My Perfect Family

"You're jealous. You don't want me to succeed because it will make you look bad. That's what this is about ... you're jealous," she taunted.

The argument was going nowhere and she wasn't listening. I let out a large sigh, turned and went down to the basement to get a cold beer and do a bit of thinking. I had no illusions about Gilson's motives. He saw an attractive woman that he thought he could have with little effort. Who cared if she was married? He probably remembered me from high school and considered me no particular obstacle. I would be keeping a close eye on this situation, of that I was certain.

It took a week before we were back on calm water in the household. My argument with Sheila was overheard by our children, unfortunately. It would have been hard not to hear us since we had both raised our voices. As always, when things calmed down, Angie came to see me when I was alone.

"Hi Dad, you OK?"

"Hi Angie ... yeah, I'm OK," I lied.

"I couldn't help but hear the argument," she admitted. "Who is this guy Gilson?"

"Someone your mother dated in high school. He was our quarterback and I played with him for a year. I was trying to warn your mother. He's not a nice guy and doesn't respect women very much," I said sadly.

"I don't think you were telling Mom what she wanted to hear," she said softly.

"No ... I suppose not. I think she sees this as a big opportunity and an important job. She'll likely be going from part-time to full time, so I suppose there's going to be some changes in our routine," I suggested.

"It's OK, Dad, I can help with the meals and laundry and stuff. I guess she'll be making a lot more money now, won't she?"

"I guess. We didn't get into that. I'm just going to have to wait and see, Angie. I hope this doesn't turn out to be a big mistake for your mom," I said, putting my arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. "I just hope it all turns out OK."

As I suspected, it was a full-time job and the salary was more than double her previous earnings, so in that regard, she was being paid properly for her role. I had doubts about the job, however. When I carefully asked Sheila what she did all day, she was vague but what I heard made it sound very unstructured. If I was to interpret what she was telling me it would appear that she was to come running when Gilson called.

As time when on, I became less and less concerned about her job. She left for work each morning just before nine and was home shortly after five in the afternoon. No overtime, no special assignments, just a routine job.

As a result, we really didn't have to sacrifice a lot. My hours were longer than hers and I was often home after six, having left most mornings at seven. I was gone before anyone else was up and so my family time was confined to evenings and weekends.

Our sex life had never been what I would describe as "red hot." That just wasn't Sheila. We had sex, a couple of times a week usually, but it was plain vanilla stuff. She wouldn't give me oral sex, although she said she enjoyed it when I gave her that treat. She didn't particularly care for doggy-style, so that wasn't a regular feature.

By and large, it was me giving her oral stimulation to get things going and then her on top until we were almost done and I would flip her over and finish. It wasn't terrible, but a little variety can go a long way. I tried to get her interested in some role playing and other things that were a bit different, but she just wasn't interested. Since we were having sex twice a week, I really couldn't complain.

After Gilson arrived on the scene, I was careful to note any changes in our sex life, but there was nothing out of the ordinary at all. It was pretty much what we had been doing all along.

I've always tried to get along with the neighbors. Life's a lot easier that way. The McDonalds on the one side of us were quiet people and quite a bit older. Their children were grown and gone and we didn't have much in common with them. We were polite and we helped each other if needed, but otherwise we weren't close.

The Romanos on our other side were quite different. Their children were younger and Angie often babysat for them the first few years we were there. We really got along well with them and we often had backyard barbeques and card parties at each other's house. Jimmy and Felicia were probably our best friends.

Jimmy was an accountant and worked at the big GM dealer in town. I had forgotten that, but when he brought home a loaner van with the dealership's name all over the side of it, I was reminded.

Late one Sunday morning, Jimmy was out trimming the lawn before cutting it and I strolled over to talk to him for a minute.

"Hey Jimmy, how's it goin'," I began.

"Aw ... you know ... usual stuff. OK I guess," he grinned.

"Yeah ... same here. Say, I had a question for you." I was trying to make it sound casual.

"Shoot."

"You work in a big dealership. Does the general manager usually have an assistant? I mean like an assistant general manager?"

"Yeah, in a bigger dealership there's usually someone designated to back up the boss when he isn't around."

