February Sucks: Same Old Me (2of4)

We were mostly finished by that point, and Lynn came around again.

"How's everybody doing?"

"Still shitty. But I think we're mostly done. Lynn, can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"What the hell am I supposed to do now? Everyone's been telling me I'm making too big a deal of it, that almost any woman would have done the same thing she did. Is that even true? How can I be sure of anything?"

"I don't think there are any good choices for you. I sure can't see one, anyway. I think you're a good guy, though, and if there is such a thing as doing what's right, I think you'll find it." She put her hand on my shoulder. "Linda's behavior is explainable, but that doesn't mean it's acceptable. It sure doesn't mean that YOU have to accept it. I mean, you can understand how someone who's lived a hard, desperate life might become a criminal, right? That doesn't make it okay to commit crimes. You can understand how someone who grew up being abused might eventually abuse their own kids, but that's not an excuse, is it? Linda has her reasons for doing what she did, and maybe she's owed some compassion. But she stepped out on her own. That's on her. It's not your job to forgive her and try to rebuild the marriage if you don't feel the same way about her after this."

"That's what I keep telling everybody." I downed the last of my drink. "That's what I keep telling myself." I remembered that Andy had said lunch would be on them, but I decided I'd insist on covering the tip, and that tip would be a hundred percent of the check.

***

I said I'd call mom, and I did. Keeping Promises. Integrity. Telling the truth. Doing it right.

"Jim!"

"Mom."

"Thank heaven. Two days in a row. This is the most we've talked in years."

"Well. It would be nice if it was under better circumstances."

"True true true. But something had to break the dam, didn't it? I spoke with Rich and Janice yesterday afternoon."

"You did?"

"Of course I did. You told me you told them. The elders need to stay on the same page, don't you think?"

"Linda should be getting the kids from them now. She might still be there."

"Good. Janice has a plan to try to snap that stupid girl's head back to where it belongs."

"Funny you said 'girl.' I was just talking with some friends, and they seem to be of the opinion that Linda behaves like a fifteen year old."

"That's about right. Sixteen at best."

"You knew? I mean, that's what you've thought all along?"

"Of course. I thought it was a little odd that you chose each other. You're about forty, in your heart and your mind, and you've been that way since you were twelve years old. The two of you have basically had a May-December romance even though you're the same age."

"Why did nobody ever tell me this?"

"I thought you knew."

"No."

"Well. I suppose you've spent a lot of time lately analyzing your relationship and trying to look at things from new perspectives. I think maybe this is an appropriate one to explore."

"I think so. Hey, mom. I've got a question."

"Go ahead."

"You know how I'm trying to keep my distance from Linda for the time being. I don't want to get into this with her while my head's still spinning. She'll try to take me in this vulnerable state and moosh me into compliance with her deranged fantasy that everything's the same and everything's going to be okay, and I don't want to get sucked into that."

"Yes, and I think that's wise."

"I'm wondering if I'm doing it to be cruel. Maybe I'm trying to punish her."

"So what if you are? She could use some punishment. You've let her live like an entitled brat for long enough. If she's determined to walk all over you, you're not obliged to be there for it."

"It doesn't make me a bad husband?"

"Jim. My son. Are you seriously worried that you're the bad guy here? I know a lot of victims try to blame themselves, but this is absurd."

"Okay. Thank you. It feels good to hear that."

"You're not the bad guy, Jim. As long as you don't beat her up, or anything like that, I think you should be allowed to make your displeasure known."

"So if I needed to take more time away from home here and there, that would be okay? I mean, would it be appropriate?"

"I think it would be healthy."

"You wanted me to come visit you."

"You would do that?"

"I was thinking. Not Linda, not the kids... well, okay, maybe with the kids, maybe not, but yes, definitely. Time away from her might as well be time spent with you."

"Jim, I would love that and I would welcome it. Any time at all, for as long as you like. We've got plenty of room and a lot of catching up to do."

"Okay. Good. I'll let you know. I've got to get my schedule squared away at work tomorrow, but as soon as I can, okay?"

"If you got on a plane and showed up here tonight, it wouldn't be soon enough. I love you, Jim."

"I love you too, Mom. I'll call you by lunch tomorrow."

