No More Rain in This Cloud

Sunday morning. A day filled with the routines established twenty years ago and reinforced over one thousand Sundays since. Minor variations accepted, with permission.

From the day we were married I discovered the power a woman gets from having a ring on the third finger of her left hand. Maybe not all women, but the one I married behaved as if the ring was given to her by the energizer bunny! I also discovered, slowly, that I had no idea how to be stronger than her. She used various tactics to reinforce her position of power and control. I used whatever I could think of to wrest some (any) of the power and control back to me. The driving force inside me was that I really wanted to be a good guy and have her love me.

I hate confrontation. So, for the first few years we were married I avoided confrontation as though it might actually kill me. If a disagreement happened and I saw she was strongly against what I wanted, I caved in. If she wanted something and I had lots of good reasons why we couldn't afford it, it was wrong for us, too soon, too far away, too anything and she really wanted it anyway, we got it.

In the fifth year we were married we changed careers. I went to work. I did the work. She wanted to be able to say I did something else, so we changed careers. Over the next two years I convinced myself I was the one who wanted the change and that I liked the new career as well as the old one, if not more.

She also decided we were ready to have a family. We had the conversation about children before we got married. She said she wanted a boy and a girl. I liked that idea. So, when she announced she was ready to get pregnant, I was fine with that. My thinking was that if she wanted to get pregnant we would need to have sex often. We were having missionary sex once a month. I was right, I did get more. She did all kinds of calculations and we "did it" three times in one week. Nothing the other three weeks. It had improved, but not much. Four months later she announced she was pregnant and sex stopped. She said, "If you want to make a mess, be sure you clean it up when you're done."

She had the baby while I was on a business trip. No one called to tell me she was in labor. I was a hundred miles away and could easily have made it home in time for the birth. After all, she was in labor for nineteen hours! After the baby was born and all the paperwork signed I was called and told I was the father of a daughter. Then I was told her name. It was not the name we had agreed on. The birth certificate had already been filed. Her reason for the new name? "She didn't look like an Alison." I never heard her refer to Donna as "our" child. Donna was "her" baby.

We had three kids. Why? Because the second was another girl and she still wanted a boy. She found a way to name the second girl as well. I named the boy. It was by default. After she delivered him she had some complications and they did a D&C and tied her tubes. While they did that I filed all the papers, including the birth certificate. She was angry about it, even though the name I gave him was the one we had agreed on.

Six weeks later the doctor told her she could resume our sex life. I had been counting the days. She came home and said the doctor had told her to wait another month, to better heal. The next day I happened to have lunch at a deli and her ob/gyn doctor came in. I asked him and he told me he had told her she could have sex any time she wanted. It hurt. It hurt that she lied to me and it hurt even worse that she didn't want to have sex with me. Tears ran down my face as I drove home that day.

I hate confrontation. I waited the month and was angry the whole month. When the month was up I took her to dinner. I hired my Mom to babysit the kids and we went to dinner. After dinner I drove to a motel and she asked what I thought we were doing. I explained that I had waited the extra month and now I wanted to have sex with her. I knew that at home she would be taking care of our children and be worried about noise and interruptions so I brought us to a motel. She threw a fit. I was an inconsiderate bastard who only thought of my needs and wants, not of her. She wouldn't get out of the car.

Eleven months later it was my birthday and she let me in. That was my birthday present. When I was done she said, and I quote, "Now don't bother me again until your next birthday."

I cried that night. I knew she was serious. I also knew I was committed to our marriage and I wouldn't leave.

At a social gathering about three months later I overheard her talking to some of the women from our church. She said, "I don't have to worry about that. My so-called husband hasn't gotten it up in a year."

After that gathering I noticed both men and women at church treated me differently. Worse. Word had been passed around.

I had made a commitment in front of God and the congregation to be married to her for the rest of our lives! I didn't want to be a failure. I didn't want a divorce. I also didn't want to live like I was living.

