Karma Train

I was two shots of Jack Daniels into what was starting out to be an epically bad weekend, and it wasn't even 3 in the afternoon on a Friday.

I'm a reporter for a small newspaper in the Midwest, and because I had worked several late nights in a row, my boss had given me comp time off for Friday afternoon. So after running a few errands, I headed home for what I hoped was going to be a good nap in my favorite La-Z-Boy. But as I pulled up to my house, I saw there were two cars in my driveway, one belonging to my wife of seven years, Traci, and the other I didn't recognize.

I thought it was odd that Traci was home in the middle of the day. She was an actuary for a mid-sized insurance company and usually worked 8 to 5. And then, of course, there was the second vehicle ...

But still, having what I thought was an amazing marriage and trusting the love of my life completely, I didn't jump to any foregone conclusions as I unlocked my front door ... and my world went to complete shit! There were the unmistakable sounds of two people going at it hot and heavy coming from our bedroom upstairs. The door was obviously open -- because they obviously weren't expecting company, and I could here moaning, yelling, and flesh slapping. Fuck!

I took the carpeted stairs two at a time, and when I got near the bedroom I could hear them much more clearly.

"This what you want? This what that little-dicked twit of a husband not giving you?" railed some guy I had never heard before to my wife, who was groaning louder as she was obviously getting pounded.

When I got to the door of my bedroom, I could see my gorgeous wife on her back beneath some guy who looked like he played linebacker for the Packers giving her a tremendous fucking, with her legs wrapped around his lower back.

"Give ... it ... to ... me ... Derek! Give ... it... to ... me!"

And from what little I could see, he was giving a lot to her. Despite what he had said, my dick is solid average at six inches, but I guessed he was probably a good nine or 10 inches, and thicker around as well. Traci had never indicated to me previously that she felt unfilled, but what I was seeing and hearing told me I wasn't measuring up for her. I was suddenly feeling extremely nauseous, probably because my world was crumbling right in front of my eyes.

"Playing through! Don't mind me!" I finally yelled as I walked into the room, opened my closet door, took out my gym bag and started putting a couple of changes of clothes in it.

Derek barely broke stride until Traci realized I was there and stopped fucking him.

"Oh, shit! Simon, I'm so sorry you had to see this!" she yelled from underneath the monster. "We were going to tell you, not have you find out like this."

"Exactly when would that have been then, Trace?" I responded. "On our 10th anniversary?

"From the looks of things, this is hardly a one-off. Surely you could have found the time to tell me before this if you really cared."

Although he had stopped pumping my wife, Derek was still embedded inside her pussy, and she was trying to look around him as we spoke.

"Never mind, Traci. I'll just grab a few things and be out of your hair. I'll come by for whatever else I want and need in the coming days. I'll have my lawyer draw up papers.

"By the way, who the fuck is this Neanderthal plugging you?"

"That's kind of funny," she giggled. "Derek is my attorney. He works for one of the big firms downtown."

"Perfect," I said.

I didn't bother to even close the front door when I left the house. I put my stuff in my Ford F-150 and headed straight for my favorite watering hole. Not exactly an auspicious start to the weekend.

Most bars are pretty empty on a weekday afternoon, and the Rusty Fork was no exception. Even my favorite bartender, Noel, didn't begin his shift until 4. So I just sat in my spot thinking. I suppose I should have seen this coming. The last time we went out to one of my wife's work events, her co-workers barely disguised their disdain for me, and I felt toward the end of the evening that she was starting to agree with their assessment of my job and my ability to support her in the style to which she'd like to become accustomed. Traci made no qualms about talking about how her job paid twice as much as mine.

We had a terse discussion about her behavior on the ride home that night, and she pushed it off on her being somewhat tipsy. I wasn't happy with that explanation, but as someone who doesn't hold grudges, we were OK a few days later ... or at least I thought we were.

So here I sit at the bar. I know I should probably be out making sure to move half of our money over to an account in my name only, but right now I could give a shit. My credit card is in my name only, which means I can spend the rest of the night getting shit-faced before sleeping it off in my truck. I'll find a hotel or an apartment to rent tomorrow.

