Decisions, Consequences and Tolstoy

"Oooh, I want you so bad right now, but I've got to get to the ballpark. This is the bigs, Babe! We'll grab dinner when I get back. I am so glad you're here! I am going to fuck you silly!" Davie exclaimed.

Traci felt more energized and alive than she had since Davie first left. She opened her suitcase and took out a sexy red baby doll and matching panties.

Maybe it was the thought of Traci waiting back at his apartment, or maybe it was just the first of many great nights to come, but Davie had a pair of hits including his first major league home run and had three runs batted in. He grabbed Chinese takeout on his way home and practically threw open his apartment door when he got home. Traci was stretched out on his sofa, one leg bent up, drinking a glass of wine. He put the bag of Chinese food on the kitchen table, and that's where it remained for the next two hours before a weary and sweaty Davie and Traci finally got to it.

About the same time as Davie and Traci were squeezing into Davie's shower the next morning, Richard was reviewing his divorce petition. It was a simple 50-50 split, but Richard was only going to pay alimony for five years, providing Traci was paying for her own housing and Davie wasn't living with her. Richard knew it seemed childish to do it this way, but that was probably the only "win" he could get past the courts.

Evan was practically celebratory when he heard Davie was promoted to the major league team for September. He totally believed Jenna when she committed solely to him, but having Davie no longer living in town was still a great relief. For her part, Jenna understood that Davie being called up was a good thing for him, but since she had committed to Evan, she didn't care that Davie was no longer in town.

Davie and Traci spent much of their three days together fucking and eating at several high-end Miami restaurants when Davie wasn't playing ball. Davie noted that Traci's skirts and dresses seemed to be a little shorter than she wore in Pensacola, and he thought the two of them made a dashing pair. Traci felt the eyes of other customers on them at the restaurants; some because of being with Davie and some because she knew she looked hot. She had to admit that life in Miami felt a lot sexier than life in Pensacola.

Traci felt relaxed as her taxi approached her darkened home. She was hopeful she wouldn't have to talk to her husband too much until the next morning. She had showered earlier in the afternoon before she boarded her plane, so at the least she wouldn't be going home with the smell of sex on her walking in the door.

Richard sat in his darkened living room with a full tumbler of bourbon watching the occupant of the taxi retrieve her bag from the driver in the driveway. He saw her walk up the two steps to the home's front door, hesitate a moment, then put her key in the lock and enter the home, completely unaware of her husband watching her intently.

"Had to get yourself psyched for your boring old husband after spending three days fucking your millionaire stud ballplayer?" Richard asked firmly but quietly.

Traci startled, not realizing anyone was home in the darkened house.

"I-I-I," Traci stammered, unable to form any cohesive sentences.

After jumping back about a foot, she stood rooted to the spot on which she was standing, barely able to see her husband in the darkness. In addition to being surprised by his presence and his accusation, she was also shocked at his use of the "f-bomb" directly at her. He had never used that kind of language to his wife before.

"I know exactly what you're thinking," he continued. "How did your stupid, clueless, cuckold husband find out about your trip... or about your lover in the first place?"

Richard took a drink while Traci stared at him in the darkness. While she and many others considered her smarter than her husband, she was caught completely by surprise and was speechless.

"Don't worry, Alyssa didn't give you up," Richard snarked. "I knew you were going alone, but to confirm I called over to her house. When Glen answered the phone, I asked to speak to Alyssa... and he about fell through the floor trying not to lie to me but trying to tell me that she wasn't there. That's the problem with using a woman with a good and honest husband as your cover. I asked him not to tell Alyssa I called, so she wouldn't call you to warn you. He felt obligated to keep my secret."

Traci let out a slight gasp. Since she didn't know exactly how much Richard knew, anything she might have said in her defense wouldn't be prudent. Silence in this case was her best choice, Traci knew.

Richard also knew that, but the longer she stood there mute, the more angry he became.

"When did you lose respect for me, bitch? When did you stop loving me?" Richard hissed.

"I've never stopped loving you, Richard. This has nothing to do with love... well, maybe a little bit if I'm honest..."

"Wow. Honesty. What a fucking concept!" Richard shouted at his wife.

