The Ghost of Red River Falls

"If I were you," Monica suggested, "I'd contact Blue Cross and find out if she had that planned or not. If it was run through insurance, surely they'd have to share at least some of that information with you, wouldn't they?"

"I dunno, for sure. I would surely think so, but you never know about these HIPAA laws, ya know?" Monica nodded in agreement.

"God, Jack. What a mess! I know it's early yet, but what do you think you'll do?"

I just sat there, shaking my head. "I don't know, Monica. I really don't. If this turns out to be true, and she is planning on getting pregnant with Kevin's child, then I can unequivocally say we are done. There will be absolutely no coming back from this. I won't tolerate being forced to raise another man's child, especially one whose father has been dead for four years."

Monica just looked at me sympathetically, marveling at the Jerry Springer-type drama that seemed to be falling upon me.

"The only thing I can do is try and call the insurance company and the clinic tomorrow."

"Jesus, Jack. I honestly don't know what to say. I'm at a loss for words."

"Yeah, me too. Look, I better get out of here and go clear my head somewhere."

"Jack, we're off duty tomorrow. I don't have anything planned. If you need my help some more, I'll do anything you need, okay?"

"Thanks, Monica. As much as I hate to say it, I might have to take you up on that."

"I'm here for you, Jack. That's what firefighters, do."

"I know, Monica. Thanks a ton." We both stood, looked at each other for a few moments, and then fell into a tight embrace. We held each other for a while and I fought as hard as I could not to cry.

I lost.

*****

Monday night yielded only a text from Wendy.

Is now an okay time to talk?

I couldn't believe she just sent me a text asking me if we could talk. Why not just pick up the damned phone? What the hell is so hard about that? I wondered where in the hell the aggressive, assertive version of Wendy was that I had gotten to know and had fallen in love with. Even though it almost certainly meant a knock-down, drag-out fight I wished like hell that she would just come out and confront everything that was going wrong in our marriage - including the episode of me walking in on her masturbating to a homemade porn tape.

If you have to text me to ask if it is okay to talk, then it probably isn't

okay to talk. Have fun with Nate and the rest of the Parmellys.

I never heard back from her, so I assumed she got the point. I met Monica the next morning at our local Starbuck's. I grabbed a tall black coffee and she ordered tea and we found an empty booth in a quiet corner.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Jack?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "I have to. I need to find out what she is up to."

"My God," Monica said, as she started dialing the clinic. "This whole thing is like something off a really bad television show."

"Tell me about it," I said. "I keep waiting for tickets to Jerry Springer to show up in the mail."

We both turned out attention to the phone's speaker as we heard someone answer. "McMillan Clinic, this is Stephanie. How may I help you?"

"Uh, yes, this is Wendy Parmelly," Monica lied. "I'm calling to verify my appointment with Doctor Howard."

"One moment please," Stephanie said. "Yes, Ms. Parmelly. I have an IVF consult with Doctor Howard scheduled for next Tuesday."

"I'm sorry," Monica said. "What type of appointment did you say?"

"An IVF consultation, ma'am. In Vitro Fertilization, correct?" Even though she expected, Monica was still stunned. All I could do was just close my eyes in shame and frustration. "Ma'am? Are you still there?" Stephanie asked.

"Uh, yes. Yes, I'm still here."

"Will there be anything else?"

Monica looked at me for an answer. I mouthed the word "insurance" to her.

"Oh, yes," Monica replied. "I was wondering if this was going to get billed to my insurance or not. I have Blue Cross through the city of Red River Falls."

"One moment please. I'll check the account instructions," Stephanie said. After about a minute of checking, she replied, "it looks like this account is being billed through a private payer."

"I'm sorry, I guess I wasn't expecting that. Can you confirm who this is being billed to?" Monica asked.

"Did you not make this payment arrangement, Ms. Parmelly?"

"Uh, yes, I did, but I just want to make sure everything is correct," Monica groped, rolling her eyes in panic and frustration.

Stephanie sounded skeptical. "Sure, Ms Parmelly. Can I just have you verify some information for me?"

"Absolutely."

