My Wife Goes on a Date

"I was in a hurry to get back so I forced myself to drive too long and too hard."

"Oh, we know how you got home. She was interested in knowing how you did it without killing her granddaughter."

"What?"

"Apparently the granddaughter is a real pain in the ass and seems to have no real regard for other people's feelings. The Jacobson's didn't want to send her home with you, but didn't want her with them either. She caused them nothing but embarrassment the entire time she was with them on their trip. The grandson left because he couldn't stand being cooped up with her in the coach any longer."

"I know how he feels. The only reason I spent so much time driving is every time I gripped the steering wheel, I thought of my hands being on her throat and it felt so good I didn't want to stop."

He laughed. "Anyway, they are happy you made it home okay. Mr. Jacobson should be discharged in another week or so. All indications are that he will be good as new after a little recovery period. They want us to service the coach. We will and will have one of the guys take it to their place."

"That's good news; both about him and keeping the coach. I thought they might want to sell it."

"Oh, hell no. They love it and have even talked about becoming full time RV'ers. Okay, so now I want you to go home for a couple of days and rest up."

"But..."

"No, 'but's' goddamn it. Just do what I tell you to do. It might give the other employee's a chance to get their break room back."

I had been gone only three days, but it seemed like much longer. I went home, took a much needed shower and shave and went to bed.

I probably slept 30 hours out of the next two days but at some point I was going to have to rejoin the real world. The first step in that regard was, I supposed, to check my phone and see what I had missed. I had given absolutely no thought to it over the past several days. I started looking for it. I looked in the pockets of the clothes I had worn on the Vancouver trip and it wasn't there. I called my boss and asked him to check the break room and the coach to see it if was there. It wasn't.

Shit. How many customer calls had I missed?

I headed for the dealership. There were several messages from customers and I started returning them. By midafternoon I was pretty well caught up.

I had gone to the employee's break room and fixed myself a cup of coffee and had started back to my cubicle when I saw her come in. Little miss attitude. I turned and headed for the service area. I had been there... hiding... for about ten minutes when the PA system sounded.

"Trey, come to my office, please. Trey to my office."

I took my time and sipped my coffee.

"Trey, my office...please."

I knocked.

"Come in. Oh, good, there you are. I believe you know Darla Jacobson. She was telling me about the trip back from Canada."

She just sat there. I looked at him in disbelief. I, of course, had told him all about the trip. He had a twinkle in his eye I had only seen a couple of times. Once when the dealership had an exceptional month of sales and he had seen nothing but dollar signs. The other time was when his twin sons had both received 'full ride' scholarships to the University of Texas. The bastard was enjoying this.

He grinned. "Miss Jacobson came to return your cell phone. Apparently you left it in her grandparents' car."

Just then his phone rang, "If the two of you will excuse me, I have to take this call."

She stood and I indicated that she should precede me out of the office. She walked into the showroom and I followed at what I thought was a safe distance. She stopped and I did likewise. She turned to face me and reached her hand out. My phone was in it.

I was too far away from her to take it so she took a couple of steps toward me. I moved back the same number of steps.

She almost smiled.

"Am I really that bad?" She took several steps toward a nearby table and put the phone on it.

"Yes."

She moved away from the table and I moved to pick up my phone and head back to the service area. The thought of saying thank you never entered my mind.

"Trey."

I stopped and cautiously turned back to her.

"I heard some of your messages. I couldn't help it. I heard them as they were being left. You did my grandparents a huge favor and you are dealing with your own problems. Trey, I'm so sorry I acted the way I did."

She turned and walked out of the dealership.

Well, ain't that the shits. She has a soft side. And it even seemed sincere. I went to my cubicle and sat.

It was just a couple of minutes later when there was a tremendous crashing sound outside. I looked toward the street and saw that at least two cars were involved. Normally I steer clear of things like this and let the professionals deal with it, but one of the salesmen who had been outside came in and said, "Trey, I think that silver car is the lady who came to see you."

Oh, shit. I ran to the crash site. It was her. The EMT's weren't there yet, but there was one person who was trying to stop the bleeding on Darla's scalp. Someone else was working on what appeared to be a broken arm.

