You Are Your Problem Ch. 01

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"I guess I couldn't expect any better. After all, I am a bastard," I mumbled to myself as I lifted my glass to the photo of my parents on the mantle in front of my chair.

I had been home a couple of hours before Laurel and the children returned. Besides the admission I was a bastard and toasting my parents, I'd also had some time to do some pretty tough soul searching. Although I needed to talk to Laurel about what I'd discovered, I couldn't do that until a lot later in the day, and maybe not until bedtime.

All three of the kids were mildly sunburned and Laurel was beautiful. I always like it when she wore her hair down, instead of in a pony tail. She didn't look that much older than our seventeen-year-old daughter. Both of them were wearing shorts, but Laurel's were a little longer. The little tee shirts they wore had thin shoulder straps and some kind of internal cloth shelf that was like a soft bra. Our daughter might not need that kind of support, but Laurel's breasts were quite a bit larger and that shelf sort of held them up some and allowed them to sway or bounce with each step she took.

I imagined Brother Hebert's reaction when he saw Laurel in that tee shirt. I wanted to think my wife hadn't dressed to tantalize our church pastor, but as I watched her moving around the kitchen, I was uncertain. I was trying so hard to convince myself that I was on some kind of high moral ground because a married woman should not flaunt herself or attract other men to look at her or have sexual reactions to the way she was dressed.

After spending a few hours in a pool and using so much energy, the kids were hungry. Anticipating their appetites, Laurel had sandwiches already made. All the chips and other snacks were set out, ready to put on the table when they got home.

In between "Do you want more chips?" and "That's pimento cheese," I asked Laurel, "You didn't get sunburned? I thought you were going swimming."

"No," she answered. "I let Dana drive."

Sometime during our meal and in between the children's comments, Laurel asked me what I'd done that day.

"Jason and I built shelves in Mrs. Turner's laundry room. She really liked the shelves we did for Brother Hebert."

Laurel took a deep breath as her face paled, "You were there ... I mean, right next door? I didn't see the truck."

"We parked in back of the house. I saw Dana drive off with all the kids. I didn't see you in the car."

Laurel looked away from me when she said, "Doug wanted to see if he could move his son into the small parlor to give the girls separate rooms. The parsonage is such a small house, especially the children's bedrooms."

"You shouldn't be moving heavy furniture, Laurel. You could have called me. I'd send a couple of guys to do the heavy work."

"Oh, we didn't move anything, Robert. We just sort of talked about it and did some measuring. You know, Doug. He's a planner. He doesn't do anything until his plans are made."

I hadn't noticed, until that moment, that Laurel was no longer saying "Brother Hebert," not even to his face. For some time, she had been calling him by his first name, which I remembered only hearing from two other women, and from none of the men in the congregation.

I looked at our children and then back at Laurel. It was one of those looks parents know very well, as if I was telling her, 'I'm saying this in front of our children because it's a lesson they should be taught without making it sound like a command.'

She sat up just a little straighter when I emphasized the first two words, "Brother Hebert might consider turning his single car garage into his study or the fourth bedroom. I could do that work for him."

As Laurel was nodding and thinking about my suggestion for the garage, I offered, "Why don't you call him and we can go over there to take a look at a way to create a fourth bedroom."

"Oh ... ah ... all right, but ... ah ... why don't I call and you can just go. I don't need to be there."

I bit my tongue to avoid questioning Laurel about why she didn't want to go to the pastor's house. A moment later, I had to know. "If you didn't go swimming, you're not that tired. Why don't you want to go over there with me?"

"You don't need me to help measure."

"Yeah, but maybe I'd just like you to go with me. Jason has my truck so I need to take the car."

"Robert, I need to clean up the kitchen and start some laundry. It's been so hot today, I can't go anywhere without a shower."

"But I thought you liked Brother Hebert."

The exasperation in her voice caused all three of our children to look at her. "Why are you questioning me like this? I thought I'd shown you there is no cause for your jealousy."

"I'm not jealous," I countered a little louder than I should have. I justified to myself that I was only trying to get her to tell me the truth. "I just thought you'd like to spend a little time with me, get away from the house."

"Well, I can't tonight. I have too much to do."

"Okay, okay, just call him and tell him I'm on my way." If the children hadn't been around at that moment, I might have questioned her further.

