Devil Inside

Karen for a moment felt a sense of being left behind. Irrelevance tinged her self-vision: she was no longer relevant to her husband. When she spotted women's clothing, bras, and panties in the chest of drawers next to the bed nook, she realized in an instant that she had been replaced. Even more, this little two car garage sized space struck her as more comfortable and welcoming than the house had been for years. He had even framed drawings that each child had done at school, and had pictures of himself and the kids on outings she did not recall being invited to.

Framed on the wall was a quotation:

I advise you to be wary,
Though never fearful:
Be most wary about drinking,
About other men's women,
And about a third thing:
About men and their temptation to steal.

— Hávamál 131

She heard the boat motor up to the dock and her husband get out, then walk down the boards of the dock, which sounded like they were new instead of the faded, rotted planks that had been there for years.

"Oh, hey," he said, coming in the door. "So, uh, you like the place?"

"It's very nice," said Karen dreamily, then snapped back to focus. "What the hell is this?" she said thrusting the folder in his face. "Adoption papers for your secretary's kids?"

"No, Sue is my vice president, not my secretary," said Richard slowly. He tried to make what he said next as gentle as possible. "They're also my kids, but now they would be taking my name and becoming part of our family so they can have their share of the trust."

"You had kids with the silly bitch? What the hell is --" Karen stopped mid-sentence.

"Exactly," said Richard. "You abandoned me, so life went on without you."

"Counseling," fumed Karen. "I want --" but she stopped again.

He held out a card between his first two fingers. "We have an appointment this Wednesday."

Richard turned to the table, emptying his pockets on it, and stayed that way until he heard her pumps stalk away and then break into a run for the house.

Out on the lake, night settled in slowly, as it always did, and fireflies came out to play in the tall grass, being far enough from the bustle of the roads to survive.

Days later, Richard found himself driving to a large house in midtown. It had once been a family home, but like so many things of an organic nature, had been replaced by commerce and the relentless march of "progress," something Richard no longer trusted himself to define, and now was an office where the counselor rented a space.

"I'm Dr. Raul Winslow, and we're here with Mr. Richard Thomas and his wife, Mrs. Karen Thomas. This is being recorded for the protection of my clients and, uh, myself. Now -- "

A knock came at the door. Richard answered it.

"I'm Nick Randal, attorney for Mr. Thomas," said the tall man in the sleek well-contoured suit. "I'm here at my client's request, to protect his interests and to explain some of what is going on here."

Karen looked between the other three in the room. She had picked Dr. Winslow, a Catholic traditionalist with feminist leanings, because of his record in protecting the women by upholding the obligations to men in a marriage to reconcile at any cost. Now the psychiatrist looked flustered.

"Karen is here," began Richard slowly, then shifted course. "My wife discovered that for the past decade I have been living with another woman in our backyard and have fathered three children by her."

"Holy shit," said Dr. Winslow, then recovered his professional mien. "And you didn't tell her this, because...?"

"She was busy and didn't notice," said Richard. His attorney Nick began handing out copies of photos taken outside motels, each marked with year, month, and day. There were quite a few of them.

"You knew, the whole time?" said Karen increduously.

Richard shot her a pitying look. "When you love someone, you know their moods. You even know when they fall out of love with you and keep you around just to fund the house and kids."

Nick spoke quietly. "After discovery of the affair, my client placed his and his wife's income and retirement portfolios in trust in order to protect them from events of this nature. You will note that on page three of the agreement, it specifies a morals clause, stating that any party to the agreement who engages in publicly disreputable activity forfeits their share and is due only a nominal payment of $25,000 per annum."

Dr. Winslow seemed puzzled. "But if you knew of the affair--"

Nick said, "He knew that she had done it once, not that she would do it again. Once she repeated the process, my client recognized that his wife had forfeited her share, and even more, that she had broken the contract behind the trust. Since she continued to live in the house and spend income from his earnings on items for herself" -- he handed out a sheet of paper which documented dozens of purchases -- "my client recognized that in effect, she intended the contract to remain in effect, absent the provision about marital fidelity."

He took a deep breath. "This gave my client legal right to seek similar, uh, companionship for himself, and he began a relationship with Miss Sue Scott, with whom as mentioned he has three children, and is now seeking that Mrs. Thomas consent to their adoption so that they may carry his name and be considered wedlock-born children in the eyes of the state. His decision to create the trust turned out to be prescient because we have credible information that Mrs. Thomas and Mr. Sheehan are using company funds to conduct their long-term affair."

Dr. Winslow paled, since this was not going at all as he expected, and like most psychiatrists, he knew little more than his textbooks had taught him, even if he thought most of it was clever gibberish. After all, over a century worth of psychotherapy had produced more mental illness in the population at large, not less, but he would never tell that to his clients.

