February Sucks: Same Old Me (1of4)

"No. There's just my mom, and she lives in Colorado now. We're not even close. We only talk a few times a year. There's Linda's folks. They're about three hours away, though."

"Would you feel comfortable putting Emma and Tommy there? The goal is for you to get face time with them, alone, right away. I guess taking them there would make it look like you weren't trying to take them away from Linda."

"Right. Oh, as a bonus, Linda would have to explain to her parents what the hell's going on. Her dad will tear her a new asshole. Too bad I won't be there to hear it."

"You don't want to keep this under wraps with the family?"

"Linda did this in front of all our friends. It's not a secret. She did it in public. Everybody's going to know anyway. And it's not like I'm the one who's done anything wrong. And HEY. She wants to treat this like it's 'no big deal,' right? 'It's just sex, it doesn't mean anything, it doesn't change anything, it's just one night,' bullshit like that. Well, if it's no big deal and it's nothing to be ashamed of, then what's the problem with everybody knowing?"

"Jesus, Jim," said Dave, "remind me never to piss you off."

"Okay, so that's the plan in the short term." Pete was staying on task. "Collect the kids and get them to their grandparents' place. Let your wife get your message from your friends, and don't talk to her until you've got the thing set up with the counselor. Do your banking and find a place to crash. I'd offer, but Dave's here now and all I've got is the couch."

"The couch is great, if it's available."

"Okay, but only for like this weekend, all right? You're going to need to find something else longer term. Next question. Do you have a lawyer?"

"There's L.W. He's a longtime family friend, on my dad's side. Mostly retired now, but he's done legal stuff for our family as long as I can remember. He still has an office and he keeps his toes in the game."

"He does family law? And by that I mean divorces."

"I guess. I don't know. He did my dad's estate planning."

"Okay, so he'll either be able to do it himself, or he'll at least advise you of your options and refer you to somebody who's good for what you need. Get with that guy as soon as possible. Tomorrow, if you can."

"I'll call him."

"Hey, have him do me, too," said Dave, "Or get me a referral. I want to get the papers together to wave in Dee's face. She thinks we're just having a little tiff. I want her to know that I'm seriously not putting up with her shit. She's a cheater in the making, if she's not already, and her helping Linda is seriously fucked up. She needs to know it."

"Of course, man."

"Guys. Listen up, both of you. If it gets that far, I'm going to tell you right away not to be pissy or vindictive about it. Do every goddamn thing you can to avoid going there. Sometimes shit gets messy, and you end up fighting over every little thing, even shit you don't care about, because you don't want each other to win. Don't do that. Seriously. Just don't fucking do that. Stop. All that does is make it take longer, be more painful, and cost a shitload more money. Keep everything as generous and civil and fair as you can. Your lawyers are just going to clean you out and make you more miserable. Your best option is to simply agree to the divorce and just work everything out yourselves. Try to be generous with each other, but even that is gonna SUCK. Just don't fight about anything if you can possibly help it. Got me?"

"Got it."

"Yeah."

"Okay. Last thing. This is the most important thing. Work on YOU. You come first. Protect yourself. Work on your well-being. That's how you're going to get through this, however it works out. You can't control what Linda does, or what Dee does, or what they say, or how they feel, or what they think. You can't make those relationships go the way you want. The one thing you can do, the only thing you can do, is focus on yourselves and see that your own needs are met for right now. Get plenty of sleep. Drink water. Take your vitamins. Take the time to do those things you say you want to do, but haven't had time for. Write that novel. Plant a garden. Do that woodworking project. Build model trains. Fucking whatever. Scuba dive. Play the banjo. Travel to see those friends you haven't seen since god knows when. This is your time. Use it. You need to feel like you're accomplishing something, like you're doing something, otherwise you'll feel like you're just wasting away. Do something you like, that you get fulfillment from, instead of just staring at the walls feeling sorry for yourself and wondering what went wrong.

"There are two things, in particular, that you absolutely need to do that are right in line with this. The first thing is to join the gym, if you haven't already, and go three times a week. Do Not Skip. Work on You by working your physical body. Don't overdo it, just do thirty or forty-five minutes at a time, but getting your body moving and releasing all those delightful endorphins is going to do wonders to alleviate the depression you're facing. Doing a little bit, REGULARLY, will be VERY effective. Doing a whole big bunch once or twice, overdoing it, and then calling it quits will only hurt you, so don't be like that. Make yourself do it, especially when you don't want to. Doing it when you don't want to is the best time to do it and you'll get the most out of it. If you can keep it up for three weeks, it becomes a habit. I know, it doesn't seem like it makes sense, but that's just how it works. Trust me.