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I greeted the pastor of our church when he answered the doorbell. "Brother Hebert, how are you this evening?"

His voice sounded a little strained, "Come in, Robert." He stepped back quickly, giving me more room than I needed to get inside the house. He may have reacted to the look on my face, but I was also trying to appear pleasant. I didn't want him to feel threatened, but I did intend to get some answers. He was taller and larger than me. It was doubtful I could come out on top in a physical contest with the man. Besides, neither fists nor harsh words would give me the answers I was seeking.

Looking behind him at his three teenage children relaxing around the living room, he told his oldest daughter, "Bedtime in fifteen minutes, Ruth."

He turned to me and suggested, "Let's go ...," waving his arm toward the back of the house. I followed him through the kitchen and out the back door.

Although Brother Hebert's children were no longer small, in the backyard was the large wooden swing set I'd help dismantle at another church member's home and reassemble for his children's use. Not far from the swing set were two picnic tables I'd seen spread with a variety of foods when a summer potluck supper was held at the parsonage instead of a church member's home.

I looked around for a moment, startled by the sudden thought that the church owned the house. It was provided for Brother Hebert's use, part of his compensation, as long as he was pastor of the church.

"Brother Hebert, I thought I was going to measure your study and the garage to see how much work it would take to make a fourth bedroom." I reminded him of the reason Laurel had given for my late evening visit.

Already halfway across the back yard, Brother Hebert requested, "Why don't you use my given name, Douglas, or Doug if you prefer. I think we know each other well enough for that familiarity."

He paused for a moment and the tone of his voice changed, when he said. "I don't think measuring the garage is the real reason you're here. Is it?" He sat down on one side of the first picnic table and offered, "Have a seat, Robert."

I hesitated for a moment and he repeated himself, "Have a seat, Robert." As soon as I was sitting across for him, he looked at me, cocked his head to one side, and then nodded a couple of times.

Before I could say anything, Doug said, "You know, I'm not really in the God business. I'm in the people business."

"So you think part of your ministry is giving a cheating husband's wife a good revenge fuck?"

Doug's face turned pale, "Listen to yourself, Robert. How can you insult your wife like that?"

I wasn't going to let him make me the bad guy. "Laurel's not the first woman of the church you've seduced, is she?"

"Seduced? Now, now, where would you get the idea that I seduced Laurel?"

"I saw you, you damn predator. This afternoon you fucked my wife. There's at least two other women in the church who call you "Doug." How many of the women of our church have you fucked?"

His condescending tone tried to bluff his way into the appearance of innocence. "What do you think you saw?"

"I was outside your bedroom window. I saw your white ass as you fucked my wife." I leaned forward and stared at the man in front of me. "You asshole, you listen. To me, you are less of a godly man than I am. I cheated on my wife, but I did so with a single woman. I did not seduce another man's wife."

Doug leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. "Now, Robert, take it easy. Some women can only forgive their husband if they haven't lost the belief they are still sexually attractive to a man. I'm able to help them regain their confidence. Maybe you should thank me."

"Thank you?" I screamed and startled Brother Hebert. He leaned back as far as he could. I guess he thought I was going to take a swing at him. I almost did it, too.

The asshole had the gall to tell me, "Laurel is a grown woman, capable of making her own choices about fidelity, just as you made the same choice for yourself. Why should you care? She forgave you, now it's your turn to forgive her."

"Forgive her?" I asked him. "Do you think the members of our church will forgive you? Can anyone believe you when you teach Christian principles?"

My voice was getting louder, which I did not want to happen. I had planned to confront this man, tell him I knew what he had done, and walk away from him. I had a problem in my marriage. Laurel and I might need professional help, but not from a man who had made the problem worse.

He was going to keep twisting what I said, turning my unfaithfulness into his reason for helping my wife with her payback. Laurel had never acted as if she wanted anything more than for me to be faithful to her. She didn't question me about where I went or whom I saw. I hurt her, I apologized, and I'd tried to do everything I could to change the kind of person I was.

I could not let this man escape. Without another word, I stood and walked away. Halfway across the back yard, I stopped and turned back to tell the man, "Sixty days. You have sixty days to leave this town. After that, I'll speak to the congregation, confess my sin, and tell them about yours, too. I don't think you'll be welcome after that."

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. . . to be continued