A Martian Slut Ray? Really?

"Janet, you said you already paid a deposit."

"Yes, five hundred dollars, and the balance of four hundred is due the first day of class. James, uh, I mean he, uh he said he was giving me a hundred-dollar discount because my high base level would make it a pleasure to teach me." I just wanted to take a gun and shoot her, put her out of my misery. No one would put me in jail for shooting her after this conversation.

"Janet, please listen. I am as serious as a heart attack. If you go through with this, I will file for divorce next week. With what you have already done, we may end up divorced, but I have to think about that. Counselling for sure if we have any chance to survive as a married couple. Are you hearing what I'm saying?"

"Bobby, I hear you, but I think you are not hearing me. This is not me going out and cheating with some guy I pick up in a bar. I would never do that. This is education. I believe in education. I believe in the importance of education, in the ability of good education to make our lives better. I think you believe that too. I admit sex education like this is not mainstream, but this will be good for me, and for us. You need to trust me on this."

"Okay, Janet, I give up. Remember what I said about divorce. I'm going out for a run."

"Bobby, what about your news? You said you had some news to share."

"Janet, my news is totally insignificant compared to yours." I went to our bedroom to change into my running clothes, and also moved some of my stuff to the guest room. My run started out horribly, my mind too distracted by the conversation with Janet to let me relax into the run. But a few miles into it, I could feel the stress draining away. Running may be the best therapy for me; and that run was certainly good therapy. I had been working so much that I had neglected my running, and I felt that neglect after a few miles. I headed home, or to what had been my home. I wasn't sure what it was after what had happened. By the time I got back, Janet was in bed: a good thing since I had absolutely no desire to talk with her. I took a quick shower and went to bed in the guest room.

The next morning, I was up early and out of the house before Janet was up. When I got to the office, I saw that Jack Carlton had already arrived.

"Mr. Carlton, uh, Jack, sorry, Jack, do you have a minute?"

"Sure, Bobby, what's up? I thought you might sleep in this morning."

"Sir, I have a real problem at home, and I need some help," and I proceeded to tell him a short version of Janet's news.

"My god, that's quite a story. I like that term Martian Slut Ray. I've never heard that and now I'll have to add it to my vocabulary. Okay, first things first: Number One, a good family lawyer. I don't want to call her a divorce lawyer quite yet, but she certainly is that. Elizabeth Jenkins. Don't call her Beth or Liz or anything but Elizabeth. She is a very formal person and, I think, the best divorce lawyer in Macon. Whoops, I'm already saying divorce. Bobby, I hope it doesn't come to that, but I totally get it if it does. The times I've met Janet she seemed like a fine person, good head on her shoulders, solid. From south Georgia, right?"

"Yes sir, and I agree. This is just so bizarre. I asked her if she was sick, but she said she wasn't."

"Well, if she has some sort of mental illness, she wouldn't necessarily recognize it."

"I think she is crazy, but I also think it's an insult to people with real mental illness to blame this on a mental problem. I'm afraid I think she just wants sex with somebody else, and this is her way to justify it."

"Mmmm, could be. In any case, the second thing we need to do is to cancel your bonus. Now don't look even worse than you feel already. I'm just cancelling it for now. If you get a divorce, it's better that you don't have to share it with your then ex-wife. When all this smoke clears, you will still get that bonus. And in the same way, partnership is off the table for now. But between you and me, both of those things, bonus and partnership, are yours. And since we, the current partners I mean, haven't done anything official yet, I can testify, if it comes to that, that you are not entitled to either a bonus or admission to the partnership. Make sense?"

"Wow. Yeah, it does. It's just hard for me to deal with. I mean, 24 hours ago, I was on top of the world and Janet and I were an inseparable team. Now, she has gone crazy and I'm plotting to keep stuff separate from her. I just...."

"Bobby, stop. Listen to me. You need to get out of the office. I know you're a runner and you like to work out. Go do both of those things, and then come back and check with me. I'll call Elizabeth Jenkins and make an appointment for you for later today. Make sense?"

"Yessir, thanks, it does. And thanks for all the help."

"Hey, that's what partners are for." I headed out, but stopped by the break room for some coffee before I did anything else. I was sitting there, just staring at the wall, not even drinking my coffee, when our receptionist came in. Christa Mc...something, I could never remember her last name, got her coffee and started to leave, but then she stopped.