"The other thing is to quit drinking alcohol. Not forever. Just for the next couple of weeks, or a month, until you find a new normal, a new equilibrium. Alcohol is a depressant, and it inhibits your physical and mental activity, which you NEED to have. I know that tying one on right now makes you feel like you're taking the edge off, but it's not helping. You've got to get clear, you hear me? The booze is counterproductive. Once you're on your feet and feel like you're heading in the right direction, a beer or a glass of wine here and there won't hurt. But even then, don't have more than one, don't drink more than twice a week, and for god's sake don't go getting drunk. I'm not trying to be a bummer. There's what works, and what doesn't, and drinking doesn't. You don't want Linda or Dee running around looking all hot and fucking every man they lay their hands on while you guys are both fat drunk slobs that sit in the corner crying and feeling sorry for yourselves. Fuck that. That's not how you Win. Hear me?"

"I hear you, Pete. I've never been much of a drinker, anyway."

"That sucks, bro, but yeah, I hear you."

"The goal is to thrive, gentlemen. Become the Men you want to be. This is an opportunity. I know it sounds ridiculous to hear that right now, but that's the way to look at it if you're going to get through it. All right?"

"All Right."

"Yeah."

That was better. This is better. This is what I need.

"Hey, Jim," that was Dave. "So, tell me, because I didn't hear it. What EXACTLY did Dee say to you when you went to the bar looking for Linda?"

"Okay. Let's see. First, the bartender gave me a funny look, like, sympathy, almost...pity. I'm pretty sure she knew what happened. Maybe she'd seen it before. Maybe that Asshole... it can't have been his first time doing that, can it? They knew. The staff, they knew!"

"Y'know, you're probably right. When I went up there to get out of Dee's face, she saw that I was from the same party and looked plenty worried."

"I wonder what we'd learn from them if we went back there."

"That is an excellent question," said Dave, twirling the last of his beer around. "I think a fact-finding mission is in order. Would you recognize that bartender again?"

"Sure."

"Great. That's for later. Continue."

I filled him in with as much as I remembered, while the whole scene played over and over in my head in High-Definition 3-D with Dolby Surround Sound. My heart was racing and I could feel my pulse pounding in my temples.

"Take it easy, Jim," said Pete, putting a hand on my shoulder. "You're just reliving it. It already happened, it's over."

I drew in a half dozen shallow breaths. "The worst part, guys, was that Dee was talking to me like I didn't matter at all. Like Linda had the RIGHT to hurt my dumb feelings because I would eventually get over it. Goddamn it. GODDAMN it."

I dissolved into tears. Again. "She was CERTAIN that she was right. Not just out of faith, but, as if she just KNEW that's how this kind of thing works. That I was being stupid or slow for not getting on board with their program. She was explaining it to me like I was a child. She said I didn't have to 'make a big deal of it.' She assured me that Linda would do 'whatever it takes, as long as it takes,' to make it up to me, and we'd have 'years and years of love together, so what does just one night matter?' Like she'd rehearsed it.

"That's when I asked her if the Asshole had picked her, if she'd have done the same thing. She said she would, she didn't hesitate. She didn't even blink. Fully confident. Self-assured. I asked her if you knew that, and she said 'no, and he doesn't need to know.' I said maybe I should tell you, and she said 'please don't,' then tried to distract me by flirting and wanting to dance with me. That's when I came back to the table."

"It's pretty fucking clear why she was so confident about that, Jim." Dave suddenly seemed a lot more sober. "Why did she sound rehearsed? How was it that she and Linda had a signal for this kind of thing? Why were they so supremely confident that they 'knew' how it would go? That's easy! EXPERIENCE. They've done this before. They had to have. They didn't have time to orchestrate anything. They communicated the entire thing with just their eyes, in fractions of a second. I saw it. That could only have come from practice."

"Jesus, Dave. Are you sure? I mean, I had no idea. I'd never have believed that about Linda."