***

The rest of Sunday I spent at my laptop, reading all kinds of random articles and rants about cheating spouses, and writing down my own thoughts about 'Gaslighting' and something called 'Affair Fog.' I started composing about a dozen letters to Linda, and ended up writing way, way too much every time and repeating myself. It's okay, it was a process. I also started drafting a letter to Dr. Manette in advance of our session, to give her a heads up about why we were there and maybe save some time getting her up to speed on the situation. One more night on Pete's couch with Frankie curled up contentedly on my chest and then I'd face the most disruptive Monday I'd had in years.

***

I arrived stupid early in the morning, right as security was opening the building. I'd parked way back by the fence, far from where I usually put the car, and I put the car cover on, too. I was sure she'd come looking for me today, but there was no way she'd beat me there- not with having to wrangle the munchkins.

I'd sent an email requesting an emergency meeting with my manager, team lead, and HR. We all got together in the conference room at nine thirty, and I laid out the whole sorry situation. I requested time off in the coming days to deal with the crisis in my marriage, and I volunteered for travel assignments for the first time in my career with this company.

"Wait, hang on. Jim 'I've got two young kids' Johnson WANTS to travel now? That changes everything," said Larry, my immediate supervisor and closest co-worker. "Do you think you could do Monday through Friday in Atlanta next week?"

"Sure. Don't see why not."

"You'd be saving my ass, and you'd be a big damn hero for the department and the company. Ever been there?"

"No."

"You'll love it. The weather is great this time of year. You'll get out of all this snow and ice. If you want, we can even arrange the tickets to send you down early and you can have the weekend to play tourist."

"That would be great. The earliest I could go would be Thursday afternoon, though. Or anytime Friday. The sixth or the seventh."

"Done. We'll find you the flights. You can leave your car parked here to avoid the airport parking fees. Nine days would be almost two hundred bucks, I think. Our lot is secure, you've got your key pass, and just take an uber from the front gate. Hell, I'll drive you myself, depending on when you want to go."

"If I need to be back here on Monday the week after next, I'd like to stay through that weekend, too. Keep me out of town as long as you can."

"St. Patty's Day weekend. That Monday is the seventeenth. That's fine. You'll party in Atlanta and drink green beer, fly back on Sunday the sixteenth. Right?"

"Sounds perfect."

"Done. I'll book an extended stay hotel for you."

"How about time away from work?" I asked Kristin, the HR lady. "Is there something like FMLA that can apply? Or do I need to use sick days? Personal days or vacation days?"

"If it's just time away from the office," she said, "We're seeing a lot more people working from home since COVID. As long as you can do Zoom meetings, and stay on top of your phone and email, well, time off property can be at the discretion of your manager. You shouldn't need to dip into sick days or personal days very much at all."

"That's the thing, though. I can't actually be home. I'm trying to stay away from Linda."

Larry looked at Carl. "The suites?"

He nodded. "I'll authorize it. If Jim's willing to be our go-to travel guy, we can put him up there as needed. Until he figures out a more permanent solution." He turned to me. "Don't stay there too long. A month or two would be okay, try not to make it three."

I was stunned. "The suites" were four condominium units that the company owned in a complex about a half a mile from the building. They used them for traveling bigwigs, consultants, troubleshooters, auditors, that kind of thing. If I rated the use of one of those, I must have been better thought of around here than I knew.

Larry grinned. "Done. Jim, take the rest of the day off. You just earned it, and you probably need it. Hell, start working remotely, effective tomorrow. Check into the suites at the main desk, say, after lunchtime. I'll have Judy send you the files you'll need for Atlanta, and your travel itinerary and reservation numbers."

"I was thinking of taking a few days to see my mom. If I'm working remotely, maybe I can do that this week. Let me try to arrange that before I get into the suites."

"Anything you need, Jim. We're here for you. Thanks for stepping up and helping us out."

The meeting broke up and I marveled at my good fortune. I went to the payroll office and arranged my direct deposits to my new bank accounts, and then headed to my bank to do the transfers I talked about with Pete. I moved half of our savings and a third of the checking into my new accounts, then I automated a transfer from my checking back to the joint account so we could cover the mortgage and the bills.

