Getting Burned Ch. 01

I got back home from work three hours early from my job as a diesel mechanic. The whole shop has been putting in 50 hour weeks for the past 2 months. We have a contract with a tight schedule to rebuild over 50 B-Series Cummins diesel engines. Today, we found out that we were officially ahead of our schedule by 2 days. We're pretty worn out and out and the bosses knew that we're worn out. Heading home, I knew I was filthy, my normal filthy. Tricia is normally waiting for me with a robe so I can go directly to the shower. She doesn't get home for another 2 hours so I'm going directly to the laundry room. There I'll drop my dirty clothing in my special basket and then head naked to the bathroom to take a shower.

Rebuilding diesel engines, I'm around many chemicals at work, but so far it hasn't damaged my sense of smell, yet. I know I stink from sweating and I stink of chemicals and exhaust too.

The laundry room is small, hell the whole house is small. It's 1100 square feet with two bedrooms, a two and a half car garage on a large lot near the highway here in Overland Park Kansas. Don't give me any shit about the school board. I don't want to hear it. I didn't vote for those assholes either so just shut your god damn face about that shit.

We got this repo from the bank for less than $50 grand. The previous owners had literally trashed the place, but I knew that the bones were solid. We ended up gutting one room at a time -only after we got a fully functioning bathroom and a barely functioning kitchen working. Those first 6 months were brutal.

Taking off my shirt, I smell something not right. At the pile of dirty clothes at my feet, I smelled sex. I knew Tricia's smell, but there was more, and it was strong. I knew that could not be me. Her time-of-the-month started two nights ago. She never wanted any lovemaking during that time so I'd always stayed away. Picking up her clothing, I saw and smelled dried cum and smelled cigarette smoke on her blouse and jeans. She doesn't smoke. Eric, the asshole 'wanna-be' wrench who rents our garage does. In his spare time, Eric takes rice buckets and turns them into low end street racers on the cheap. Looks like cars weren't the only thing he was working on.

Zero tolerance. When you trust somebody, you don't ask probing questions, you don't look beyond what they say. I have zero tolerance for this shit. I didn't take this shit from my first wife and as my name is Glen, I don't with my current wife.

I thought that since we were both burned in our first marriages, we would never think of fucking anyone else, not physically, not emotionally. I thought that our lives were pretty much open and supportive of each other. I guess that I was wrong. It's deja vu all over again.

Recovering from being burned is how we stated our relationship. Recovering from being burned again is how I'll walk out of it. I got pretty good planning the rehab of this fixer-upper. Those planning skills will help me end this sham marriage too.

Then it hit me. Sonofabitch. Gotta get calm. Sitting quietly on the washer, I exhale slowly. Repeat. Repeat another 20 more times. Get calm. Do that mindfulness shit. Take your god damn sweet time Glen. You are all you've got. Twenty minutes of stopping my life lets me think without the dread.

I now have two goals. The first is to prove without any doubt that she is stepping out. The second is to legally end this marriage with the minimum of financial loss.

Well, I think I got three goals. Third goal is to move on with my life as quick as possible.

The easiest one to do first is ending the marriage. Yea, right, in my ever loving fucking dreams. I can just snap my fingers and it'll be over. Just like last time.

When in doubt, ask Wiki. It's not always totally correct but it's great for an overview. I Google search "Wiki how to divorce in Kansas." I may not know much about computers, but I can do easy searches.

Holy shit. With no kids, it's only three documents and if the judge agrees and in a minimum of 60 days. The first is the Civil Cover Sheet. It's about who we are, it's our information. It's the same as info we use to file taxes. Next is the Domestic Relations Affidavit. That's all our assets, income, liquid assets, expenses, personal property, real estate and debts. Last is the Petition for Divorce. That lists out who gets what, what we agreed on. The Judge gets to make the final decision and it can all turn south on his say. Dividing up the what we own and owe does not have to be equal in the eyes of the law.

Digging in our office desk, I grab last year's tax returns, our 401K files, our banking and loan statements. Since we were both broke after our last divorces, we made it a point to not get into debt. We spent only what we really needed to. Without a mortgage, all out 'rent' money went for rehabbing the house, buying supplies and basic living. We both knew that a down turn in the economy could bankrupt us again and I don't trust those fuckers at the top of the money chain. In the 5 years we've known each other and 3 years married and buying this house, we were able to rebuild out finances. We were finally getting ahead in life.