"Can I have you verify your social security number, your insurance carrier and plan number, your home address and your home and mobile numbers listed on the account? It isn't being billed to your insurance carrier but I just need the info for identification."

"I sure can," Monica replied, relieved. She read everything verbatim off the instructions I had given her the day before along with the rest I had written down in anticipation of verification of her identity.

"Thank you, Ms. Parmelly," Stephanie said, sounding satisfied. "According to the account, pre-payment for the consultation and procedure has been made by Mister Ed Parmelly."

Son of a bitch! I knew it! I slammed my fist down on the table in frustration. I immediately tried to compose myself as my actions drew the attention of everyone in the coffee shop.

"Thank you, Stephanie. I appreciate all your help," Monica said, taking my hand in her own and desperately trying to comfort me.

"No problem, Ms. Parmelly. We'll see you next week!"

"Oh, God, Jack! I...I don't even know what to say."

"Let's just get the hell out of here."

We left the Starbucks and headed back out to my truck. It was all I could do to keep from hyperventilating. My marriage as I knew it was dead. It had been a complete lie. The woman I had intended to marry and spend the rest of my life with had apparently married me with the intention of getting pregnant with her deceased husband's cryogenically frozen sperm and raising the child as mine...with the full knowledge of Ed and Joanne Parmelly.

I was effectively being cuckolded by Kevin Parmelly...from beyond the grave!

We drove in silence back to the fire station so Monica could get her vehicle. As she got out, she turned and said, "Hey, Jack. Do you wanna come over to my place for a bit? I can throw on another pot of coffee and we can just sit and talk if you want."

I shook my head. "I appreciate the offer, Monica. But I've gotta head back and start getting some things straightened out."

"What are you going to do, Jack?"

I let out a long sigh. "Well, I guess the first thing I'm going to do is call my old landlord and find out if I can get my old apartment back or one like it. Once I've got that straightened out, it's just a matter of getting my stuff moved out of Wendy's house and picking up the rest of my stuff from the storage rental."

Monica just stood there and nodded. "Jack," she started, unsure of what to say, "please keep me posted. Update me on how you're doing and let me know if you're okay. You know I'm here for you, anything you need. If you need help moving your stuff, just let me know. I won't breathe a word of this to anyone, I promise."

"I know, Monica. Right now, besides my parents and my sister, you're the one person I know that has my back in this."

"Damned right I do," she said, managing a smile. Monica is a total tomboy. But she also has an incredible smile. I don't think I'd ever break my own rule about never dating anyone I work with and, especially, never dating anyone who is a subordinate of mine. That shit never works out well, it seems. But if I ever DID break that rule, I'd seriously consider breaking it with Monica.

There was just one little problem with that idea - we were all pretty certain Monica is a lesbian!

*****

I contacted my old landlord, Kendrick Realty and Management, shortly after I left Monica at the fire station. Regrettably, my old apartment had already been leased. However, Allison Kendrick, the vice-president of the company, knew me and offered me a really sweet deal. Since there were no remaining ground floor units available, she offered to rent me an apartment on the second floor for the same price as the ground floor I had previously. This was a great deal as my original apartment was only a one-bedroom apartment and the second floor apartments were all two and three-bedroom apartments. The one she gave me was a pool-side entrance three-bedroom apartment. I would be saving about $300 a month because of the difference.

I ended up just getting an overnight rental on a small U-Haul. I was more than confident I could get all of my stuff from Wendy's house and then return for all my stuff at the storage rental.

True to her word, Monica showed up to help me move and even brought some friends with her. Thankfully, they were people I didn't really know that well. I wasn't ready yet to spill the beans of my failed marriage to all of my fellow firefighters and medics yet. Although I knew they would be caring and respectful, I also knew they would probably avoid me like the plague as firefighters and cops generally had a reputation as being total bastards when they were going through a divorce. I had no reason to think I would be any different.

Around one o'clock, we were just getting my sectional theater sofa loaded in the U-Haul when my phone buzzed. I looked at it and saw an incoming call from Wendy. I started at it while it buzzed three or four more times and reluctantly decided to answer.

"Yes?"

