Saturday's Aren't All That Bad

I tossed the keys to the storage locker at her and told her very quietly; "Don't come home, you have nothing there. All of your things are in a storage locker, and there is the key. Don't call me, don't talk to me, we are completely done."

Rob asked if there was anything he could do as we walked back to the parking lot, and I just told him that I needed to be by myself for awhile.

I climbed into my car, and started home. I drove by Kathy's house on my way, and saw that the lights were still on. I parked in my garage, closed the garage door, then realized that the key that Kathy had did not work in my door anymore. We had both traded keys years ago, because the kids were constantly wanting something from home, and I had just forgotten that she needed one also. Even though it was late, I walked down to Kathy's, rang the doorbell and waited. Kathy opened to door almost immediately and invited me in. When she closed the door, she turned to me, caressed my cheek with her hand, then kissed me very softly.

"I'm so sorry for you. I thought it would come to this, but I so hoped it wouldn't."

Before any of you get the wrong idea, Kathy had been raised in a family that kissed. After I had met her for the first few times, whenever she saw me, she kissed me hello. She did that to everyone she knew at all well. It wasn't a passionate kiss, or an invitation. It was just her way of welcoming you to her life. There was nothing different tonight - just the welcoming kiss of a good friend.

"Come on and have a cup of tea. The kids are asleep, although it took me forever to get Caitlin and Erin to stop giggling and actually go to sleep."

We drank our tea, and I gave her the new key to the house, and without going in to details, simply told her that Gayle and I were getting a divorce, and that things hadn't been very pretty.

Kathy told me that she had seen several cars outside our house while I was gone, and that this was not a real surprise. She also offered to keep the kids over the weekend, so I could get my head screwed on tight, and deal with the whole situation.

I didn't want to abandon the kids, they were going to need me, but I did tell her that I would appreciate it if she could at least have them play over at her house on Saturday, as I felt that Gayle would be over, and I didn't want them to witness any fights. Of course Kathy agreed.

At 8:00 sharp, just like he promised, Rob had delivered his report, including an update from the night before, as well as photographs taken from the videos taken over the last week or so. He didn't stay, seeming to know that I needed to go through the report by myself.

By noon I had gone through the entire report, and what I read, and saw, made me sick to my stomach.

The doorbell rang, and I got up to answer it. It was Gayle's parents, George and Ann, and Gayle. George asked quietly if they could come in. I hesitated, then told them they could.

"Gayle, this is the one and only time you are going to be allowed in this house. I told you last night not to ever come here again. I am willing to do it one more time out of respect for your parents, but never again."

I could see the old anger flare in her eyes, "This is as much my house as it is yours."

"Nope. I inherited this house free and clear from my grandparents. Your name is not on the title, and never will be. Now stop the nonsense and either come in or leave. It is your choice."

We settled uncomfortably in the living room, George and Ann sitting together on the couch, Gayle seated on an ottoman by the couch, and I was in my favorite chair, a wooden rocker, that had always seemed to be a comfort to me. It had been in the house as long as I could remember, and still held the fascination for me that it had as a small child.

George cleared his throat, "Ah, we understand that a bit of a problem has arisen between you and Gayle, and we would like to see if we can help straighten things out. We understand that you are angry, and why you are angry, but we would like to see if we can help you both put this indiscretion behind you, and to help you work together to put your marriage back together."

"Indiscretion. Just an indiscretion is it? Hold on a minute."

I went into the den where I had my office, got Rob's report, and brought it back out into the living room.

"Let's see. An indiscretion."

I tossed an 8x10 glossy print of one of Rob's pictures from the night before on the coffee table. It was a beautiful example of the art of photography. Gayle was posed perfectly as the centerpiece of the photo. You could see that some guy was fucking her from behind, and the guy in her mouth was still spurting, the cum running out of her mouth and down her chin.

"Let's see George, you are the trial attorney. Is that one indiscretion or two?"

George flinched, and Ann paled a bit.

"Let's go back a little bit."

I flipped another photograph onto the coffee table.