Now at 29, I'm a two time loser.

We own $4,400 on her car and $4,700 on my used truck. Both vehicles aren't worth a shit. We bought them 2 years ago and they're now both 7 years old. Our credit was still shit from the grind of our last divorces and our car loans are at 15%. I'm sure they aren't worth what we owe. She makes a little more money than I do and she came into the marriage with slightly less debt.

We both have been able to put away $12,000 a year for the past 4 years in our 401Ks, if you include the matching. The market boomed and she's got a balance of $65K and I've got $60K. We have an Emergency fund of $8,000 and $1,200 in checking. The checking account is only that high because some big bills are due soon.

Laws being what they are, I know that I could still get screwed. How should I approach this division of our stuff? What are my most important goals? End marriage quick. Don't lose shirt. No, not like last time when I also lost my soul too. Fuck it, another god damn merry-go-round. No, not a merry-go-round. What's that old Johnny Cash song line "I've been flushed from the bathroom of your heart."

The angel on my left shoulder says 'OK Glen. Be honest. Be open and be non-confrontational.' The devil on my right shoulder says 'If she fights it and cops an attitude, fuck her. Let her know in no uncertain terms that you'll do scorched earth on her. You're not going to be the only one to lose. Make her feel that pain again.'

It's really shit having to go through this again.

But now I've got another goal to meet. How do I prove that she's stepping out? Nanny cams, internet cameras and all that tech shit overwhelms me. I'm sure they can be rented and I could find somebody to set it up for me. I'm good with engines, I'm shit with setting up software and hardware.

Walking aimlessly through what will soon not be 'our' little two bedroom house, I realize something. The thing is I've never seen anything that leads me to believe that she was doing the dirty deed in our bed. Tricia's car's backseat is doable, but damn small. The 'wanna-be wrench' has those little rice burners. Not much room in there either. The only other place that has some privacy and is free is the garage, the 'office' in the garage. There's an old futon that would work. She has an hour for lunch and the 'wanna-be wrench' works at his day job nearby.

I head on over to the garage. It's at the back of the property. There are 2.5 bays with the half bay being a bit of a storage room/office. I haven't been here in the 3 months he's been here. Opening up the door, I smell hydrocarbons. There are open empty containers of chemicals and empty paint cans laying all around. I had to step around piles of used rags that were grease, solvent, paint and paint thinner soaked and caked. It looks as if he was dumping the used motor oil on them or the cement floor. Is this place becoming a fuckin' superfund site?

Opening the door to the storage room, I see that I've found their place. There are two used condom wrappers in the trash. The condoms are smeared with fresh shit.

Get calm. Slowly breath in, slowly breath out. Repeat.

Fuck this shit, I want to kill the muthafucker and the witch he's plowing.

Slowly breath in, slowly breath out. Repeat. Sonfoabitch, it's actually getting easier...

I know that I have to 'return to work' so I get home at the normal time. I'm a trained mechanic, a professional. This asshole that's plowing my wife doesn't even rate as a parking lot mechanic. There are piles of used parts, tools, paint cans and more shit laying around over the 2 garage bays. He's stapled light weight extension cords to the trusses for more outlets. There are hazardous chemicals in stacks inside the garage. He's turned this place into a fire hazard and chemical dump.

Fire hazard? Chemical dump? I got it. It's the perfect answer.

She was starting her period the yesterday so her giving him her ass fits. They're probably going to be back again soon. She's got the locator app on her phone because she's lost it several times. I'll be able to see if she's here at lunch and that'll probably mean that they'll be together.

The garage is a fire hazard. Capt'n Billy is our local Fire Captain, and we maintain his diesel engines under a time and materials contract. I'm sure I could get him to inspect the garage. I wonder if he could get the city inspector to determine if there is a business being run in this residential zone? I'll leave that for him. In the past, he's told me stories about the things that firefighters see. Finding two cheaters fucking up a storm wouldn't be the first, or the 20th time he's seen it.

