"For Better or Worse!"

'What bullshit,' I thought, but I kept quiet. She seemed to draw strength from my silence.

Harry you're a wonderful man. You're strong, you're upright. You handle things. You work hard. You're always on the go. You build things. You do things around the house. But it's always just things; it's never about me."

I interrupted, "Yeah I know. I'm not warm and kind. I'm gruff, and I do bad things. I admit it. I'm guilty. I leave the toothpaste cap off. I leave skid marks when I shit. I leave the toilet seat up. I don't fold my towels. I leave cupboard doors open. I leave the drawer to the silverware open and spill jelly in it when I make a sandwich. I don't listen. I track mud in the house. I..."

She interrupted me, "No it's not like that. It's that, well he paid attention to me. He paid me compliments. He helped me with my coat after church. He made feel...special, important. You weren't even there."

This was too much, "So you thought you'd open your blouse so he could feel you up. Maybe you'd drop to your knees and give him a blow job, or spread your legs as a thank you for him helping you with your coat."

"No,' she said, "you're making this sound dirty and cheap. He's gentleman. He's always dressed nicely. He takes care of himself."

I stopped her, "It is dirty. It's cheap and dirty. Jesus Joyce you ever see him at home. He's got a wife and two kids. No I guess you never thought, but you know he shits and wipes his ass just like the rest of us. You said I care about things. Well I do. We've got three things at church right now. You really fucked those things up now didn't you?"

She kept looking around the room. I realized she was really lost, "Tell me how this got started. What did you two talk about?"

"You mean in the beginning?"

"Yeah, the very beginning."

She hesitated, then, "Well at first we talked about his old church. He was a deacon. He sang in the choir, taught Sunday school, helped in a soup kitchen in Richmond, and he played on the church softball team."

"Sounds like a real church stalwart, a pillar of the community."

'Oh yes; I think you'd like him."

"Tell me Joyce is that all you two talked about?"

"No we talked about the usual stuff; our kids, his kids, my job, what his wife does, his job, what you do, how hard you work."

"What'd he say about me?"

"Gosh, he said he really admired you. He said he couldn't even screw in a light bulb without help, and you built whole houses."

"Anything else?"

"He said he respected how hard you worked, all the time you put in, how he bet you were really tired when you got home. He said he bet I was proud of you since you worked so much."

"You liked that."

"Sure, he was right, you do work hard. You get us things. He said you were a good provider."

"Any complaints?"

Joyce paused, "Well you know. I did say I wished you were around the house more, that sometimes I wished you..."

"He had something to say about that didn't he?"

"He did; he said you were like the shoemaker and the shoemaker's children, you were so busy working and helping others that..."

I cut in, "That sometimes you felt left out, overlooked."

"No he didn't say that, but he did say he bet I was lonely sometimes."

"You agreed."

"Yes I did. It's true. You're gone a lot. Sometimes I need you and you're not around, and..."

"He was really sympathetic wasn't he?"

"Oh yes, he understood, he said he could never do that, and if I was his...he'd never..."

I'd heard quite enough, it sounded like Kevin Melrose knew what he was doing. It looked like Joyce was thinking the same thing, "Tell me how did it come to what I saw yesterday."

"You mean him being so nice and..."

"No I mean him with his hands all over your tits, and with you with your blouse and bra opened."

She blushed. She'd been fidgeting already; now it got worse, "I don't know what you mean."

I was proud at how calm I was. While she talked I'd been mulling some things over, troubling things. It'd occurred to me in many ways Joyce was still the high school girl I'd married. I thought, 'Where was her armor?' She'd gone from home and high school straight to work in a small law firm. Her bosses were older, kind, paternalistic, and in their way protective. We were already very serious even in high school. It had always been just me. She never dated. I came back from college; we married and started punching out babies, one right after the other. When the kids were small her mom babysat and helped with the housework while Joyce worked. She'd saved all her money while I was in college so we'd have a down payment on the farm. What had she ever really done? We got married, had the kids and after that everything had pretty much centered on them. The big vacations? Myrtle Beach. Disneyworld. Gatlinburg. She never went out with girlfriends. She'd never taken time for herself; it was all about the kids, the house, church, me, her mom and dad, my mom and dad, the kitchen bulletin board, and keeping the family in order. Then Kevin Melrose shows up; he's attentive, he's kind, and he's a very clever fellow.

