Jesus Please Forgive Me

I didn't figure it all out that afternoon, but I think that sitting there in my car, I made my decision. I realized after a while that I needed to get back to work. But even as I drove back, I started to wonder what I wanted.

Not only what I wanted out of this situation but what I wanted period. Kim was supposed to be the person I grew old with. If that was truly what I wanted, why had I not given any thought to what it would take for me to forgive her? Why had I not even considered saving my marriage?

I think at that moment I already knew the answers. Kim and I had grown apart over the years and maybe I was just using this episode to get out of a marriage, which at least from my viewpoint, was already dead. If this hadn't happened, would I have continued this lackluster union for an even longer period of time?

I began to wonder exactly how many of the marriages out there are held together simply because it would take too much effort and too much drama to get out of them. A recent article I read on the internet claims that more and more women are initiating divorces. The article contends that a lot of these women want divorces simply because they don't feel appreciated. They feel like they cook and clean and take care of the kids and no one commends them for it or rewards them for doing it.

I have an idea. Instead of getting a divorce, those women should try getting a fucking job. Let your husband stay home and clean the house and cook dinner with the whole fucking day to decide exactly what he wants to do and exactly when. Give the husband a month to get used to it and before the month was over he'd have a schedule worked out where he dropped off the kids at school, came home and surfed for new porn for an hour, cleaned the house and planned dinner. Then he'd make a noon golf date, come home take a nap, pick the kids up, make the dinner he'd planned and then still be hot and ready for sex by the time his wife dragged her tired ass home.

Kim doesn't have very much to do. We don't have any kids. We're adults, so we clean up after ourselves. I do all of the yard work and we often switch off on who does the cooking. Maybe that's why she was fucking the preacher's chauffeur. She needed something to fucking do.

Whatever the reasons were, it was going to be up to Kim to convince ME that we needed to stay together. As far as I was concerned, it was all over but the shouting. I thought about something that someone had recently told me. I need to get out of this small minded, small town. I know that the people around here would think badly of me for simply abandoning Kim.

The good thing to do, the righteous thing to do, would be to confront her and forgive her. We'd probably end up in counseling trying to save our marriage. Then, for the rest of my fucking life I'd be looking under bushes and following her everywhere she fucking went just to make sure she wasn't doing it again. Unh uh...I just don't see spending my life doing that.

Like I said, the only reason to go through that bullshit would be if you loved the woman more than life itself and couldn't see yourself living without her. In a case like that, you'd be better off keeping her because the pain of being without her would be far worse than the hassle of trying to keep tabs on her. And I'm sorry but I just don't love Kim that fucking much.

Almost from the second I walked into the house that day, I started taking swipes at Kim. I came in and sniffed the air in the house.

"It's that new air freshener I'm trying," Kim said when she noticed me. "Do you like it?"

"It smells like shit over a cigarette odor," I said. "Have you started smoking?" I didn't really smell cigarettes but I knew that Bobby Randall, the preacher's chauffeur, smoked like a fucking chimney.

Kim looked around the room nervously and sniffed several times herself. "I thought that maybe we'd sit out on the deck and grill something for dinner after you get off of the treadmill,"

she said.

"I think I'm going to run outside today," I said. She looked at me like I'd slapped her. We'd made an agreement a few years back that I would alternate running outside with treadmill runs so we weren't apart so much.

"But..." she began.

"Kim, I don't tell you when you can go to church or go to your charity stuff do I?" I asked. "So, I don't think it's fair for you to get any say in when or where I run."

"But that's different," she said. "My charity work..."

This time I interrupted her. "...Does absolutely nothing for us," I said. "You do it because it's something you enjoy. It doesn't pay a single bill or put one molecule of food on our table. You're gone every Sunday and three nights out of the week. Who knows how often you're gone while I'm at work. I never try to interfere in what you do, so it just seems wrong for you to have a say in my runs."

"But John, we decided that you should do about half of your runs in the house so we'd be together more often. So we could spend more time together," she said.

"Okay, then why don't you give up your choir rehearsal or one of those other things YOU do?" I asked.