Back at work at the desk area of the main shop, I pull out the paperwork I brought from home and fire up the old desktop. I'm pitiable on using computers, but my limited experience with Excel windows works. It's my program of choice. Whatever you put something in one of those little boxes, it stays there. That's kind of true, but I can always get help from the office staff. They take pity on us 'dumb' mechanics. The list of what we own and owe starts to happen.

Over an hour in, I call the Fire house. It's now set to meet with Capt'n Billy later today if he isn't out on a call. All in all I take an hour and a half to list our stuff and craft what I think is a fair division of property. Printing two copies, it's time to go to the fire house.

I'll put in for an extended lunch tomorrow in the morning to take care of some 'private matters'. Work is pretty good about those kind of things if you make up the time later. I know that I'm going to have a lot of time later.

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"Hey Glen, what can I do for you?" Capt'n Billy said to me as he reached for my hand to shake. "Well...could we go into your office, it's kind of private." He looked at me with a concern and led the way.

"What's the problem? Is somebody stealing something? Something unsafe? Something else?"

Sitting up straight in the chair infrontof his desk, I stated out slowly. "Capt'n Billy, we've worked together for the past 7 years, haven't we?" He nodded. "And I've never asked you for a favor?" He shook his head no. "I got a big one for you. But I don't want you to do anything if it'll get you in trouble."

"I think that we're good with one another. So why don't you just say it and if I can't, all we've talked about is getting the FD to get some more maintenance."

"I'm damn sure that my wife is getting some on the side. We rent our garage to a 'wanna-be' mechanic and I think that it's him."

"What do you want me to do? This part is not really in my line of work."

"Looks like they use the storage room in the garage I rent out to him. The Good/Bad thing is that he maintains the area to be an 'A number 1' fire hazard. I walked through there earlier today and given a spark or one of his cigarette butts that he throws everywhere, the whole place would go up in minutes. Could you schedule a fire inspection when they're at it? I think that they do it over lunch time as they both work somewhat nearby.

"If you and I walk in on them, it won't be a 'he said, she said'. A couple of pictures and I start filing on the divorce." I waited a second and added, "I could use a witness and somebody that will help me to not do anything stupid. I really could use your help. And on the other hand, with the inspection, it'll stop that garage from going up in flames, so it'll less work for you in the long run."

Capt'n Billy was quiet and look at me long and hard. "I guess that you are trying to stop somebody from going to jail?" I nodded yes as he continued "For murder?" I answered "Maybe. I just don't want to be in that position."

"Glen, as an officer and fireman for over 25 years, I can tell you that I've professionally witnessed a variety of, how shall we say, situations like this. I will do the Inspection as you requested as that is my duty. Whatever we find there, as the owner has invited me on the premises, will be public record. Does that help?"

I smiled and asked "I don't know when I will be there for the property inspection, but I will text you when I am nearby. Could you text me if you are out on a call and can't make it?" This time he nodded and we shook hands before I left.

I had a good working relationship before and he was pretty supportive on what I wanted done. Guess that he did shit like this before. The only thing, he took a rain check on the beer I offered. He told me he'd save it for after it was all over and he was off duty. Now's the time to go home and act as if nothing is the matter.

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I started the day off with making sure that the phone locator app for Tricia's phone was working. I 'looked' at her leave home and get to work. The second thing I did was to check in with Capt'n Billy. If he was going out on a call, he'd text me immediately. The morning was terrible for me. After 10 AM, I kept checking my phone every 10 minutes. After 11 AM, it was every 5 minutes and I was a nervous wreck.

At 11:35, I saw that Tricia's phone was no longer at work. I had to wait the 10 minutes to 'see' her arrive at the house. That's when I texted Capt'n Billy and we met two blocks away at the back parking lot of the Mickey Ds. I was nervous as hell but Capt'n Billy was enjoying the adventure. We left to go to my house.

I could see that there were two cars in the driveway, Tricia's and the 'wanna-be mechanic's' rice bucket. Tricia had no reason to be at home. As agreed, we parked several houses away, out of site of the garage.

Standing in front of my house I whispered, "Capt'n Billy? We should first go through the house to see if anyone is there?" Putting his finger to his lips for silence, he headed toward the garage and cupped his ear. That's when he smiled and whispered, "I hear them out back." My fucking hearing has been shot to hell for years.