"Here's Friday night of last week. Duncan McPherson, married and with three kids, looks like he is going into room 113 of the motel. The same room the previous picture was taken in. Of course we don't know what went on in there, they could have been getting marriage counseling for all we know."

I looked over at Gayle.

"Trying to break up another marriage also?"

I flipped another glossy out.

It was another picture of a man being taken into room 113 by Gayle. He was quite recognizable because of the tattoos on his arms.

"Of course we don't know what went on here either. Maybe more marriage counseling."

I thumbed through the report folder for a minute until I found the picture I wanted, and flipped it out on the table.

"Oh, I bet this can at least clear a little up. Here is the same guy, only he is in my house, in my living room, and my wife is sucking his cock. Look at the time and date stamp on the photo. At least Gayle waited until the kids were in bed." I flipped another glossy out.

"Here he is again, only this time he is fucking her. I think she had her legs spread for him just about where you are sitting Ann. I haven't checked, but I wonder if there are semen stains on the couch there."

Ann visibly had to restrain herself from getting up and moving.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you who this guy is. He is James Watson. He just got out of prison a little over a year ago. He spent the last 15 years as a guest of the state because his girl friend wouldn't do what he wanted. So he sexually assaulted her, and forced her ten year old daughter to orally copulate him."

I looked at Gayle. "Really nice friends you bring home while I am out of town, particularly with Erin upstairs."

Gayle was white, then the rage erupted. "You violated my privacy. You were videotaping my private life."

"Your life isn't private in my house. A whore is never private, not where my kids are concerned." I looked at George and Ann. George looked about 20 years older than he had when he walked into the house. Ann was trying very hard not to just break down and cry.

"An indiscretion? I don't think so. A round heeled slut - I think that is a given. Marriage counseling? Not on your life."

"Gayle, I have taken every single thing in this house that could conceivably be thought of as yours, and put it in that storage locker. You have the key. On Monday I will be filing for divorce. I will give you a certified check for half of our joint bank accounts. I will sign over the title to your car to you. Our joint credit cards are closed, as are all our joint bank accounts. The only thing left is that I have left $2,000 in our joint savings account, which you may treat as yours - I will deduct that from the check I will give you. As of right now, I don't want anything more to do with you. I will not talk to you. I will not see you. I will not bar you from seeing the kids, but you will most certainly have to have someone with you, someone that I agree with." "That means that Maggie is most certainly not on the approved list. Supervised visitation is the only way it is going to go, because I simply do not trust you around our children. In fact I don't trust you at all."

George started to say something, and I just cut him off before he could even get started.

"I am not going to put you through anything more with the photographs, but just let me say this. The only thing I haven't seen your daughter do in my house, with my kids upstairs, is anal sex. She has done everything else conceivable here, in this living room, upstairs in what was our bedroom and everywhere else in this house that I can think of."

"She was even fucking some guy on our dining room table. I'm not putting up with any more."

Gayle heated replied that she would never do anything as nasty as anal sex.

I looked at her again, hopefully for the last time.

"You didn't do oral sex with men either, at least that is what you told me, that it was nasty and you wouldn't do it. Sure looks like you decided that it wasn't that nasty. But it doesn't matter anymore, does it? Because you are out of my life, and I am going to make damn sure you don't screw up our kids' lives - or are they our kids? Just how long have you been fucking everything that had a cock?"

I didn't expect an answer, and I didn't get one. Gayle was crying, and trying to say something about she was sorry. I didn't even listen to her.

"George, Ann, I like you and I respect you, but it is now time for you to leave. You are welcome here anytime you want to see your grandchildren; I will not keep them from you. However, Gayle may not come into this house again, so don't even think about bringing her with you. If you would be willing to be the supervising person when she sees the kids, then that will be fine. But now I want a little bit of time to myself before the kids come home, so I am going to ask you all to leave."

George and Ann got up, and started toward the door, moving like they were 90 years old, and feeling every day of it. Gayle stayed on the ottoman until I told her in no uncertain terms that she had better get the hell out, or I would throw her out. She left with a stream of curses directed at me, but she left.