Before lunch, I was on the phone with mom. At four p.m, I was on a flight to Denver, pointedly ignoring the flurry of new messages from Linda about the money.

***

Even on the flight to Colorado, I began to feel better. Extracting myself from that situation was probably the smartest thing I could have done. My brain was still taunting me with intrusive thoughts of inadequacy, disorientation, and pure fucking rage, Sure. But my talent for dissociating and analyzing was kicking in and I began to realize how thoroughly Linda was integrated into every aspect of my life, and that the pain she was causing radiated out into all the rest of it. Emma. Tommy. They were my world, and she was the sun we orbit. I was closer to Nana and Pepop than I'd been to my own mom. All my friends were 'our' friends, and she'd been the one to pick them. She'd surrounded herself with enablers, like a true narcissist. Up until Friday, I'd BEEN one of them. The only regular part of my life that didn't center around Linda was my career. I thought I had it compartmentalized, but given how accommodating they'd been, maybe I had been holding myself back from it. I liked my job, and I was good at it. Maybe if I engaged with it more, it would be good for me. And if it was good for me, ultimately, it might be good for Emma and Tommy, even if indirectly.

It was only when I was starting to get clear of Linda's clutches that I could see just how deep the fucked-upedness ran. I'd been drowning in it, to the point where I didn't know how to find anything NOT fucked-up in the world.

The Denver airport, however, was not a beachhead on the shores of sanity. I'd never been there before, but Mom and Bob insisted on giving me a tour. Man, I had no idea how weird that place is. They showed me the wacky murals that looked inspired by religions that don't exist, the peculiar runic inlays in the floor, the gargoyles, and of course the enormous blue sculpture of a demonically possessed horse that had killed the artist who created it. Bob informed me about the popular belief that the baggage retrieval system was run by subterranean lizard people, but I didn't see any of them. He assured me that was because they are nocturnal.

After what was probably the best steak dinner of my life, they took me to their house. Mom wasn't kidding when she said they had room. It was a sprawling ranch house with multiple wings, even though it was just the two of them. They hadn't had many guests. Bob's sister and her kids had been there several times, but that's about it. I had my own guest room with an ensuite bath, and there were two more across the hall with another jack-and-jill bathroom between them.

Bob put a bourbon in my hand and asked me to sit with him for a minute on the porch while he smoked a cigar. Just one per month, he said, on special occasions. He'd been friendly, but distant, and I realized I hadn't even properly shaken his hand yet.

"We haven't gotten to know each other very well, Jim," he began, "and I don't know for sure that we will. I'd like to, if you want, but I'm not gonna push. You've got your reasons for the way things are, I'm sure they're good ones, and they're none of my business. I just wanted to tell you, one man to another, the door's open."

"That's generous of you, Bob," I said "but maybe those reasons aren't as good as you might think. I've been doing a lot of processing lately, and I've got more of it to do. One thing I've realized is that I've cocooned up with my wife, who's turned out to be a not very nice person, and that's gotten in the way of my relationship with my mom. That's not good, and that's on me."

"Well. I would never have said that."

"Polite of you. But you don't know Linda. Looks like I never did, either."

He shrugged. "Carol's told me what you told her. That's all I know about it. I'm sorry, Jim, it's messed up and I'm sure it's very painful for you."

"It's not just messed up. It's fucked up. And it's more than painful. It's devastating."

He looked like he was about to say the thing that I really wanted him not to say, so I stopped him.

"Bob. I'd like to be on good terms with you. You're family, now, even though I've never treated you as such, and that's my fault, and I'm sorry. But I swear to God, if one more fucking person tells me that I need to get over my hurt feelings or my stupid male ego and try to repair the marriage for the sake of my wife and my kids, I will bitch slap them so hard that they'll spin around fast enough to drill a hole in the ground where they stand."

Bob relaxed, and laughed out loud at that.

"Good for you. I wasn't going to suggest any such thing. I was about to ask how long you thought the divorce might take."

"Seriously?"