Pulling out his clipboard and his official camera, he started writing the citation and taking pictures of the Fire code violations. It was only a minute outside the garage and then 30 seconds for each garage bay. Standing in front of the closed door where the noises were coming from, he smiled at me and pointed in. I nodded yes.

The small room in the back was used as an office and small parts and hand tools storage. It also contained the old futon. Opening the door quietly, the two people on the futon didn't hear a thing. They were fucking up a storm until they saw a flash of a camera followed by the bright overhead lights flipped on.

Then all hell broke loose.

Tricia screamed and Eric pulled out of Tricia's ass with his condom covered with shit. Unfortunately it got wiped on her back, the futon and then over his leg, to say nothing about his fingers and arm. Tricia attempted to find something to cover herself but only came up with a very dirty overall, smearing black lube over her naked chest.

The Fire Marshal laughed, and I did too. It was a painful laugh for me. Like finding a rat at the bottom of a 5 gallon paint can, there was no place that they could run to.

Tired of waiting for the crying to slow down, Capt'n Billy looked at the two of them and then directly at the 'wanna-be'. "By the way, the reason for my visit is to issue you citations for Fire code violations." He tore off a piece of paper and gave it to the naked Eric. "These things need to be taken care of before you return here. This building is closed until it passes the next inspection. Any questions?" Tricia barely stopped crying.

For both of them, it was a 'Deer in the headlights' look.

Capt'n Billy turned to leave when he gave a parting shot, "By the way, if you don't clean up that fecal matter, I'll get the Health department here and they'll close you down for their violations too." Chuckling he said, "And oh yes, have a nice day. It's a pleasure to serve you." Turning, as he patted me on the back, he gave me an 'I'm sorry' look and then left. I followed him out.

Getting to the house, I locked and bolted all the doors and windows. Pulling out a diet coke, I went to the bedroom and started tossing all of her clothing into the living room. That was the closest door to her car or the small spare bedroom. I knew that she'd find the key we hid outside. But she needed to know right away that it was going to be over. I finished in 20 minutes and looked outside. Both of their cars were gone. It was back to work to make up for the 2 hour lunch.

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Getting home later that night, I sat in the living room. She must have come home and taken all her clothing. Her dresser was missing and some odds and ends. I checked the garage and a rice burner he was working on was gone. I was swearing at the world when the doorbell rang. I fucking prayed that it wasn't the whore. It was Capt'n Billy.

Holding out a handle of Jim Beam and two glasses, he said, "Thought that you'd like a little bit of company tonight." That's when he gave me a bro hug, punched my arm and rambled off into the kitchen for some ice.

"First off, stop calling me Capt'n. OK?" as he handed me a tumbler filled with ice and bourbon. "And drink this one slow. Don't get shit faced on me real quick."

All I knew is that I needed somebody here tonight. He was here, he listened to me rant and rave, cry and scream, whine and moan. It was 5 fucking years and the life I thought we were building went up in smoke in that laundry basket.

In the morning, I woke up still dressed in everything but my shoes. I was on the couch and under a blanket. There was a hand written note from Billy to call. He stopped on by for the next two evenings. On that last night, the doorbell rang. I've been dreading that doorbell.

Standing at the door was Tricia. The 'wanna-be' was a few feet behind her. I slammed the door and turned off the lights. She kept ringing the doorbell and tried to use her key to get in, but the locks had been changed that first evening. Changed the locks on the garage too. That was the best $150 I ever spent.

After a couple of minutes of the door bell ringing, Billy stood up. "Let me handle this. You sat here. OK?" I nodded yes as he walked to the front door and stepped outside, closing the door behind him. After 5 minutes, there was a screech of tires. I was relieved, until Billy walked in with Tricia behind him.

"Glen, why don't you get the paperwork you were working on and bring it to the kitchen table. OK?" He nodded to the shelf where I put it. In the past several days, Billy and I had gone over the division of property. That's when I found out that his sister had gone through a nasty divorce and he was well versed in the emotional, legal and gut wrenching pain of a marriage in tatters. He got help with his sister's divorce and felt bound to help other people along too. Here was a guy that believed in paying it forward, and lived it.