It was a week later, on Saturday night, and it had been a really rough week. The kids wanted to know why Mommy wasn't coming home, and I tried to explain to them that it wasn't their fault, but that sometimes Mommies and Daddies didn't want to live together any more. I reassured them that their mother still loved them, but it was a little hard to make them believe that as Gayle had not even tried to call.

Rob had told me that he had followed up a bit on his own, just to satisfy his own curiosity and that Gayle had moved in with Maggie. She was still doing the scene at the bar. My attorney told me that he hadn't been able to get her served with the divorce papers until Tuesday morning, but that the judge in the case had granted a restraining order preventing her from coming within 500 feet of my home, and from seeing the children without another adult that I approved of. She was specifically allowed to talk to the children by telephone, but she had to understand that all of the calls were being recorded, because I didn't want her poisoning my relationship with the kids. It was somewhere around midnight, when I vaguely heard something downstairs. I had been sleeping rather lightly because of Ian's arm, and because both of the kids had been having bad dreams, and I wanted to be there immediately for them. Finally I figured out that it was the doorbell.

I got out of bed, slipped on a pair of Levi's and a sweatshirt and padded downstairs to answer the door. It was Gayle, looking like shit. She was crying, and begged me to let her in.

Against my better judgment, I opened the door a bit wider, and told her to come on in. We went into the living room, and she sat on the same ottoman she had when she and her parents were here a week ago.

It was awhile before I could get the story out of her, but essentially what it came to was that she had invited a man from the bar she and Maggie had been frequenting to the place she and Maggie were sharing and he had raped her. I told her that I thought that was a bit implausible, as she had been fucking everything in sight for months.

She stood up and unbuttoned her blouse, and I noticed for the first time that she didn't have a bra on. There were bite marks all over her breasts, and even in the rather dim light I could see that bruises were forming on her breasts, as well as one around her left eye.

"I wouldn't give him anal sex, and he blew up and this is what he did. Then he forced himself into my rectum. I think he tore something back there. I can't see for myself, but I have been bleeding a bit back there. I can't go back, he might still be there, I just ran out as soon as I could get free, grabbing my purse as I left."

I didn't say a word for about five minutes, while I thought the whole thing through, then told her that whatever had happened was her problem, not mine, and most definitely not the kids'. I also told her that she had to leave, because I wasn't dealing with her bullshit. She cried, and said that she had no place to go, that she couldn't go to her parents looking like this, and she was afraid to go back to her apartment.

"That is your problem. I told you that I am washing my hands of you. If you are afraid of this guy, then call the cops, but don't come to me expecting me to rescue you."

Gayle dragged herself back to the car, and I saw her drive off, her last comment lingering on the air, "You bastard."

Life went on, the kids were beginning to adjust to Gayle being gone, and Kathy was making every effort to cheer them up, taking them to the zoo or the park after school.

In the evening we would often have dinner together, not every night, but two or three times a week, so the kids could play together, and have a somewhat normal life.

Three months had gone by, and the kids had seen their mother only three or four times, always with her parents present. I had specifically warned them that if they let Gayle go off alone with the kids, that they would be removed from the "A-list".

Kathy was also on the "A-list", although she hadn't really wanted to be. I think she was just doing it as a favor to me. In any event, Gayle never called Kathy to supervise visitation.

I was in my office, going over some bids we were doing for a project when the phone rang. It was the school counselor, and she wanted to talk about Erin. I asked if I should come down, but she said she thought it could be taken care of by phone, at least this first time.

"What's going on?"

"Erin is acting out an awful lot. Talking back to teachers, misbehaving in class, getting in scuffles with other kids at recess, that kind of thing. She has always been such a joy and it just seems that something is wrong, she has never acted up like this before."

I sighed, and explained that her mother and I were going through a divorce, and this possibly was the source of her problems. Then I asked how should I handle it.

The counselor suggested that I simply talk to her about it, but not do anything dramatic, and see if that helped, and she asked me to keep in contact with her to monitor Erin's behavior.