Every day I wondered what I could do. Every day I felt more and more trapped and unhappy. I couldn't think of a way to get any power in my own life. She had it all. At work I was in a conversation with five other men and they were talking about how their children asked for things, begged for things and manipulated them into buying, giving and getting things for them. I realized that my children didn't do that. Even they knew I had no power, no say-so.

An event happened that had nothing to do with me, directly, but changed my life. One of my oldest daughter's friends was over at our house and told her about their next door neighbor. I overheard their conversation. He had been fighting, yelling and screaming with his wife for the four years they had lived next door. Then suddenly the house next door was quiet. The man had enough. He had gotten a job in another country and had moved. He left his wife and their child behind. The girl told my daughter that he left when he found out that his daughter wasn't his daughter. She was the product of his wife's affair. The country he moved to had no legal agreement with the United States that would require the man to pay child support or alimony.

I did my research and found what country it was, and even where he was exactly. I wrote him, using my work as the return address. Then I collected hair samples from the kid's brushes in their bathrooms. I had them tested.

After I turned in the samples I confronted a dilemma, what if these kids that I loved weren't mine? Could I walk away from them? I hated confrontation, even when it was internal!

For twenty-one days, while I waited for the results, I thought about those questions.

On the day the results came to me in the mail at work, I didn't open the envelope. I called the pastor of our church and asked to meet with him, alone, and not at the church. We met at a park on the far side of town.

I told him about my life, my marriage and I asked for his counsel. He asked good questions and we talked until it was getting dark. He reminded me that there was a gathering at the church that weekend for families. One of the activities was for people to get to a microphone and express their love and feelings for their families. He wondered if hearing that might help my wife reevaluate her position on our marriage.

I tucked the envelope in the glove box of my car on the way home. Over dinner I asked if there were any plans for the weekend. My wife said there was a "thing" at the church for families and that she had volunteered to bring two pies. We were going.

The next morning at work I opened the envelope. All three children were genetically unrelated to me. For over an hour I sat at my desk staring at the results. I felt anger, betrayal, frustration, rage and a lot of it was aimed at me. I had so focused on being a good guy that this woman had used me and abused me with my permission! I was the picture in the dictionary next to the word cuckold and the word idiot!

I called to the country where my new friend lived. He had figured I might be thinking of moving and he had found me a job. For the rest of the day I made plans and booked a flight. We had passports at home that I had gotten when my wife wanted to go to Jamaica a couple of years before. My flight left Saturday at ten in the evening.

At four that Wednesday afternoon after I had called my new friend, the guys came by and asked if I planned to work late. I said yes. They left. I called home and my oldest daughter answered. I asked about her day as I usually did and when I had all her news she asked if I'd be home for dinner. I said, "Sweetheart, I don't think I'll be home tonight at all."

Her response floored me. "You found out, didn't you?"

There was a long silence while I wondered how to respond. Before I figured it out she said, "Daddy, can you meet me at Penn Park in an hour?" She was whispering.

I said I'd meet her by the swings. I left work and drove to the park. Almost to the minute my daughter arrived, driving the minivan that was the family car. She and her sister got out and came to the swings. I was sitting at the nearest picnic table to the swings. They sat across from me.

"When did you find out?" The oldest asked. Tears tracked down her cheeks.

"What do you think I found out?"

"Mom's been cheating." The young one said. She had tears too.

My oldest daughter, Donna, said, "We know Mom hates you, and says bad things about you all the time but this is the worst! He's been in our house and they used your bed!"

"Have you seen them together?"

Della answered, "You found out she was having an affair but not who with?"

Donna reached out and held my hand. "Daddy, I'm named after him. Don Roberts."

"Jesus! He's been doing her the whole time we've been married. He's in our church! Are you sure?"

"Yes, Daddy. We've both seen him in the house and I saw him in your bed, with Mom.'

"In our bed?" I was shocked. It was as if she wanted to get caught.