I smiled at my wife, "Kevin pushed all the right buttons didn't he?"

She just shook her head, "You don't understand."

No I did, she didn't. I replied, "No I don't, but tell me, how far along has this shit gotten?" She wouldn't look at me. Whatever it was she was about to say I knew it wouldn't be true.

"Not far, nothing really. We kissed a couple times. I let him touch me."

I took my hand and grabbed my crotch, "Here?"

"Oh no, not there," she touched her breasts, "only up here."

"Well that's reassuring. So far he's only touched your tits. Gee, that's great; how many times have you two met, and where?"

"Only at church, only on Saturday afternoons, only a few times."

"Tell me Joyce; what would have happened if I hadn't shown up yesterday?" She wouldn't look at me.

She looked down at the floor, "I don't know. Nothing I suspect."

I said, "Really. You know what I think. I think if I hadn't shown up something would have happened. Maybe not all the way, maybe not yesterday, but pretty soon..."

She still wouldn't look at me, "I'm sorry."

"Yeah I know. You're sorry. You're one sorry wife." That got me eye contact.

"No I mean I'm sorry for letting things go. I'm sorry I let him get to me. I love you Harry..."

"Tell me Joyce; when'd he first start pawing you?"

"He never pawed me."

"OK, when was the first time he touched you?"

"He was being a gentleman."

"Just tell me when."

"At church; I had some hair out of place. He fixed it."

'You liked it."

"He was nice."

"What about the next time?"

"I don't know. I can't say exactly."

"Give it a try. I'd like to know how he ended up inside your blouse."

"It wasn't like that; not at first. I guess when...I nearly slipped climbing into the choir loft. You weren't there. He saved me. I was falling and he held me by the waist and helped me to my seat. Then I guess once, no maybe twice, he touched my blouse. I had some lint...

"Did he ever kiss you?"

"Oh Harry...please..."

"Come on."

"We were in the sanctuary. It was the time when he'd gotten flowers. We were side by side, really close. He...leaned and I. It was so sudden. We both laughed. I think I blushed because he said I looked especially pretty. We both said it was a mistake and..."

"But it happened again."

She looked scared. She realized she'd gone too far, and she saw when, "He came again the next Saturday."

"And the next too."

"Yes."

"And every time it was a little more."

"Yes, but I didn't..."

"Until yesterday when I caught you."

"Oh Harry. I'm so sorry. I didn't...it didn't...Oh I wish..."

I cut in, "I know, you just want things back the way they were. That can't happen. You broke the seal. You broke the promise." She looked surprised. I added, "Forsaking all others, united as one, one in body, one in spirit. That's gone now."

"But I didn't do anything!"

"Only because I caught you first. This...what we had is over. We'll talk to the kids later. I still love you. I don't think I want a divorce, not right now, but I think you should leave. Move in with your mother. There's your father, she could use your help. Maybe you and she can talk. I think you need that. Me I'll stay here. I'll handle the house. I'll take care of the kids. They're older now anyway. Maybe in time...who knows?" I knew though, or thought I did.

She frowned, tears crept in her eyes, "Harry...can't we?"

"I'm not abandoning you. We'll stay married. I'll keep you on my insurance. We won't meddle with the accounts, our insurances, or the cars."

"Oh please, can't I just stay home. I promise I'll..."

"You'll what? Be good? Not stray or think about straying? I don't believe you. Damn it Joyce, in all my life I've never, not once, not even thought about what you did, or almost did. Oh sure I've looked, but I've always told you. Usually I look to see what somebody has on so I can buy it for you. And these things, other than the kids, these things you talk about, they've been part of who we are. Jesus Joyce, is there anything here we didn't discuss first and then get as result of mutual agreement?"

I got up and walked her to the kitchen window, "Look out there. What do you see?"

"Our backyard."

"Look again damn it." I pointed to the gazebo, "You said we had to have that. You whined and moaned for weeks until I agreed to build it for you, and how many times have we used it? Tell me how many times. It's just a thing, but it's a thing you had to have. You wanted it. I built it for you." She was clinging to me like I was some kind of life preserver.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it about the things. And about your hands; that day, if I hadn't dropped that board you wouldn't have broken your thumb."