"Because those things are good for my soul," she said. "According to the bible..."

"Where in the bible does it say thou shalt leave thy husband to go out and..." I began. She slapped a hand over my mouth.

"John, don't blaspheme," she said. She looked hurt. "Oh, alright. It just seems selfish to me though that I'm going out to do good works to save my soul and help the community and you put it in the same category as you running around in circles while listening to the devil's music. And don't think I don't know that you have those Ozzy Osborne songs on your iPod, John."

She stomped off.

A few minutes later she came back. "John, maybe we can still go out on the deck and watch the stars when you come back.

I didn't say anything. I noticed that after fucking Bobby Randall she was suddenly trying to find out whether or not I was in the mood. I wondered what the cause of that was. Was it guilt sex? Or had Bobby simply not gotten the job done.

I remembered back to what I'd seen. Kim really had been extremely subdued while he fucked her. She'd just lain there and except for the occasional, "praise the Lord," hadn't screamed or moaned or moved. That certainly wasn't like her. I had an idea of a way to take a dig at her when I came home.

I went out to the quarry again. I'd enjoyed running there Sunday, so I wanted to try a shorter run there. I'd loaded up my iPod with songs about falling out of love or relationships that had gone bad. I listened to a lot of Evanescence and Taylor Swift. Amy Lee of Evanescence is like a dark goddess of depression and shit, if Taylor Swift ever kept a boyfriend for more than a couple of weeks, her fucking career would be over.

After my run was done, I stopped back at the gas station. As soon as I walked in, Janie smiled at me and I knew. As the look of shock washed over my face, she frowned.

"It was you," I said. "You were the one who told me...on the phone." Her mouth grew tight and she looked down.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I heard it from a couple of older ladies who were in here a couple of weeks ago. I thought about telling you before that, but you and I really don't know each other well enough to discuss things like that. But it ate at me and you just don't deserve that. So this way you can stop her from going over to that church."

"Why would I stop her from going to church?" I asked. "The Reverend probably doesn't know what his chauffeur is doing and..."

"What chauffeur?" she asked. "Kim is fucking the Rev..."

"What?" I asked. We just stared at each other for a few minutes.

"It doesn't really matter," I said. "I'm done with her anyway. In fact, I'm pretty much done with this whole fucking town."

"Sorry," she said again. "At least you have the option of leaving. So what did you come out here for?"

"I was running in the quarry," I said. "I need some C batteries."

"Maybe I should try running," she said. "Before I start to lose what little shape I have."

I couldn't help it. I just started laughing. "Janie, the shape you have is perfect," I said. She immediately started blushing. She handed me the batteries and I gave her a ten. When she started to give me change, I told her to keep it for her get out of town fund.

When I got home, I left the batteries on the bed where I was sure that Kim would find them.

I took a shower and changed into some comfortable clothes. I made some popcorn and melted some cheese over it and grabbed a Dos Equis Amber and went into the den and plopped myself down in front of my big screen TV.

I put in a Blu Ray disc of the Fast and the Furious part five. Kim came in from the yard a few minutes later.

"What are you doing?" she asked. "I thought we were going to sit out on the deck and spend some time together."

"I thought that was what you said that you wanted to do," I said. "I felt like watching my favorite movie."

"But you've seen that movie a hundred fu..." she caught herself. "You've watched that movie lots of times already," she said.

"I've sat out on the deck with you lots of times too," I said. "Besides, I have to get ready. Part six comes out in May and I have to remember how this one ended and what was going on in it."

"But you've been at work all day," she said. "I haven't seen you since this morning. I spent the whole day making the house clean and nice for you and..."

"Are you sure that was what you spent the whole day doing?" I asked. I tilted my head and looked at her. The nervousness on her face was epic.

"Maybe not the whole day, maybe I uh...what do you think I did? I uh..." she started stammering and got quiet. I turned back to the screen.

"John, after doing all of that running and working all day, you need to eat something that's at least halfway nutritious," she said. "Gooey popcorn and beer isn't what you need."