"They didn't close the door all the way. They were both naked and Mom was bent over the end of the bed. Mr. Roberts was standing behind her, holding onto her hips. I know what fucking looks like, now." Donna said.

Della said, "The first time I saw them she was on her knees out in the garden and he was standing close in front of her. She had his thing in her mouth!"

"Ok, I believe both of you. What do you think is going to happen?" I asked.

"You and Mom will get a divorce. He'll leave his wife and move in with us. Mom has said if you ever grew balls she'd take you for everything you have in court. She has made plans to do just that. Don Roberts is a lawyer." Donna answered. Della nodded.

"What if the choice was yours, stay with her or leave the state with me?"

They looked at each other and asked, "Where would we live?"

"With me. If your decision is about where then you're looking at the surface. Live with her or live with me. I know it's tough to think about because you've never known me when I stood up to her, or anyone. I am a nice guy. I don't lie, cheat or steal. What happened was at least half my own fault. I've never stood up to her. She did what she did because she knew she could."

"When do you need our answer?" Della asked.

"Saturday night. We're going to the "thing" at church. We're taking two cars. If you are going with me pack a suitcase. Hide it in the garage sometime during the day. Make sure everything you must have is in it. We are not coming back. If you change your mind while we are at church, I'll understand. If you leave with me we'll stop at home and grab your suitcase."

"Ok." Della said. They got up from the table and I hugged them both. As they started for the van I said, "Remember this, I love you and your brother. It's up to you if you tell him or you don't. I'm going to ask him to ride with me to the church. I'll talk to him then. If he chooses to go we'll have to pack for him after we leave the church."

Donna came back and kissed me. She whispered, "I'm going with you."

I watched as they drove away. I waited an hour and called home. My wife answered. I said, "Hi. I'm working on a big project and won't be home at all tonight. I'll come home sometime during the day and shower, change clothes and catch a nap."

"Thanks for calling. I've already tossed your dinner down the disposal." Her voice dripped with distain. "Do you get paid for all this extra work?"

"I'm sorry I didn't call before you started cooking. It won't happen again. And, yes. There is a substantial payoff for this project." At least I wasn't telling her a lie.

"There's the thing at church tomorrow night. Will you be going with us?"

"Yes. I'll be all clean and dressed appropriately. It starts at six, doesn't it?"

"Yes. See you sometime tomorrow." The phone went dead.

I checked into the same motel where I had unsuccessfully tried to take her years before. I slept well and had a good breakfast at Dinah's restaurant when I got up. At a little after ten I parked in front of our house. When I went inside all seemed pretty normal.

I went in our bedroom and got clean clothes and went into the bathroom. I showered, shaved and took care to get dressed nicely for the "thing" at church and traveling. When I came out of the bathroom my wife was sitting on the bed, waiting for me.

She said, "I need to go to the store. Please watch the kids and don't touch anything in the kitchen.

"No problem. I slept in my car for two hours before I drove home. What needs doing to get ready for the "thing" at church?"

"Nothing for you! I can handle everything. I always do."

"Ok. Good. What time do you want to go down to the church?"

"I need the pies there by five-forty-five so we need to go at five-thirty."

"Ok. I'll watch the kids. Drive safely."

She walked out of the bedroom and out the front door. I watched through the window as she drove away. I packed my suitcase and put it in the trunk of my car. Deciding what to leave and what to take was tougher that I thought it would be.

When the suitcase was in my car and Sarah wasn't back I opened a photograph album and sorted through the pictures. Pictures of the kids, the kids with me or family pics I put in a big envelope. Pictures of Sarah and the kids I left in the album. In the second album I discovered the girls had already sorted through the pictures. I took the envelope of pictures out and put it in the trunk.

I went upstairs and found all three kids in Donna's room. They had been crying. As I started to speak I heard the door to Sarah's mini-van close. She was home.

"Wash your faces and be strong. It won't be too long." I touched each of them and kissed the top of their heads. They washed and I went downstairs.

