Reality or Perception

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How many times could he be so wrong?
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thecelt
thecelt
2,495 Followers

Author's note: Perhaps this story belongs in another category but I have come to have a deep respect for the readers in Loving Wives. I began writing for them and I continue to write with them in mind. I hope you enjoy this one.

Thanks to angel love for her usual great editing and comments.

This is a story of a man who makes his living understanding and helping others understand themselves. He makes informed decisions about the women in his life based on his best perception of them. As a professional man, he believes what he sees, and considers that reality. But he finds that reality and perception are often quite different.

The Basis of Things

perception
noun
a belief or opinion, based on appearances.

reality
noun
1. the state of things as they are, rather than as they are imagined to be.
2. a fact.

Prologue:

I knew as I drove down the lane to my home later that night that Sherrie was angry with me. I couldn't help it but that wouldn't make her any more forgiving. When I called to tell her I was taking a later flight because I had to stay longer than planned, she calmly told me that I could just stay there overnight if I wanted to. Since it would be too late to go to the dinner party, it made little difference to her. Then she proceeded to tell me how much she had been looking forward to this night out with our friends and that she should have known that I would do something to mess it up. While I tried to make some inane promise to make it up to her, she just told me to go back to my meeting. Angrily I told her that maybe Ishould just stay there tonight and let her cool down. She hung up with a slam.

Of course, I had no intention of staying over rather than going home so now, hours later and tired from a late flight it was just past 11:30 at night. I was tired, cranky and not in the mood for what I expected was waiting for me. Well, that was the price I paid for being in demand as a reference source in criminal cases. In this case, my wife's anger was the price. I turned into my street and saw my house just ahead. As I got closer, I saw a car that I didn't recognize sitting in my driveway. My initial thought was that Sherrie had gone out for the evening and some of her friends had stayed with her afterwards. It had been a lot of years since Karen so my thoughts were innocent.

I got out of the car, grabbed my overnight and briefcase and went in through the garage entrance. That led me directly into the kitchen. As I opened the door, I heard Sherrie laughing and saw her sitting there talking with a man that I didn't know. He was younger than I, tall and very well built with sandy colored hair and blue eyes. I immediately disliked him. I shut the door to the garage with more force than necessary to gain Sherrie's attention.

When she saw me, Sherrie's face turned red and I thought I saw a brief flash of disappointment before she turned away. The young man looked up as I came in and I saw a smile form on his face, a smile that I didn't much care for. Ignoring me, Sherrie stood up, still chuckling, as did he and they moved out of the kitchen into the foyer where Sherrie must have said goodnight. Just as I was about to follow them to see what was taking so long, I heard the door open and then close. I waited as Sherrie came back into the kitchen.

I controlled my anger well enough to speak calmly.

"May I ask who that was and why he was in my kitchen at midnight while I wasn't here?"

"You can ask, but I don't think it's any of your business. He was my guest and that's all you have to know."

As tired as I was, I guess my judgment was not what it should have been, because her answer, combined with my irritation, forced me to respond in a way not typical for me.

"I will ask you one more time, and this time I expect an answer.Who the fuck was that man in my goddamned kitchen!?"

Sherrie stepped back and dropped down into one of the chairs, her mouth open and her eyes wide. I had never talked to her like that before. She was caught stuttering an answer and she cowered down with her head between her hunched shoulders.

"Tha . . . that . . . , that was Brian Market. He's a good friend. Of Marilyn's I mean. I was at her place tonight and she asked him to follow me to be sure I got home all right. We pulled in just before you did. That's all it was."

I just glared at her as I listened to her answer. I had never thought to doubt my wife before this but with her attitude on the phone and her attitude when I walked in, I had doubts for the first time in our 3-year marriage. I suddenly remembered Karen.

"Why would anyone have to follow you home from Marilyn's place? It's only two blocks for Christ's sake. And why would you allow him in the house at midnight when I wasn't home?"

"Why wouldn't I? He was simply making sure I got home and I was being courteous. Maybe Marilyn was worried about me. You certainly weren't! You weren't even here."