"If she's no good, Jim, get rid of her. My sister, Meghan? Her husband's not in the picture anymore, for good reason. He was a jerk, in almost every way a man can be a jerk to his wife. He never hit her, at least, not as far as I know, but he lied to her and manipulated her six ways to Sunday for the better part of ten years. He'd lose his job and not tell her. He'd move money around and go into debt with shady characters. He forged her name on documents. He drank too much and was into some drugs, too. And yes, he cheated on her like it was going out of style. She was one hundred percent right to get rid of him. She should have done it sooner than she did, kids or no kids."

"There's some real winners out there, aren't there?"

"You know it. There's some actual good people, too. You'll find another. If you want to."

"Somehow, I don't see that happening."

"That's because you're a good person, Jim. They say that when a marriage ends, people either tend to get married again right away, or else it takes them several years. The ones who jump straight from one marriage into another, well, they're doing it because they're needy or insecure, or they had the replacements all lined up before their divorce. The ones who take a while are trying to heal themselves first, and I think that shows integrity."

"Mom used that word on the phone with me the other day."

"Integrity is kind of a big deal for us. We've each decided that's the way we need to live our lives. It's part of how we work."

"Yeah. I can see how that would be a good thing. My own marriage doesn't seem to have much of that. Not from my wife, anyway."

"How about from you?"

"Oh, my integrity has been perfect. I never wavered. Not once."

"Integrity is never perfect, Jim. It's a sisyphean task. All we can do is try. I promise you, there are places where your integrity has been off. I don't know what they are, but they've got to be there. You just told me that you'd 'cocooned' with Linda, and it got in the way of your relationship with Carol. Probably with others as well. That's not good integrity. You'd cut yourself off from important connections. You also just told me that you feel like you 'never knew Linda' at all, and that she turned out not to be a good person. That means you weren't seeing her as she really is. Maybe it was because you'd idolized her too much. Putting a woman up too high on a pedestal isn't healthy. It's not your job as a husband to worship her like a goddess no matter what. You're her partner. That means keeping things real and being honest."

I was suddenly dizzy and leaned hard against the rail of the porch, trying not to faint or fall over.

"Jim! Are you okay?"

"Shit. Gimme a minute." I squeezed my eyes shut and my brain had dropped its gears from a comfortable idle and gone straight into redline. "Ah. Ah. Oh god. I did that. I totally did that. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit."

Bob just stood there and watched me convulse, patiently waiting for me to come to grips with myself.

After a few torturous minutes of that, I still couldn't look at him. "You don't even know me. How could you know that?"

"Experience." I finally looked at the man. A weary expression hung on him. "My first marriage. We were too young. I was too stupid. So was she. We were too caught up in the romance. I married the idea of what she was, what she represented. We weren't right for each other at all. We fought all the time about stupid things that didn't matter. We thought differently about the most basic, fundamental stuff. We didn't share the same picture of the world. Aside from the sex, the beauty of youth, the age-old role we were fulfilling, and the hopeful but not specific dreams we had about our 'perfect' future, well, we were never on the same page about anything. She cheated. So did I. We lost patience with each other and said we'd meet again in hell. The divorce was quick. No kids, no property, no money, no problem. It left me with a nasty scar, but not a lot else. Now, I look back at that, and wonder what the hell I was thinking."

I nodded. I'd taken my relationship with Linda a lot farther than that, but yeah, I'd definitely blinded myself to what she was like.

"I thought you were a widower."

"I am. Betty was my second wife. I was with her for nineteen years before I lost her to metastatic breast cancer. I still miss her. Every day. They say time makes it easier. It doesn't, not really. You just get used to living with the loss. The pain of it becomes normal."

I thought of Dad.

"I guess it's that way with a lot of things, isn't it?" I offered.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Kids?"

"Two. My daughter, Melanie, and my son, Michael. We. Well. I wasn't much good to them when Betty passed. They were teenagers. I was a mess, and I didn't do a good job as their father. They needed me, God, they needed me more than ever, and I just wasn't there for them. I'm sorry to say we're not all that close, now."

"They have kids?"

"Yes. Melanie has twin boys, Ricky and Ray. They're six. Michael has a new daughter, Dawn. She's just three."

"This house. All this room. That's what it's supposed to be for, isn't it?"

He nodded. "I was hoping. But it's not happening."