She had one bag of groceries. She looked at me as I walked through the kitchen and said, "Did you mess with anything in here?"

"No, Dear. You asked me not to." I kept walking.

I walked out of the kitchenand out the front door. She must have been stunned because she didn't follow or ask me where I was going. I went to the bank. I withdrew all but a thousand dollars from all our accounts. During the day before I had transferred my 401k money and my money from three CD's to a bank in my new country.

At five-fifteen I parked in front of the house behind the mini-van.

The kids were all dressed and loading things into the mini-van. I carried a bowl of Jello salad to the van and spilled a little on my son's clothes.

She screamed, telling me what an idiot I was and I said she should go ahead and go. I'd wait for Jerry to change clothes and I'd bring him. She got the girls in the van and they drove off.

I sent Jerry upstairs and he was back very quickly. While he was gone I got all the passports from the wall safe. He got into my car and I started the engine.

"Dad, before we go, I already know. Donna and Della told me. I knew about Don Roberts. I saw him in the bedroom with Mom when I was eight. He was naked and on top of her in her bed. They were making weird noises. He comes by every Thursday and I go down to the park. They scare me."

"Did the girls tell you what's happening tonight?"

"Yes. When you leave the church tonight they are going with you. You aren't ever coming back."

"Ok. What are you feeling?"

"Dad, I'm ten. This is too big for me. I love you and I love her. I can't choose." I started the car and said, "At the end of tonight you will have grown up a lot. I'm sorry it has to be now. I will love you whichever way you choose. I want you to go with me."

I parked across the street from the church, not in the church lot. Cars tended to get blocked in, in the lot. I needed to be able to leave at a moment's notice.

The evening began with dinner. Lots of good food brought by the many families in the congregation. I made sure the kids went through the line and got more than dessert. Jerry was really the only one who needed sheparding. When we sat as a family Jerry sat next to me. Donna sat across from me and Della next to her. My wife sat at the head of our table. Most other table had the dad sitting at the head of the table.

After the meal was eaten and the room cleaned up the pastor introduced three class skits. The five year olds did a skit about Jesus loving the little children. The fifteen years olds did a skit about dating and the seventeen year old girls did a skit about getting married and having a family.

The pastor spoke for a few minutes about the importance of family. I felt as if our private conversation had influenced what he said. In the middle of his speech my wife quietly got up and left the room, headed in the direction of the bathrooms.

I didn't look, but Della whispered, "He's gone, too."

Inside I was shaking. What was I doing? I never confronted anyone, not even in private. There were easily three hundred people in the room.

The pastor finished his talk and introduced the part of the evening where people could get up and speak about the love in their families. He spoke about his love for his wife and his kids. He talked about some of his concerns as his kids grew up, and how he and his wife had worked hard to communicate and be partners in family.

As he was finishing my wife reentered the room and made her way back to our table.

She sat down as the pastor said, "Ok, the microphone is available."

I shot to my feet and said, "I would like to be first!" He smiled at me and held the microphone while I walked up front. I took it from him and turned to face the congregation.

"There is a line from a poem that is particularly appropriate right now." I was surprised at how my voice sounded on the speakers. "The line goes like this; There is no more rain in this cloud. Please, let me explain. Some many years ago I married Sarah, right here in this building. I memorized the vows we took in front of God and many of you. I meant them. I intended to keep them for as long as I lived. They spoke of honoring each other, acting in partnership, being faithful and caring for each other in sickness and health. I was raised in a family where I was taught that confronting a problem just makes it worse. Over the years I've learned that that isn't so. It gets worse by not confronting it.

Some of you are uncomfortable right now. You may have known a secret about my family for years. My wife told a secret to six of the women of the congregation years ago. She told all of them that I could not perform in the bedroom. It was a lie, and some of the women she told passed the gossip along as if they knew the truth. Sarah told me that those three wonderful children sitting at the table with her are my children. Less than a month ago I found out that biologically, none of them are mine."

A gasp shook the room. My wife stood up, "It's not true!"