"Mr. Thomas, are you okay? You look sick or something."

"Uh, thanks, Christa, I'm um, I'm, you know, just sitting here."

"Well, maybe you should go home. I know you got your big deal done yesterday. Everybody in the firm is talking about it. You should go celebrate or something. You shouldn't be just sitting here."

"Yeah, uh thanks Christa. I'll get out of your way."

I got up and headed out, just as she was saying, "I'm sorry, you're not in my way, I didn't mean ...."

I did go out for another run, short and not at all satisfying. When I got back to our office building, which has a workout room and showers, I worked out for a while, until it was almost time to go see Elizabeth (never Beth). I showered and arrived at her office on time for my one PM meeting.

"Bobby, I'm sure it's okay to call you Bobby," she started, "right? After all, Jack Carlton said you are a friend of his, and that means you are a friend of mine. He said lots of nice things about you, but he also said your wife had been hit by the 'Martian Slut Ray.'" She put air quotes around the term and we both laughed a little. God, it was nice to be able to laugh.

"Yeah, that's what I told him." And I told the story again. Elizabeth listened, took notes, made sympathetic sounds, and didn't interrupt my sorry tale. I finished with, "Truthfully, it's like she just went crazy. Her insisting that she is going to have sex with multiple men, and maybe even a woman, next week, that just goes against everything she and I have believed in since we met almost seven years ago. I'm just about at my wit's end even trying to comprehend this."

"Okay, that's what I'm here to help you do: to understand and make some plans to deal with her plans. She plans to start this 'sex education' course on Monday, right?" Air quotes again, but no laughing this time.

"Right."

"So you have the weekend for her to change her mind."

"Yes, but ...."

"Wait, listen, let me finish. I think you should give her the chance. I also think I should go ahead and prepare a divorce petition to file on Monday afternoon if she goes forward with this idiocy. If she backs off, I recommend some serious marriage counselling for the two of you, if, and I recognize that's a big if, you want to try to stay together. I can prepare a pretty standard divorce petition this afternoon, with financial matters to be determined at a later date. We can get a private investigator hired to follow her on Monday if necessary, or you can do that. If you choose to do it, you need to convince me that you won't do anything that could jeopardize your law license or put you in jail.

"If she goes forward with this, I can have her served at the house where the adultery, and that's what it is, is going on. If we're lucky, maybe interrupt the 'course.'" The air quotes again. She liked using them; I was getting a bit tired of her affectation. But she went on.

"And another idea. She has paid this James a $500 deposit. We can argue that payment makes hm a prostitute and she is paying for sex. Both crimes in Georgia."

"You mean she could end up in jail?"

"Most likely not, especially for the john or, in your wife's case a "john-ess"? Fuckin' air quotes again. "Sex crimes usually just get fines. Anyway, do you want me to go ahead and prepare the petition? In case we need it Monday?"

"Yes, please. Just email it to my office account and I'll look at over the weekend."

"Done. And good luck this weekend. Maybe she will get her head turned around straight." With no better place to go, I left for my office. I'm not much of a drinker and the thought of going to a bar, especially on a Friday afternoon, had no appeal. And the thought of going home had even less appeal.

I walked into an almost empty office. At first, I thought even the receptionist was gone, but she came running out when she heard the arriving guest chime.

"Mr. Thomas, um, um, are you feeling better? You, oh wow, maybe none of my business, but you look even worse than you looked this morning. Have you been to the doctor?"

"Christa, uh, where is everybody? It looks like the office has shut down."

"Well, Mr. Carlton announced that everyone has been working really hard the last few weeks, and, uh someone, uh, namely you, Mr. Thomas, had just closed a massive deal for one of the firm's best clients, so, he said everyone could have off the rest of the day. I'm just cleaning up a little and then I'll be heading home."

"Nice of him. Uh, Christa, would you mind doing one more thing before you leave? I would love a cup of fresh coffee, and that machine always baffles me."

"Happy to, I'll be right back with a fresh cup. Black, right?"

"Yes, thank you very much." She was back in my office in a few minutes, with a steaming cup. After my day I needed something to give me some kind of lift. I said thanks again, and she started to leave, but turned back to look at me.

"Mr. Thomas, I ...."

