February Sucks: Same Old Me (1of4)

I was looking across the living room of our little starter home, unfocused, not really seeing it. My eyes fell on a tiny crystal vase on the mantle, one Linda had always loved. Without thinking, I picked it up and flung it into the fireplace, shattering it into a zillion pieces. Like our marriage.

What would she think when she saw this? That I got mad. That I was drunk and I puked, which would be very uncharacteristic of me. Very destructive. Maybe she'd feel guilty for driving me to that... and I remembered Linda's high school boyfriend who killed himself with booze and pills on Valentine's Day two years ago.

Goddamn it, people die from this kind of thing. She knows that. She took Don's suicide really hard. She knows what my Mom did when my Dad was sick, and what effect it had on him. We had talked about cheating, and we were both horrified by it. Didn't any of that occur to her? Didn't she have one single clue about what this would do to me?

Linda would eventually come back to this house, and when she did, she'd find me gone. I wouldn't leave a note. Fuck that. I'd leave her hanging, the way she left me. I didn't get any fucking note. All I got was Dee's bullshit. Goddamnit. Goddamnit. Goddamnit.

I looked at the huge puddle of vomit on the floor. I took my wedding ring off and tossed it into the middle of the barf. "There's your fucking note, Linda," I said to myself.

I got changed into comfortable clothes and packed as much of my shit as I could into my car. Linda would find my missing clothes and things as part of the rest of her note. I turned my phone off. I started driving, with no idea where I was headed.

***

When I was younger, driving was my quiet time- my 'me' time. I got a lot of thinking done like that. Not GOOD thinking, I admit, I mostly just let my mind wander. But, there was a lot of it. That was a fine thing, and I missed it. I hadn't had any real time to myself in years, what with working full time, being married, and raising two young children. After a few minutes, I realized I had a LOT of catching up with myself to do. If I was going to be divorced, I'd likely have the time to do it.

One thing I remembered about this was that I wasn't just 'thinking,' but there was another layer on top of it. I would watch what I was thinking about, like an observer, and that part of me would think about what I was thinking about, and I would wonder how I could think about it better. Well, most of what was going on in my head was still some variation of "HOW COULD SHE?!? HOW COULD SHE!?!?" and "THAT BITCH THAT BITCH THAT BITCH" and "WHAT THE FUCK?!?! WHAT THE FUCK!?!" all stuck on a hellish spin cycle that would not fucking stop. The part of me that observed me doing that to myself was not impressed, and it wanted to slap the rest of me to try and snap out of it. But I couldn't. It was too strong. So the observer part decided to check out and go in a different direction while the rest of my mind spiraled helplessly out of control, taking my heart and my very soul with it.

I realized I needed a plan, but I didn't have one and I didn't know how to make one. I was still too upset to come up with anything workable. Still in panic mode. Still reacting, not ready to take any initiative. I was on the ropes. I needed time, and room to maneuver. Okay. Driving was good. Good first step. Back off. Gather yourself together, Jim. Think before you act. Get some perspective, like Andy said.

The maelstrom of "HOW COULD YOU YOU FUCKING BITCH WHAT THE FUCK" was still raging full-force in my head, but I could at least get one nostril out of the water. Perspective. Time. Retreat. Regroup.

Regroup. Good. I need a group. I need allies. I need people to talk to, people on my side. The gang I left at Morrison's are no good. Wait. No. Andy might be good. Rose, I don't know. Dave is righteously pissed off at Dee, so he might be okay. Phil is mad at me, but Jane seemed ashamed of herself, so maybe I've got an in with her. Gus and Helen are going to tell me to stay together for the kids, and I'd probably listen to them, so fuck that. Who else? FUCK. Being 'couples-friends' is damned inconvenient when you're in a couple that's breaking up. I need Bros, guys who've got my back. There's L.W., of course, but he's going to be just as committed to Linda and to our marriage as he is to me. There's my Mom, but things between us have been strained ever since Dad died and she married the guy she'd been cheating on him with. He unsurprisingly cheated on her, too, and now she's on her third husband, who I hardly know at all.

One thing you're going to need to do, Jim, I told myself, is make some new friends.

I really should listen to myself sometimes. That's good advice.

Another thing you're going to need to do, Jim, I continued, is figure out where the fuck you're going and where you're going to spend the night. Not at the house. You checked out of the hotel. You could sleep at the office, you've got the keys and passcode. No, don't do that. That's not only lame, it's predictable. We want to keep 'em guessing for now. You could sleep in the car somewhere and shower at a truck stop or something. Okay. That's an option. One option. Options are good.