"Well, good morning to you, too," she said, feigning indignation.

"Is it?"

"I hope so, Jack. I didn't like the way last night ended between us."

"I didn't either, Wendy. The problem is, I don't really like the way today is starting out any better."

"Jack, I told you already. I really needed this time away. It has really given me some time to clear my head and re-focus on what's important."

I just shook my head. "You're amazing, you know that?"

"Why, thank you, Jack," she said, her voice softening.

"That wasn't a compliment."

She paused. "Well, what was it then?" she asked, disappointed.

"It's amazing that we dated for as long as we did, took things as painfully slow as we did, only to realize afterward that I still have absolutely no fucking idea who you are!"

She gasped. "Jack! How can you say such a thing! I called to see how you are because I care about you! I wanted you to know that I'm thinking of you!"

"That's funny, Wendy."

"Why?"

"Because someone else called while you've been gone."

"Who?"

I paused for effect. "Northwestern Cryogenics. Kevin's spermsicles will arrive at McMillan Clinic this week. Your appointment with Doctor Howard is all set and paid for. Being a single mother is a tough job, Wendy. I wish you the best of luck." The last thing I heard before ended the call was a distinct gasp of horror.

*****

As soon as I hung up on Wendy, I returned to my group of friends to finish loading my stuff into the U-Haul. My phone starting blowing up with repeated phone calls and text messages from Wendy demanding to talk to me. I could not have been in less of a mood to speak with her and I just wanted to focus on getting my shit together and getting the hell out of there. The house had never belonged to me, anyway. I was nothing more than an uninvited guest there, living in the shadow of a ghost.

We ended up taking my stuff back to the same storage rental unit most of it had come out of when I tried to carve out a little niche of my own in Wendy's house. That same storage center also had a large parking lot where I stored my camper. Calling it a camper is sort of an injustice. It is a large 35-foot Coachmen fifth-wheel trailer that I bought at the same time I got my truck. I like to travel and like to go see interesting places. The fifth-wheel is the reason I bought my F-250.

As soon as I got everything dropped off back at the storage center, I hooked up to fifth-wheel and hauled it down to Gallagher State Park, which is a very nice and scenic area along the Red River. In addition to lots of woods, scenery, fishing spots and nature trails, GSP has a tremendous campground and RV lot with full hook-ups, including waste and sewer. Seasonal memberships at the park were only $1500 a year, which is a steal.

I was in luck as they still had an open lot. Rich Sherman, the park ranger, let me rent the lot for the remaining season for only $500. That just meant that I had until October 1^st to remove it to avoid paying for a full season the following year. Some people bought and traded campers and seasonal memberships like real estate. There are trailers and fifth-wheels that probably haven't been moved in 10 or 15 years, if not longer.

It was supper time when I finally finished getting the fifth-wheel set up and got the electric, water and sewer lines in place. It was nice not having to worry about my levels of potable water, gray water and black water and having to find a dump station every few days.

There was a nice fire ring between my lot and the adjacent one, along with a park-supplied picnic table. I had already set out a few folding chairs and decided to strike up a fire, pull up a chair and just have a couple of hotdogs for supper. Maybe I'd even treat myself to a s'more or two afterwards.

With a nice spot in my comfy over-sized Coleman folding chair and a Bud heavy in my hand, I finally pulled out my phone and saw that I missed over 30 phone calls from Wendy and nearly 45 text messages begging me to talk to her. The last text message she sent said "Please don't let the day end without talking to me, Jack!"

My emotions were way to raw right now to have a conversation with her. It didn't occur to me earlier to shut off the GPS tracker on my phone and disable the app for it, but I did now. I doubt Wendy had the presence of mind to bother with looking me up, since she obviously knew I was still in Red River Falls and she was in Hawaii with the Parmelly clan. But an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure and I disabled the GPS to keep her from tracking me down the minute she got back home. I decided to send her one last text before shutting my phone down.

"Not going to talk right now because I don't know what to say. There are no words to describe this situation. Hurt doesn't even begin to describe what I'm feeling. But then again I suppose it shouldn't hurt at all to lose you because it now looks more and more like I never had you to begin with."

