A Whore and a Thief

My phone rang. I silenced the ringer and went to lunch. But Claire was smart. She had Betty call me at work. As soon as I heard Betty's voice I politely ended the call. The afternoon found me continuing to revel the in the security of the same old same old.

When it was time for me to go home, I found Archie standing by my Mustang in the parking lot.

"We need to talk," he said.

"About what?" I asked.

"About you and Claire," he said. "You do remember her don't you? She's really pretty ... you married her. Does that ring any bells? I think..."

"Why would I give a quarter of a shit about what you think?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"You and Betty have clearly chosen a side," I said. "And it doesn't appear to be mine."

"You're right," he said. "Betty and I are on our side. We love both of you. You're our best friends. If you two broke up it would make our lives much worse. The two of you love each other so much that it would be a crime for you not to work this out. But you seem to be the one who refuses to even try. It's like you don't care that Claire is at home crying her eyes out. So if I can get you to come and talk to her, maybe we can all win. That's what side we're on."

"Archie, do me a favor," I said. "Ask Claire what we're fighting about. Then put yourself in my shoes. Maybe then you can understand what's going on. Tell her that if she doesn't want to tell you, I will."

Then I drove away. Friday was a repeat of Thursday, except that I called a couple of divorce lawyers to get an appointment. Once again when I left work, Archie was waiting for me.

"You look even more miserable, today," he said.

"Today is when it's going to happen," I said.

"Today is when what's going to happen?" he asked. I could tell from the blank look on his face that he had no idea what was going on.

"Claire didn't tell you?" I asked.

"Claire only talks in sobs and whimpers," he said. "But she did say that she had to get off of her ass because she had something important to do this evening. She's probably already doing it."

"Then why don't the two of us go up and have a beer and I'll tell you why my marriage ended," I said. "Maybe you can give me some advice on which one of the divorce lawyers that I called should handle my case."

He just looked stunned. "Trust me," I said. "Once you hear my side of this shit, you'll understand."

"Uhm, okay buddy," he said. He looked at me and moved away a little bit. "Uhm, Ray, no offense, but maybe you should stop by the house and grab some more clothes, first."

"That's a good idea," I said. "Maybe I should grab as much as I can while she's out. Archie, could I load up some stuff in your truck?"

"Sure," he said. "Whatever you need."

We drove to my house. Even though I kept the Mustang under a hundred on the freeway, it was a good thing that Archie knew the way. It wasn't just the speed. My car is very agile, and I could squirt my way into and out of gaps in traffic that Archie's bigger, slower, heavier truck could never manage.

When he finally pulled up behind me in the driveway, we went into the house. Luckily Claire's car wasn't in the driveway so I knew that she wasn't home. I also knew where she was and what it meant. That was part of the reason for me asking Archie to carry a load of my things in his truck. I wanted to send Claire a message about the cost of what she'd done. When she got back home and saw my closet and my drawers empty, she'd begin to see what her actions had cost her.

But as I opened the door, I realized that with the kind of money she was about to get, she could probably pay it. We never truly know what's inside another person's heart. We can assume that we do. We can think that we know them inside and out, based on the pattern of behavior that we've observed over a number of years. But in the end human beings are infinitely capable of surprising us. I had never expected that Claire would throw away everything we'd built together. But I guess a shitload of money will do that to some people.

I had also never expected for her to be sitting on the sofa in her old lady glasses correcting her papers when I stepped into the living room either.

As soon as she saw me, the red pen in her hand hit the floor and papers went flying as she jumped up and threw herself at me. She almost bowled me over as she wrapped her arms around my chest and her long, thin legs around my waist.

"Why are you here, Claire?" I asked.

"Where else would I be?" she asked. "Every Friday night that we don't go out, you wash your car and I grade my papers so we can spend the weekend together."

"But tonight is..." I sputtered.

"Nowhere near worth losing you over. Do you think I'm stupid or something? Ray you're the best thing that ever happened to me. Ray, Honey, I am so sorry that I even considered it. I swear we'll talk about it later, but for now, can we please just be together?" she started kissing me and Betty came out of the kitchen.