"Let's take a step back," he said in a voice normally reserved for kindergarten children and the very insane. "Richard, you observed that your wife was cheating on you, and instead of attempting to resolve the issue, you retaliated?"

"No, Doctor," said Richard. "I attempted multiple times to dissuade my wife from infidelity. I worked out, upgraded my wardrobe, attempted to take her out to fancy-pants restaurants, tried to get her to talk to me, and engaged in backrubs and cunnilingus, but nothing worked, despite my reputedly legendary lingual skills. Once it was clear that the affair was not 'one and done,' but an ongoing replacement of me in the marital role, I considered that part of the contract nullified on my part, and found my own replacement for the absent and unaffectionate Mrs. Thomas."

Nick spoke up again. "At this time, my client documented the process of abandonment by Mrs. Thomas. He purchased replacements for his toiletries, clothes, and personal effects, then renovated the boathouse to make it a second domicile, at which point he only attended the main house to cook for, clean up after, read to, and interact with his children."

Nick handed Winslow another sheet of paper. "This is a copy of my client's application for a second street address for the boathouse, establishing that it was a second household. Mrs. Thomas apparently did not notice or care that he was no longer receiving any mail at the main house, nor that his possessions never changed location. I also have a photograph of his toiletries with various dates of expiration almost a decade ago."

"We're getting ahead of ourselves here," said Dr. Winslow. "Karen, you'll want to have a lawyer look over that document. However, we are here for marriage counseling. Is there any way that the two of you could resolve things, such as a nice dinner together?"

"Can't," said Richard.

"Can't or won't?" asked Dr. Winslow.

"Can't. I've got this weird stomach thing where whenever I'm around her, I vomit repeatedly and violently. It's exhausting and the drugs to suppress it make me feel vile for several days. Apparently they're hard on the liver."

"What about outside?" continued Winslow, desperate at this point for a chance to escape and still bill for a full session. He, too, had a sailboat, and as the saying goes, boats are pits in the water into which you fling large amounts of money. "How about a vacation... somewhere tropical?"

Richard considered this. "If I schedule the vacation, will you sign the adoption papers?"

He nodded to Nick, who as a consummate professional did not let his smile show from his soul to his face.

"Yes," said Karen.

"Then we're good," said Richard.

True to her word, Karen signed and notarized the papers, and the adoption process -- encouraged by Sue Scott, who had early on understood the complexities of Richard and his situation -- began its slow grind through the creaky gears of an expensive yet mysteriously underfunded bureaucracy.

Richard left a plane ticket under her pillow. He had thought about clearing out all of the old expired toiletries and clothes, many of which hung loose on his frame but constricted his new larger biceps and calves, but shrugged it off. Instead, he went to the dock and launched his boat into the canal. Karen picked up the ticket later and smiled. Maybe this would work out after all. She could have her cake and eat it, too.

When she got to the airport in the morning two days later, however, Richard was nowhere to be seen. Confused, she made her way through security with only a cursory body cavity search, and took a seat at the gate. Hours passed, and when the plane began boarding, she became nervous. Rising, she turned.

"Jeb!" she said. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Karen?" he asked.

She looked down and noticed he was holding an identical ticket.

"I found it on my desk," he said. "I thought you wanted to finally take that vacation we always talked about."

Karen smiled warmly. "Let's go," she said. Screw Richard and his little games, she thought. She'd have Rodolfo tear him a new one when she got back.

Holding hands, they boarded the plane.

Back at the canal, the fish were not biting, so Richard headed in and suited up. He called Nick.

Throughout the day, calls went out to the client list that Karen had carelessly left on her laptop. Each one went like this:

Attorney: Legal Department of [client name]. How can I help you?
Nick: Hi, this is Nick Randal of Malhern and Rankin. I'm calling about our forthcoming litigation against the advertising firm that employs Jeb Sheehan, and am interested if your firm had knowledge of the ongoing affair between Mr. Sheehan and his subordinate, Karen Thomas, in which we intend to explore allegations of improper use of client funds. Were you aware of the extra-marital relationship between these two, and did you at any time notice accounting irregularities in their billing practice?
Attorney: I will have to look into this. We'll contact you.

He did not receive any calls back, but the message had been delivered. Later, at the close of the business day, Nick and Richard found themselves facing the board of Jeb's advertising firm.

Nick began. "It came to our attention that Mr. Sheehan has been conducting an affair with his subordinate, Karen Thomas, for over ten years. We have found documentation on Mrs. Thomas's computer that suggests there may have been comingled funds, if not company funds used outright to finance this affair, including lavish weekend trips. We intend to sue for damages to Mr. Thomas's business caused by public awareness of this affair and the resulting loss of trust that caused potential clients to avoid the firm, with witnesses to testify to this effect. Accordingly to multiple accounts, Mr. Sheehan and Mrs. Thomas conducted this affair openly in the office with what we can only presume is the approval of the firm and, by extension, the Board. We're wondering if you have an opening offer of settlement."