One problem I've got, I told myself, is that I'm pinned down. I've got the kids. I've got the house. I've got my job, which we need. Shit, there's that 'we,' like I'm still married, which I am, FUCK. And Sure As Shit, Linda is going to use ALL of that against me. She's going to leverage all of it, the kids, the house, everything we've built together, all the love I've got for Emma and Tommy, every mortgage payment, every birthday, anniversary, and sick day, hell, every MOMENT we've spent together, she's going to use it all against me to FORCE me to fucking take it. She's going to try to make me forgive her. She's made it so I pretty much HAVE to, I'll have no choice but to suck it up and smile while she FUCKS FOOTBALL PLAYERS or whoever the FUCK else she wants to WHENEVER she fucking feels like it and she's like 'Fuck you Jim and Fuck Whatever You Feel.'

Okay, still mad. Still mad as hell. But that will fade, some. The edge will come off with some time and perspective, which I need... and then the bitch will use THAT against me, too.

Okay, new resolution. This is NOT going to go how Linda wants it to. She is NOT going to like what happens next.

What's going to happen?

Well, what does she expect will happen? It won't be that.

If I was a cheating, backstabbing slut, what would I expect me to do?

Shit, no idea. I have no fucking idea. She probably doesn't, either, she's not thinking of anything right now except Marc Fucking LaValliere's amazing cock. FUCK.

Focus, Jim.

Okay. Dee said Linda's planning on showing up at home 'tomorrow,' whenever the fuck that'll be. Probably not first thing in the morning- Asshole's going to fuck her again twice before breakfast, anyway. Then breakfast. Then maybe she'll come home. Or maybe he'll keep her and fuck her till lunch, then lunch. FUCK. I have no idea. Maybe she won't be home tomorrow at all. Maybe she's gone for the weekend. Maybe she's gone for good. What do I know? Her word is no fucking good to me. Hearing it secondhand through Dee's cheating fuck mouth is worth even less.

Her plan, as far as I know, is to find me sulking at home with my thumb up my butt. She'll make nice to me because my widdle feewings got alllll hurt, and then everything will be just like it was between us before this all happened. OR, maybe she'll expect me to be mad, and then she'll be all weepy and apologetic and 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you, no matter what it takes, as long as it takes, I love you and I'm sorry, we can make it through this.' Either way, she gets away with it. She wins. She gets to fuck whoever else she wants and I have to get over my shit and accept it. God, I can just SEE it. God Damn You Linda, you CUNT. YOU FUCKING FUCKING CUNT.

If that's her plan, she's out of her fucking mind.

First order of business- she won't find me at home. 'She'll come home to you'? Fuck you, Dee. Fuck you, Linda. God damn the both of you. Damn you to Hell. She'll find vomit and a discarded wedding ring, and all my shit gone from my drawers and closet, but she won't find me. Where will I be? Fuck if I know, but not there.

Where would she look? The office. Local motels. She'll call Dee and Dave and everybody who was there. She'll check with the Porter's and with Phil and Jane, to see if I got the kids. I'm not getting the kids. I can't let Emma and Tommy see me like this. I can't hide it from them. They're smart. They're sensitive. They're too young to really understand what's going on, but they'll know something's wrong. They'll see right through me and I'll say something I shouldn't about their mother. They will have to fucking wait and Linda will have to fucking deal with them and she can make up whatever fucking LIES she's going to tell them about where Daddy is and why he's not home. She'll probably tell them I'm sick, which is at least partially true.

What else will she do? She might call my Mom. She knows we're not close, and she knows why, but I don't have many other places to go. Linda would probably try to fish something out of her about what I might do without letting her know what's going on. Shit. Fuck. I've got hours yet to figure that out, though.

She will eventually corner me at work. I might be able to vanish over the weekend, sure. But she'll get to me on Monday, one way or the other. Then it'll be 'We have to talk, why won't you talk to me, Jim? You're my husband, I love you, we have to work through this' and that means she expects me to just fucking ACCEPT it. She's thinking that sure, I'll be mad, for now, but in the long run we'll be okay because we have to be. That's what she'll be going for.

Fuck that noise.