Traci and I met at a major Midwestern university. We dated for our junior and senior years before I asked her to marry me. We knew that unless I could get on at a major newspaper in a major city, she was probably always going to out-earn me, but we both agreed that everything we made was ours, not that there would be a hers and mine. And that's what I thought we had until recently. I don't know how much of her attitude is because of her co-workers, but apparently she has lost her respect for me completely, and as for her love ... well ... today showed me exactly where I stood.

Noel greeted me when he came on at 4, and was mildly surprised at how early I was there. I gave him the Reader's Digest version of my earlier afternoon, and handed him my pick-up keys with instructions to pour me into the vehicle's cab when I was done, but not to give me my keys back until I woke up tomorrow.

"That's harsh, dude, finding out that way," he said to me while we talked.

At about 9 p.m. I wasn't feeling any pain, let alone my extremities, when a state trooper showed up in the bar. He ambled over to Noel behind the bar and asked him if "a Mr. Simon Tillerson was on the premises." Noel, of course, pointed over at me.

The trooper then ambled over to me (he was very good at this ambling thing, I thought in my fogged brain) and said he had some news he regretted he had to tell me. My wife and "a Mr. Derek Biggs" were killed on the road about three hours ago when a semi blew a light in town and drove over the top of Mr. Biggs' BMW convertible. Authorities had been trying to find me for three hours before one of my acquaintances told them about my favorite bar.

"Fuck me!" I yelled. "Drinks are on me! There is a God in heaven!"

A cheer went up for my announcement.

Trooper Reginald Masters looked like he'd seen a ghost. I don't think he was expecting glee from the new widower.

"Mr. Tillerson, I get that you must be in shock, but ..."

"Not shock, buddy, ecstasy!" I wailed in my drunken state. "The reason I'm so fucked up is because I caught the two of them fucking in my bed this afternoon. I was going to leave the bitch! Fuck her dead body! This couldn't get any better!"

The trooper still looked appalled. I couldn't care less.

"Normally we like for the next of kin to identify the body, just to be completely sure it truly is that person who is dead, but I don't think Mr. Tillerson is going to be of any help tonight," Masters said to Noel. "Could you make sure he that someone leaves him the message to go over to the morgue tomorrow?"

Noel nodded affirmatively. I may have been drunk as a skunk, but I completely understood what was going on and what Masters had told me. And even though I knew that I would miss my wife when I sobered up, she had cheated on me and was going to replace me ... so right at that moment my anger at Traci outranked any love I still had for her.

I woke up stiff and sore in the cab of my pick-up the next morning. I probably looked like shit, too, but I staggered back into the bar to pick up my keys and drive to a hotel. Then I remembered what the trooper had told me the previous night, so I drove home to my empty house instead, thinking about Traci and the nine years we had together, the last seven as man and wife. I was more sad than anything that it ended the way it did between us. I can't say I was really grieving, because even though I was no longer drunk, I still was happy that she and the asswipe got what I thought they deserved.

I went home, jumped in the shower, cleaned up and headed over to the morgue to identify the body. Traci's body looked battered. I guess having a semi go over the top of you in a convertible will do that. I asked to see the other body as well. Derek looked similar to Traci. I hoped at least in his case death was slower to come.

When I got back home, I knew I had to make at least three phone calls -- one to my parents, one to her parents, and one to her sister, Anya. I knew somewhere deep down inside I was sorry to see her die, but at that moment every thought of her came with the visual of her urging her paramour to give it to her, and I really couldn't muster any sorrow in my heart for her. So I decided I would do my job ... report the facts, and keep my lack of emotion out of the equation if I could.

At least I did feel bad for Ron and Cindy Jacobs, Traci's parents, for losing their daughter. I loved Ron and Cindy almost as much as I loved my folks, and I certainly didn't want to see them hurt. From that respect, this was not going to be easy.

I called my parents first and gave them the news. My mom, easily the more emotional of the two, burst into tears immediately. My father, on the extension, started asking for more specifics, so I told him about Traci being in the car with Derek Biggs at the time of the accident.

"Who's Derek Biggs?" he asked directly. I knew the question was coming, but still I hesitated before answering, which probably told him volumes.

