Ch. 1, The First 48

"It was another man, wasn't it?" All Laura said was "yes," barely even able to say that much, and over a few minutes it cost her a friendship. Stacey could hear Laura sniffling into the phone, but she ignored it. "You cheated? You? On John? Not on John! Oh, dear Lord, Laura!" People liked John, more than he could possibly know.

"I know. I know. I'm in trouble, and I don't know what to do."

Then Laura wouldn't tell Stacey who she was cheating with. The silence became deafening, as they say, crowding out everything until Stacey ended it. "Let me make a wild guess. George Mathis."

"Stacey! Stop it. Please. How did you guess?"

"I have eyes. If it was anyone, it would be him." Then, "So that's what's been going on."

"Don't tell anyone. Please."

"I'm not a snitch. But if I could figure it out, do you think the other girls would have too much trouble? And Marge! How do I keep it from her? And why did you even do it?"

Another silence, but finally, "It's complicated."

"You can't tell me?"

"It's complicated!"

"For how long?" Dead silence. A walk through a graveyard. "How long, Laura?"

"A while."

"Laura! I don't think I know you anymore."

"Please, Stacey. I don't know what to do."

"Well, you could start by getting down on your hands and knees and begging John to take you back! But ... cheating on John? How could you? Oh, my Lord! And you might do some serious praying, too. "

It's what best friends are for, to cut you deeply and then cut you off when all the chips are down.

And now it would spread.

*****

Friday, 10:48 p.m.

It was so late that John thought the next call was Laura again.

"I told you not to ..."

"It's not Laura. It's me."

"Oh. Myra." He calmed himself. "What do you want?"

"Laura's staying with me."

"I figured as much."

"I need some information. I'm walking in the dark."

"Oh? She didn't tell you why she's there?"

"Not any details, which I imagine I won't get for now. She said it was a fight and that it's her fault, and that you two decided she should leave for a while."

"That's partly true. She's at fault. That part's right. But no, we didn't 'decide' anything. I kicked her out."

"Oh. Well. Oh. I see. I see. How long does she have to stay away?"

"Permanently."

"Oh! Well, John, you know I love you. But she's my daughter and I have to stand by her."

"I understand, Myra."

"I know you don't want to see her, but I think you'll have to talk with her about practical things. Things that go with being apart."

"Maybe. Not now though."

*****

Saturday, 9:37 a.m.

The phone rang while John was trying to get the twins settled. They kept asking "Where's Mommy" and he kept trying to buy them off with TV. He turned the volume down and took the phone into the kitchen where he could hear better and know the kids wouldn't hear anything.

"It's hard, John, but I need to know things. Can you fill me in? About how it came about?"

Myra was calling from her bathroom because she didn't want Laura to hear, and the voices on both ends had an echo.

"Ask her. She'll know, now, won't she?"

"She won't talk about it.

"Not even with her own mother?"

"Maybe especially not with me. She just gets teary. And she's been ... crying."

"Well. That makes two of us." She heard him sigh and hoped she wasn't making him cry.

"I'm sorry, John. I hate this, but I'm guessing it's another man. I need to know so I know how to help. Would you, for example, be up to seeing a counselor? A neutral person you could talk to?"

"Is that her idea?"

"It's my idea. I think she'd do it. She'd like to talk with you, I know. But I also know you're not ready to talk to her."

"No, I'm not." They were both silent a moment. Then, because he didn't want to leave her completely hanging, he gave her a sketch. It was an affair. Not just a fling. He was going to file for divorce. John wouldn't tell Myra the details he'd uncovered because "they would be pornographic." His words. But he told her they'd known the man--and his family--for quite a while. "They go to our church."

"Then I must know them too."

"Yes. You do." He wouldn't tell the name.

"I'm sorry. I'll try not to keep digging. That's the sort of thing for a marriage counselor."

"You bring that up, but I've made up my mind."

"A counselor can help you sort things out clearly when you make your final decision. It's your decision. Anyway, a judge may require that you two see one."

"You know all this ... how?"

"Amos and I never told anyone." Myra wasn't sure she should tell him, but knowing things is better than not knowing them. Myra listened to hear if Laura were nearby, then continued. "Years ago, when Laura was a toddler, we had a rough spell ... maybe not all that different from what you two are going through."

"Oh? So, it runs in the family?"

"John!"

"I'm sorry, Myra. I apologize. I'm really sorry. You can tell I'm not handling this very well."

"Just so you know, in our case I wasn't the one."

"Oh." A pause. "I'm sorry. Amos cheated."

"With a supposed friend. I was going to divorce him."

"You two always seemed so ... good together."

"We were. We had a good marriage afterwards."

Amos had shattered her heart, but she'd wanted to forgive him and the counselor had helped her find a way forward. It had helped that Amos was so abject and so willing to do anything he could to make it up to her and to try to win her back. At one point Myra had even thought of him as being like a little puppy dog. Don't ask. Anyway, she forgave him. But forgiving versus forgetting. Yeah. It was about two years before she could, as she told John, drawing a breath and using an old-fashioned phrase, "Before I could completely give myself to him again."

"I'm sorry. And I appreciate your telling me. I'll consider the counselor. And I guess Laura and I do need to actually talk."

*****

Saturday, 6:56 p.m.

Talking with his mother-in-law was easy. Talking with his wife? Jesus H. Christ!