"Since when does what I need matter?" I asked. "I have nothing to do with your church."

"John, I love you," she said. And I almost believed it. "But you need to get yourself right with God. No matter how much I put into the church, it won't save YOU. And maybe we need to schedule some sessions with the Reverend to talk about our marriage. Because it seems like we're going through a rough patch."

"Maybe we should," I said and turned the volume up louder as she walked away.

The next evening when I got home the Cadillac was in my driveway. As I walked through the house, Kim came running out to me. I noticed that Bobby was sitting on the car, lighting his usual cigarette. He struck a match, and as usual, flung the match stick over his shoulder. It bounced off of the car and settled onto the ground as he sucked the cigarette like his life depended on it.

"We have a guest," she said.

"Yeah, I can see that," I said. I followed her out to my deck and saw the preacher sitting on one of my deck chairs. He looked at me and smiled. He stood up and held out his hand and I looked at it. He looked nervous immediately and suddenly I knew that what Janie had told me was probably true. This went deeper than I'd thought. I was going to need some help.

"Brother Smith," he began.

"I didn't know that we were related," I said sharply.

"We are all brothers in the lord's service," he said.

"I'm not in the lord's service," I said. "I don't even go to church. I think I'm an atheist." He looked shocked again then.

"You have truly lost your way," he said as if he felt sorry for me. "Perhaps that has a lot to do with the unfortunate reason that I've come here for."

"Why ARE you here?" I asked.

"Sister Smith asked me to sit down with the two of you in hopes of finding a solution to the problems that you are currently undergoing in your union and..."

"I don't know who Sister Smith is," I said. "But if you're talking about my wife, Kim; I think that any problems we have right now have been caused by you and yours. And I'd rather sit down with a qualified therapist to discuss them."

I noticed again that a look passed between him and Kim when I'd hinted that he was the source of our problems.

"But..." he began as I turned towards the house.

"Go with God, Reverend," I said. "I'm going out to run."

As I went into the house to change into my running gear, I heard Kim talking to him. By the time I got changed they were done and he was on his way out. I met him again as he walked towards his car. He noticed my Mustang's shiny finish and the gleam of my chrome rims.

"Bro...er...Mr. Smith what do you use on that car to make it shine like that?" he asked. "I'd love my Caddy to be that shiny. It's a classic you know?"

"I just wash it and wax it," I said. I held back my true opinion. I really thought that his Cadillac looked like a pimp's car from the 70's.

"Perhaps someday you could wash and wax my Caddy," he said smiling.

"Perhaps," I said as I started the Mustang's motor. "Perhaps someday pigs will fly out of my ass too," I finished when I was far enough away from him.

I didn't go out to the quarry to run. I didn't actually run at all. I went to visit my friend Jerry Willis. Jerry was a really interesting guy. When we were in high school, Jerry was the guy who knew where to get weed and beer. He was always the guy that people went to if they had problems.

Jerry grew up to become a PI. He didn't get very much work in our area, but he was pretty good and he owed me a few favors.

I just told Jerry that I wanted him to spend some time watching Kim. I gave him our home number and her cell number and let him do the rest.

When I got home that night, Kim had made her world famous pot roast. She was sitting on the porch waiting for me when I drove up.

"I got your message last night," she said. "I thought that perhaps we should talk about it over dinner."

I was hungry so I followed her into the kitchen. She really had gone all out for dinner. She was also wearing make-up and had brushed her hair and changed into a different outfit.

As we started to eat, she just came out with it. "John I don't know why you needed to go looking through my drawers, but okay you found it. If you want me to I'll throw it away. I haven't used it in a long time. I only needed it for you know..." she said hiding her face. "...Those times when we don't..."

I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. I looked at her again. "The batteries you left on the bed..." she said. "I thought that you were acting like this because you were angry because you found my...uhm toy."

"I've known about your vibrator for years, Kim," I said. "Most women have them. Why would I be angry about that?"

"Well maybe you thought that it meant that you didn't..." she began.