"Would that assistant have an assistant, like say, a 'girl friday'?"

He looked at me kind of strangely and then I saw some lights go on. His face went funny and he looked very uncomfortable. "Uhhhmmm ... not usually," he finally said.

"I didn't think so," I said with a nod. "Thanks, Jimmy." I turned and headed back to the house. Suspicions confirmed.

"Mick," he called after me. I stopped and turned around as he walked toward me. "I know what you're thinking. I know some people there. Let me see what I can find out on the Q.T." he said in a quiet voice.

I looked at him for what seemed to be a long time and then nodded. "Thanks again."

I'm not really sure why, after all this time, I had asked Jimmy that question. Maybe I was afraid of the answer. There wasn't a hint of anything going on, but I suppose it had been nagging at me, and for that matter it still was. Jimmy knew who Sheila worked for and what her job title was, but he never said a word about it to either of us. I had just put him on the spot, and he had responded as I expected a good friend would.

Despite the fact that Sheila no longer worked on Saturday morning, I continued to play golf early. The Saturday following my talk with Jimmy dawned cool and windy, but at least it wasn't raining. I played with our usual foursome and none of us played very well. The wind intensified the cold and none of us was very comfortable. We were universally happy to finish the round and get to the clubhouse.

As we usually did, we met at the 19th Hole after changing, and the winners would have a drink on the losers. My partner and I were buying today. As I walked into the lounge, I saw Jimmy Romano sitting by himself at a table near the TV. He was nursing a drink and I walked over to see him.

"I didn't know you played golf," I said with a smile.

"I don't ... you know me better than that," he laughed.

"What brings you here?" I asked, almost guessing the answer.

"I wanted to talk to you ... in private," he said, suddenly serious.

I nodded. I was pretty sure what this was about.

"Give me a minute to settle up with the winners and I'll be right back," I promised.

It didn't take long to buy a drink for the boys and explain I had to beg off to see someone. I was back at Jimmy's table within five minutes.

"So, I can only assume you've heard something about my question the other day," I said as I leaned back in my chair.

"Yeah. I wish it was better news, Mick. I really do," he said sadly, having a hard time looking me in the eye.

"Give it to me straight, Jimmy. I can handle it," I said with more confidence than I felt at that moment.

"Well, Gilson must be the most unpopular guy in that dealership. The people I talked to consider him to be a leech on the side of the business and completely useless. He walks around and general pisses-off everyone that he comes in contact with. He doesn't have anything to do because no one wants him to do anything. He'd just screw it up, as apparently he's already demonstrated on more than one occasion." Jimmy stopped and took a pull on his drink.

"No surprise, I guess," I said, still trying to remain calm. "So where does Sheila fit in?"

He looked at me with the most hang-dog look I can ever remember seeing on him. He really didn't want to tell me what he was about to tell me.

"Sheila sits around his office most of the day, types a letter now and then and gets him coffee. The only time she moves quickly is when Gilson's old man shows up and she quickly disappears into the parts department or the employee lounge. When the old man leaves, things go back to normal," Jimmy related.

"Sounds like old man Gilson doesn't know about Sheila and her mystery job," I said sullenly.

Jimmy just nodded. He paused then and I could tell there was more.

"Spit it out Jimmy. I won't bite," I promised.

"The two of them go out to lunch about twice a week. They leave just before noon and don't get back until two or two-thirty."

"Since she's been there?" I said, finally jolted.

"No. It started after a few months" he suggested. "One of their smart-aleck sales guys followed them one day. They went to the Carlton Inn over on Banner Road.

"That's a long way to go for lunch," I suggested.

"Mick ... the Carlton doesn't have a restaurant," he said in almost a whisper.

I felt everything inside me contract. I was locked in place with no ability to move. I heard my breath exhaust as I worked to gain some sense of order in my thoughts. Even though I had suspected this might be happening, I wasn't ready for it. I can't think how long it took before I could form a coherent thought.

"I'm sorry Mick. I really didn't want to be the guy who ..." he trailed off.

"I know," I managed in a strangled croak. "I didn't want to hear it either."

