F5: Desperate Times and Measures

I could feel myself getting angry again. So many damn excuses. None worth a damn, in my opinion.

"I knew it wasn't true, Dan. That's why when you asked, I couldn't tell you the same lame excuses he fed me. Not that a lot of that wasn't true. It was. But that's not why."

She clung to me, as if I was going to make a run for it. Like that was likely. I was still waiting to hear her damn excuse.

"Marta knew. I don't know how. She knew, and instead of telling me, she made me work it out for myself, after talking with half the damn ex-pats in the country."

"Why, Sandy? Why the hell did it happen?"

"I did it because I thought I could. I took you for granted. I knew you loved me, and that you'd forgive me anything. I let that damn asshole seduce me, and my idiot friends cover for me, all because I thought I could get away with it. I'd do something wild, and crazy. Rebellious. For a while I wouldn't be the good wife, the doting mother, the happy homemaker."

"That jerk you gave a second belly-button to, he had a lot to do with it, but I can't blame him totally. I knew better. There was nothing you did, nothing you could have done at that point. I was going to be bad, for once in my life. Do something just for me, and the hell with everyone else. All he did was recognize my weakness, and convince me I deserved it. That there was nothing wrong with it, and that nobody would be hurt. A little larceny in the soul was a good thing."

"I don't understand," I said. "How can you go from the perfect wife one day, to hating me?"

"God, you idiot. I never hated you. I loved you, and felt guilty as hell for what I was doing. Every time I saw you I was afraid I was going to confess everything! When you'd look at me, your disappointment showing, all I wanted to do was apologize. And I hadn't even done anything yet. I was thinking about cheating on you and it ate away at me. I had to avoid you. I couldn't look you in the eye. I sure as hell couldn't make love to you, without losing it. So I told myself it was your fault, you were putting all this guilt on me, trying to stop me from doing something for myself just once in my life. I'd given you twenty-one years, didn't I deserve something?"

"You had to know I'd figure it out, Sandy."

She sighed. "No. Well, yes, I knew you'd see through me, know I was up to something. You'd be suspicious, but you'd never really know. Not for sure. I was too smart. I'd be discreet. You might figure something was happening, but you had to trust me after all our time together. You'd give me the benefit of the doubt. I'd do it, and then it would be over, and we'd be fine. You'd never know for sure. And then we'd be together, my urge satisfied, and everything would be Ok."

"I guess I still don't understand. You knew it was wrong, Sandy. You knew I'd probably figure it out. And you still were willing to risk everything."

"No, baby. I was risking nothing. I was absolutely convinced you'd never know for sure, and that you loved me enough to forgive me for my temporary bad behavior. There was no risk. Not in my mind. I was an idiot. I said you wouldn't like the answer. There was no reason why, other than I thought I could get away with it, so I was going to do it."

I laid there, trying to wrap my mind around what she was saying. I could understand there were a lot of elements leading up to it. They all combined to leave her vulnerable. The kids leaving, I knew was a huge part of it. She was right, her identity was as our girl's mother. Without them, she started to lose herself. I never knew she was unhappy that she never got to use her degree. She never said a word about it. She was happy to be a stay-at-home mom. Our children's welfare was her first concern. Maybe I did take her for granted a little, opening the door for some smooth operator to start working on her insecurities. But I'd tried, damn it! I tried to talk to her, tried to understand. I tried to make her see what was happening.

She did it because she could. Shit. In the end, no matter what other excuses she came up with, that's what it was all about. She wanted to do it, thought she could get away with it without consequences, and stuck to that path of destruction.

"You were going to do it that night, weren't you?"

"Yes. I had convinced myself I would do it once, get it out of my system, and go back to being the perfect wife. No repercussions, no consequences, nobody the wiser."

"But you hadn't . . ."

"No baby. Not once in twenty-one years. I was never unfaithful to you. Even with that asshole, it never went further than some inappropriate touching on his part, outside of my clothing, and some light kissing. Any more would have been cheating, and in my fucked up brain, I was only going to cheat on you once."

"Do you have any idea how insane that sounds?" I said, hearing the anger in my voice.

"I wasn't insane. I was stupid, stupid and selfish. I don't get to fall back on that stupid crutch, that I didn't know what I was doing. I knew exactly what I was doing. That's the horror of it. I knew." I could feel her trembling, heard her voice breaking.

