Nancy

My words threw a switch in Cecilia's lizard brain.

"You stupid shit! Do you have any idea how many times you kissed me after some stud came in my mouth over the past year? Did you really think you were the only guy I was fucking? You've been getting seconds the entire time we've been married. You are one dumb cuck!"

I was starting to feel sick and both our attorneys were standing wide eyed as Cecilia vented her spleen. Suddenly the moment was interrupted by the harsh voice behind Cecilia. The judge was standing in the hall.

"You four, in my chambers - now!"

My attorney said it was the first time she witnessed what came next. The judge overruled herself and eliminated Cecilia's alimony; plus Cecilia was required to pay my attorney's fees from the half she received from our assets. Justice may be blind, but she has great hearing.

I probably should have gone into therapy after my divorce. I was a two-time loser. I treated both Jocelyn and Cecilia like queens and twice got dumped for my troubles. I was obviously doing something wrong.

I was living and working in Tacoma when I happened to go into a new diner near work; I spent the entire half hour watching her while I ate my lunch. Depending on whether she was carrying a tray or not, she alternated between gliding across the diner (with a full tray of dishes high above her head) or she stepped with almost a hop when her hands were empty. Either way, her movements had grace, it was like watching a Ginger Rogers movie. I checked her left hand for a ring and was pleased to find it empty. Her name tag read, 'Nancy'.

The diner became a regular stop for me. Every once and a while I was seated in her section and took the opportunity to chat. I tipped well without being obnoxious. She seemed to accept my friendliness so I took a chance one day.

"Can I buy you a cup of coffee some time?"

She laughed, but it wasn't a cruel laugh. "You're asking a girl who works in a diner all day out for a cup of coffee?"

I almost blushed. "OK, maybe not coffee; anything - drinks, dinner, movie? You name it."

"Can you handle a chick flick? I want to see the new Drew Barrymore movie, 'Fever Pitch'."

"Only if you agree to see the new Batman movie with me when it comes out next month."

She didn't even hesitate with her come back. "You mean the one with Christian Bale? He's a cutie; it's a date."

We were exclusive within two weeks and lovers within three. Nancy was sweet and sassy, with a smile that glowed from her eyes and spread across her entire face. I took her fishing on the Puget Sound and was shocked when she landed a fifteen-pound Sockeye. She brought it right up to my net and proceeded to take it out and throw it in the cooler without my help. We hiked in the Mt. Rainier National Park and camped overnight in a small tent. She surprised me in the morning by bathing buck naked in a small mountain stream.

I was falling in love.

I stopped in on Mom one afternoon, I hadn't seen her since Nancy entered my life and it was getting serious. Mom's brother was sitting at the kitchen table while Mom made us grilled cheese sandwiches and dished two bowls of her bean soup. After explaining my feelings toward Nancy and asking when would be a good time to have her over for an introduction, Mom looked over at Uncle Fred.

"Here we go again!"

"Mom, I think this one's different. You'll see when you meet her."

"We'll see. Your Uncle Fred and Aunt Leena will be here for supper next Sunday. Why don't you bring her then?"

Supper on Sunday exceeded all expectations. Before the afternoon was over, Mom and Aunt Leena were giving Nancy family recipes along with the secrets that weren't written down on the recipe cards. Nancy spent an hour with Uncle Fred exchanging fishing tall tales. The King that Uncle Fred caught in Alaska last year was now up to fifty pounds and longer than his arms could spread. Nancy let him win after that.

We were on the way home that night when I asked. "So, now when do I meet your folks?"

"They're both dead."

"Oh my god Nancy, I'm so sorry! How come you never said anything?"

"Until today neither one of us said much of anything about relatives. Besides, it's been five years and I still miss them so I tend to stay away from the topic."

This was new territory for me and I didn't know what to say, but decided to ask, "Would it be OK to ask how they died?"

"A drunk and stoned driver. He crossed the center line on Route 18, Dad died instantly, but Mom lingered for a few weeks. It was awful, I'm the one who had to make the decision to let her go. What child should have to make the decision to turn off the machine keeping your parent alive?" Nancy began to cry.

"I'm sorry, that explains your aversion to drinking and driving. I always thought you were a little over the top about it, but now I see why it matters so much to you."

"While Mom was in the hospital I dropped out of school and couldn't afford to go back after she died. That's when I started working as a waitress. It pays OK with the tips, but there's not a lot left over at the end of the month, so school's been put on hold."

"Didn't your dad have life insurance or couldn't you get anything from the other driver's insurance?"

"No, the other driver didn't have insurance and since my mom lived for three weeks after Dad died, all his life insurance went to her, which only ended up paying for her medical bills. After everything was final, I ended up with less than ten thousand dollars, which basically paid for the bills I accumulated when I was sitting in the hospital with Mom.

"That's one of the crazy things about how our system works, it's like the lottery. If a UPS truck or a State vehicle had killed my folks, I'd be a multi-millionaire, but some drunk stoner without insurance wipes out my family and I end up flat broke.