"An attorney friend of Traci's," I answered.

My father is a very smart man, and very perceptive. He didn't miss a beat.

"So why was she in the car with an attorney friend of hers at a time when she should have been home with you?"

"Because she wasn't with me anymore, Dad, that's why. I caught her and Derek having sex in our bed earlier in the day, and I'm guessing it wasn't their first rodeo together. So I threw some clothes in a bag and left. I don't know why they were in the car at about 6. I'm assuming they were going out to eat, considering the time."

"Well, shit, son, I'm sorry to hear that."

By this point, my mother had composed herself some and gotten back on the line. She heard enough to know what we were talking about.

"Are you sure she was having sex with another man, Simon? I mean this is not the sort of thing you want to be telling people if you're not sure ..."

I interrupted and was not very diplomatic.

"Mom, I caught them in the act. I've had sex just a few times in all these years to know what I was looking at."

"Have you talked to Ron and Cindy yet, Simon? If not, what are you going to tell them?" my dad asked.

"As little as possible, Dad, unless they start giving me the third degree like you're doing. I won't lie, if that's what you're asking."

"This could get ugly, then, son. Remember, they are your in-laws. Show them the respect they deserve."

"Yes, sir," I responded solemnly.

The phone call to Traci's parents went eerily similar to the one I had with my folks. While her mother fell to pieces, my father-in-law immediately picked up on the fact that she was in the car with another man at the time of her death, when she was usually with me at that time of day.

"Is there something you're not telling us, Simon?" I heard Ron say as Cindy bawled in the background. "At 6 on a Friday night, Traci should have been with her husband, but she was in a car with another man. This equation's not adding up son."

"All right! All right!" I half-yelled, half-croaked into the phone. "Traci was running around on me! I caught her in bed hours earlier with the guy she died with, and I gathered some things and I left! I guess they figured at that point they had nothing to hide anymore, and were going out somewhere together."

"Y-y-you caught them together? In bed? In your house?"

Ron sounded incredulous. He was having a tough time believing the daughter he was just told was dead was also cheating on her husband, and died in the car with her lover.

"Yes, Ron, yes! And right now I'm so mad at her I'm actually happy the two of them died! The bitch and her lover got what they deserved."

I knew I shouldn't have said that last part to her father, however true it was. He started to yell at me on the phone until I interjected quietly but forcefully.

"He was ridiculing me, Ron, while he was fucking your daughter, and she was going along with it. She demanded he give her his big dick! Yes, your daughter ... and my wife.

"I guess this saves me the trouble of divorcing her. She won't be buried in my family's plots, and I most certainly won't want to be by her side when my time comes. So just tell me the name of the funeral home your family uses, and I'll make sure the body is taken there. I'll handle all of that part of it, and the financial side. You and Cindy work out the rest, like the viewing. Obviously, I won't be there."

"You can't just pretend she didn't matter in your life, son," Ron said in his best calming voice. "You two were together for almost a decade. You can't tell me all that can be erased."

"It can and it has, Dad," I responded. "We were done the minute I saw her with Derek Biggs in our bedroom. Why should her death change the way I feel?"

"Surely someday -- with some time -- you'll feel different about this, and wished you had said a proper good-bye," Ron said in almost a whisper.

"Don't think so," I said just as quietly.

The funeral service was done in Ron and Cindy's home church -- the same church where Traci and I made our vows before God and both families that we would "love, honor, and cherish each other." The irony wasn't lost on me. I thought about attending for maybe 10 seconds before the anger started to well up inside of me. Did you ever want to choke the shit out of a dead person? That's where I was. My attending the funeral might have made Traci's parents feel better, but would only have served to make me more angry, and believe me, I had more than my share's worth.

About an hour after I figured the service would be over, I got a call from Traci's sister, Anya. I knew this wasn't going to pleasant, but I suppose she need to vent, especially if her parents hadn't told her the complete story.

"Traci was right. You are a piece of shit. You're a small man, with small dreams, and you have a small dick. You write small stories for a small newspaper and have a small future. I always wondered what took her so long to start cheating on you!"