God, that's almost the worst part. The idea that my forgiveness is inevitable. She GETS to do this, it doesn't matter what I think. Whatever consequences there are will be temporary. My feelings are irrelevant. However I feel about her abandoning me on the night we'd planned to reconnect with each other, running off to go fuck someone else in front of all our friends WHILE THEY HELPED and HELD ME BACK and MOCKED ME... all that is just a little hiccup in our marriage. A speed bump. A little oopsie-doodle. 'Of course I'll still be there for her,' that's what she thinks. 'It can go right back to how it was,' she's certain of it. She's CERTAIN. God, she's walking all over me. She's completely taking me for granted.

I will show her that she has never been more PROFOUNDLY wrong about anything.

Okay. So, I vanish for the weekend, and then she'll ambush me at work and cause a scene. Nope. Not gonna happen the way you want, Linda.

How do I want it to happen?

I don't know.

I need people. I need perspective. Who do I know that's been through this kind of thing? Half of all marriages end in divorce these days, right? I must know somebody. But I'm coming up short. My whole world has been Linda, my kids, and my job. Nothing else. Our little circle of friends are all coupled up, and outside of that, I've been isolated. Maybe I could find some kind of emergency support group online. There's got to be an app for that, right?

Okay, so if I could have things go however I wanted, what would it be?

I'd want to have sprouted Wolverine claws and ripped that Asshole to pieces for dancing with my wife. I'd want to go back in time and throw him in a tree chipper and turn him into a chunky red mist before he even made it to the club. I'd want to reach down his throat, grab his balls from the inside, and turn his entire body inside out and leave him a twitching, screaming, Cronenberg nightmare mess. But, unrealistic violent revenge fantasies aside, what could I really do?

Linda doesn't get to confront me. She doesn't pick the time or place. I do. She doesn't get to set the pace or the tone. I do. She doesn't get me alone so she can contain the situation, try to sweep it under the rug, or try to get me 'under control.' She doesn't get to say 'it was just one night,' or pretend that I'm the one being unreasonable. She doesn't get to make it MY fault for fucking up the marriage or breaking up the family. She doesn't get to have backup. She doesn't get Dee, or anybody else, trying to 'talk sense' into me, or get me to get on board with her program. She doesn't get to take the initiative. I do.

At the same time, I'm not going to be the asshole. I'm not going to ambush her with my crew, whoever that ends up being. I'm not going to let anybody think I'm just throwing a hissy fit. I'm not getting bent out of shape for no reason, and I'm not just taking out my hurt feelings on her. It's NOT my job to simply get over my shit and suck it up. Linda needs to know this is serious, this is a Big Fucking Deal, and everyone else needs to see that, too.

Okay, so if I don't let her get me alone, or with her backup, or with mine... then what? Like some neutral third party? That's not a bad idea. I mean, she IS the asshole here. She's being unreasonable. If it's a truly neutral judge, like, a mediator or something, they won't take her side, but she can't claim that she's being ambushed or ganged up on, either.

Okay. That's the plan for now. Get out in front of this. Stay unreachable. Get a message to her that I'm gone, incommunicado, until we meet in front of... well, whoever it is I can arrange to do this thing. Find some place to be until then, and don't let Linda corner me. Get my thoughts together and get myself under control. That's what I've got to do. If Linda freaks out or has some kind of a meltdown in the meantime, well, GOOD. She deserves one.

Okay.

Okay.

Okay.

Linda, you bitch. You fucking, fucking bitch.

All right. I know what to do.

Where the hell am I? I've been driving for how long, exactly?

I pulled over into a rest area and turned my phone back on. It hadn't blown up, not exactly. Nothing from Linda. A message from Dee telling me that I'm the world's biggest asshole and where the hell is Dave? Huh. Interesting. Gus and Helen just wanted to make sure I was all right and not doing anything 'rash.' Andy and Rosie let me know that the party broke up immediately. They got together with Gus and Helen for pie and coffee in the diner across the street after the festive mood was broken. They wanted to tell me that I should call them if I needed anything.

Okay.

"Hello! Jim! Are you okay?" Andy had answered on the first ring.

"No. Not by a long shot. I'm pretty fucking far from okay. But I'm safe, if that's what you're asking."

"Good. Good. Well."

"You don't know what to say to me, do you?"

"Not really, no. Rosie and I are upstairs in our room at the Madison. Gus and Helen decided to just go home. The four of us had a conversation about what happened after everybody left, and listen, man, we all owe you a huge apology. That whole thing was completely shitty, and we just want to know if you're going to be alright."