Darla looked up and saw me and this time she did actually smile. "You always seem to catch me at my best." Then she passed out.

The EMT's arrived shortly after that and stabilized both Darla and a passenger in the other car and took them to the hospital. I overheard them tell the investigating police officer which hospital they were going to. I went back to work. I had been at my desk for about 15 minutes when I remembered the Jacobson's. I thought I should call them and let them know about Darla.

I did and reassured them that she didn't appear to be in any real danger; cuts, bruises and probably a broken arm but I thought she would be okay. I heard Mrs. Jacobson tell her husband. Then I heard his response. "Broken arm? Too bad it wasn't her neck. Might have knocked some humanity into her."

After a sufficient chastisement to her husband, Mrs. Jacobson asked me if I would call Darla's parents and let them know. She gave me their number and I did. Then I remembered my phone. There were 54 texts; half from my mother and the rest from Judy, prospective customers, and one from Michael Hamilton. I called the prospective customers and made four appointments for the next couple of days. I ignored the others.

I left work at 5 and headed home. The hospital the EMT's said they were going to was nowhere near my house, but I found myself there nonetheless. A check with the information desk and I found out that her room was 646. I went there. When I walked in, she already had visitors. Her parents.

"Trey, meet my parents. Mom, Dad, This is Trey Taylor. Trey, my parents, Ralph and JoAnne Jacobson."

"Nice to meet you, Trey. Darla hasn't stopped talking about your trip." Said her mother.

I'll bet she hasn't, I thought.

"How could you stand being in that small bus with her for two days? She would have driven me crazy." Said her father.

"It isn't a bus, Dad. It's a coach."

"It's a bus. Pretty fancy, but still a bus."

"Ignore him, Trey."

"How are you?"

"Fine... except for a broken arm and some stitches."

"Well...uh...I better go. Just thought I should check in on you. Take care of yourself."

"Thanks for stopping by."

"Oh, Trey." Said her father, "Thank you for calling my parents and us."

"You're most welcome. Good bye."

I went home and debated with myself about calling my mother. It was a short debate. The negative side won because I didn't see an affirmative side.

And so it went for about three weeks. My mother and Judy tried repeatedly to call and I ignored them. Even my step-father called. I talked to him but ended the call when he tried to put my mother on the phone.

My attorney had sent the divorce papers to the address Judy had given me. I guess she was enjoying living with and fucking Morrison because her signature was big, bold and in bright red magic marker. Her pregnancy, if it actually existed, was never mentioned. In about two months I would be a free man.

I started thinking of being single. The thought of that prompted other thoughts. Like the celibacy I had endured. Celibacy!! Holy shit, it has been a long dry spell! All of a sudden my balls started to ache. I needed to get laid!

I sat for just a minute before going to the bathroom to shower and get ready to go out to eat.

I had just finished dressing when my phone rang.

"Trey Taylor."

"Hello Trey, this is Dottie Jacobson."

"Well, hello, Mrs. Jacobson. How are you? And how is the patient?"

"Call me Dottie, please, Trey. He's fine. Actually he's better than fine. We're planning our next trip and he wants to go to Colorado, but I'm a bit concerned about him driving in those mountains. What do you think?

"Dottie that coach won't let him get in any trouble. All he has to do is turn on the 'Jake Brake' and leave it on and as long as he doesn't try to break any speed limits, he will be fine."

"That's what he says. He has read articles on mountain driving and is excited to try it. I think I'm going to get some Valium before we go." She laughed as she said it. In my experience with them I was positive that she would go with him anyplace he wanted to go, whenever he wanted to go there and vice versa. I loved that couple.

"Anyway, the reason I called was to invite you to a little barbeque we are having to celebrate Robert's recovery. It will be at our place this Friday at six. Bring your wife. We would love to meet her."

It dawned on me that I had never discussed my personal life with them and apparently, Darla, after hearing some of my texts, hadn't either so they had no idea I was almost divorced.

"Thank you, Dottie. I would love to come. See you then."

It had been a good week. Usually, I'm happy if I sell one RV a week. This week it was three. One of them was a high end used coach which used to belong to a country music star who 'upgraded' to a newer, fancier model. My commissions for the week were very nice. Very nice, indeed.