"Whoa, guys. Uhm, we're really glad you two are making up, but don't forget we're still here," said Betty.

I was in shock. I couldn't believe that she hadn't done it. She took my hand and I don't think she ever let go of it for the rest of the evening. "How does steaks on the grill and beer sound?" she asked Betty and Archie.

"Sounds great to me," said Archie. "I knew that all I had to do was to get you two close to each other again. I knew that true love would take its course then and I'd get to sleep in my own bed again."

"What is he talking about?" I asked.

"She was so upset yesterday when she found out that you were gone that she started crying. She cried the whole night. Archie and I had to stay here with her last night. We were afraid to leave her alone. But now that you're home..."

"You are home right, Honey?" asked Claire softly. The look in her eyes told me that she was very afraid that I would say no.

"I should probably go back to the motel and get my stuff," I began.

"Let's wait until tomorrow and I'll go with you," she said. I got the impression that it would be a long time before Claire let me out of her sight.

Later that night, after Betty and Archie had gone home, Claire and I cleared the air.

"You were right," she said. "No amount of money would have been worth losing you over. When I noticed that you hadn't come home, I lost it." She looked at me and I could see how happy she was. I wished that I could return that happiness, but deep down inside I was still angry at her.

"Ray, I know how much you love me. And I'm really flattered that you think that I'm worth that much money to you. And I also know that I was wrong to even consider doing that. But you were wrong too."

"What?" I asked. And the anger was back.

"What we have is love," she said. "Love is so much more important than sex. In a way, it's almost like you don't trust me. You're acting like I would fall in love with that asshole, just because he got between my legs. What you're saying basically is that all we are ... the only thing we have going for us is sex. I didn't even like sex until you came into my life. And if you really want to be practical, Ray we really could have used that money to fund our retirement. I mean we're doing okay financially. But that money could have made our retirement more than okay. No one will ever be able to take you away from me, Honey. I swear it. You're supposed to be an engineer. You're supposed to look at the facts and figure out a logical and practical solution."

"Are you finished?" I asked.

"I'm sorry, Ray," she said. "I just wanted to let you know how I felt. We can drop it now."

"That's the same shit you've been telling me since this whole thing started," I said. "And you're wrong. You said that no one would ever be able to take you away from me. Did you ever think that if you had done this or anything like it, I wouldn't want to be with you anymore?" she looked shocked. Her mouth dropped open.

"Claire, I love you more than life itself, but of you had done it. We would be over. I had already started calling divorce lawyers," I said. She collapsed onto the sofa.

"Claire there's a name they have for women who take money for sex. And since I'm an engineer, I know what that word is. It's whore. And whether you spread your legs for fifty cents or a million dollars it would still make you a whore. And me allowing it and sharing the money would make me your pimp. No thanks. As much as I love you, you're wrong. And not just about that. One of the things that make us so special is the fact that we belong exclusively to each other. If you had done that, things would be different between us. I guess I wouldn't feel like you were mine anymore. I'd feel like I was sharing you with anyone who came by with enough money. Everyone we know seems to think that we have some kind of charmed relationship. Claire, if you had done this, the magic would be gone. It just wouldn't be the same. Maybe I'd try to get over it. I mean I love you, but I'm not sure I could.

I know for a fact that we wouldn't be as close anymore. I'm just not sure our level of intimacy would be the same. And shit, I'm a guy. We're known for our fragile egos. I'd always wonder about whether you liked doing it with him better and all kinds of things like that. And every time we got into bed, it would be like he was here with us.

To tell you the truth, even though it didn't happen, the fact that you were willing to do it has changed us."

"What are you talking about?" she cried. "We haven't changed. I haven't changed. I don't think about anyone except you. You're my husband and the only man in my life."

"Claire, don't forget that the only reason I ended up with you was because the two previous guys you were going to marry didn't pull the trigger," I said.

