Betrayed Husbands Anonymous Ch. 02

"My first daughter is now 22, she just graduated college with a degree in accounting. That day was the proudest of my life. My son is 18 and a senior in high school, his little sister is 16 and a junior. My wife went back to work maybe 10 years ago and six weeks ago admitted much of that time she's been having an affair with a coworker. They decided to get married.

"My kids live with them, prefer him to me, and much as I'd like to say the betrayal was all her, I know a lot is on me.

"Without a degree, I found if I worked harder than anyone else, put in more hours, worked the bad days and shifts, I could get near the top. As assistant manager, they have even more leverage on me. They dangle the carrot - manage a store -- I work harder. My wife could have an affair for years without my knowing it, because I was never around.

"Her new guy makes less money, but he's around. The kids love him.

"I would love to make them suffer, but I can't imagine what I'd ask for. What I wish for is the wisdom to know how to put my life back together. Thanks."

He sat back down, and I was already wondering what I could do to help him. My own case struck me. I wanted revenge, got it, and it made absolutely no difference to me. I started turning a corner when I came to work, helping others get back on their feet.

That wasn't true, either. I didn't start to turn a corner until I met Bridget. Moving on helps, revenge doesn't. Divorce is a beginning, or it needs to be. Maybe that is not true for everyone -- but it was for me and for Bob.

++++++

I was waiting for Chuck, early the next morning. He just smiled and said, "This is getting to be a habit. I know you've made coffee, let's get some and sit."

We did. (After I closed the door.)

"I heard the most remarkable share yesterday and must tell you what I think."

"Lay it on me."

"I was at the meeting in Aurora. The speaker did a good job of explaining himself as a man devoted to his wife and three children. In fact, he has been so devoted to earning a living for them, he's left them alone. His wife found a man, who makes less, but is happy to share time with them. His request was he help him put his life together."

"I hate wimps like that."

"Wimps?" I asked with as little emotion as I could show.

"I happen to know a little about this one. The guy got his high school honey pregnant and married her. He has spent two decades working his ass off so the kids could get the education he didn't get. His wife gets bored and finds some other guy. She doesn't care he makes less; she'll bleed our guy to make up the difference."

I sat and stared at him. He decided this was some test of wills and gave me a blanker look.This will get us nowhere, it isn't a contest! I furrowed my brow, to show him I was considering my response. I knew what I wanted to say but thought a pause would help him believe it was from a lot of thought.

"Chuck, we are talking about the opposite sides of the same coin. Two people married too young and went about doing the right thing. My bet is they never spent ten minutes talking about the sacrifices or whether other choices were available. They put their heads down and made a life."

"And she fucked him."

"No doubt about it. She is a slut, let's string her up in the public square. Make her wear a scarlet A the rest of her life."

"Now you're talking. What was that other shit about?"

"Chuck, if the slut wife is spit upon every day from now until Armageddon, how will that make Bob's life better?"

"Bob will see it isn't his fault. He will be able to raise his head, again and be a man."

"Bob doesn't think his manhood is at issue. He is a smart guy. He sees his kids, who he has spent his entire life sacrificing himself for, unaware of his sacrifice. They think he doesn't care."

"We can't fix everything."

"Bob didn't ask for everything. He asked to help him put his life back together."

"Burn the bitch. He'll feel better. Let him figure it out."

"He asked for help figuring it out. That's what I am going to give him."

"Good luck with that. The guy is going to find he had bad priorities and has missed too much. He is in for some hard times, and you want to deny him the peace he'll get from the recognition his wife is the evil one."

"He asked to make tomorrow better. I know I can do that."

The staring started, again. He was considering what I said, but he was right in the sense, getting some revenge for yesterday was a much simpler task than helping a guy find the right action to make tomorrow better. More and more I was wondering if I wanted my future to be thru others' pasts.

