February Sucks - My Sequel

Linda slapped me with one her phony smiles, "Don't waste time. We can't be late."

'I bet,' I thought.

After Linda settled the kids at the Porters, they lived just across and down the street, she joined me up in the bedroom. I watched her as she slipped on her pretty red dress, touched up her hair, and dabbed on some perfume. It was the same perfume I'd gotten her and the football player said he liked. I thought, 'I'll never get past what my wife and that motherfucking football player did?'

The four of us met at the Morrison. The whole thing sounded too familiar; I got the salmon, and Linda got the imperial crab. I sat quietly while mom, dad, and Linda carried on. I thought they were all being a little too effusive. All I could think about was how we were at the same restaurant where Linda had ruined our lives. I knew, no matter what happened, nothing was going back.

After a pleasant meal, and each of us having a few too many glasses of wine it looked like a little dancing was in order. I did notice Linda didn't drink any wine. It was at that moment when someone walked up behind me. I heard a throaty feminine voice ask, "Pardon me, but may I borrow your husband for a few dances?"

Linda graciously replied with something that sounded like, "Why my husband?"

The woman responded with some comment, something about a 'white knight', and Linda said of course.

I was asked to turn around and dance with someone. I turned, got out of my chair, and was surprised to see one of the most beautiful women I'd ever imagined. She was dazzling, right out of some expensive magazine, a movie star, a model for Victoria's Secret.

She said, "Would you please. You'll be thwarting some very ravenous sharks."

I think that's what she said. I took her arm and said, "Of course milady."

We danced through several slow tunes. She held her body ever so close to mine. I could smell the aroma of her perfume and perhaps a little feminine scent as well. I also smelled a rat. She was hot, and I was most certainly aroused. She laid her head against my shoulder; her hair was soft and felt delicious. She started murmuring bullshit about warmth, passion, how excited she was, and how her body tingled. She did seem to have a pinkish sheen and a sexy, musky, moisture about her.

I was in a trance-like state when she said, "Come away with me." Then she said something about sirens and my mind clicked into Odysseus, and the Odyssey. That's when it got me; it was the 'siren' thing. This was the deal, a pure case of entrapment!

All right, I was ready. I replied, "Come away. Come away! Sure! Where to. Your place I hope because I expect my wife will want to go home with my mom and dad." I could read her mind. She had some kind of canned speech she was supposed to give. Well she went through with it anyway.

The woman, whose name was Ellen by the way, turned me around, pointed to my wife, and said, "Now you know."

I looked over and saw Linda all clumped up, eyes filled with tears, crocodile tears, and acting like she was about to lose her front teeth. The woman, Ellen, said, "See what you've done."

I grinned and spat out, "Hell lady. I ain't done nothing yet! Where's yer car? Take me home!"

She was flabbergasted! She tumbled and stuttered and finally got out, "You, you, cad! Don't you know? Look at your wife. Look at how devastated she is."

I said, "Nice try lady. How much did L.W. pay you? Tell him for me it was worth every penny. Now if you'll excuse me I have to go and enjoy the next act."

The woman did a one-eighty and left. Now it was my turn. I went back to our table. When I got there I asked Linda, "What're you crying about?"

She whimpered, "You were leaving with that woman."

I laughed, "Linda, do you want to dance or do you want to go home and watch a zombie movie?"

She replied, "I'm devastated. You were leaving..."

I interrupted her, "I was doing no such thing. I sniffed this one out a mile away. Come on, no woman who looked like that would ever give me the time of day, let alone go through all the shenanigans she went through."

I went on, "Linda if I learned one thing from your fantasy night back in February it was to trust no one. I may be a big cynic, but I have you to thank for it. Now grab your coat, we're going home."

I turned to my parents and said, "What a waste. How stupid do you think I am?"

My parents looked shattered. Linda and I left. I dropped her off, went across the street, got the kids, and came back. Linda was already in bed. I thought, 'So much for the big let's save Linda with the phony replay.' If I was learning anything it was that I wasn't going to be the 'mark' in somebody's game of three card monte. I was the master of my ship, and no one else.

-----V-----

A couple weeks later Linda's parents took off in their motor home for Seattle; one of their older children lived out there. About a week and a half after they left Linda told me I'd have to watch the children as she planned on leaving to be with her mom and dad and her oldest brother for a few days. That was all right with me.