As he was saying this, a secretary came into the room and whispered in the ear of the Chairman of the Board. Richard could only surmise that this was another client cancelation as everyone involved attempted to flee the legal storm of steel and feces which was rapidly approaching them. The Chairman turned white, then red.

"We'll contact you," he said. Richard and Nick allowed them to be ushered out the door.

"Message delivered," said Nick once they were out of earshot.

Two weeks later, when Karen returned home, she was in a foul mood. On their second day in Tahiti, emails from their legal department arrived with reprimands for both she and Jeb. No one lost their jobs, but it was also clear that their careers were going nowhere after this debacle.

By vote of the board, Jeb was no longer a principal in his own company. Jeb had raged and ruined the rest of the vacation by calling lawyers and ranting on about how "they couldn't do this to him." Then he called his wife to explain, and Karen hit the beach with a cocktail. "Keep 'em coming," she said to the cabana boy. "Please." She slipped him a fifty.

As soon as the plane landed, Jeb was gone. Karen would never see him outside work again.

The next morning found Nick and Richard, wearing matching suits, facing Jeb and his attorney.

"We intend to sue for defamation over the allegations made regarding my client," the attorney began.

"Excellent," said Nick.

"And furthermore -- wait, what?" asked the attorney.

"You're new to this," said Nick. "I've been doing this for decades. You sue us, we get discovery. For starters, we want Mr. Sheehan's schedule, his expense reports from all business travel on the dates we indicate, and access to interview all staff who may have heard Mrs. Thomas and Mr. Sheehan discuss this affair in the office."

The attorney paled. "We'll contact you."

Karen, in the meantime, went looking for work, but found that every firm in the advertising field in North America had received an attorney inquiry letter asking for details of her affir with Mr. Sheehan and the possibility of comingled funds or company funds being used to finance the meetings between the lovers in Las Vegas, Paris, New York, and Atlantic City. Not surprisingly, no one wanted to hire her at any level above a janitorial position, and that would only come with the requirement of a rigorous ethics course which she would have to finance yourself.

Richard breezed through the house and handed her a check. "It's your twenty five kays for yearly maintenance," he said. "House is free, and the kids are taken care of. You're welcome."

Having recovered from the shock, Karen followed him down to the boathouse with her jaw set.

"I never thought you were this immature," she said. "You burn me instead of trying to work this out like mature adults?"

"I tried," said Richard quietly, tying off the boat. "You may recall I spent a lot of time trying. You were not willing to listen."

"And so what, you destroy my life?"

Richard tossed the rope aside. "Let me tell you something, Karen. On our wedding day, I looked into your eyes and saw what I considered the path to happiness: love, a family, support in the day job to pay for it all, a cabin by the lake, retirement and traveling the world, then spending our golden years in contentment and joy, visiting grandkids and spoiling them rotten. This was what I wanted."

He continued: "These are all the things that you will never have, by your own hand. You treated me like the help or one of your office flunkeys. You threw away our love and with it, our future. There are infinite ways to betray your spouse, but the worst is that you scorned me. You treated me like the enemy. All I did was tell the tale so that the world knew that I was not a cuckold, a man who would take this lying down."

Their eyes met briefly. Karen saw at once that she had never really trusted him, since who could trust a reckless animal that no woman could control? Richard saw the years of weeping children, terrified at the disintegration of their family, and the arrogance with which Karen had ruled as a tyrant given power by her career. The anger flickered briefly. Fuck her, he thought. Fuck Hitler and fuck Stalin, too, and anyone who lied for power, including all American leaders since March 16, 1861.

Richard sighed and lit his pipe. "I am not a martyr, Karen. As a wise man once said, 'There was only one true Christian and he died on the cross.' I am perhaps Siddhartha under his Bodi tree or Odin hanging upside down with a missing eye. I am that which learns from its mistakes. Your actions took away what I wanted, so I sought it somewhere else, but I refuse to divorce you because our children -- the products of our love -- deserve an intact family and the knowledge that they were not a mistake, although your actions signaled to them that I was a mistake and thus, by extension, so was their creation."

As if on cue, a bright white sailboat many times the size of his little boat motored up to the dock. Sue waved, surrounded by her children. "I forgot to tell you, Karen, but you never asked. We're retired. Sue runs her own management consulting firm now and I consult. Since you would not wait for me to travel the world, I'm going with her and the kids, and we're going to have a grand old time, paid for by the trust. But that's not revenge either; that's just me reclaiming my life from infidelity. You want to know what is better than revenge?"

Richard took a deep breath. "I forgive you," he said. "I have no resentment, hatred, or anger toward you. I simply do not care. I have forgiven you, given up on you, and disconnected. Despite all your attempts to become what you saw as relevant, you have become irrelevant, and your ethics violations are really your own problem."

He stood up and walked toward the sunset framed against the water swelling with summer rain.