"Didn't what?" I asked. "God damn it Kim, you're a grown woman. Just say what you want to say. We're supposedly married. We're allowed to talk about sex."

"I don't have the vibrator because you don't satisfy me John," she said. "You're the best at..." she stopped quickly realizing that she'd slipped. She started trying to clean it up. "I mean I've only had one man before you to ever compare it to, but between the two of you you're the absolute best. But sometimes like now when we're angry at each other and we don't...Well like last night for instance. I wanted to really badly and you didn't, so that's when I need it. But I didn't use it last night."

"Well, you should definitely use it tonight then," I said. I kept eating after that. She didn't say anything. She started to, but let it drop.

"John, why didn't you want to talk to the Reverend about whatever it is that's going on between us?" she asked quietly.

"Because he's so full of shit his eyes are brown," I said.

"John...there is something off between us, isn't there?" she asked. "I can feel it. I only asked the Reverend to come over to talk to us because I don't want things to get worse."

"Kim, I don't see how things between us COULD get any worse," I said. "If you want us to talk to someone, you should find and impartial, qualified therapist for us to talk to, not some religious quack."

She just nodded her head and started to collect the dishes. I helped clean up the kitchen then she went into the bedroom and made a few phone calls and I watched TV in the living room.

Life continued on after that for about three days before it all became clear. Kim was doing her best to fix things between us, but without actually admitting what was going on. The wedge between us got bigger and bigger. By the end of that week though, Jerry came back to me. He'd been amazingly thorough.

"Dude, I hate to tell you this but your wife is fucking..." he began.

"The preacher and his chauffer," I said.

"You left out the Deacon," he said. "Those three guys are getting more pussy than Hugh Hefner. And they're getting away with it because of the way they do it. Reverend Pile is slicker than duck shit. He gets all of these middle aged women who are slightly past their prime feeling all good about themselves again. He tells them at first that they're beautiful, which their husbands probably don't do anymore. He starts out with making them feel good about themselves. That gets them kind of addicted to him."

"What do you mean addicted to him?" I asked.

"Well, most people think that these women are just going to church," he said. "Fuck church, they're just going to get their fix of the Reverend and his bullshit. Most of them join the fucking Choir; even if they can't sing. That gets them more time with him. Then they get into the charity work. And the next thing you know they're doing favors and working around the church. They all do it on different schedules so they can get some alone time with him. That way he can concentrate his bullshit on one woman at a time. And then he really goes to town. He continues with all of the bullshit about how beautiful they are and how no one appreciates how truly special they are. Then he starts telling them about how difficult his life is and all of the responsibilities and all of that bullshit. Then he starts in on how despite having all of this responsibility, he's still only a human man and sometimes his needs aren't being met." He punctuated his words with a shit-eating grin.

"The next thing you know, some middle aged, fat assed wife, who thinks she's beautiful is fucking the preacher regularly and she thinks that she's doing some great service for the community. It's like some twisted Joan of Arc thing. I can just hear the angels singing about their great sacrifice as they spread those fat thighs for this holy scumbag." He shook his head.

"The thing that made it interesting was that the deacon caught on to what was going on. And naturally he wanted his piece or pieces of ass too. Then in some cases like unfortunately your wife's case, the chauffer caught on too. And none of these women think that they're doing anything wrong, it's funny as hell. It's like those knights who fought in the crusades. They went halfway around the fucking planet and committed all kinds of murders and atrocities, on people in other countries, in the name of the church. Think about it, you have all of these supposedly pious, God fearing knights, who forgot about the whole, "Thou shalt not kill," thing because the Pope told them it was cool. He used his silver tongue to make them think they could buy their way into heaven by slaughtering people; thereby breaking the commandments they were supposed to be following."

"It's almost like the way that fucking Kyle Bush just drops down below the safety line and passes three or four cars because he's driving a shorter distance," I spat. Jerry kind of rolled his eyes and looked at me.

"Dude this is institutionalized. They have this shit down pat," he said. He played me a tape.

"Who'd have ever thought that all of these boring "next door Nancy types" would be so eager to get fucked," said the Reverend.