"Bobby, Christa, please call me Bobby."

"Uh, okay, uh Bobby. It sounds strange for me to call you that, but I think it fits you better than Mr. Thomas. So, uh, Bobby, I know I'm just the receptionist, but you should also know that I'm a kind person and you look like you need some kindness right now. If you need someone to talk to, about whatever is making you look so horrible, I can be your sounding board, and listen and not make any judgments about whatever is wrong with you." I looked at her for a long minute. She had this serene presence, this woman whose last name I didn't even know.

"Christa, um, listen, I'm embarrassed to say this, but I don't even know your last name and ...."

"McDougal, it's Christa McDougal. I know, the two names don't really fit together, do they? My mom is German, and my dad is, well, was Irish. I'm named after my mom's mom, who died during World War II."

"Okay, Christa McDougal, why are you trying to be so nice to me? Except for getting coffee and reserving conference rooms, we have hardly ever even spoken."

"Because you look so sad. I know you've worked really hard the last several months. You're always here, and you're always nice to everybody, even when you must have been exhausted. So I'm just trying to be nice to you, when you look like you need it."

"Well, you're right, I am sad, and confused, and angry and .... Do you really want to hear a very sad, and, I think, very strange story?"

"I am hearing you say you really need to tell it, so, yes, I want to hear it." So, I told my story again, for the third time that day, and this time I felt I was finally getting some catharsis from my telling. When I finished, Christa, my new friend Christa, looked at me for a while.

"Martian Slut Ray?" She collapsed into laughter. I joined in and I think we must have sounded hysterical, or at least I did. "Bobby, that's a horrible and horribly weird story. There's got to be something seriously wrong with your wife."

"Yeah, I think so too, but other than preparing for a divorce, I don't know what else to do. Right now, I don't want to go home and listen to more of her idiocy, so I'm just sort of stuck." More thought on the other side of my desk.

"Bobby, I have an idea, a just-for-now idea. Come home with me and have dinner with my daughter, my mom and me. I'll whip up a mean uh, uh pasta, with ...."

"Christa, it's Friday evening, and I would bet a lot of money that you were not planning to whip up a mean anything. How old is your daughter?"

"Eleven."

"You were all planning to go to fast food, McDonalds maybe or...."

"Chick-fil-a, actually. Dana, that's my daughter, loves their chocolate milkshakes. She and I go and leave my mom to watch TV. She records the soaps during the week and then binges on them when Dana and I are gone."

"Okay, my new friend Christa, let's get our cars and I'll follow you home. Then, it's off to Chick-fil-a." And that's what we did. Being with Christa and Dana did cheer me up. Dana had just finished primary school and was headed to middle school in the fall. She was proud of her straight A's, and so was Christa. It was relaxing for me just to sit there and hear their mother-and-daughter chatting. Relaxing and sad at the same time. Christa noticed, of course, and did her best to include me in the conversation.

"Bobby, how long have you been a runner? Everybody in the firm knows you run in the mornings before you come to the office. How far do you go every week? Did you run at UGA?"

"Well, I did run at UGA, on the cross-country team in the fall and track in the spring. Truthfully, I wasn't really good enough to run on a NCAA team, especially a Division One place like Georgia, but the coaches liked me and liked my work ethic and let me run. I never even placed at any of the races, but being on those teams was a great experience. I'm what they call a scholar athlete, which doesn't mean much, except it gets me great seats for Georgia football games."

"Wait, wait, Mr. Bobby. You went to Georgia and played on Georgia teams and go to Georgia football games? I love Georgia. Mom says I can go there if I keep my grades up, 'cuz I'll get a Hope Scholarship that will pay for everything."

"Dana, you're right, the Hope Scholarship is a great thing. You just need to keep your grades up to qualify."

"I know, I know. Mom tells me that almost every day." This was an eleven-year-old talking. Pretty mature I thought, and pretty smart of her mom to be pushing her already to get good grades. We talked some more, about school and the Macon Bacon, our local minor league baseball team, and, with a sideways frown at Christa, a concert upcoming in Atlanta. Apparently there had been some kind of promise to go if a certain little girl got straight A's on her report card. Mom was now squirming a bit.