I decided that I wasn't going to do this now. I was tired, I was angry, and my wife was being bitchy. Nothing good was going to come from this. Without another word, I turned, walked away and went upstairs to get ready for bed. A good night's sleep was what I needed just now and tomorrow was Saturday. I could sleep in and deal with her then.

I took a quick shower, brushed my teeth and toweled my hair dry enough to sleep and climbed into bed. I decided to read for a few minutes to unwind. I pulled a novel out of the side table and began. After about five minutes, Sherrie walked quietly in and went in to get ready for bed. I said nothing.

Sherrie came back into the bedroom and climbed into bed. She lay back with her hands across her bosom and watched me as I read. She seemed like she wanted to say something but I calmly closed my book after folding the corner of the page to mark my place and put it aside. I turned off the bedside light and lay back, turning my back to her to discourage any conversation.

"Stuart, I'm sorry for answering you that way. It was inappropriate for me to have had Brian in my home with you gone, especially this late at night. It was really very innocent as I told you but still, it should not have happened. I'm sorry."

I listened, accepted what she told me but for some reason, I wasn't satisfied. Something was nagging at me. I decided not to make an issue of this tonight when I was tired and ready for a fight.

"Goodnight Sherrie. We'll talk tomorrow."

She obviously wanted to continue with her explanation and her denials but I refused to respond to anything more so she finally gave up. I woke once about an hour later to feel her shaking beside me, crying quietly. For some reason that gave me some satisfaction, enough to get back to sleep. I was exhausted and slept until well into the next morning. It was a weekend so I didn't have to go in today. I needed the day off anyway.

I normally didn't eat breakfast so when I did get up, I went to the kitchen for a cup of coffee and padded out to the mailbox to get the paper. This was my morning routine and I saw no reason to break it, just because I was still furious from my wife's actions of the night before. She wasn't anywhere around so I took my newspaper to the patio and enjoyed the silence with my coffee and paper. I wanted the time to think of what it was that had me so upset.

I knew that part of my reaction had to do with the actions of my first wife, Karen. She had been unfaithful and that had resulted in a divorce. I had not thought a lot about her over the years but I now tried to remember her actions before I became aware of her infidelity. There were few, if any, warning signs and I was caught unaware. I could say the same of Sherrie: there had been no actions that warranted increased suspicion on my part. Until now, that is. Just like Karen.

While I was still thinking about last night, Sherrie walked out to the patio and sat down across from me. She waited until I acknowledged her presence and then started right in.

"As I tried to tell you last night, nothing happened or was going to happen. What you saw was perfectly innocent. I was simply trying to be nice to a friend of Marilyn's for making sure I got home OK. She knew that I had one or two drinks and she was worried. I had only met Brian that evening so it was natural to invite him in to get to know him a little. That was all. You took it wrong and I was partly at fault for being snotty with you. That was only because I was still angry with you for causing our evening to be cancelled."

"Why did you go over there last night? I thought you would just go on to the party as planned. Why did you end up with your single friend and her boyfriends?"

"I didn't want to go to the party without you. Rather than stay in and stew, I went over to see Marilyn. She was alone until Brian came later. He was just visiting and he's living over on the east side going to college there. Apparently Marilyn knew his brother. They dated for a while. That's all."

"You seem to know a lot about someone you just met."

Sherrie was becoming agitated, and she was beginning to get angry. I was not going to have an argument with her so I preempted her tirade.

"What you did last night may have been totally harmless and well intentioned, but there is a saying. 'Perception is reality to the perceiver'. In other words, what is true in reality makes no difference to the one who sees or believes something else. The reality is that I came home unexpectedly and found you with a man in our home with me not here. In fact, you had no idea of when or if I would even be home at all. That can be misinterpreted very easily and I could have done that last night. If I had, we would have had a major problem. As it is, I am still trying to decide how I feel about it. I wasn't home and you had a man in our home. Do you understand what I am saying? Do you understand the perception that leaves on me?"

Sherrie listened to me and I think she was frightened of what I might think. While she had apologized, she knew that she had made a very big mistake and that it could have turned out very badly. As a matter of fact, it still could.