I had another drink with Jimmy and we reminisced about the good times our families had enjoyed together. There were a lot of happy memories, but it felt like we were saying goodbye to each other in some way. I think we both now knew that things would never be the same again. I felt that pain in my gut, and it hurt.

I started to drive home, steeling myself to face Sheila and wondering how I would deal with this revelation. I had been strangely calm with Jimmy and it felt odd that I would be able to cope with this devastating news. I tried to think of any scenario that would make their noon visits to the Carlton something other than sexual, but I knew that wasn't remotely likely. What it appeared to be on the surface was what it was.

I didn't really start to get angry until I was half-way home from the golf club. I had been dealing with a thousand random thoughts all at once and my emotions were in turmoil before it all began to distill down to one ugly fact. She had cheated on me and she had cheated many, many times. I was a fool, even though I knew the possibility was there. She had made me a fool and she didn't even blink an eye or feel the slightest twinge of guilt. Day after day, she made me a cuckold. It was then, with that understanding that the anger began to build.

I pride myself in being a rational thinker and not one prone to reckless action. I pulled over to the curb a few blocks from home because I knew I was in no fit condition to walk into my house and confront Sheila. Moreover, that might not be the smartest thing to do. In fact, I was pretty sure it wasn't.

If I thought this was just a one-time fling, I might be able to get past it and we could go on with our lives. But it wasn't. I had been going on for a year by the sound of things. All the while, Sheila was playing the part of the happy housewife with her loving family. It was a very high order of deceit. As I sat in my idling car, I decided that it called for a very high order of payback.

I would act as normally as I could manage, but on Monday I would begin a process to end this charade and exact my revenge. I was determined I was going to do as much damage as I could to Terry Gilson and Sheila Pratt Turvey. I would do this by the book and legally, but I would do everything possible to destroy both of them.

The rest of the weekend was an exercise in excruciating politeness on my part. I was tightly wound, not allowing my anger and frustration to spill out over my family. Time enough for that when I had all the pieces of the puzzle in place. I was counting the hours until Monday morning.

When Monday finally came, I arose earlier than usual and was out of the house well before seven. I knew I had several hours before I could begin the process of dealing with my problem, but I wanted out of our house that morning as soon as possible. I knew my sales manager, Larry Coleman, would be in the office already and I needed to talk to him about taking some time to look after my "problem."

Our conversation took over a half hour. I knew he had figured out what might be going on in my family life when I explained what I wanted in terms of leave, and happily he was understanding and agreed. He was a good guy and I liked working with him.

Just after nine that morning, I phoned David Mournay, our family lawyer and asked for his advice on a "family matter." I knew that wasn't his expertise and I wasn't surprised when he steered me to Lydia Pancratz. I had met Lydia in passing once or twice and I had heard that she was a very good divorce lawyer. She would be expensive, but right now, the cost was the last thing on my mind.

I got an appointment with Lydia late that afternoon. I knew I would be late, so I called home to leave a message. Angie picked up the phone and that surprised me.

"Hey Angie, what you doin' home?"

"Teacher Development Day," she said with a hint of derision. "Ever notice how they are always on Fridays or Mondays?"

"Yeah, I noticed. Listen, I have an appointment late this afternoon and I won't be home until about seven I'm guessing. Let Mom know, OK?"

"Sure, Dad. Say ... you OK?" she asked in a curious voice.

"Yeah, sure ... why do you ask?"

"I dunno ... you didn't seem yourself this weekend. You're not sick or something, are you?"

"Nope," I lied, "I'm fine. Must be that over-active imagination of yours," I laughed.

We signed off and I hung up, wondering if Sheila had noticed my unusual behavior as well. She hadn't said anything, but maybe she was being cagey. I'd have to watch that. I didn't want to tip my hand too soon.

The meeting with Lydia was a shock in many ways. To begin with, no matter what the reason, in a divorce, Sheila would get half of everything; the house, the cars, everything. The only good news was that her income was such that I probably wouldn't have to pay alimony if I could prove infidelity. Based on her reckless behavior, I doubted that I would have too much trouble getting proof.