She cried for a long time then. I was sure that she was thinking about how close we'd come to getting a divorce. Even with both of us working at it, it took a long time before we were even close to being back to where we were. it took a few days before I was comfortable sleeping next to her. A few more days before I even kissed her. And it was more than a month before we had sex. And it was like starting all over again. The specter of Ambrose was haunting our bedroom.

By mutual agreement we never mentioned the issue again. But there were times when I wondered what would have happened to us if she had done it. Once or twice over the next ten years we could tell that each other were thinking about it.

And just once, on our anniversary she brought it up.

"Ray, do you love me?" she asked. "Do you still love me as much as when we first met?"

"Claire, I love you more now. We have so much more history. The years have bonded us together. We have so many shared experiences and pleasant memories that we didn't have then. Losing you would hurt so much more now," I said.

"Would you really have divorced me back when...?" she asked.

"Yes!" I said without hesitation.

That bump in the road was the only incident in our fairy tale marriage. At least until now. And as I contemplated leaping into the fountain and drowning myself, I kept that in mind.

* * * * * *

Danica

"Danica ... Danica?"

I was getting better. He only had to call me twice this time before I realized that he was talking to me. I guess after being called Sarah for over twenty years, I needed longer than a few years to get used to being called something else.

Like my daughter, Ha ... Miley, I had chosen my own name. I think that we also chose our names for people that we had something in common with. My daughter who was now twelve was showing signs of the same exhibitionist tendencies that the little tart she had name herself after displayed.

And I had a lot in common with my namesake too. I seemingly started out in good shape; usually ahead of the game. But as soon as the gun went off I quickly raced my way to the back of the pack.

Over the past seven years, most of it also in therapy, the US Marshalls had watched me devolve into the bitter, cynical woman that I've become. My kids barely know me, have even less respect for me, and don't like me at all.

My daughter, like me has nightmares, even seven years later. My son has only ever had one name. Not only does he not remember his father, he doesn't remember that night either. He wasn't born yet the night his father was murdered in our kitchen.

I drink, I drink a lot. I never used to. But after everything that happened to me, who can blame me. It started out as the occasional drink to calm my nerves. Then it became a way to help with the shakes after one of my nightmares. But now I drank like a fish and most of the time there was simply no reason for it.

I still have the nightmares, but even several drinks do nothing to cure them.

I've heard the agents in charge of my case talking sometimes. Most of the time when they do it, I'm drunk or nearly so. But what they say filters into my subconscious and somehow I remember it when I'm sober again.

They talk about all of the drug dealers in the gangs that killed Joey are dead or doing life sentences. Their leader, the worst of them, the South American man who had Joey killed, was himself gunned down in a shoot out with DEA agents two years ago.

They say that there's no reason for me to still be in witness protection, sponging off of the tax dollars of the American people. Some of them want to let me go. Others argue that I'm too much of a fucking mess to leave on my own. They're afraid that I'll get drink, and blab about the program and put some of the people who are still dependent on it at risk.

Others feel that they failed me. When they gave me my new identity, they should have put me in school or gave me a job that would allow me to make a living for myself and my kids. So now it's partially their fault that I don't know how to do anything and can't take care of myself.

"Danica, you look terrible," he says.

"You aren't going to be gracing the cover of any magazines yourself Doc," I spit back at him.

"I concede your point," he said. "The difference is that I'm a seventy year old psychiatrist. I'm happily married. I have three kids and seven grandchildren. You on the other hand are a thirty one year old woman with her whole life ahead of her. If we look past the drinking, the blotchy skin, the lack of muscle tone and the several pounds of excess weight you've put on over the past few years, you're a pretty woman. We need to get you healthy again. I believe that your mental state and emotional equilibrium will recover faster if we get your body back into shape at the same time. I want you to start a walking program. I also want you to start spending time with your kids. That's all for today."

That had been two days ago. So this morning I found myself in this park, wearing sweats and new running shoes. One of my agents had Googled the park for me. The distance around the perimeter of the park is three miles. My intention for today was to walk one lap around it. Back in high school I had gone out for cross country. I used to run four miles regularly. I was sure that I could walk three miles.

