I Never Saw It Coming

"Hey honey, I'm home," I called out, walking in from the garage. Bob and Kathy were standing in the kitchen. "Hey Bob," I greeted him. "What's going on?"

"Steve, I need to talk to you about something, why don't you have a seat." Kathy was nervous, her voice quivered, she kept wringing her hands, something was wrong.

"I'll just stand here," I told my wife, looking at the both of them.

"Steve, I wanted to tell you myself before you get the papers." I was confused.

"Kathy, what papers?" She took a step backwards.

"Divorce papers." She could barely choke out the words. My heart skipped a beat.

"Kathy, what the fuck are you talking about? What divorce papers? I don't understand?"

"Steve," Bob started to say before I put my hand up to stop him.

"Bob, stay the hell out of this. This is between me and my wife." Then it hit me. I looked at her, then at him, and then back at her. "Bob, I think you should leave and right now." My hands were starting to form into fists.

"Bob, stay," my wife told him. "Steve, this also concerns him."

"Bob, you have ten seconds to leave this fucking house, and if you don't you may be leaving in a God damn body bag." He took a turn towards the door. "Kathy, you and I need to talk and right now!" I shouted at her.

"Steve, there's nothing to talk about. I'm in love with Bob. Steve, I'm so sorry."

"You fucking tramp. How long have you been banging our good buddy, Bob? Was it even before he drove Connie over the edge and killed her?" Bob had stopped making his retreat and looked at me. He had fire in his eyes now.

"Steve, you don't know shit."

"Oh, I think I do. All the while I was trying to console you, you sneak behind my back and do my wife. I ought to rip your fucking head off, you piece of shit! Well, you're not going to get away with it, you hear me?" The two of them were now standing together panic stricken while I ranted and raved. "If you think I'm going to just roll over and let you both walk all over me you've got another thing coming. Both of you get the fuck out of my house!" I was screaming all this at them.

"Steve, it's my house too," Kathy replied, recovering from her fright.

"Not anymore. No whores allowed, and you certainly fall into that category now, don't you?" It was all I could do not to kill the two of them.

"I'll be out of your hair as soon as I get my things."

"No fucking way. You will leave right this fucking second if you know what's good for you."

"Kathy, let's just leave," Bob said, motioning her over to the door.

"Listen to your new fucking wimp." I said, trying to goad Bob into doing something.

"Steve, I'll be back for my stuff when you cool down."

"You'll be dead and buried by that time," I admonished, with as much bitterness as I could muster.

They both backed out the kitchen door, all the while never taking their eyes off of me. After that I went nuts. At least two beers and a whole lot of damage is what happened next, followed by dishes, our microwave, and four walls being either partially or totally destroyed. Not bad for two hours worth of work.

It took me four trips, but I finally got everything out of Kathy's bedroom closet. I dumped it all on the front lawn and set the sprinkler timer to run for the next four hours. I shut the doors, locked them, and put the safety chains on. Over the next forty-five minutes I heard a lot of screaming and yelling, it only lasted through beer number six, then all got quiet.

I'm a lightweight drinker and six beers put me on my ass until the following morning, which was probably a good thing. Going out to get the morning newspaper I saw Kathy had taken all her belongings. "At least I won't have to drag them to the curb," I thought, trying to smile about what I'd done but it wasn't helping. I was devastated, and the more I thought about it the angrier I became.

I probably should have called my brother and parents to tell them what was happening, but I didn't. I wasn't sure whom Kathy had told, though I was pretty sure most everyone didn't know just yet. However, after last night, I suspected that most of our neighbors now knew something was up—this morning I really didn't care.

When I called over to Kathy's parents' house and tried to talk to my kids, her mom wouldn't let me speak to them. "Steve, Kathy picked them up last night."

"Bullshit, Fran, last night Kathy was too busy picking her clothes up off our front lawn. Let me talk to my kids!" I roared over the phone. She hung up on me. I called back but she never picked up. "Bitch," I said under my breath.