"I understand what you're saying. I know I gave you the wrong idea and it was stupid of me. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"I'm glad. I was surprised and suspicious of you for the first time in our marriage. It's going to take some time for me to trust you again. Just remember, in the future, there will be no misunderstanding if it happens again. Since you know how I feel, there will be no room for explanations. I will not go through that hell again."

I was talking about my divorce from Karen, but Sherrie probably didn't know that. I had never completely revealed the whole story to her. Just enough to let her know that infidelity was the grounds for our divorce. Sherrie however, must have understood how serious I saw last night.

"Yes. It won't happen again. You have no reason to be suspicious of me. You know I love you and only you."

"That's what I thought before last night. Now, I don't know."

"Please, Stuart. Don't think like that. I do love you. Believe it."

Sherrie and I circled around each other rest of the day, neither mentioning the prior evening. I was still feeling uncertain and very nervous about what I had seen and Sherrie could sense it. I think she was hoping I would just let it drop. Maybe I should have but not me. It prayed on me throughout the day. I had seen what I had seen and that was reality. My belief in her fidelity had been shaken.

We spent the day doing odds and ends around the house before Sherrie let me know that she was going over to see Marilyn. She said she wanted to see if she would go with her to the opening of an art show featuring a young woman artist we both knew. I had a previous commitment and couldn't go with her, but I was unprepared for the sudden surge of anger that accompanied her statement. Before I could control my self, I said some things.

"Are you going to see Marilyn or Brian Market?"

Sherrie looked at me in surprise before answering. I think I also saw a brief flash of guilt. I am very perceptive when it comes to feelings and I read faces quite well. I was sure of what I saw.

"Stuart! Why would you ask me that? I'm going to see Marilyn. I don't even know whether Brian will still be there. He is just a friend of Marilyn's so I don't even know where he lives. What's wrong with you? My God, he's the same age as Mickey? Why are you being this way?"

"Because you did something that gave me reason to suspect you. You had a man in our home knowing that I was not there. That worries me. It makes me wonder why you did it."

"You're being crazy. I already apologized for that but it was innocent and you know that. What more do you want me to say?"

"I don't want you going over to Marilyn's all the time now that I know about Brian Market. She's single and looking for a husband so I would guess she has a lot of eligible men around her. You forget: you're not eligible."

"Fine. I won't go, but you're being ridiculous. Marilyn dates men her own age. I told you he's just a kid. I have no interest in anyone besides you."

Things finally calmed down and Sherrie made it clear that she was not going to do anything that I could be upset about. She called Marilyn and they talked about the art show and did make arrangements to go. I listened in just for my own satisfaction and then forgot it.

With that, we moved back into our normal routine. But, I was still thinking of Karen and what had happened. I again tried to remember if there were any clues.

The Beginning: Karen

My name is Stuart Ransom. I am 48 years old. When I was just 30, I married my first wife, Karen Wallace. Karen was my age and she and I had known each other in college, years before we began to date. My impression of Karen was that she was wild and free and a lot of fun but that she was a good and loyal friend. She was someone that I enjoyed being with and she seemed to like being with me. That was my belief, my perception of the Karen I thought I knew.

I met Karen again at a party one night after I came back from the service, ready for a steady girl. Karen was always ready to go party but I liked her style and the sex was phenomenal. We began to go steady and we just assumed that we would finally marry. Our romance was very low key and very uneventful but we felt suited to each other. We were quite happy and I finally asked her to marry me. She accepted and we were married in a big ceremony with lots of friends and family. Things were great and life looked good.

I had graduated from college and put in some time on in-service training for Psychiatry before going into the military. I needed something physical before going to work for the rest of my life so I joined the military and volunteered for Special Services. I reuped once and I was able to finish my internship at one of the military field hospitals and had returned home and proudly opened my own practice of psychiatry. Karen kept her job at one of the legal firms in town as a secretary and together, we did quite well. Well enough that we decided to have a baby. I wanted one very much but Karen was less enthusiastic. She did agree, however, and we began working hard to get pregnant. It only took four months and nine months later Michelle was born.