The truth was Linda never went to Seattle; she never left the state. Had she forgotten about the G.P.S.? What did she do? I really had no idea except I knew she'd missed three menstrual cycles. She came back a couple weeks later, a little fatigued. She'd spent several days with Mallory.

I supposed she'd slipped away to get rid of the football player's baby. I was never a big fan of abortion, but I wasn't a woman. The abortion I figured was inevitable anyway. What she'd done that was so wrong was when she slipped away with the football player; everything else was just fallout from that. Her abortion would ultimately be just another thing, another memory she could "cherish" from her big night. For her today, the thing inside her would have been a nameless fetus, but in a few years she'd think about it another way. She'd look at Tommy and Emma and be reminded of what she'd done. I almost wished she hadn't done it. If it turned out to be a boy I'd probably resent the little bastard, but if it was a little girl... I think I could have embraced another little girl, but that was my problem, my sexual hang up.

Then an unusual thing happened. Mallory came to see me. It was a Saturday and I was outside with granddad clearing some brush away from an old outbuilding. She got out of her car and walked over, "Jim, got a minute?"

I looked at granddad, "Can you spare me?"

He smiled at Mallory and nodded at me.

I dropped the tool I was using and walked over, "Sure, what's up?"

She opened the passenger door to her car, "Let's go for a ride."

We drove off the farm and down to a nearby Turkey Hill, that's a place where they sell gas and food. They sometimes had outside seating, this one did. We each went in. I got a coffee. Mallory got a soda. We went out and sat down.

"OK," I said, "what's up?"

She said, "You know Linda's pregnant."

I replied, "I thought she got rid of it."

Mallory frowned, "That's pretty cold, even for you Jim."

I shrugged.

She went on, "She wanted to at first. She knew if she was carrying Lavaliere's kid you'd never take her back. She came to me for help. We went away for a few days. I persuaded her to talk to the Presbyter at your church first. He didn't like it. He offered to find someone who would adopt the baby, but Linda wasn't into that. She wanted to get rid of it before she got any bigger."

Mallory reached over and took my hand, "Jim, she doesn't want to kill anybody, but she's ready to do anything if it means still having a chance to get you back."

I shrugged again, "We've been over all this. She knows I won't raise the football player's bastard."

"She knows," Mallory said, "that's why I'm going to adopt it."

I was completely taken aback, "You? Are you fucking crazy?"

She gave me a dirty look, "You and Stephen are two of the reasons why I don't like men, but that's not the point. The point is this, if I take and raise the kid would you at least think about not leaving her?"

I didn't know how to react. I said, "I haven't left her yet."

"Jim, Linda knows you're gone, she just doesn't know exactly when," Mallory went on, "She's desperate. She knows she fucked everything up. She's ready to do anything if it means even a slim chance a keeping you. So what do you say?"

I asked, "When's she due?"

Mallory replied, "November, around Thanksgiving."

I figured it up. It sounded about right. I told Mallory, "I'll tell you Mallory. Linda and I are probably short term no matter what she does. She can keep the damn baby herself for all I care. I'm on my own schedule."

She said, "You know you'll end up footing all the bills don't you."

I told her, "I'm not stupid Mallory. I've known that all along, but the kid's not mine. I'll pay the fucking bills, but I'll be damned if I get involved any other way."

Mallory asked, "What if Linda went after Lavaliere for child support. Would you go along?"

"Are you kidding? The fucker humiliated me once. I think that's enough. I don't want to have anything to do with that son-of-a-bitch," I said all that, but I didn't think Mallory understood.

She looked puzzled, "You've changed Jim. You never used to be like this. You're so cold. What happened to you?"

I told her, "Ask Linda."

She got up, "Come on. Let me take you back. I'll tell Linda."

We got back. I got out, but before she left Mallory said, "I'll take the baby. I'll raise it, and I'll pay all the bills. Would that help Linda's case?"

I said, "Tell her whether she carries the baby to term or not is up to her. Who raises it doesn't mean shit to me. Tell her she can go to hell for all I care."