++++++

Bridget and I decided to celebrate her freedom from Armstrong Construction. We took the weekend and headed for Aspen. She was beyond excited by her new job. Her first client was, in her words, a pleasant little nerd who didn't have a clue. He had started a computer repair business, was fixing 15-20 computers a week, for a profit of about $100 per computer. Everyone loved him. He got more business, his turn-around time went from a day or two to a week, or more. He was spending too much time on the phone.

"He was too precious, he said, 'People are furious with me because I don't know the status of their job. The stupid fuckers' -- he stopped, blushed and acted like a 10-year-old caught swearing. I told him not to worry and to go on."

"Typical nerd. The people who pay him, are too stupid." I laughed as I said it.

She continued, "I decided right then I needed to interrupt him and ask a few questions, like: Has he considered hiring someone to answer phones? I didn't throw in he could hire someone with actual people skills. He was making around 100k a year as a sole proprietor; did he want more? He could hire people to help with the work -- they could just take machines apart and put them back together. He could do the repair."

She went on for a bit. Insightful stuff. She said the nerd had never thought of any of it. All he knew to do was hunker down and do what he did faster, or longer - extend his hours. He'd found a way to make 15 grand a month, be totally miserable, and never spend a dime because when he was conscious, he was working.

"Can you help him."

It was a joy to see her eyes light up. "My questions convinced him I could. I got him to pay me 1,000 a week, for one day, during which I would hire him an office manager and a technician. We already have both jobs filled and I am spending my time teaching the three of them how to work together."

"Eight hours for a grand, that's..."

"I know, $125 an hour is not enough. But my boss complimented me on it being short-term and resolved in a couple of meetings."

"I don't know your boss, but she's right. Like your nerd, turn-around is more important than almost anything else."

Aspen was great. The hotel had a bed and a restaurant, our only two requirements. We used both several times a day.

One of our constant topics was divorce as a beginning. Bridget was more an example than I was. She had gone years without truly trying to build a new life. Her husband had stolen nearly a decade from her. Without mentioning him by name, I told her about Bob.

"Why does he think he bears responsibility?"

"He spent all his time working. He let his wife raise the kids, and paid so little attention to her, she could have an affair without his ever discovering it. Now, he is a forty-year-old man, who knows his business and nothing else. He's only dated one girl."

"He needs to understand women."

"Don't we all!" I laughed and raised an eyebrow, where was she going?

"You said his kids want to be with the new husband. If what you described is accurate, they are being turned against their dad. Wifey stabbed him in the back and has created a story so he looks like the bad guy."

"How do you know that?"

"I love you! You are so sweet, but you need to learn about women."

"Present company excluded?"

"Well? I would never betray you, but women see interconnections of things that guys don't. She has created a whole from pieces of reality -- and she knows the whole does not exist. What it does is make her look good and him bad."

"This is fascinating. You've never met either of them and know her?"

"And he is a wimp. He needs to get his head out of his ass."

I didn't like that, Chuck called him a wimp. I didn't think it was a good characterization. "Pardon me, but I disagree. Because he doesn't want revenge, he's a wimp?"

She laughed, then covered her mouth. "Excuse me, I shouldn't laugh. Revenge is a guy thing. He is a wimp because he isn't standing up for himself. He is like you or me, so devoted to his role in the marriage that even when we get totally screwed over -- or screwed on -- we still think of our partner as we did."

"That's not right! I was furious at my wife."

"Like I was at -- my husband." She said with air quotes. Trouble was she wasn't your wife, she was some cheating bitch. He wasn't my husband, he was a dick hanging out of his pants. Because we saw them as a spouse, we made bad assumptions. We had no idea the extent to which their betrayal went. It's what we talk about all the time -- they take everything from you."

She was right. I just nodded my head.

"In the case of your friend, he is letting his wife steal his children. I would bet my immortal soul she is doing so with a pack of lies so thin, you could read through it."