Richard took another gulp of his bourbon. Traci put down her suitcase and sat down in a chair.

"Okay if I turn a light on? I'd like to see you when I talk to you," Traci said.

"No, you just want to see my eyes to see if I believe any of your lies," Richard spat at her. "Be careful, bitch. "At this point I know about most of your charade. The only thing I don't have nailed down is why."

"I'm not sure if I can really answer that for you," Traci said.

"Richie, you know I'm a big flirt. We've argued about this before. You've always been afraid that I would cross that line, and I always swore I never would. But I was wrong. Something about him got to me, Richie. I can't explain it. He was sexy and sweet, and he just has that... 'je ne sais quoi.'

"And the sex is... was... so good. And once we became a regular thing, I found out he's more than just a ballplayer. He's got brains to go along with his muscles and talent. I guess I got a little enamored..."

"More than a little, Traci," Richard huffed. "And at the same time, you and I haven't even had sex in about three months. I no longer excite you, but you can't keep your hands off of this fucking kid. And then there was this weekend.

"Did you at least go to a game this weekend, whore, or was it all about fucking?"

"Do you really have to be so crude with me, Richard?" Traci said, while in her head trying to figure out exactly when the last time the pair did have sex.

She looked up to see Richard staring daggers at her.

"I was never crude to you when you were my wife. But now that you're his whore, all bets are off," Richard said.

"I'm still your wife, Richard. We need to talk and figure things out," Traci said.

"No, we don't need to talk," Richard said. "I've already figured things out. I was figuring while you were fucking."

"Really, Richie?"

"Fuck off, Traci."

Traci rolled her eyes and pursed her lips, but this time kept her mouth shut.

"So what have you figured, Richard? How do you see this going?"

"Well, tomorrow you will be served divorce papers. You sign them, then 30 days or so later you get to go to your boy-toy permanently and I get a small measure of my self-respect back."

"That's certainly not how I see this going, Richard. I'm pretty sure we can work this out. Yeah, I made a mistake, but there's no reason to take the nuclear option. Let's slow down and re-think this."

"What we have here is a failure to communicate," Richard said in an imitation of Strother Martin's great line from the movie, "Cool Hand Luke."

Traci looked over at Richard with shock on her face. Polite, quiet, steady Richard seemed to be taking a possible divorce in a somewhat joking manner. What was going on here, she asked herself.

Richard had moved his clothes to the couple's guest room. He went upstairs, into the room and locked the door. Traci sat downstairs with her brain working overtime. She never considered getting caught and what the consequences might be.

As Richard told her, Traci was served Monday morning. Even though Richard had forewarned her, she was pretty sure he would have called it off. The fact that he went through with the serving had Traci more than a little nervous. Events of the last two days had actually shown Traci a side of Richard she had never seen before.

Richard focused heavily on his mayoral duties over the next few days as a means of coping. It really wasn't that hard, however, as he truly got a charge out of being the city's mayor.

Traci was considerably less successful coping with what was happening in her life. She spent the remainder of her day Monday in a kind of a daze, and things didn't get much better in the succeeding days.

On Thursday at about noon, she got a call from Davie.

"Hey, Beautiful, how are things? Miss me?" he inquired.

Traci's heart raced when she first heard Davie's voice. Then real life intruded into her thoughts.

"Richard knows about us, and has for some time," she answered in a flat tone. "He knows about our weekend tryst as well. I got served Monday."

"Richard as in your husband?" Davie asked almost rhetorically.

He got quiet on the line as his mind started to race.

"W-e-e-l-l-l... since he knows... why don't you just come back down here and stay with me full time now," Davie said. "In a few weeks we'll be back in Pensacola anyway, at least for the winter. Then we'll either get a place in Miami or Jacksonville, depending where I'm going to be next season."

It was Traci's turn to grow quiet.

"That is so the right answer!" she finally said with enthusiasm. "How about I come back to Miami on Saturday?"

"Great, Baby. I will see you then. Just text me the details."

Traci put her phone away and sat quietly. In the span of a minute, she admitted to herself that while she might still love her husband, her feelings for Davie had grown enough that she was going to abandon Richard for the young ballplayer.