I still wasn't thinking straight but knew enough to cut my losses by canceling all our credit cards. I told the companies they had been stolen and to cancel them immediately. I went to an ATM and got out all the cash the bank allowed from our savings and checking accounts. I figured on Monday I would be there when the bank's doors opened up.

With a couple cups of coffee and a few pieces of toast in me I planned out my day. Change the code on the garage door opener, get new locks for all the doors, and pull out anything of value and bring it over to my brother's house. I was about to leave when the front doorbell rang. I almost opened the door but then stopped with my hand on the knob. I looked through the peephole and saw someone on the other side with a large manila envelope. He stayed there for another couple more minutes before leaving. He was going to catch me eventually, just not today.

I gave my brother Gary and his wife Andy the high, or should I say low points from last night. I told him to keep the bag of stuff under wraps and not to say anything to anyone about it. He said he was sorry and I agreed with him that Kathy had turned into a sorry son of a bitch, after which I headed out to Home Depot.

With three new locksets in hand I started for home. I figured it would take two hours at the most to install the new locks. I was still coming down my street when I saw Bob's car in the driveway. He was standing just outside the driver's door looking at Kathy who was loading up the back seat of his car.

I probably should have driven on by and waited until they were done, but I was way too pissed off for that. Instead of driving by I sped up. With tires squealing I turned into my driveway and plowed into the back of Bob's car. Bob had just enough time to jump into his car as mine made contact. The initial impact drove his car right up against the closed garage door. I put my car into reverse, backed up about fifteen feet and floored it again. This time I drove his car through the garage door. I could barely see with all the steam coming up from under the hood of my car. My car's engine was making a terrible racket, but when I put it into reverse again, it complied. I only backed up about ten feet this time, and although I put my foot to the floor, my car could push Bob's car just a few feet—then much to my dismay, it stalled out.

My heart was pumping at capacity when I flew out of my car and let my adrenaline take over my brain. I grabbed my son's aluminum bat from inside the garage door and started swinging for the fences. While Bob huddled on the floor of the front seat of his car, I took out both the windows on the driver's side and finished destroying what was left of the windshield. I was about to open his door when I heard loud voices behind me.

"Drop the bat and put your hands on your head," an authoritative voice ordered me. I dropped the bat and turned around. Two police officers were standing right outside the garage, guns drawn. "Drop the bat, put your hands on your head, and kneel down, NOW!" Since they weren't going to take no for an answer, I surrendered my bat and did as they ordered.

I was pushed forward onto the garage floor, handcuffed, and put in the back of the patrol car. Only then did Bob pull his sorry ass out of his car. He was more than a little shaken and looked as scared as anyone I'd ever seen. I wanted to stick my head out the window and tell him I wouldn't miss the next time, but I never got the chance. My cunt of a wife was crying, talking to the police, and looking at me. I smiled back at her.

I was taken downtown, booked, and given one call— I called my brother Gary. Since it was the weekend I had to spend two nights in jail before I could be brought to court Monday morning. My appearance before the judge lasted only about 3 minutes. I pleaded not guilty and he set my bail. It was late afternoon before Gary could make bail and get my ass out of jail.

"Steve, they're talking about attempted murder or at least assault with a deadly weapon.

"I know. I heard it at my initial hearing before I pleaded not guilty. First things first, I need you to take me to the bank immediately. She's probably cleaned out the accounts, but I need to if she hasn't."

All the cash was gone from of our savings and checking accounts but not the CDs and bonds in our lockbox. However, there was already a court order in place preventing me from removing any of them.

"You could have at least left me five dollars in our bank account; you really are a cunt, you know that?" I told her when she answered her cell phone.

"I needed that money for me and the kids to live on until the rest is taken off hold."

"What's the matter, doesn't Bob make enough money for you all to live on? I've got a fucking house payment to make. Maybe I should just make a little fire in the living room, you know, just to take the chill off."

"Steve, quit talking crazy. I'm sorry about all of this but you're making it harder than it has to be. Why can't you just accept it and move on?"

"I'll move on as soon as you send my kids back home."