I was just about to power off the phone when it buzzed.

"Please don't shut me out, Jack! It isn't like what you said. I can explain everything! I promise! We need to talk! If you don't want to talk over the phone because you don't want to hear me, then at least chat by text!"

I wrote back: "My emotions are shot. I cannot have this conversation now. I am exhausted from the stress of getting hurt at work and now from having to deal with this. I need to get some decent rest without the use of alcohol or pain meds. And there is zero point in having this conversation when we're 4 or 5 thousand miles apart. Good night."

She then wrote: "I'm coming home tomorrow on the first available flight. We will get this straightened out. I never should have come on this trip! WTF was I thinking?"

That's exactly what I had been thinking all along! WTF??? She wasn't going to like my reply. "Don't bother coming home early. I already moved out and secured a new place to stay. Not ready to deal with this shit storm yet, anyway. Coming home early won't help."

I punched off the phone and plugged it into my charger for the night. After a couple of Ballpark franks and another beer, I spent the next couple of hours just listening to some music and enjoying the fire before calling it a night. I decided to forgo a shower and just climbed the stairs into the forward cabin and crashed on the big queen-sized bed.

With four full slide-outs on my Coachman fifth-wheel, the place suddenly felt huge as the enormity of my loneliness encompassed me. I realized in that moment that it was a hell of a lot better to be lonely by myself than to be miserable in a marriage where your wife still pines for her deceased first husband. The stereo was still playing as I lay there in bed. I'm a classic rock-and-roll guy and the song "One" by Three Dog Night began playing softly over the speakers.

"One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do. Two can be as bad as one; it's the loneliest number since the number one."

Yeah, the story of my fucking life.

*****

I ended up sleeping like a rock that night. I think it was probably because of the fact that I was in a place that was definitely my own and I didn't have to compete with phantoms, specters and ghosts for anyone's attention. The only thing I regretted at the moment was the fact that I didn't have a dog or something to keep my company.

I spent about three hours that morning going for a short early swim and taking a long walk on the hiking trails around Gallagher Park. It wasn't until about 10:30 or so that I even remembered that I hadn't turned my cell phone back on. Just for good measure, I made doubly sure that I had turned the GPS tracker off, which I had.

One of the first things I noticed was that my voicemail inbox was full and there were over 30 text messages sent since I got off the phone with Wendy last night. They were the usual run-of-the-mill messages you would expect from a panicking wife - telling me how much she loved me, how much she needed me and how I had the whole situation completely wrong. According to Wendy, this was all just a misunderstanding and a gross miscommunication. I read the last text message she sent the night before.

"Booked a flight. Land at MSP tomorrow 5 pm. Back in RRF around 9. Please be waiting at home. I love you, Jack."

I was just about to empty my entire text message inbox when my phone buzzed again.

"Getting on the plane now. On my way home. See you soon. United Flight 5549, if you want to meet me at MSP. Will you please? Would love for your face to be the first one I see, Jack."

Boy, she really knew how to tug at the old heart strings, I'll give her that. I decided to just stay close to the campground for most of the week, before moving back into my apartment. One thing dawned on me, though, and that was that I needed to have a talk with my parents about what was happening with me and Wendy. My parents are both newly retired and basically just enjoying life, so I knew they would probably be around.

Sure enough, my Dad answered the phone and could tell immediately that something was wrong. He invited me over to their house for supper that night and I told them I had some things to talk about that they probably wouldn't like hearing.

I got to their place that night around 5 o'clock. Dad was waiting for me on the front porch. My Dad, Jim Fitzgerald, was around 6'1 and 220 pounds. He was a full-blooded Irishman to the last cell in his body. Saint Patrick's Day in our home growing up was about as important as Christmas and Easter. The three most important things in his life were his family, his former work and Notre Dame football.

My mother, Sandra, was fixing supper when I walked in the house. She, too, immediately sense something was wrong, most notably that Wendy wasn't with me. I hadn't even bothered to tell them that Wendy had taken an unannounced trip to Hawaii with the Parmellys.

"You look like shit, Jack," my father observed.