I didn't have anything to add and just sat, thinking. I wonder how to convey that to him, to give him his wish -- to get his life back on track.

Bridget blurted, "I want to meet him, to talk to him. I can fix his problems before they get too bad."

"What do you mean too bad?"

"That bitch will have him paying for the daughter's wedding and her new man walking her down the aisle -- because her real dad doesn't care."

I wanted to say, surely not. I knew better. What I didn't know was how to introduce her to a guy, who was my secret client -- and did not know me. I also knew I couldn't ask Chuck. He'd tell me Bridget can't do something for BHA -- she is the wrong gender.

"Bridget, this may sound odd, but I don't know this guy well enough to introduce you. I am sure I can arrange a meeting. Could I ask, when I do, that you don't mention me?"

"Sure?"

"I made a commitment to keep my relationship with him confidential. I must honor that commitment."

"And you can't trust me?"

"You and me, doesn't come into this. I made a commitment and mean to keep it."

"Okay. Will you do this for me? If we become exclusive, will you agree to include me in things -- all things?"

"Done."

"Then, I commit to you, I will never mention you to him."

++++++

I was working on one of my cases and my phone rang. "This is Jim Anderson, how may I help you?"

"It's me." Said Bridget.''

"Well, my day is brighter, already. What's up?"

"I just found out Rodney, III walked into the office, all tanned and relaxed this morning. Apparently, no one had seen or heard from William Mason in ten days. Rodney asked where he was. No one knew. Rodney claimed he and Mason talked nearly daily and that when he heard nothing, he decided he had to come home."

"I'll be damned. You talked to his assistant about a month ago?"

"Five weeks ago, tomorrow."

"I guess we know your message got through."

"Maybe it is a coincidence." She was laughing as she said it. "You know Pepper's?"

"The watering hole across from the Wellborn Building?"

"The one and only. A bunch of people are going to be there starting about 4:30. It sounds like fun. I am going to go. Will you join me?"

Truth be told, I'd rather do most anything else. But, it was a chance to maybe hear something and Bridget did ask me. "Are you afraid I don't trust you to be there on your own?"

"No, I'd just like you to be there. It's really not something either of us does. But this once, it might be fun."

"I can't get there until about 5:30, but sure."

"I'll wait a bit then, too. If I leave here about quarter to, I'll be there about 5:00, I'll be at a table, I suspect, look for me."

++++++

I walked into Peppers about twenty after five. The joint was jumpin' as some might say. There were things I liked less than bars full of people full of alcohol and themselves -- being a prisoner of war might be one of those things. Maybe as a prisoner, I'd be in solitary -- that would be better than this. I looked for Bridget, she spotted me first and waved. She was at three tables pulled together. There were eight people around the tables. One of them was Dave Williams, Director of Chaste Banks and my client, though of course, he didn't know that.

I approached and Bridget introduced me. She knew me well, I was 'her friend, Jim'. If I'd had to listen to names, titles, and pedigrees of seven twits, I would have gone nuts. We exchanged first names and I sat in a chair Bridget had saved for me.

Bridget was on my right, directly across from her was Dave -- he was all smiles - and about half in the bag.

"Dave, I don't know that I have ever seen anyone looking happier. Care to share?"

He started to say something, then stopped himself. "You don't need the gory details, let me get right to it. My wife divorced me. In that process she did everything she could to ruin me. Her new lover ran off, leaving her high and dry. She honest-to-God showed up at my door asking to 'come home'."

"You're kidding."

"I know, right? You can't make shit like that up. You know how you fear having an opportunity to do something and freezing, just not able to find the words or actions you need?"

"Absolutely, your smile tells me that was not your issue."

"She asked to come home and I said, I lost my home recently. Then, I looked at her and said, 'I hate to see someone down on their luck. I will help as I can.' I reached in my pocket," he said as he pulled a folded stack of bills out of his pocket. "I always carry my cash like this. I had maybe three or four hundred dollars. I unfolded the bills and had four ones. I peeled them off the stack and handed them to her. It was priceless.