Mallory pulled away. I went back to where granddad was working. I guessed I was glad she wasn't getting rid of it. In spite of the money, I hoped they wouldn't go after the fucking football player. It wouldn't mean shit to him, for Christ's sake he'd be kind of a hero. People would say, "He got another man's wife pregnant and stepped up to his responsibility." He'd come out clean as a whistle; everybody else would have to clean up his shit, and I'd still look like a fool.

One life ends, another begins.

Granddad and I found a builder, a man I'd gone to high school with. We worked out a plan for the house. I showed it to Linda, and told her this was what we'd be living in. I drove her out to the farm and showed her where it was to be built. I knew she didn't like it, but frankly I stopped giving a shit about what she wanted. The kids, on the other hand were ecstatic!

Over that next month or so Linda and I were engaged in a quiet cold war. Of course the problem was the two other people hovering around in every room and in every corner. No matter what happened, no matter what we did, not only the football player, but his bastard was never far away.

She didn't get it; no matter how many times she proclaimed her love, vowed her undying loyalty, or promised to keep her already broken vows I couldn't let what she did go. No matter how I felt from day to day there was that awful comparison. The comparison wasn't between him and me; I could never match that. No, the fateful comparison was between what happened to me that dreadful night, how I felt, what I'd gone through and the bliss she'd described in her letter, that I heard from Dee. To her it sounded absurd, but I just couldn't forgive her.

Meanwhile there was a life growing inside her. She needed help, and I was fucking stuck. She told me she wanted me to be there when this one as born. She wanted me to go to Lamaze classes again. I told her to get Mallory. Linda said she wanted me. I told her no way, I wasn't doing it.

The one thing she couldn't or wouldn't understand was that no matter how contrite she was, she never, not once, ever said she was sorry for she did it. She was sorry I was hurt. She was sorry I was the weakling compared to her Hercules, but she never quite came through with the one thing I needed to hear that might, just might, save some remnant of our relationship, though certainly not our marriage.

She never said, "I was wrong. I should never have done it. I know Jim. I should have walked back to our table. I should never have abandoned you." Oh she proclaimed she'd never do it again, but knowing what I knew about the percentages regarding cheating, I never believed that.

Meanwhile, the kids and I talked about ponies, raising chickens, having laying hens, hunting, fishing, boating, F.F.A., 4H, and even water skiing. Every time I brought something new up the kids were all farts and giggles, while Linda quietly bemoaned her lot. I showed em how build a box trap so we could catch rabbits come winter. I told them once we moved into our new home we'd get a puppy; it was another delight for the kids but a downer for Linda.

There was another thing about the kids. Linda was starting to show, Emma and Tommy both knew why, but they had no idea about the circumstances of the new infant. Both of them were excited about a new little brother or sister. I hated it, but I had to play along.

For parts of that summer neither Linda nor I worked. Linda used to sneak out every now and then, saying she was going out to help someone. I didn't try to keep track, but it was kind of hard not see most of her "helping visits" were to Mallory's store. I used up my ten weeks, and enjoyed every possible minute, that lasted into July. I took the kids everywhere. We did things. I never invited Linda.

One afternoon following a day fishing and wading in a local river the kids and I came home to a surprise. Linda was seated at the kitchen table in one of her business suits. It was a little tight. I smiled and asked, "Going someplace?"

Ignoring me, she looked at the children and said, "Kids go upstairs, clean up for dinner." As they sped out of the room she turned to me, "I know what you're doing."

I was mildly surprised. I said, "You do?"

"Yes," she said, "you're trying to take my children away from me."

"Now how can I do that," I replied.

She huffed and said, "Look at what you're doing Jim. You're playing Santa Claus. You're giving them anything and everything they want."

I ripped right back, "No I'm not. I'm giving them what they're entitled to."

"Look Jim," she exclaimed, "You're out there every day playing. You're acting like you have no responsibility regarding their discipline. Then when I tell them they can't do something they run to you and you change what I say."

I mirthlessly laughed, "You're a fine one to talk about responsibility."

She retaliated, "Don't bring that up again. I told you I was sorry. I'm being a good wife and a good mother. What more is there?"

I said, "You're right. There's nothing more you can say or do, because you've already done it." I looked at her growing belly.

"Jim, I've said I'm sorry," she said, "I've said it over and over. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry you can't put it past you. I'm sorry you don't have the strength to be a man about... about... what happened."