"Well, ladies," I interrupted before the squirming and frowning accelerated, "I need to take off. Thank you for including me in your dinner plans. The chicken was good, but the company was much, much better. The two of you have improved my day dramatically, and I thank you for that also. Dana, it was nice to meet you. Christa McDougal, I'll see you on Monday, and I just want to say: I like your name. I hope you both have a nice weekend."

As I walked away, I heard Dana asking her mother, "Your name? What was he talking about, Mom?" It made me grin.

That grin was wiped out by the time I got home. Janet was there, waiting for me, primed to fuss at me for not getting home at the expected time. I preempted her.

"Janet, I said as I walked in, "don't even start. I needed time away from you. Unless you're ready to tell me you have cancelled your plans to cheat next week, I don't even want to be in the same room as you."

"Well, Bobby, I guess I do have some good news, which you would have learned about already if you had come home at a decent time." Okay, she got her dig in, but I was interested to hear what good news she might have, so I motioned for her to go on.

"I talked to James, uh, I mean I talked to the teacher today, and told him you were really upset about the course next week."

"You mean, about your having sex with another man next week." I got my own dig in.

"Geez, Bobby, please. You have one view and I have another. But I really do love you and want to do what's best for us, so we, uh, the teacher and I, worked out a compromise. He keeps the deposit and I go to the first day's lessons. At the end of the day, he and I decide whether I come back for more lessons. If either of us, him or me, thinks more lessons would be not helpful for me, I don't pay him any more money and don't go back for any more instruction. Now isn't that a compromise you can live with?"

My first thought was: Martian Slut Ray, and I almost laughed. But then I had another thought.

"Janet, I think this whole idea is just an excuse for you to have sex with another man, and you're paying for it to boot. I know you disagree, so I have a thought. Let's call your mom and ask her what she thinks of your idea."

"Ha. Bobby, you've met Mama and Daddy. They think advanced algebra borders on sinfulness. Any kind of sex education is forbidden about forty times in the bible, at least the way they read it. So, no. That's a non-starter. How about this: we don't talk about it anymore until Monday night. I promise to tell you all about the Monday instruction. If you think it's not helpful, if I haven't learned anything, if you promise to be truly objective and tell me I shouldn't go back, then I won't. But you have to promise to be objective. Deal?" I just shook my head and walked off.

Another night in the guest room and up early on Saturday morning for a long run, enjoyable this time, not too hot yet, went pretty slowly until I warmed up and then several sub-sevens in a row. Not my college times, but not bad for a forty-year-old lawyer. Back to the house for a shower, Janet still not up, and I bailed out to go, where? Not to the office, I had seen enough of that place for a while. Without planning, without intent, without, ah fuck, of course I intended it: I found myself parking in front of Christa's townhouse. I rang the bell.

"I'll get it," I heard Christa calling out inside. The door opened and there she stood: grease on her face, hair pulled under a white head cover, weird looking gloves on her hands, and yet she looked absolutely beautiful. But she didn't sound that way.

"Bobby, what the? I was cleaning the oven. You can't.... Mom, come here, quick." She ran back inside somewhere. An older woman appeared as I stood there, realizing I had made a huge mistake.

"I'm Mrs. McDougal," the woman said, "and you must be Bobby something or other. Come in and sit down. You did something at Georgia, and my granddaughter thinks you might have hung the moon. My daughter might have thought the same thing last night, but now, your coming over here when she's not ready for you? Whooow. Big mistake, Mister."

"You're right, Mrs. McDougal. I feel really stupid. Can you just tell her I'm sorry and I'll, uh call her later or maybe just see her on Monday."

"No sir. You piddled on the floor and now you stay and clean it up. She ran off to make herself presentable, and you will be polite enough to wait for her and say the right compliments and tell her yourself that you're sorry. Got it?"

"Yes ma'am, you're right. I'll wait for her. Is Dana here? I could talk with her while I wait."

"No, Dana is playing soccer and Christa has to go get her in about an hour."

"Okay, I'll just sit quietly."

"Umph," she said as she walked off. I felt like an absolute moron and wanted to slink away and never look at Christa again. But then she walked back into the living room, and I was happy I had stayed. Her head thing and gloves had disappeared, she had managed to wash her face and even put on some make up and lipstick and she had changed clothes. Of course, she looked gorgeous. She had worked at BCQ for at least a year, and I had never noticed. Maybe I had just never really looked at her. Totally my bad.