Right from the start, it was clear that she was my daughter more than her mother's. Karen was competent and a good mother who did all the right things but it was clear that she would rather be out with friends or at a movie or dinner with another couple, almost anything rather than home with the baby. Things didn't get any better as time went on and when Mickey was 18 months old, Karen finally declared that she was going back to work. She had already called to see if her old job was available and she planned to start the following week. My protestations to the contrary she had made up her mind and that was that. She arranged for day care for Michelle and went back to work full time.

It was sometime later, when Mickey turned three that I noticed Karen had changed. She was going out more, coming in later and our love life had all but disappeared. I was working long hours trying to cement my practice and didn't really pay that much attention but I finally caught on when I came home one evening unexpectedly to find Karen in a compromising position on the couch with a man I had never met.

I told Karen that morning that I would probably not be home much before 7:00 or 7:30. I had a meeting with an attorney who had asked for my help and it was across town so I knew, with traffic, it would be at least then before I could make it home. However, the attorney cancelled at the last minute so I left the office just after 5:00 p.m. and was home 30 minutes later. That was how I walked in to see Karen on our couch with her blouse open and this guy with his hand down inside. She had her eyes closed and she was making approving noises as I walked in. Neither one heard me as I entered and I just stood there dumbfounded.

I finally broke free of the stupor that held me and walked directly over to them, grabbing a fistful of collar from the man. I pulled him up bodily and slammed him into the wall next to the couch. Karen had suddenly noticed the lack of her lover's hands and opened her eyes just as the scumbag slid to the floor. She screamed.

"Oh God, don't kill him! Please, don't hurt him. This isn't what it looks like. This is the first time I've ever done anything like this and I'm sorry. Please let him go! It's not his fault."

I ignored her, waiting for the scumbag to get up. I saw that he was at least 50 pounds heavier than I and probably a good two inches taller. I could see tattoos peaking out of the collar of his shirt and some on his well-developed forearms. I looked over at Karen.

"I'll deal with you later. Just get the fuck up and get out of this room. This is my house and this scumbag is leaving it right now." I turned back to the dirtbag. "Do you hear me, scumbag? Get your ass up and get out!"

Scumbag was now sizing up the situation. He saw my size and he knew in his own mind that he could take me. Maybe he thought that would make up for my ruining his fuck session. He smiled an evil little smile as he rose up. He brushed the imaginary dirt off his shirt and tried to stare me down. That failed, so he decided to make it a short fight with a little bravado.

"Don't worry babe. I'll show hubby how to treat a woman like you after I get his attention. You and me are gonna make him watch. I promise not to hurt him too bad. Just keep that pussy nice and wet for me."

Karen yelled at him to just get out before he did anything stupid, but he looked over at her with disgust and shook his head 'no'. Too bad for him. He gave me that stupid shit eating grin again which made me really mad. He threw what he thought was a knockout punch at my head but I simply leaned back out of the way. He spun around with the momentum of his swing and I politely waited till he could relocate me, now standing behind him. He turned with several swear words and stopped. He now tried a new tact. He came at me with both arms out in front like he was going to hug a tree. As he got within reach, I simply swung my leg up and caught him in the crotch. He went down like a sack of wet shit.

By this time, Karen had given up and gone to our bedroom. She knew my background and knew that shithead was going to get his ass kicked. There was nothing she could do about it and she was smart enough to know that. And anyway, she probably figured she had to get her story straight. She had to make it good for me so that she could get out of this without losing her meal ticket.

For background, I used to be the resident shrink for a Special Forces team stationed in Afghanistan before the second Gulf War and I had mastered almost every form of martial arts there was. Our job was to restrict the drug traffic out of Afghanistan into the States and we had to deal with a lot of the local warlords. They were hard men and understood force, but not much else. I knew a lot of ways to kill a man quickly or slowly, but even more ways to make him wish that I would just kill him. More on this later. Too bad for shithead: he didn't know that. Oh well, education is a wonderful thing.

thecelt
thecelt
2,495 Followers