This was old familiar ground. I rejoined, "Tell me again Linda. What was it you did?"

"All right," she declared, "If I have to say it again. I took a night off for myself. I went away with another man. I left you at the restaurant so I could enjoy a night, one night, with a man who had something more to offer."

Then from the quiet of the dining room we both heard, "You were with another man?"

It was Emma's childlike voice.

Linda froze. For the first time the children heard what the problem had been for the past months.

Emma added, "You did what Jeremy Black's mom did?"

For one long pregnant moment Linda was speechless, then she said, "Mommy and daddy were having problems, and mommy found another man to talk to."

Emma answered, "That's what Jeremy's mom said, but Jeremy's dad said she did something bad and they had to be divorced. Did you do something bad? Are you and daddy going to be divorced?"

Linda said, "No sweetie, nothing like that. Nothing bad happened. I only found a friend who was a man to talk to, and your daddy got mad, and no, we're not going to have a divorce."

Emma looked at me, "You're not going to have a divorce?"

I told the two of them, "Go in the living room and watch TV."

Emma took Tommy's hand and said, "Come on Tommy. Let's go watch TV." If ever a look was an accusation, it was the look Emma shot me.

As soon as they left the room Linda turned on me, "Now look what you've done. You could've supported me."

I wasn't going to go the route Linda laid out. I said, "Emma's a smart kid. It won't take her long before she figures things out." I paused; there was one thing I'd been ruminating about for months but never got out. I thought this was the time. "Linda," I said, "I'd like to share something with you. Two things actually."

She sat on her chair, crossed her arms over her chest, in what was almost a sneer she said, "Go ahead, I'm all ears."

I thought, 'Even in defeat she looked beautiful, but pregnant women always looked beautiful; they had a special glow, a sheen.' I began what I believed could be an important conversation.

I said, "Linda listen, there are two men. One is a professional football player. His name is Marc Lavaliere. He gets paid to use his body to catch footballs, make blocks, and score touchdowns. He's a man who spends most of his spare time in weight rooms, in spas, or some other kind of body building facility so he can be bigger and stronger than anybody else. He's a man who eats a special diet of high octane foods. He takes drugs, some prescribed, and others, while not necessarily illegal, are certainly questionable and intended to enhance his physical performance. He's a man who sees himself totally in terms of his physicality, and that certainly includes his sexual prowess. He most certainly prides himself on how well he performs in the bedroom, just like he prides himself on how well he performs on the football field. When he does it with a woman, especially another man's wife, it's like scoring a touchdown."

Linda was being resistant. She looked absolutely bored. She was even looking out the window instead of me. I wondered, 'Was she being defiant or trying not to cry?'

It didn't matter, I continued. "Then there's the other man. The man who prides himself on being a father, a good husband, a responsible supervisor, a man who works long and hard using his mind and not his body. Because of this he's not a physical specimen, he's just a guy who wants to be a good father and husband. He doesn't have big biceps, he doesn't run real fast. He can't catch footballs, and he doesn't have lots of chemicals at his fingertips that can make him go longer and stay harder in bed. Something else too; he doesn't try to score with every pretty girl he sees. He doesn't see sex as a chance to make the big touchdown. No that poor slob, the second guy only wanted to have sex, or once upon a time what he might have called making love, with that one special woman he'd married. He never saw sexuality as a game he won every other night with a different woman."

She looked at me, she was almost ready to cry, "Are you through?"

"No, one more thing," I said, "Not once in all the months since you abandoned me..."

Tears were running down her cheeks. She interrupted me, "Oh that again, the big abandonment tale. Will you ever get over that? How many times do I have to tell you? It was just the one time."

I interrupted her, "Yes, you abandoned me. You left me out there, all alone, alone and in front of a table of supposed friends. You know what else Linda?

"No what," she snapped.

"In all the time you've been telling me how much you love me, how you'll always be faithful... now. That the night in February was only a one-time thing, a once in a life time great event. Not once have you said you were sorry for what you did. Sure, you're sorry I'm hurt. You're sorry I'm sad. You're sorry I'm a weakling. You're sorry I can't get past it, but you're not sorry for the three terrible things you did to me."