad here," is how I started the conversation with my son. "Yes I'm fine and doing pretty well, and no I don't want to discuss your mother right now." I told him. Now came my bluff. "I know you've been cheating on Cindy, and I want it to stop before I call her and rat you out, you piece of shit."

"Dad, I don't know what you're talking about," John replied.

"John, I was up at the cabin and our neighbors said they saw the two of you, when you went up there. You didn't even change the fucking sheets, you ass hole. What do you think Cindy's going to say when I call her. If she doesn't shoot your ass, her brothers are sure to pay you a visit," I said still fishing.

"It was only that one time dad, you've got to believe me. It's not an affair, it was only one time and she doesn't even work at the company anymore," I could hear him pleading for his life.

"I'm going to say this one time, and one time only. If I ever hear of you fooling around or even think you're looking at another woman, I will call Cindy in a heartbeat. From now on, she'd better be the happiest and most taken care of wife on the face of this earth, if you get my drift. Get you head out of your ass and grow up, God Damn it."

"I will dad, you can count on it, please just don't call Cindy," he begged.