"Well, pleasant day to you, too, Anya" I replied in greeting. "So, I'm guessing you knew all along. So then why if I was such a bad guy would you have even wanted me there?"

"Because you embarrassed my parents, you piece of shit! How can you even answer the question as to why Traci's husband wasn't at the funeral? My parents practically died of embarrassment when they had to tell the reverend why you weren't coming. You are a piece of shit and I hope you die, too!"

"Now, you're catching on, Anya!" I yelled into the phone. "That's exactly what I thought about your sister and her lover after I caught them, and you know what? I got lucky. They did die. So now why don't you just fuck off and leave me alone."

I thought that went well.

I got a realtor and put the house up for sale immediately. I moved my stuff into the spare bedroom and I sold off -- for dirt cheap -- all of our bedroom furniture, including the sheets and pillowcases. I was never going to touch any of that stuff again. As for the rest of Traci's stuff, I took her jewelry -- most of which I had given her -- and sold it to a local jeweler, and gave the money to a church food pantry. Her clothes and everything else I boxed up and took to her parents, telling them they could keep or dispose of the stuff at their leisure. Those boxes included our wedding album and the usual small photos you normally have of each other. I had enough photos of Traci in my head, with the very last one of her and Derek Biggs in our marital bed that was never going to be able to be forgotten. Ron and I made small talk as he helped me unload by pick-up.

When the last box had been unloaded, I looked at Ron and Cindy and they looked back at me. We moved in for a tight family hug. I'm pretty sure we were all crying.

"See ya guys," I whispered as my voice failed me.

All of this was done in the first two weeks after Traci's death.

Somewhere in the middle of all this, I got a phone call from Cruz-Miller Insurance. Traci and I always had life insurance, so I knew why there were calling. It just wasn't a priority in my life until I got everything squared away. With everything on the obvious side now done, it was time to return the call to them.

Traci being the insurance professional had handled all of our insurance purchases. We always discussed everything, but since that was her field of expertise, I let her make the final decisions there. One of those decisions was a $1 million life policy on each of us, with a double indemnity clause for an accidental death prior to age 45. That meant a $2 million payout was coming my way. But then the insurance agent said something else that almost made me choke on the coffee I was drinking. Seems that since the driver of the truck caused the accident, his firm would be on the hook for some sort of payout for wrongful death, unless I wanted to go to court and try to sue them for everything I could get. They would pay for both Traci and Derek. She advised me that I should accept nothing less than another $2 million, although she figured $3 million to $4 million would actually be right in this situation. After the lawyer would take his cut, I stood to have about $5 million in the bank.

I actually wound up with $4.75 million in the bank after the lawyer took his cut. I really didn't care at that point as I was completely numb. The trucking company settled with Derek Biggs' widow as well, and the signing for both was to be at the same time and place. I had never met his widow until the signing, and while I thought Traci was a beautiful woman, Derek's widow was at least as beautiful, so I wondered why he would risk his marriage for an affair. I guessed that maybe he was so sure of not getting caught he didn't see any risk to the affair.

After we had signed the paperwork with the company, Ellie Biggs invited me out for a cup of coffee. Seems she had one question in all of this that never got answered by anybody, and she was hoping that I could provide that information.

"My husband didn't have a friend named Traci Tillerson that I was aware of, and after checking, his firm told me she was not a client. Yet they were in the car together when they died. Nobody in Derek's office knows who this woman is, or if they do, they are not telling me. What was your wife to my husband, Mr. Tillerson."

I took a big gulp of coffee. Damn. I hated to be the bearer of more bad news to this extremely good-looking woman.

I dropped my eyes to the table in the Starbucks we were at.

"Oh, that bad," she said on cue. "Please, Mr. Tillerson. I deserve to know the truth."

So I told her the whole story from my side. She looked appalled. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach.

"Thank you for your honesty," she said as she got up from the table and left the coffee shop.

Although I was now wealthy by most people's standards, my life sucked. I had no desire to date. I had moved into a shitty one-bedroom apartment just to have a roof over my head. I had few friends, and didn't really care. I worked at the newspaper, rode my bike a lot and lifted weights several times a week. I just existed.