"I'm sorry, Richard," she muttered to herself.

Richard didn't come home for dinner Thursday night, but Traci was sitting in the living room in the dark with a glass of wine when he came in the door at about 9 p.m. She thought the setting was very ironic, and she smiled to herself when he startled as she acknowledged him when he came in the door.

"He-hello, Traci," Richard stammered, realizing instantly that he was being set up for something. "Let me get myself a beer, and we can talk."

Traci had to admit that her ruse didn't seem to put Richard back on his heels as she thought it would. Richard was back in the room with a beer inside of a minute, and gave her a crooked smile as he sat in a chair.

"The floor is yours, Traci," he smirked.

Traci found Richard's self-assurance somewhat nerve-wracking. She started to look at the floor, then realized her husband was staring at her in the dark.

"I'm going to head back to Miami for a few weeks, stay with Davie. We'll be back in October. That should give you time to figure things out," Traci said.

"Are you fucking nuts!?" Richard yelled. "You tell me you don't want a divorce, but you're going back to screw this guy for a few more weeks? I'm nobody's knowing cuckold! If you leave, you might as well stay away forever, bitch!"

Richard jumped out of his chair, dumped his beer in the kitchen sink and stalked up to the guest room. Traci smirked behind his back, truly believing she had taken back the power.

Traci enjoyed her time with Davie when the Marlins played at home, otherwise she felt lonely when the Marlins were on the road. Davie hung out with the younger players, all of whom had younger wives or girlfriends, and Traci didn't find much in common with them. She also didn't have much in common with the older players' wives and girlfriends, who had been around baseball enough to understand and appreciate the game; which she did not.

Davie and Traci flew back to Pensacola when the Major League Baseball season ended in early October. The pair went back to Davie's rental home, but after a few days, Traci figured it was finally time to confront Richard. She knew Richard would never take her back at this point, but she went to her former home to get the possessions and clothes she had left behind.

Traci was surprised when her key no longer worked in any of the home's doors. She was surprised Richard would have thought to change the locks. She wound up having to ring the front doorbell.

"Well, the prodigal whore returns," Richard said as he answered the door.

"Are we going to do this from now on?" Traci questioned.

"Absolutely," Richard said smiling widely.

Traci told Richard she had come for the remainder of her clothes and possessions. Richard took her to the garage, where a series of garbage bags awaited. He opened the garage door and told her to load it herself. She huffed her disgust. Richard chuckled and walked off.

Two weeks later Traci was sure she had missed her period. She remembered that when she first arrived in Miami, Davie had not thought to buy condoms, and yet the pair still had sex twice that first night before Davie picked up a dozen the next day. Davie was quiet when Traci gave him that news.

"We can take care of this. I'm sure the team doctors will know who the best docs are to take care of it safely," Davie finally verbalized.

Traci started quietly crying.

"I can't do that," she said. "I could never do that."

"It's all right, Babe. I've always wanted a lot of kids, maybe not this early, but I love kids and have always wanted a bunch."

"I didn't," Traci said quietly.

Traci was four months pregnant when she and Richard signed off on the divorce. He hadn't seen her since she left to move in with Davie, and did not know she was pregnant. His face expressed shock when he first saw her.

"New respect to your lover, Traci. You never wanted kids with me, but he must be that much more of a man. Well, I guess I can't say you went off half-cocked, now can I?"

Traci blushed crimson, but didn't say anything. Richard's attorney quickly pointed out to all assembled that Richard's name on the birth certificate would constitute perjury.

"Davie knows it's his, and has already committed to paying for the birth and the child," Traci said quietly.

Davie got promoted to Triple A Jacksonville for the next season. As Traci would be more than seven months along by the time the Triple A season started, she and Davie decided she should stay in Pensacola until after the baby was born. Davie got himself a small apartment in Jacksonville for the times he couldn't make it home between games when the team was at home.

June 27 dawned bright and sunny in Pensacola. Around midday, Traci's water broke. As planned, she called her friend, Alyssa, to take her to Baptist Hospital. She called Davie on the way to the hospital, and he told his manager and got in his car to make the approximately five-hour drive.