"No, I'm not. Look, you asked me to call if I needed anything. Well, I need something."

"Anything, buddy."

"Whenever Linda's done getting her cheating, slutty cunt stretched open by Marc Fucking LaValliere's enormous goddamned penis, she'll come looking for me, I guess. OR NOT. Maybe the Asshole will keep her for a while, who the hell knows? But I'm guessing sooner or later, Linda will want to reach me, or at least try to figure out where I am. I'm gone, that's where I am."

"Where are you?"

"I'm in the breeze. I'm not coming home, and I'm not talking to her."

"Are you sure that's wise?"

"I'm not sure of anything right now, but that's what I'm doing. I need time, and space, and I need to get my head together. Understand?"

"Sure, sure."

"So if and when Linda starts looking for me, I want you to deliver a message. Get a pencil. Write this down."

"Okay. Hang on. Okay. Go ahead."

"First, tell her 'Fuck You.' Got that?"

"Jim, buddy..."

"Sssh. Tell her 'Fuck You.' Next, tell her that if she thinks she's going to get me alone so we can 'just talk,' she's crazy and I'm not going to do that. I'm not going to let her try to manipulate me into accepting what she's done. She's going to cry, and apologize, and try to use Emma and Tommy against me, and say it meant nothing, and she'll swear she's going to make it up to me, and I'm not having ANY of it. Got that?"

"Hang on." He wrote furiously for a minute. I could almost see his mouth moving as he did it. "Okay. Not going to get you alone. Not going to let you try to manipulate. Cry, apologize, use the kids, make it up to you, not having it. Right?"

"And swear it meant nothing."

"Nothing. Okay, got it."

"Third, tell her that I'm going to set up something where she and I will meet in front of a neutral third party. I'll do it as soon as I can, but it'll probably take a few days, and we can have our little talk then. Not before. I don't want to hear from her about anything until we're on a level playing field and I've had a chance to collect myself."

"Neutral third party, no talking till then, chance to collect yourself."

"Good. Also tell her that I've got some decisions to make, and she should be prepared not to like what I decide any better than I like what she's decided."

"Shit. Jim, are you sure that's a good thing to say?"

"That's the best thing to say. It's the truth. Write that down verbatim. I've got decisions to make, she's not going to like them any better than I like what she's done."

"Okay, okay, okay. Got it. Anything else?"

"Just this: Don't lie to the kids. Tell them the truth, as best they can understand it. They're going to learn about it anyway, and lying is wrong. We've tried to teach them that, now we're going to have to live up to it."

"Jesus, Jim."

"Just tell her. That's it. Whenever she makes the rounds trying to track me down, that's what I want her to know. Got it?"

"Yeah, don't lie to the kids. Done."

"Okay, read that back to me."

He did, from his scribbled notes. He sounded okay.

"Andy, that's fine. Just don't leave off the 'Fuck You' at the beginning. That's all I've got. I'll let her know when I've set up a meeting."

"Anything else you need?"

"I don't know. I'll let you know. I guess you could pass that on to Gus and Helen, or Phil and Jane, if Linda checks in with them, too."

"What about Dee? Aren't they best buds?"

"Fuck Dee."

"Got it."

"Give my love to Rosie."

"Do you want to talk to her? She's right here. She's your friend, too."

"No. I don't have a very high opinion of women right now. Maybe later."

"Understandable."

"Good night, Andy."

"Good night, Jim."

I stopped to consider my next steps. I needed allies. If Dave wasn't talking to Dee, maybe I should team up with him. We were in kind of the same boat. Linda was cheating, Dee was sharing the delusion that it was fine, and that her own husband deserved no better. I called him.

"What?"

"Hey. Where are you?"

"I'm at Pete's."

"Your brother Pete?"

"Yeah. I'm at his condo. He moved in when the house was sold after his divorce. I needed to bend his ear since Dee thinks stepping out on a marriage is a fine and dandy thing to do."

"That's far smarter than what I've been doing."

"What's that?"

"Driving around aimlessly trying to get my head together."

"Come over here. We'll cry about our bitches into some beer, okay? I'll text you the address."

"I'm on my way."

I'd never met Dave's brother. Dave had only mentioned him in passing, and I'd forgotten that he was divorced. It hadn't come up all that often because the subject was kind of a bummer. Pete's information dinged through on my phone, I added him to my contacts and plugged his address into the map. He wasn't close, but wasn't all that far. I headed over.