"She just stared at them, her mouth moving like a guppy -- no sound forthcoming. She made no move with the money, so I said, 'you're right, that's a bit more generous than I should be' and took a dollar back. I told her to have a nice day and closed the door in her face."

I couldn't help it, I laughed as hard as I can remember laughing, Bridget joined me.

Bridget asked, "Didn't you want to hear what she had to say, or tell her what you thought?"

"What could she say? The sun was in her eyes? She meant to love me, but forgot? What would I say? I'm disappointed in you, slut? A bunch of meaningless words not worth exchanging with the three-dollar woman."

Dave looked at me, "Do you think that was too subtle?"

"Dave, that action could be interpreted many ways, none of them would be called subtle; brutal comes to mind. I wonder if there is a word for brutal with a touch of class?"

Afterword (627)

If you think bringing Mason down can't be that easy, you're right. The next installment has both Mason and Trey and makes it clear not all is resolved. It is still on the drawing board, which slows things down since it is being done on a computer.

I am interested in revenge by living well. There is no doubt the more popular stories involve acts of revenge on the cheater(s). Men who choose to look forward and ignore revenge are often considered wimps. This series will enable a look at divorce "as a beginning", whether those desiring that beginning are wimps -- and follow a continuing theme of BHA.

The paragraphs which follow have nothing to do with the on-going story.

One of the commenters on Betrayed Husbands said, facetiously, "what could go wrong?" with this little revenge by committee scheme. I thought I'd end each tale with an example of things gone wrong.

++++++

"Harry, you're a fuck up. I'm leaving with Dave; I can't take it anymore."

Those were my wife's last words to me as she and my best friend Dave were picking up luggage, to leave -- for good. I wanted to tell her to stop and talk, but as I got out of my chair, I hit my shin on the coffee table. It caused me to lose my balance. I fell over, pulling the tray with my beer and popcorn off the table, onto my head. By the time I got back up, they were gone.

Some days later, I was approached by a man from BHA and went to a meeting, then a second meeting. At the second meeting I was supposed to tell them my name was Paul; it seemed odd to me -- my name is Harry Sampson.

I stood and said, "Hi, my name is Harry Sampson, but for some reason they told me to tell you it's Paul." That seemed to create confusion. Several of the guys were frantically talking to one another. I can't say I blamed them. If they were confused about wanting me to introduce myself by the wrong name, how did they think I felt?

I told my story, that my wife actually called me a fuck up. I wished her new boyfriend would get the crap beat out of him, in public, while I watched. After I said that, I sat down. The guy who was helping me had indigestion, or something -- he was in a foul mood. He kept going on about did I have any idea what anonymous meant. I mean really, how dumb did he think I was? I could have asked him why he asked me 8 times, but I didn't want to belittle him.

A couple of weeks later a man told me to go to Flaming Hot Wings, he wouldn't say why. We argued about that for a while, and he asked if I wanted to see my wish come true; what am I six? I told him I didn't like the really hot wings, I preferred Buffalo Wild, and besides, it was closer. I don't know what it is with these people, but he gets all irritated. So, I tell him I'll go. I ask if it is all right if I go an hour or so early, I'd like to get home and watch Wonder Woman reruns. Again, with the irritation. Jeezzzz, so now I am going where I don't like the food, at an inconvenient time.

I show up and I'm sitting at the bar. A loud argument starts. I turn around and damned if it isn't my wife, her new boyfriend, and some other guy. I think to myself, maybe I can show my wife she was wrong about me. I go over to see if I can break up the argument.

It is starting to get violent, so wanting to show the wife I am not a fuck up, I slugged the guy. Well -- he was one tough son of a bitch; beat the shit out of me.

A guy from BHA came to see me, in the hospital, the next morning, all he said was, "Harry, you're a fuck up." Then turned and left.