At 10:47 p.m., Evan and Jenna McComb welcomed a daughter into the world after a six-hour labor. Evan, now an assistant vice president at the accounting firm where he worked, got to cut the cord and felt like he was riding on a cloud. Dr. Leslie Scott congratulated the couple but couldn't stick around because she had another baby on the way to deliver. She left the delivery room and walked down the hall, where baseball phenom Davie Boyd and his girlfriend, Traci Strickland, were getting ready to deliver their first child.

Dr. Scott liked the young ballplayer and his older girlfriend. Although the couple wasn't married, she noted that the young athlete seemed to dote on the older woman, who was handling her first pregnancy well despite her 36 years of age. Dr. Scott, while noting that a first child for a 36-year-old woman wasn't too terribly uncommon, also noted there were more risks than for a 30-something than a 20-something. Traci had carefully watched her weight, gaining only 27 pounds during her pregnancy.

The doctor also noted that the ballplayer seemed a lot more enthusiastic over the pregnancy than his girlfriend. Traci had admitted to the doctor at one appointment when it was just the two of them that she had her soon-to-be ex-husband get a vasectomy because she didn't want children. The pregnancy resulted from a moment of passion that got away from Davie and Traci when they didn't have condoms available. It's not like the two would be the first couple to ever have that happen, the doctor thought to herself.

While Traci and the baby boy stayed in Pensacola, Davie went back to "work" in Jacksonville. Two weeks later he was sitting in a quiet restaurant with an older woman when the pair was approached by an irate man.

"Who's your friend, Cassie? Does he know you're married? How many times you fuck him already?" he shouted to the pair.

It got quiet in the restaurant. Davie looked at Cassie and vice-versa. Cassie stammered several times before Davie slid out of his chair and moved to face the older man, who looked to be several inches and pounds smaller.

When the police and EMS finally arrived at the restaurant, Davie was on the floor bleeding from several cuts to his face. His right eye was swollen shut and starting to turn colors. Harrison Walker, construction worker and the husband of Cassie Walker, had cut and bruised knuckles on his left hand. His wife was still seated at the table, sobbing.

Davie was still in the hospital when the report of the incident in the restaurant made the news. Needless to say, Marlins' management wasn't pleased that one of their high-dollar investments had a potential career-threatening eye injury.

Also not pleased when she heard the news was Traci, especially when she heard the story about Davie being in the restaurant with a married woman. The coincidence didn't escape her.

"Son of a bitch!" Traci yelled to no one. The noise woke her infant, who started to cry.

"No stupid deed goes unpunished," the woman thought.

Being only human, Richard Strickland couldn't help but smile when he heard about Davie's ass-beating. He also didn't feel one ounce of compassion for his ex-wife and her predicament.

"She chose poorly," he thought to himself as he slightly changed a remembered line from the movie "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom."

Pensacola police declined to press charges against Harrison Walker, especially when witnesses reported that the ballplayer started the fight. Richard Strickland had one of his staffers track down Harrison's cellphone number and the mayor called the construction worker with the name and phone number of his divorce lawyer. He also offered the younger man his heartiest congratulations for the beatdown of the ballplayer.

Two weeks later Traci and the baby, who the couple had named Frederick, after Davie's favorite player, Freddie Freeman of the Atlanta Braves, moved into a smaller apartment Traci rented. Traci had her attorney contact Davie to set up child support payments and visitation. She was still collecting alimony from Richard.

As fall turned into winter, Marlins' officials were very concerned that Davie's blurry vision in his right eye was not clearing. Insurance would cover for the contract, but nothing would make up for the player's potential: the hits, the home runs, the runs batted in.

Life as a stay-at-home single mother took a toll on Traci mentally and physically. She seemed to have lost a significant amount of friends when she and Richard divorced, and what few friends remained didn't seem to want to hang around with a 30-something woman with a baby. She had only lost half of her baby weight before she left Davie, and in the 14 months she had been on her own had put on about 15 more pounds. Her chic wardrobe no longer fit and was pushed to the back of her closet and drawers, replaced with mom jeans and bulky sweaters. Her hair had grown out, and most days she just pulled it back into a pony tail.