I pulled up to the Jacobson estate at exactly six. There was a big garage set away from the main house where, I assumed, they kept their coach. After I drove it back from Vancouver it had been serviced and cleaned and the service department had returned it to them. I knew they had money because they wrote a very substantial check for the coach; but their estate was spectacular.

I pulled up to the front of the house and a valet parked my car. Now I've been to six county fairs and a goat fucking but I had never had a valet park my car at a private residence.

I was directed through the house and to the backyard. There were about fifty people already there. Dottie saw me and hugged me and asked where my wife was. I explained that I was in the process of getting a divorce. She held me at arm's length and allowed as how my wife was an idiot. She then hugged my arm and led me toward the rest of the guests.

"Listen to me, Trey. When you are ready, I know of several nice young ladies who would love to meet someone like you."

She then introduced me to the other guests as a friend; not as the guy who sold them their coach. I knew that I was walking with some pretty big dogs in this crowd and that any 'nice young ladies' she would introduce me to would be way out of my league. I decided to stay for a just a short time and leave.

I had just finished a brisket sandwich and beer and was looking for Dottie and Robert to say goodbye when I saw Darla storm away from some guy. I hadn't known she was here, but probably should have assumed she would be. I had seen that look before and didn't want any part of it so I turned so she wouldn't see me.

Too late.

"Come on, Trey." She said, grabbing my arm. First Dottie and now Darla. This was a family of arm grabbers.

She led me inside to the library. The house had a fucking library!

"That guy is a fucking jerk. He said I had an attitude problem and needed help." I started to leave. "Where are you going?"

"Leaving before you kick me out because I agree with him."

" He didn't have to say it out loud and in front of people."

"Somebody should."

"Damn it, Trey. You need to be on my side."

"Why? The only civil words you've ever spoken to me were when you were lying in the street bleeding and probably delirious."

She plopped rather than sat.

I remained standing.

We never looked at each other.

"How's the arm?" I asked.

"It itches like hell under the cast. I have to carry this so I can scratch." She pulled what looked like a backscratcher out of the cast. It had tiny fingers so it would fit between the cast and her arm so she could reach the itchy spot. "I'll be glad when this thing is off." Indicating the cast.

"I have to go."

"Trey?"

"Yes."

"If I promise to behave, will you have dinner with me?"

After a short pause, I said. "Darla, I'm going through a divorce so I don't need any more stress and I would probably do something to piss you off and make it worse. So I don't think dinner is a good idea."

I left.

Saturday morning my mother rang my doorbell. I let her in.

"Here's the deal. I have given it a lot of thought and I agree with you. There are some things that we should compromise on and some things we shouldn't. Fidelity in a marriage is on the 'not compromise' list. You reminded me of the absolute hell I went through with your father and nobody should have to do that. I apologize for even considering wanting you to take Jodie back. I was selfish in that I was just thinking about the baby and the possibility of having a grandchild. Please forgive me."

I did and we hugged. We chatted for another hour or so, hugged again and she left.

Mid-morning Monday my phone rang.

"Trey Taylor."

"Good morning Trey, this is Michael Hamilton. I have news." I don't know when he got on a first name basis with me but what the hell.

"What kind of news."

"Stan Morrison called and asked for his job back. They said no."

I laughed.

"Just thought you would like to know."

"Thank you, Michael." Now I'm on a first name basis with him.

Just before noon, the Jacobson's coach pulled into the yard and parked right in front of the building. I was with customers so couldn't go out and greet them but I was able to see it. I sat and talked with my prospects for at least thirty minutes and nobody came out of the coach. I escorted them out to their car and then went to the coach and rang the doorbell. Darla answered.

"Hi. Come in."

I stepped up into the coach. When you enter a coach like this, the door is right beside the passenger seat. There are generally three or four steps up into the coach. When you get to the top of the steps, you have to immediately turn left or you bump into the driver's seat. When the coach is moving and a passenger is in their seat the floor slides out to cover the steps so that their feet are on solid footing and not dangling in the stairwell.

Anyway, I stepped up into the coach and followed her to the living area.