I agreed, and we hung up.

When I picked the kids up from Kathy's, I told her what I had been told by the school, and asked her if she had any suggestions.

Kathy thought for a few minutes, then told me that she thought that just a simple talking to would help, but that I should keep it touch with the counselor (which I had already agreed to with her), and see how things went.

The following Saturday (I was beginning to hate Saturdays) the three of us were eating dinner, a homemade pizza I had managed to find in the cook books, when Erin asked me, "Daddy, what is a cunt?"

I literally almost choked on my food, but was finally able to ask,

"Where in the world did you hear that word?"

Before Erin could answer, the phone rang, and I went into my office to answer it, trying for as much time as possible before I had to answer that question. It was Kathy, and before she could say whatever it was she wanted to say, I told her that I absolutely needed help with Erin, and I needed it now.

"What's wrong?"

"Erin just asked my what a cunt was. I suspect that I know where she heard the word, but I really need help right now in talking to her."

"I'll be right there. Caitlin will be just fine here for an hour or so, let me make a phone call and I will be there in a few minutes."

I hung up the phone, and came back out, telling Erin that we would talk about the word "cunt" in a few minutes.

It was literally five minutes before Kathy opened the front door and came in. She looked madder than hell, at least when she came in, then she took several deep breaths, and calmed herself down.

"Okay, I'm ready, but I sure didn't want to go through this again. Where is Erin?"

"In the dining room - what do you mean?"

"We'll talk later, right now I need to spend a bunch of time with Erin."

We went into the dining room and Kathy asked Erin to go with her into my office. They were in there for well over an hour, and by the time they came out, I had already put Ian to bed.

Kathy told Erin, "Give your Daddy a kiss, then let's go get you into bed."

When Kathy returned her anger had returned, and she simply said, "Give me a scotch."

I poured a hefty one, gave it to her, and asked what the hell was going on.

Kathy slugged back about half of what I had given her, then started in.

"I thought that all this crap was behind me. I came home from school early one day, and found my husband trying to make Caitlin suck his penis. I threw the bastard out, and called the cops. If he wanted me to do that, I was more than willing, but Caitlin, no god dammed way. The last I heard of him was that he was going on parole two years ago, after not anywhere near long enough in prison."

"Anyway, while you were gone that week, Erin woke up when she heard noises downstairs. She went to the top of the stairs and saw your wife fucking some guy. Apparently she heard Gayle saying some like 'fill my cunt' or 'fuck my cunt', but whatever she heard was extremely sexual in nature. She didn't understand what she was seeing either, but again, as best as I understand it, she saw your wife giving one guy a blowjob, while she was being fucked by another guy."

"She was thinking that because she hadn't told you, she was somehow at fault for the divorce, that maybe things could have been saved if she had told you. At the same time she was thinking that she should have done something else, although God knows what, so she was a bad girl, and she needed act like a bad girl."

"I think she is going to be all right, but I want you to take her to a friend of mine, a professor of psychology, who specializes in children, and get her all the help you can. Caitlin was only about three, and doesn't remember, really, what happened, but Erin is going to need some help at this point in getting through this.

Of course I agreed, and we spent a little more time talking, before Kathy had to go home to make sure that Caitlin had gotten herself into bed.

Gayle had been trying to get unsupervised visitation, and joint physical custody, but when my lawyer called hers, and gave her the results of the psychologist's report, she dropped the request and things went on as before.

I made sure that Erin and Ian had lots to do, taking them someplace nearly every weekend. Of course this meant that Caitlin wound up going also, and Kathy often came along also, until we were often together more than Gayle and I had been for years.

It had been about five months since I filed for divorce, and Kathy had invited the three of us over for a cookout. I rang the doorbell, and Kathy opened the door, pretending to be startled to see the two kids come boiling through the door, heading for the back yard. We laughed, and Kathy opened the door a bit wider, and I stepped through. She leaned forward to give me the kiss she always did, except this time it felt different. She didn't do anything different, but this time it was like an electric shock.