As far as the children were concerned, I would have to prove abuse or neglect or some other heinous crime to obtain custody. In this jurisdiction, the children were almost always awarded to the mother. Angie was eighteen, so she could make her own decision, but Ben was only sixteen and he would have to be with his mother for almost two years. I didn't feel good about that, but Lydia said I probably wouldn't be able to change it. It's just the way the system worked.

That's when things got interesting. Lydia knew my overriding desire was to punish both Sheila and Gilson and she said she could help. Since Gilson was her boss, I could sue both him and the company he worked for as co-respondents in the divorce. In other words, since so many people knew about their little game and did nothing to stop or report it, we could sue them for some very large dollars. Better yet, none of that money would go to Sheila.

Lydia said she would do some research on Century Ford and start the paperwork for divorce proceedings. At this point, the reason for the divorce was left open. It was my decision whether it would be Irreconcilable Differences or Infidelity. Lydia suggested that since their liaisons were so predictable, it wouldn't be too difficult or expensive to get some photographic evidence to cement the case. I told her I'd think about it.

When I arrived home that evening, I was greeted by a happy Sheila, telling me my dinner was in the oven and she had poured a glass of wine for me. I was immediately suspicious. This wasn't normal behavior for her. I went upstairs and changed, washed and came down for my meal.

As I sat down at the table, Sheila sat as well, also with a glass of wine.

"I have some interesting news, Mick," she began with a big smile.

"Oh?"

"I've been invited to the regional dealer convention next month in Marysville," she said proudly.

"Really? Just you?" I asked, almost knowing the answer before I asked it.

"Well ... no ... Terry and Kurt Jenkins will be going too," she said with some nervousness.

"Oh ... I see. And how long is this convention?"

"Uhhhmmm ... three days. Thursday, Friday and Saturday. I would be back on Sunday." The nervousness was now fully apparent.

"Hummph ... sounds like you're looking forward to it," I baited.

"Yes ... it will be my very first convention. I'm sure I'll learn a lot." She had changed in an instant. She was now back to the happy enthusiasm of a minute ago.

"Yes ... I'm sure you will," I replied with just a hint of sarcasm. As my mind caught up with my emotions, I began to recognize that this might be the opportunity that I was looking for. She was almost setting herself up to be caught.

"Then ... it's OK with you?" she asked tentatively.

"Yes, dear. It's OK with me. I trust you. I know you wouldn't do anything ... improper," I said with as straight a face as I could manage.

I saw the flush on her face for just a moment before she rose, leaned over the table, kissed me.

"Thank you, Mick."

I finished my meal in silence as Sheila went back to the living room and some mindless TV show. I found it odd that I wasn't upset or angry or anything. I was numb. I had just granted my wife permission to leave town for three days and fuck some asshole that I hated, and I felt nothing.

The next two days were OK ... just OK. I functioned in my job, but my mind was a jumble of thoughts, wondering how all this was going to turn out. I had begun to obsess about Ben and Angie. What would they think? How would they react? When I went about destroying their mother, would they hate me? I couldn't think of any way to protect them from what I was about to do other than to call the whole thing off and just let Sheila go on with what she had been doing. I knew, deep down, that I would never allow that.

On Thursday morning, Lydia called me at the office and asked me to meet with her that afternoon. We set the time for three and I was early. I wanted to bring her up to date and I wanted to get the process rolling. I had made a couple of decisions.

"Lydia, something interesting happened on Monday. Sheila told me that she had been invited to attend the regional Ford dealer convention in Marysville in three weeks. It won't surprise you to know that she is going with Terry Gilson and another guy from their office." I paused, waiting for her reaction.

"You're right. No surprise. My sources tell me that this has been set up for some time. I guess she finally got up the nerve to tell you on Monday," she said calmly.

"Yeah ... Monday. How did you know?" I asked with a smile.

"Well, that's a trade secret ... but let's just say she's not as smart as she thinks she is," Lydia grinned.

"I've decided that we should try and get some pictures. Will that allow us to file for infidelity?" I asked.

"Yes, definitely. We know now that they use the same room in the same hotel every time. Talk about stupid. My ... friend ... will get some photographic evidence this week and that should be enough to cement the case. But there's more," she grinned.