"I'd believe it about Dee. I mean, I've had little twinges of doubt and suspicion here and there, but I've brushed them away, because that's what GOOD husbands do, right, Pete?"

"David. Be careful. I've learned to listen to my little voices, yes. I've learned to respect them, and I know that I'm not crazy. I can trust my own instincts. But I can't speak for yours. I don't know anything for sure, and you don't, either."

"Of course I don't 'KNOW.' But I'm not going to dismiss the idea out of blind loyalty or tell myself that 'Dee would never do that.' We know she WOULD. She's said so, full of confidence about it. Right, Jim?"

"Uh. Well, yes. Sorry, but yes."

"And we also know that there's a category of 'things that Dave does not need to know.' Now I've got to admit I'm really curious about what all else falls into that category, because it's not nothing."

"Okay, Dave. What she actually said was... hang on. 'Dave doesn't need to know because I don't think it will ever happen.' Those were her exact words."

"You mean, with THAT Asshole. Maybe it's happened before with some other Assholes."

"Maybe. I don't know. We don't know for sure."

"I'm convinced."

"We've got no proof."

"This isn't a courtroom, Jim. There's no jury or rules of evidence. The only person who needs to be convinced is me."

"Guys," said Pete. "Remember what I said about driving yourselves crazy with what might have happened? This is pointless. We know Linda's cheating, okay, and we know Dee's complicit. They seem to be really comfortable with it, sure, but we don't know if it's happened before, or how often, or which one of them cheated and which one covered for the other. Okay? And we'll probably NEVER know. You'll need to make peace with that. For now, just don't go off half cocked."

"Are you saying we should trust them?"

"No, Dave. Don't trust them. Just don't act so damn certain of yourself. That's all."

"Dee's cheating on me." He hung his head. "I just know she is. And Linda's been in on it. It's just not her turn this time."

"MAYBE. That's a hard maybe. Maybe it's even likely." Pete sat down and leaned forward, with his elbows resting on his knees. "Let me ask you a question. Let's say you confronted Dee with all this. You tell her you know for certain that she's cheated on you, and that she thinks cheating on you is no big deal and it has nothing to do with your marriage. You don't have proof, but you're convinced of it for a dozen different reasons. Okay? With me so far?"

"Yeah."

"All right. One of two things happens. She either admits it, and confesses absolutely everything. Or at least, what she TELLS you is absolutely everything. She's done this any number of times, both with Linda and on her own, and it's never been an issue, so why should it be a thing now? Now that you know, and you know that it hasn't affected the marriage so far, what's the problem? That's case number one. Or, on the other hand, she denies everything. She's enraged, full of tears, screaming about how you could possibly accuse her of such a thing, and you're a terrible husband who doesn't trust her or respect her and maybe you never even loved her at all. That's case number two. And of course, there are any number of answers in between those two extremes, one of which is what she'd actually say. The question is this: What Do You Do? Either way? What Are You Gonna Do?

"Uh. I, ah, I don't know."

"If she denies everything, are you going to believe her?"

"No. Hell no. All those tears and anger are a smokescreen."

"And if she 'confesses' everything, or what she TELLS you is everything, do you believe her then?"

"No. There'd be more to it than that. There has to be."

"So why does it even matter WHAT she'd say? You don't believe her either way! And THAT, brother of mine, is the problem. Your relationship is for shit, no matter what she says."

Dave sat back, defeated.

"I... I guess that's right."

"So. The question remains. What are you going to do?"

Dave joined me in the unforgivable sin among men of breaking down into tears. Pete and I clapped our shoulders onto his back and all three of us instantly made a silent pact that none of us would ever speak about this evening again.

"How about you, Jim? How are you doing?" Pete met my eyes while Dave tried to collect himself.

"I'm... still in shock, I guess. None of this feels real."

"That's normal. That's going to last a while. Everything will be dreamlike until you have your next confrontation with her."

"Okay."

"Jim. I'm going to tell you something that's going to be hard for you to hear. Being in shock is a normal reaction for someone who's going through this. Agh. Hang on. Let me start again. Okay. Look. No. Hang on."

Pete closed his eyes, wrinkled his brow, and rested his face in his hand. It took him a moment to gather his thoughts, then he came at it from another angle.

"Okay. Let's say there's this woman, right? Call her, I don't know, Agatha. You don't know anybody named Agatha, do you?"

"No."