So now I knew. And it didn't help me understand one damn bit. In the end, she had a dozen reasons, and only one that really mattered. She did it because she could. Damn her!

I felt her lips on my cheek. "I'm sorry. But you deserved to know. Your only mistake was loving me so much, that I believed I could get away with anything. And I abused your love and trust. Even then, you risked your life, and your freedom, you risked jail, and threw away a lifetime of effort to stop me from making the final mistake, saving me from myself. I think that's what hurts the most. I don't deserve you."

She climbed out of the bed, after one last salty kiss on my lips, and walked out of the room. I guess I could have stopped her. I could have called her back. I could have told her she was forgiven.

I didn't.

* * * *

Krystal graduated. I would have loved to see it, but I couldn't go back to the States. I figured they had to have a warrant out for me. We spoke on Skype, and I told her how proud I was of her. I sent her a check for ten grand, to help her get started. She told me she had a boyfriend, and that they were pretty serious. He wanted her to move in with him.

The last damn thing a father wanted to hear. As far as I was concerned she was still pure as the driven snow, unsullied, a virgin. All those dates over the years, the proms, the weekends at the beach, they were innocent. I was sure of it. Not my Krystal.

I guess I wasn't good at hiding my thoughts and feelings, even over Skype.

"Give me a break, Dad. How old were you, when you and Mom starting doing it?"

"Those were different times, baby girl. You have to understand—"

"Jesus, Dad! Get with the program. I haven't been a virgin since eleventh grade. Moving in with Jimmy wouldn't be the end of the world."

"Does he love you, baby? Really love you? He's not just using you . . ."

"More than anything. Hell, we'd already be married if he had his way. He loves me like you love Mom." She caught herself. "I mean, you know, like you and Mom used to be. Before she—"

"No, I get it. I hope you're right. If that man loves you half as much as I love your mother, I couldn't ask for anything more for you. I hope you make each other as happy as we were."

It was a rough weekend. Missing her graduation, knowing I was losing her for good. That there was a new man in her life, and that I'd taken myself out of the picture. I wondered how long it would be before I could ever return to the States. For the first time I was glad I hadn't managed to kill the asshole. I'd have to find out what I would have been charged with, and what the statute of limitations were. Maybe I could see my grandchildren before they were all grown up.

Jenna wasn't much better. She wanted to enter some exchange program, and do her second year of college in Italy. Italy! The only saving grace in that, was that maybe I could go over and pay her a visit. If I wouldn't be cramping her style too much.

Yeah, I was having a real pity party, even broke my rule about drinking too much. My life was a mess. Hell, my house was a mess. I'd let Gabrielle go. I gave her a nice severance, thanked her for everything, and told myself that I'd be fine on my own. I could take care of myself, in every sense of the word.

That was how my girls found me. Hung-over, living in squalor, empty bottles all over the place, standing under the outside shower naked as the day I was born. Hell, I didn't even know they were there, until I heard the whistles and cat-calls.

"Who the hell are you," Krystal said, giggling, "and what have you done with my Daddy?"

I was stunned. Too shocked at first to even realize the awkwardness of the situation. Jenna's laughter finally woke me up. "Since when are you a nudist, Dad? And where the hell did you get that hot bod?"

I turned away from them, mortally shamed. "Give me a minute. This isn't what it looks like."

Krystal was laughing so hard I was afraid she was going to collapse. I was trying to put my wet boxers back on, almost falling on my ass. "Looks to me like somebody's naked and embarrassed. It's not like you haven't seen us naked a million times."

"Jesus, Krystal! Not since your were four or five years old! Now turn away!"

"No way. We didn't come thousands of miles to turn away, after seeing you for the first time in almost two years!"

That's when it struck me. My girls were here. In the middle of nowhere. "How . . .?"

"Mom brought us," Jenna explained.

I looked around, to see where she was. If she was part of this.

"She dropped us off. We couldn't get her to even come down and say hi. You're ours for two weeks, and then we'll call her when we're ready to be picked up. She said she wanted to see an old friend. Emphasis on 'old'. She said you'd get it."