I noticed that my minders had blended into the people in the park. I saw one agent, sitting on a bench eating a sandwich. There was another riding a bike. He would probably shadow me, staying far enough away from me so it wouldn't seem like we were together, but close enough to get to me immediately at the first sign of trouble. Not that there would be any trouble since no one was looking for me anymore, but you never know.

Lately I'd begun to feel that the agents assigned to me, chose to work my case because they were lazy and afraid. They were lazy because they could just settle into the same routine I'd done since I got into the program. And they were afraid to actually go on a case where there was the potential for danger.

I was easy, I didn't go out. I didn't do anything. All I ever did was drink and order takeout food. And my kids, at twelve and five were as regular as I was. My daughter is twelve and a recluse. My son is five and has been raised by the US Marshalls.

I put my headphones on and started walking down the path. It was a day so beautiful that even I, in my depressed and shell shocked state recognized it. It was good to be out in the sun. It seemed like I almost never went out anymore. I wasn't speaking of dating or events. I literally rarely ever went outside.

It was also good to be away from the kids for awhile. I didn't like to admit it, but I was the world's worst mother. I think a big part of it was that deep down inside, I hated my kids. Well perhaps hate is too strong a word for it. But I blamed them, especially Han ... Miley. If it hadn't been for her. I wouldn't have had to marry Joey and ruin my life. When I think back on how I was in college with the world at my feet until he got me pregnant, I wanted to vomit. I could have been anything. I could have been a doctor, or a teacher. Maybe that was a stretch, but I could definitely been something less useful like a garbage person or a lawyer. But Joey had preyed on my hormones and ruined my life. The kids, especially H...Mi...the girl, were a painful reminder of that.

I started out walking pretty fast. It felt effortless. Maybe I could be one of those race walkers and go to the Olympics. After about 200 yards everything hurt. I was built like my Mom. I came from strong Germanic stock. I had broad hips, thick legs, and big boobs. I was not going to the Olympics. I had to set a more realistic goal for my first time out. I decided to shoot for making it to the next bench without stopping. That bench had to be a good ten feet away. That was realistic. By the time I had walked to the bench, I was exhausted. I looked around and realized that the Marshalls following me were laughing.

Fuck them, I thought. They should be cheering me on. But I didn't need their encouragement. In fact, their mirth was far better. Instead of having them give me meaningless pats on the ass. I took their derision as a challenge to prove to them that I could do it. With the song "Let it go," from that movie "Frozen," playing in my headphones, I attacked my walk again. My goal a more realistic one this time was to walk one mile. It took me almost forty minutes, which I'm sure an eighty year old woman could match. But I was proud of myself. This one mile walk was a first step for me. Every long journey begins with a first step.

The next day my ass, my hips, and my legs were very sore. But I had a good feeling about the pain. I took that day off to let the soreness ease, determined to walk every other day until I was no longer sore. Then I would increase my workout.

It felt good to do something just for myself. Not everything in my life had to be about hiding from the people that Joey had allowed to ruin our lives. Not everything had to be about taking care of Joey's kids either. Over the next few weeks, I got into better shape and lost a few pounds. The more I walked, the better I felt about myself. I had new hopes and new dreams. The problem was that my dream was to walk so much that I could walk away from my problems. I really hoped that I could walk away from my entire life.

* * * * * *

Ray

I looked up suddenly and noticed the sound of a couple of laughing kids coming over to the fountain. Focusing on their smiling faces reminded me of another thing that I had given up to be with Claire. Sure, it was no big deal. My brother had five kids. So, it balanced out. There was no chance of our branch of the Gunn family being swept from the limbs of the evolutionary tree. But it might have been good to have kids of my own.

One of things I had always wondered about was why we didn't adopt. I guess Claire viewed it as a slap in the face. Having to raise children that she was incapable of producing herself. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that perhaps it had simply been selfishness. We have a very good home. It had been filled with love, up until now. It would have been a very good place for children to grow up.