I held her in my arms; the damn thumb still ached from time to time, "I know. That's why I think you need some time away. You need to talk to your mom. Think about who you are, what you want, I mean really want."

"I want you Harry...please don't make me leave."

I pushed her back slightly and held her at the elbows, "When the kids get home we'll tell them you're taking some time away. You'll be with your mom and dad. You can talk. They'll listen. They'll understand. You pay attention. You can get your head straight. If you decide you want to move on, I'm sure the kids will support you."

"I don't want to move on."

"You'll move out; for a while anyway."

"Can I come back for visits?"

"Of course, your children are here."

Then she added another dynamic, "What about Mr. Melrose. Are you going to tell his wife?"

First it angered me that she brought him up, but it pleased me she stopped using his first name, I said, "No, we're both going to tell her."

"Harry," she said, "I don't think..."

I cut in, "You don't think you can tell her, not alone anyway. Like I said, we'll go together. We'll look at it as our first step on the road back. Besides she has a right to know. I've got a hunch Mr. Melrose might fancy himself as something of a player. She needs to know."

The kids came home a little later. The first thing Joyce did was to jump on them about church, "How did they handle things at church with me not there?"

Claire responded first, "Mrs. Bascomb did your part in the offertory."

"But she's an alto," said Joyce.

"Mrs. Bascomb changed the song. She sang "In the Garden."

Chad injected, "Sounded good too mom; you'd have liked it."

"Oh", murmured Joyce, "but what about the epistle reading; it was a hard one?"

Junior replied, "No problem; Haven Caudrey did it."

Joyce muttered, "Oh, yeah, he has a good deep voice. Did they find someone for my Sunday school; the kids had to read 'The Song of Deborah'."

Claire grinned, "I did it."

My wife nodded, "Oh, how nice. You got it right?"

"Sure mom, no sweat," was Claire's happy answer.

I smiled at my wife, "Like a finger in a glass of water."

She said very softly, "Yes, I suppose," she didn't seem happy or convinced.

Then we told the kids what we planned. I told them. Joyce stood at the sink and stared out the window. I was pleasantly surprised; all three thought it was a good idea. Claire seemed the most relieved; she said she'd need her mom at home a lot. How did she say it; with the women things, prom dresses, dances, and such.

Chad was a little heartless, "You can think about what you could've done to the family."

Joyce didn't say anything.

Maybe Junior said it best, "It beats divorce or a real separation. Grand-mom can use the help, Mom can get her head on straight, and we can start taking more responsibility for what we do around here."

Joyce looked scared when he said what he did about responsibility, but that got me to thinking. I said, "Junior's right. You handle everything around here. Maybe you've felt a little hemmed in. Let's let the kids grow up a little. It'll give you a break."

That made her tense up even more, "Who'll fix breakfast? Get you all up. Claire you know how you hate to get up. What about dinner? The clothes; who'll do your clothes? Junior you know how you are; someone's got to pick up after you. My calendar..."

I interrupted, "Joyce stop it. We'll manage."

She put her hands to her mouth, "I could take time off..."

"Joyce," I said, "this could be permanent."

An almost apoplectic Joyce responded, "No, no...we'll, no I'll get my hours changed. I could go in at nine instead of eight. I'll go to four days a week. I'll take off all day Monday every week to clean and do all the laundry. I'll plan meals ahead. You'll see. Oh Harry, I...you need..."

"Joyce you're moving out," then I relented, "maybe if you change your schedule..."

Claire cut in, "Dad we can't just..."

Chad cut in on Claire, "Mom's got a point."

Junior was staring at me, I said to Joyce, "You're not going to Devil's Island. I admit, you do a lot around here, we'll play things by ear," I didn't think I'd caved, but I think I might have caved.

Joyce's demeanor changed, "I'll be so good Harry; you'll see...you'll see."

I grunted, "Yeah, we'll see."

Later that evening Joyce and I paid the Melrose's a visit. At first Mr. Melrose seemed to wilt. He looked bewildered, but he stiffened. He said we were confusing friendship with something else. He even said we didn't have any proof. I watched Joyce as she watched him lie. His wife looked really pissed. I wondered if she'd been through something like this before. If she had, that was her problem.

On the way home Joyce said, "I was surprised by what he said."