"Steve, I can't do that especially in your current frame of mine. I don't think you would ever harm them, but I can't take that chance. After this is all over, I'll let you see them as much as you want."

"You don't have to worry about the kids, but I can't say the same about you or your fuck buddy, Bob."

"I'm hanging up now and this is the last time I'm going to be talking to you. From now on you'll have to go through my attorney. Steve, I'm just sorry it all happened the way it did."

"Kathy, you have no idea how sorry you and Bob are eventually going to be." She hung up on me.

When my court date came up on the calendar a few weeks later my attorney pleaded temporary insanity on my part. He said that after Kathy told me about her and Bob I totally lost it. My actions weren't premeditated but more of an impulse thing. Kathy and Bob both said I had threatened them previously and even though there was a restraining order against me, they said they still feared for their lives, and with good reason.

"Mr. Moore," the judge said, after looking at Kathy and Bob's statement, "Did you tell Mr. Kelly that if he didn't leave your house, he'd be leaving in a body bag?"

"I don't remember my exact words Your Honor, it may have been something to that effect, but how would you feel if a friend of yours was banging your wife behind your back?" He wasn't moved by my argument.

My lawyer quietly berated me, "Steve, say nothing, do you understand? From now on, you don't remember a thing you said or did, is that understood? I'm trying to convince them you didn't know what you were doing. You telling the judge it was something like that isn't helping your case." He was right.

Chris, my boss and main character witness, backed me to the hilt. He testified that I was a model employee; he had never heard me utter a curse word, much less lose my temper. After Chris's testimony the case was closed. I only had to await the decision of the judge. He said he would hand down his ruling in the next few days.

When I returned to work the next day my boss told me that he knew a couple of thugs who could make them both disappear, if I so desired.

"Thanks for the offer, but this is my problem, and I'm going to handle it in my own way," I told him. On my way home from work I wondered to myself what they might have charged to do the job.

Six fucking months and twelve thousand dollar later I ended up getting fucked by both my now ex-wife and the system. The divorce went through and she was awarded fifty percent of everything. The house was to be sold along with everything else of value. She had told the court all her jewelry had come up missing and accused me of taking it. I explained that all mine was gone too, adding she must have taken it all the day of the incident. At least I did not have to make good on that count.

The system put in the final screw.

"A fucking year in jail? Are they fucking nuts?" I screamed at my attorney hearing the judge read the sentence to me.

"Steve, it could have been worse, you could have killed him, and then you would have been convicted of manslaughter. Look, with good behavior you'll be out in less than eight months, and if you stay clean it goes off your record in two years instead of having a felony conviction on your record for the rest of your life. Do the time, get out, and move on with your life."

That was easy for him to say, he wasn't the one who was going to be spending twenty-four hours a day in jail. I appealed the ruling but after three months got nowhere. In less than a year my life had gone from being something great to shit. I had Kathy and Bob to thank for that.

"Steve, your job will be waiting for you when you get out. Don't do anything stupid in there and watch your back." Those were Chris's only two suggestions, but they were good ones.

After meeting with my children for the last time on Sunday, I turned myself in to the court. I was put in the county facility and started my incarceration. I had checked out everything on the Internet prior to getting there and thought I knew all the ins and outs, but looking on-line and actually being there were two entirely different animals. I did have my brother put money into my inmate account so I could at least buy things, but I found that most stuff was junk food and things I had no use for. So, with no cell phone or computer I wrote my thoughts down on a pad of paper, and once every other week I made my collect calls to my brother, my mom, and my kids. I wanted to keep up with what was going on in the real world.

"Steve," my brother informed me during one visit, "I'll make sure to have your car repaired before you get out. I know a guy that will do it for what the insurance will pay if he can do it when he has down time. I will though, make sure he has it done before you're out. I also have someone taking care of your lawn, and I noticed that you hadn't installed the new dead bolts, so I had them put in. I told Kathy if she wanted in, she'd have to give me twenty-four hours notice. The last time she was there she took the rest of her and the kids' clothes. She wanted to take their beds, but I told her I would need to see a court order for her to remove any furniture from the house. She got a little testy with me but dropped the issue." I was glad my brother was looking out for my interests.