They met in an old coffee shop, a well-kept relic they'd first eaten at way back in college, when they were dating, then off and on again after they married. It had been old even back then, with dark, oak booths, red-and-white checkerboard tablecloths, brass coat racks and lazy ceiling fans. It was kind of an 'our' place, at least until Saturday night. Laura arrived first and took a booth that let her look out over the hedge plants, to the sidewalk. She wanted to be able to see John come up from the parking lot, to see how he looked when he didn't know she was watching him. To see if he looked hateful. He didn't, He looked calm, even bland. Laura couldn't know how hard he was working to control himself.

He came in and sat. Laura said 'hello' and John nodded to her, and while they waited to order, Laura asked:

"Do you remember the first time we came here?"

John replied, "Sure," in the flattest tone he could manage.

Then they were silent until they got their menus.

The conversation? Laura wanted to apologize and tell John how much she loved him. Pretty familiar lines, stuff straight from the "So Now You've Gotten Caught" handbook. But John wanted none of it. He also told her he wouldn't talk about 'it,' not precisely. He thought he'd blow up if they did. He didn't want to touch, didn't want to sit close to her, no closer than was needed to communicate without announcing to all the waitstaff and other customers what they were saying. Didn't want to look at her. Didn't want to notice how carefully she'd dressed and done her make-up; nor the perfume she wore.

Is that how you dolled up for him? Don't say it. If you say it, you'll just yell and not get anything accomplished. It made him think of the other guy and wonder if they were still doing it. Keep fucking her. I'm certainly not. If so, he figured they'd be extra careful. John was pretty sure the guy's family didn't know, and while he'd love to burn him, he couldn't yet bring himself to lay all that on the wife and kids. He could wait. If he went that route, he had all the evidence he needed. Every war has collateral damage and John was as torn about that as he was about so many things. His and Laura's own children were already suffering without their mother. Yours and mine. We fucked, or we made love, and you seemed to like it--to love it--and we produced them, and then you did what you did. You fooled me completely. How could you do that to--them?

*****

Laura ordered a Cobb salad while they waited to talk, and John ordered his college favorites: cheeseburger, fries, and a milkshake. He worked hard to keep his voice level, and almost his first words after telling her they should avoid 'it' were, "It would be good for the kids to see you regularly. Maybe pick them up tomorrow. Even keep them overnight."

That's not what Laura expected. What did she expect? Insults and demands for details and more insults. Maybe he would scream at her in front of everyone. Not this. Maybe he's not as emotional about it as I thought. His eyes should have warned her otherwise before she tried to bargain upwards a little.

"Can I come home? Where I could be with them every day?"

"No. I don't want you in my house."

"It's our house."

And that pretty much ended their first meeting. "Don't you dare ever come to the house!" Then he threw some money on the table to cover his tab and walked out. He managed not to yell.

Laura picked at her salad a little, then paid and left, dabbing her eyes with a napkin.

*****

Sunday, 9:40 a.m.

Myra became their go-between, their back-channel negotiator. Laura couldn't call John and she was afraid to go to the house. John wouldn't come to her. She finally told her mother a little about what had happened--more than John had revealed--and asked if she would talk with him.

But Myra! She wanted to slap Laura, to kick her out herself. My own daughter! Yes, an affair. She already knew that, but that long? With him? She wouldn't talk with Laura the rest of the day. Poor John, she thought. And my poor grandchildren. And those other poor children. And poor Marge. They were all innocent, but their worlds would be torn apart.

Myra skipped church and did chores to keep herself busy throughout the day, so she didn't have to deal with Laura, who lay flat on her back on her bed much of the day, staring at the ceiling. Late that afternoon Myra went to Kroger, where she saw Marge across the way and turned up an aisle so they wouldn't have to meet. Her heart was pounding and she was breathless. I can't avoid her forever. She left without buying anything and drove directly to John and Laura's house.

*****

Sunday, 5:12 p.m.

Myra talked with John in the living room, on the couch in front of the picture window. She did it right in front of Kayla and Kyle who were too innocent to understand any of it.

She dealt with practicalities. There were any number of them and they were complicated, especially the financial ones. The accountant's portion of the fee was part of what made divorces expensive. John's and Laura's finances were almost all jointly held, of course, including the house, including the mortgage payments. Laura kept the checkbook in her purse, though it wasn't used much. They shared their credit cards. What to do with them? Both their paychecks were automatically deposited to their joint checking account and major recurring bills were automatically deducted. They had a joint savings account and a joint investment account--mutual funds and IRAs. Their medical insurance was a family plan through Laura's employer. What was separate? Well, retirement and social security. They each had a little individual checking account for buying each other surprises--or a spy-cam. Anything else? Laura actually was listed as the owner of John's car, and he of hers. It was a long story. The twins were jointly theirs of course. What to do with Kayla and Kyle, King Solomon? Well, people screw up their kids' lives every day. Why be any different? And, if Laura was going to be gone--long term--there were things she needed to have with her. They should make a list.

John should call around to find a good attorney. "Right now!" as the guy on the TV ads said. Myra would tell Laura the same thing soon enough.

Myra mentioned marriage counseling again. When John got huffy she raised her hand. Stop. "John, you think I'm trying to get you two back together. I'm not. I know that's not likely. Not impossible, but ... anyway. It's worse than what Amos and I went through." At least, she thought, he wasn't my daughter! "I just think it would help you to talk with an outsider, someone who deals with this kind of thing professionally. It might help Laura too, not that she's your problem."

"I said I'd consider it. That still goes."

"And you two do need to meet again. Maybe with a third person present. A professional. Someone who can keep things on track."

"What about you?" John was getting ever more impressed with his mother-in-law.

"Not me. I'm not impartial. I lean too far to your side."

When she left, she took the kids over to her house, where they could see their mother.