Marta. I got it. And I realized I was still standing there with one leg in my boxers, nearly naked. I managed to get my other leg into the shorts before dying of embarrassment. Only then did I turn around and see how much my girls had changed. Skype didn't do them justice.

Yeah, it was pretty wonderful. I showed them around the property, told them what it was like and all I'd done. I took them into town, and made sure that David gave them his best. Drove them into the big city, or what passed for one in that area.

But mostly we talked. Talked and talked. We'd sit on the porch when it rained, or lay out in the sun. I bought a blender so I could make them the local rum drinks, and we gabbed. Talked like we never had before. They dragged the whole story out of me, what had happened, back then, and during their mother's two visits. Man did I catch crap for the Gabrielle episode, not because I spent intimate time with her, but that I'd punish their mom like that. I didn't really have a good excuse.

I kept expecting them to try to convince me to give their mom a second chance, but they never brought it up. What they did do, was try to convince me that my place should be their personal resort. They wanted me to put up some shacks, nothing fancy just a roof to sleep under. Clean up the beach, stock the larders, and let them bring their friends to visit. Bring their boyfriends. Plural. I shouldn't have been surprised that Jenna had some guy on the hook as well. Hell, she's the spitting image of her mother, beautiful.

I didn't say no. Didn't say yes, at least not to building them little huts of debauchery, but I didn't say no. I was even thinking about which of the lots would be easiest to finish, and wondering how much a little bungalow would cost if I kept it simple. Two bedrooms of course. At least that way I could continue lying to myself.

I took them to Ambergris Cay and Caye Caulker. Showed them the ex-pat life, when you had money to burn. Drove out to several of the ruins, spent a day on a catamaran. Went snorkeling, and I promised them that if they took the PADI course and passed their test, I'd take them out to do their open water dive with Jon, my favorite dive master.

The two weeks passed all too quickly, and then it was time to go. It was my job to take them into town, and their mother would take them down to Belize City where they'd fly home from. I argued that I could take them, but they stood firm. Their mother wasn't ready to see me again.

That's what they said, but when I took them to town, she was sitting there at David's.

"Hi Dan. Did you have a great visit?"

The girls pulled me forward, literally forcing me to sit down across from my wife. I assume she was still my wife.

"Wonderful. Thanks for bringing them here. How about you?"

She gave me a slow smile. "It was good. Something I needed. When I left here last time, I ran home. I never did stop by and thank Marta for all she did."

The girls monopolized the conversation from that point, telling their mother all the things they'd done, and filling her in on their plans for my property. It broke my heart when Sandy looked at her watch. "We have to go. We have a long drive ahead of us, and we don't want to be late for the flight."

I offered to go along, but Sandy insisted the time wasn't right. I wanted to argue. I needed to spend every minute I could with my girls. In the end I gave them a tearful hug goodbye. The two troublemakers pushed their mother into my arms. I gave her a hug. I was a little bothered that I didn't receive much of one back. I guess she was over me. I knew damn well I should be over her.

Then she was walking away, with the girls in tow. No, 'sorry', no 'I love you', nothing. I remembered that feeling. I didn't matter. Not anymore.

* * * *

I missed my girls. All of them, even the one that broke my heart, if I'm honest with myself.

The first week, after they left, I worked myself ragged. I'd gotten behind on my project, thanks to their surprise visit, but seven 12 hours days had me back on schedule.

A few hours spent with the original plans for the property, some paper, and spreadsheets, and I felt pretty good about things. It wouldn't be that hard to make the place something special for the girls. I switched back to doing most of my telecommute work at night, laboring during the day. I spent a few hours in town, talking to the locals. I was trying to rent some heavy equipment, but the prices came as a shock. Nobody would let you rent the equipment by itself, and a bulldozer and operator ran about $2000 Belize a day. The good news was I could hire a guy with a machete to clear an acre of underbrush for $200. Go figure.

My property shared a road down one side with the retirement community next door. That access road ran from the paved road down to within about a hundred feet of the shore. Turn right, and you're driving behind the $250,000 mansion waterfront lots next door. All unimproved at the moment. There were ten of them.

Turn left, and the road narrowed, almost overrun by the jungle. It traveled a few hundred yards, then formed a nice semi-circle around my little beach, passing right behind my cabana. After another hundred yards of even worse road, it dead-ended. The land to the west of mine was raw jungle, as was most of the land in the area, until the sugar cane fields started near town, half-a-mile away.