I asked, "What'd you mean?"

"He lied to his wife. He was trying to take advantage of me. I see that now."

"Yeah, you could say that."

She pressed her head against my shoulder, "Oh Harry, I'm so stupid. I love you Harry. I love you so much. Can't we? You know."

I said, "We'll see."

Late that night Joyce and I talked some more. She called her mom. She said her mom was glad for the help. I knew her dad wasn't doing that well. This might be chance for Joyce to not only redeem herself with me and her children, but maybe to do some good for her parents.

We went to bed together again that night, no sex, but we did do some pillow talking. I told her she needed to use this time to get out and away more. Maybe she could cut back a little on the church. Maybe she could find a night or two when she could go out with some of her girlfriends at work. I even suggested she try going out on a date or two. That scared her. She said she could never do that. She even asked me if I was planning on something like that. I told her no. She said she'd try going out with her some of her work friends, but only casually, just to get away. I told her I thought she should.

I didn't know; maybe things would work out?

Epilogue:

It's been months since all that happened. Wouldn't you know it; things did pretty much work out. Joyce cut back at church; she dropped the Worship Committee and teaching Sunday school. She did stay in the choir. I got back to going every Sunday.

Her work? Her bosses did let her go in later, they gave her Monday's off, and they didn't even cut her pay. Something else they did was let her take work home. Her lawyers do quite a bit of real estate, and there're always releases that seem to get backed up. They let her do them at home. Joyce, since she had a desk top at home used that as a way to be home a couple more nights a week, clever girl.

I thought Thanksgiving would be a little tense, but Joyce was at her best. Thanksgiving dinner was the best it'd been in years. Her parents joined us. Her dad's seemed to perk up with his daughter around him more. The kids were great; they were quick to forgive, quicker than me. Joyce had changed some things about herself too. Her hair was in a ponytail that set off her long neck. She wore a real pretty yellow blouse with a matching pair of dark brown slacks. It all went well with her brown hair and brown eyes. Most important, she wasn't so bossy, she listened more than she talked; she was a little sheepish even. I liked it.

Christmas was good too. We cut back on the gifts, had a smaller tree, still a balled one though, that's a tradition I'm glad we kept. I'd taken my wedding ring off right after she moved out; that hurt her. I'd wanted it to. I had it back on Christmas day; she was quieter than ever. Her dad noticed the ring right away; he's still struggling with the limp and his speech, but his attitude's a hundred percent better, a daughter can do that.

After we all ate Claire and Joyce's mom cleaned up. Chad and Junior left. Joyce's dad went to sleep in my lazy-boy. Joyce and I snuggled on the sofa; she fell asleep with my arms around her. It felt good.

The Melrose's disappeared. I heard they'd changed churches.

We never did get divorced, but things did change. Joyce moved back home after New Year's, but she still keeps some of her things at her parents. Every so often she slips away and spends time with them; it's like a release for when she thinks things are closing in.

She said she tried going out with her girlfriends a couple times, but she told me it didn't work. She always felt self-conscious. She told me they cussed a lot, drank too much, and kept luring men over to their table. She said she got tired of having men she didn't know make suggestive remarks and stare at her boobs all night.

I admit the men thing made me jealous. I suggested we could set aside one night a week when we'd go out, just us two.

I read up a little too. Maybe I had been a little too busy. Now every day I make a point of telling her how much I love her. I buy her flowers and such every week or so. I kiss her good bye every morning; not a peck on the cheek either, a real kiss, on the lips. At night I always greet her with a hug; sometimes a little pat on the fanny. She won't admit it, I know she really likes the pat, probably makes her feel sexy. I've cut back at school and work too. I spend more time at home.

Will we ever get back to the way things used to be? I doubt it. Right now I wouldn't even want to. There's a lot more affection now. She lost a little weight and looks really good. I started buying her nighties again. She gets embarrassed. She was like that when we first got married. I'm more careful with my appearance, and I try to remember to do things like putting the toilet seat down and cleaning the skid marks.

There've been other changes too. The kitchen calendar with all the listed events and chores came down. If one of the kids can't remember when they've got something to do; well it's on them.

Joyce always liked to read. I've picked up a couple of her novels and read them. One or two weren't so bad. Joyce started watching sports with me. I know she hates it, but I'll let her try.