"Good. Okay. Agatha loves her husband... Vinnie. Call him Vinnie. They've been married for like ten years. They've got a kid. No, wait, two kids. They're crazy in love. All she can do when he's around is just look at him like he's the king of the world. Got it?"

"Sure."

"Vinnie likes to drink once in a while. Not much, just, not any kind of a real problem, okay? Not in any way that ever bothers Agatha. She never considered it an issue. But one night, Vinnie gets blind stinking drunk, and he gets mean. Real mean. For no reason at all, he suddenly hauls off and punches Agatha right in the face. Breaks her nose, maybe some bones in her cheeks. Sends her to the hospital, she's all fucked up. Right? Concussion, scars, the works. She can't see out of one eye, detached retina or something. Maybe he kicked her when she was down and broke a few ribs, too. She doesn't remember that part, though, she was out cold."

"JESUS."

"Are you with me? This is the story, okay?"

"Fine, fine."

"So, she wakes up in the hospital, and he's right there with her. He hasn't shaved or showered, he's still hung over, and the cops are there, too. They want to get her statement. Vinnie swears up, down, sideways, to the moon and back that he didn't mean to do it, that it was an accident, that he didn't know what got into him. He didn't know what he was doing and he never meant to hurt her. He's sorry, he's so, so, so, very, very sorry. He would never hurt her on purpose, she had to know that. It was just once, and it would never, ever, ever happen again. He'll quit drinking and everything, he promises. She can trust him. That's his story. Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"So... what does she tell the cops? Does she press charges, or does she let Vinnie take her home?"

"Shit, that's easy. Fuck that guy. Press charges."

"How come?"

"Are you kidding? He could have killed her. That's domestic abuse."

"Yeah, it is. It's abuse. But she loves him."

"Tough titty, she can't trust him. It could happen again at any time. She's in love with an abuser, and she's gonna have to get over it. He's not safe."

"Think of the kids, Jim, Agatha doesn't want to be responsible for breaking up their happy little home."

"I am thinking of the kids. What if he hurts them? And it wasn't a happy home if that kind of thing was there the whole time, waiting to happen. It's not her fault for breaking it up. The guy's no good. End of story."

"She loves him, though."

"You can be in love with somebody who's no good for you. It happens all the time. She's gotta get rid of him."

Pete sat back. He wasn't crying, but there were tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

"That's the smartest thing anybody's said all night. 'You can be in love with somebody who's no good for you.' I know I was. Syvia was no good, that's for damn sure. And Linda, well. Look at what she had in her."

"I know, I know."

"I don't think it's sunk in all the way. This is the hard part. Jim. YOU'RE Agatha. You're in shock because you're a Survivor of Abuse."

For the second time tonight, the world inverted itself and everything hung, motionless and weightless and flat, waiting for reality to come back, like a slowed-down video of a stone falling into calm water and making a lovely, surreal splash that stands for a timeless moment before crashing back down into chaos. Pete's words were sounds that I couldn't quite make out the sense of, not like language... no, not like... woah. Pete was suddenly a smear of color, his face became indistinct and his body blurred away to nothing. Dave was a faceless presence I could feel but not see.

I blinked and realized my vision had been obscured by tears of my own, now flowing freely down both of my cheeks.

"That's... not the same. That's not the same at all."

"Like hell it isn't."

"I mean... hitting a woman is not like what Linda did to me."

"She punched you in the heart, not the face. She showed you part of herself that you didn't suspect was there, and she did enormous damage to you, and to your family, just because she fucking felt like it. She'll say she didn't mean to hurt you, but she did it anyway. She'll claim not to know what she was doing, but she did, and she's responsible for it. She'll say she's sorry and sorry and sorry, but sorry doesn't fix it. You'll spend the rest of your life worrying if that kind of thing is ever going to happen again if you stay.

"It's not physical abuse, Jim, no. It's psychological abuse. It's emotional abuse. She's abusing your trust. She's abusing your feelings for her, turning them against you. She's abusing the strength of your relationship in order to force you to accept what you should never, ever, EVER have to accept. She's treated you with complete disregard and she expects you to take the hit. 'Sure, you got hurt, but hey, you'll get over it, right?' No. No, she doesn't get to do that. She does NOT get to hurt you, burden you with your own recovery, and say it's all fine. She's an abuser and a manipulator, sure as you're sitting here."