At the peak of the road arc, directly behind my house, another road headed straight away from the beach for about three hundred yards. It was two separate lanes, with a line of fruit trees planted in the middle. At one time a bulldozer had come through and cleared the house lots on each side of this lane. Since then most had been overgrown.

David introduced me to a guy in town who hooked me up. I was amazed how much work could be done by four guys with machetes. A couple of times I saw them hook a chain to their truck, and pull out some of the bigger stuff. Manolo became my go-to guy. Labor is cheap, minimum wage is well under two bucks and hour. Manolo charged me $12.50 a day for unskilled labor, and $20 to $40 for guys like 'Chainsaw Eddie' who could bring down a tree two feet in width, and leave me a pile of perfectly cut boards in less than a day.

I'm not stupid. I'd been doing most of the labor myself. When I learned that for an hour at the computer, I could hire two men for a day, I rethought my efforts. I learned to do that a lot.

You know the old saw, "When in Rome . . .?" Learn it. Live it. Love it.

I didn't know better, and I'm not that smart, it turns out. Where I wanted to put in grass, Manolo got me five truck loads of sand and gravel for $400, including guys with shovels to spread and level it. When I bought cinder blocks to expand my storage shed, I learned from Manolo that 'rich foreigners' paid almost double. From then on, I let him do my purchasing. I'd rather pay him an extra 10-20% and have it delivered, then have to pick it up at twice the cost.

A carpenter costs $25 a day. About $20 for a bricklayer. That's my cost, with Manolo's oversight. Painters cost less than the paint. In the end I bit the bullet, and just told Manolo what I wanted, and he billed me. It took me about three months of continuous projects to get me there. I never regretted it. Once I put it in his hands, I was surprised to see my expenses go down. David explained it to me.

"One price for one-time work, cheaper for long time employment," he said. "You let him maintain property, roads, clean the beach, cut back the brush, and keep throwing him new work, he wants to keep you happy. Not a lot of work out here."

I wasn't the only one busy. I was surprised that the retirement community was actually growing. They had enough lots for more than two hundred homes, and four large multi-floor condos. When I'd swim by, I'd see the big equipment out there, over and over again. I saw a couple of 4000 sq. ft. western style homes go in, and one monstrosity of a mansion. I thanked my lucky stars for the small hill and dense jungle that separated my property from everything. I rarely heard anything of the construction.

At the five month mark, Manolo was asking me when I was going to start selling the lots. He was pushing me to put in a dock, but I didn't have a boat. He had a quote for a pool, but I had an entire bay at my front door. He brought over a guy who was building the 'casitas' next door. Cute, tiny little houses, only about 1100 sq. ft. Thatched roofs, 1 bedroom, 1 living area, kitchenette and bath, with a huge wraparound porch. They were adorable, and I was almost tempted to do it, but it was almost 80 grand for two. Dirt cheap, but a goodly chunk of my remaining wealth. Even with my eldest out of college, and working more hours than ever, I wasn't saving a dime. I was barely breaking even, with all the work I had Manolo doing.

I finally explained that I wasn't selling lots. This wasn't a community. It was just for me and my family. I know he thought I was nuts. He was probably right. I'm sure he was a little disappointed. I'm certain forty or fifty homes would have kept him in work for a long time. He wasn't going to get rich off of me.

I slowly started to interface a little with the other ex-pats. Mostly online, except for a few people next store. At first I was just looking for answers to some questions. How to do things, were to buy things. Like a decent pillow, or what would grow in a garden. I was happy living native, but my girls would probably need some western amenities.

The dilapidated, overgrown abandoned place I'd purchased was starting to look like a resort. I mean, seriously. Gorgeous. Landscaped, clean, bright handmade signs by 'Sandy's Beach', and 'Krystal's Klear Pond', a nice little cenote, at least that's what Manolo called it. A turquoise blue pond, only about 30 feet wide and 20 feet across, it had to be at least a hundred feet deep. Sweet water. When I told him I wasn't going to put in a pool, the next thing I knew, I had a marked trail, hardwood benches, and a clearing around our swimming hole. Nobody had even told me it was on the property. It wasn't marked on the map. Surprise.