Kathy allowed my parents to see my children every other Sunday afternoon. She was getting bitchier every time. She said she was doing it as a courtesy because, as she put it, they were no longer part of her family. It seems Kathy was bad mouthing not only me, but also my entire family; this is according to what my mom could get from the kids. Kathy started calling me their 'jail-bird father' and told them when I got out she was going to have words with me on what I was and wasn't allowed to do with them. She was such a cunt, however my parents went along with everything she asked of them. I wanted them to tell her to pound sand up her ass and shut the door in her face but they wouldn't. They said something about keeping open lines of communication with her.

At 'T-minus seven days' I contacted my lawyer to confirm my visitation privileges. I would have the children every other weekend and a full month in the summer. The holidays were split down the middle and would flop over every other year. I let my boss know I was getting out. I told him I would need a week to get readjusted and everything set back up in my life.

THE END—PART ONE—GETTING MY REVENGE

I was never so happy to turn in my orange jumpsuit and put on my street clothes. Gary was waiting outside for me. We stopped at the first bar we found.

"To freedom," I said, touching our bottles and sloshed down the first of three beers.

"Andy has a meal fit for a king waiting for us when we get home. A steak dinner with all the trimmings just like you requested. I figure you can spend the first couple of nights with us until you can go through your things at the house. It's still up for sale but there hasn't been so much as an offer on it. Kathy wanted to drop the price, but she needs your okay for that." I smiled. "You've still got all the furniture in the house, but as per your instructions, I trashed the master bedroom set.

Dinner was great. I ate more than I had in the last eight months. Unbuckling my belt and with a glass of wine in my hand, I enjoyed the true taste of having the freedom to do what I wanted to do, when I wanted to do it.

Not only did I overeat, I also drank too much. I kind of remember five or six beers and at least three glasses of wine. It was after ten o'clock the next morning before I awoke, and well after eleven before I was finally able to sit up and hit the bathroom without falling over.

I stumbled down the stairs into the kitchen. The note on the counter said it all. 'If you're reading this, you survived last night. There is coffee made, and everything else you might want is in the refrigerator. In the spare bathroom there is soap, a razor and shaving lotion, a toothbrush and toothpaste. If there is anything else you need we'll get it tonight when I get home from work. The keys to your car and house are on the key rack by the back door. I hope I don't have to tell you not to do anything stupid. See you about five thirty.' I guess my brother knew me better than I thought.

Two cups of coffee and an English muffin were all I could get down. After a shower and a shave I almost felt human again. Gary had a fresh change of clothes laid out for me and within an hour I was on my way over to my house.

The outside of the house looked the same. I think I must have sat in my newly repaired car for at least ten minutes before getting out. Memories, both good and bad, flooded my brain. I saw the new deadbolt lock and with a twist of the key I was inside. It was a mess, things thrown all around. It looked like someone had been in a hurry to get in and out of there. Pieces of clothing were strewn along the floor. The kitchen was halfway clean and the refrigerator still contained the food that had been there months ago.

With my back against the sink I saw the damage to the wall where my fist had tried to go through but found a stud instead. I rubbed my knuckles remembering what it felt like that night when I walked in and found the two of them waiting for me. "Bitch," I said under my breath, walking upstairs.

The kids' closets were empty but there were a few mementos they had either forgotten or didn't have enough time to take. My bedroom was empty with the exception of my dresser and my clothes hanging in the closet. I could see the dark spots on the carpet where our bed and her triple dresser had been. This room would have to be gutted and redone before I would set foot in there again. The rest of the house was as I left it. It would need a good cleaning if it were ever to sell. But, I was in no hurry whatsoever to have it sold. I had an agenda and selling the house wasn't a priority at all. I sat down at the kitchen table and started making a list of what needed to be done. I could probably have done most of the repairs myself if I wanted to, but at this point in my life I just wanted it done. Folding the list, I put it in my pocket and headed for the bank.