"Have a seat."

I sat.

There was the wonderful smell of Lasagna coming from the oven. There were two glasses of wine on the kitchen counter. She handed me one of them and took the other for herself. She reached hers out to me indicating that we should 'clink' them. We did and we both took sips. It was a very nice Chianti.

I had said nothing up to this point.

She leaned back against the stove and jerked away from the heat. Then she moved a bit and leaned back against the counter.

She took a rather large gulp. "You said dinner was out but I figured lunch might be okay. I also thought I might embarrass or piss you off in public so I figured this might be a bit more private. I asked Grandma and Grandpa if I could use the coach and when I told them why, they thought it was a good idea. He just made me promise that I wouldn't drive back when I got pissed. Notice I said 'when' I got pissed not 'if'."

"He knows you pretty well, doesn't he?"

Instead of the expected red faced explosion, she took a rather large gulp of her Chianti. Her face was red-ish, but she didn't explode. I took a sip of mine.

She turned her back to me and stayed that way even after refilling her glass. I saw her take a deep breath and turn back to me.

"I hope you're hungry. I made it this morning. My Lasagna is really good even if I say it myself." She busied herself with the salad and garlic bread. I thought to myself that she was doing pretty well with a cast on one arm.

The doorbell rang.

"Would you get that, please?" I stood and walked to the dashboard and pressed the button. The door opened. My boss was standing there.

He looked up at me. "Everything all right."

I looked down at him. "So far." I said as I closed the door and returned to my seat and wine. I watched her putter around and it seemed that she was enjoying doing it. Her moves were natural so it was obvious she knew her way around a kitchen, even one as small as this.

I smiled; but only for a moment. I knew that one of us was going to do something to piss the other off. It was just a matter of time.

She told me to sit at the dining area table. I did. Generally speaking, in a coach which is 45 feet long and 8 1/2 feet wide there is not a lot of room inside. The slideouts increased the width in the living area and bedroom to around 11 feet. The living room starts immediately behind the drivers and passengers seats. Then you have the dining and kitchen areas across from each other. Then the bathroom and shower and at the rear of the coach is the bedroom.

We ate and chatted and realized that we had finished the bottle of Chianti. I also realized that neither had pissed the other off.

After a couple of hours, I decided I needed to go back to work.

"Darla, thank you. This was a pleasant surprise and the food was delicious."

"It was my pleasure."

I started for the door and she followed. I had taken a step down to leave.

"Trey?"

I turned my head to look at her. She leaned down and kissed me. Softly and tenderly. Neither of us knew who was more shocked.

There was a long pause as we just looked at each other.

"Is dinner still 'off the table'?" She asked with a twinkle in her eye.

"How about tonight?"

"Love to. Say 7:00?" That was just a few hours away.

She gave me her address and I started to leave. Again. But we kissed. Again. And again. It took me another ten minutes to leave.

When I finally stepped off the coach, I saw six faces looking at me through the Showroom window. My boss was one of them. When they saw I that I had seen them they all scattered...except my boss. He opened the door for me when I entered.

"Well?"

"I'm going home to get ready for a date tonight."

We laughed.

Ten minutes later Darla drove the coach off the lot.

I was on my way to her house when my phone rang.

"Trey Taylor."

"So, you managed not to kill each other, huh?"

"Hello, Dottie. I assume Robert is listening."

"You bet your bippy, I'm listening. We have already heard her story now we want to hear yours."

I laughed. "You know a gentleman never tells."

"Horse hockey."

"Hush, Robert. Trey, it was funny when she asked us to borrow the coach. She was nervous and didn't want to tell us why she wanted it, but Robert wouldn't let her have it unless she did. So, she did. As she was telling us, she got excited and told us about the Lasagna she fixed. I asked her how she knew you liked Lasagna.

" 'I just know, Grandma.' And she blushed, Trey. I've known that girl all her life and didn't know she knew how...but she actually blushed."

"Trey," piped up, Robert, "I don't believe I'm saying this, especially given that girl's shitty attitude..."

"Robert, watch your language."

"Yes, dear. Anyway, Trey, as far as I know, that girl has never done anything like this. She may piss me..."