"I'm not saying I wish I was rich at the expense of losing my family, I'd trade everything I own just to have one conversation with Mom and Dad, just one more meal sitting around our dining room table. They were really wonderful, loving people; you would have liked them and I think they would have liked you, too."

We pulled up to her apartment as she finished, tears were running down her cheeks. I walked her to the door, she took my hand and brought me inside. We slept in her bed that night without making love, she just snuggled into my chest with my arm around her shoulders. I was falling deeper in love with this woman.

Within six months of our first date Nancy and I were engaged. It was a short engagement, we eloped to Vegas within a month. Mom was upset she wasn't at our wedding, but thrilled I found such a wonderful woman. Things were great the first six months of our marriage. We made love almost every night, both our jobs were going as well as could be expected; Nancy was still waitressing, I was a diesel mechanic at the local Dodge dealer, mostly working on Cummings engines in the big Dodge trucks. Then the dealership closed and with it, of course, my job.

I didn't waste any time, I was hitting every shop and dealer within sixty miles trying to find another job. Nancy was so sweet, she did her best to keep my spirits up whenever I started to lose hope. She took an extra shift every week to keep our finances from suffering too much. Finally, after six weeks, I landed a job with an independent garage outside of town. Not a bad commute, but I'd only be making three-quarters of what I made at the Dodge dealer.

My attitude started to reflect our new financial situation - poor. It didn't help that my new boss was a bit of an ass. He was such a nice guy when we were discussing the position, but the longer I worked under him (and that's how he always put it), the more I found his remarks to be cutting and offensive. A couple of the other mechanics were friendly, as was the lady who worked the front desk and did the books. She seemed nice, but after working there for three months it became apparent she and the boss were spending time in the office screwing around. I felt sorry for her schmuck of a husband; he'd stop round every few weeks, delivering the whore flowers or to take her out for lunch. I almost told the guy he was being cucked, I remember thinking how no one told me when Cecilia was stepping out until Mom did, but I ended up minding my own business.

I think our marriage was still in good shape, but the constant struggle to pay the bills and save some money for the future was starting to grind on me. The few arguments we did have always centered on money. Nancy was usually the practical one and I seemed to need something new every once and a while.

Our worse fight began when I told Nancy I was thinking of buying a new Winchester Model 70 hunting rifle and a Leupold scope. Together these would run just over twenty-four hundred dollars.

"Jim, I thought we were saving for a house so I could get pregnant."

"Nancy, why am I working if I can't buy myself something once and a while?"

"But you bought a new rifle two years ago. Why do you need another one so soon?"

"Did I say anything when you needed the sewing machine? Did you get the third degree?"

"Jim - that sewing machine was used and I paid less than four hundred dollars for it. Besides, I probably saved half that already just by making some of the curtains and things."

Nancy was making good sense, but I wanted that new rifle, damn it! Why was she being so damn logical?

"Oh, aren't you Miss Wonderful."

None of the rest of our argument needs to be repeated; let's just say we never saw eye-to-eye on the need for a new rifle and for the first time in our relationship, we went to bed without saying, "I love you" to each other.

OK, I was being an ass, but in my defense, I never hit, threatened, yelled or called Nancy rude names during the entire time we were a couple. But I know that's a small consolation for treating a beautiful, loving woman the way I treated her. Even now, years later, I can't explain what was happening to me and why I was turning into such an immature prick.

I stopped into a tavern the next night on my way home from work. I knew I was wrong and wasn't looking forward to continuing the argument from the night before, so I was postponing the inevitable. As I sat at the bar sipping my beer, wondering how I was going to apologize to Nancy without admitting how wrong I was, a voice called out from behind me.

"Aren't you Jim Peterson?"

I looked at the reflection in the mirror behind the bar, then turned around.

"It is you! We went to Central High and graduated together seven years ago."

It was Spencer Crasser and he looked genuinely happy to see me. I held out my hand to shake his; he took it and proceeded to sit in the barstool next to mine.

"You dated Jocelyn Murphy, right? My god, what a great piece of ass - and those tits! Have you seen her lately? She's huge, a guy could get lost trying to fuck her, but he'd die happy in that valley."

I should have been pissed with the way he was talking about a girl I used to love; a gentleman would have said something, but I just let it pass.

"Let me buy you a beer. Let's have a toast to all the women we've known - and all the women yet to be known."

Although Spencer and I never hung out in high school, he seemed to enjoy my company. We drank a few more beers and exchanged life stories. I glossed over most of my tales, but I did expand on my current relationship with Nancy. I thought I expressed happiness with my marriage, but I made the mistake of telling Spencer about our current disagreement.

"You know what your problem is, don't you Jim? You are one pussy-whipped boy. You keep treating these women like goddesses and they keep shitting all over you. You need to make certain your woman knows you're the man, you have the cock, and you're the boss."

I was skeptical and almost said something in reply when we were interrupted.

"Spence, honey; there you are."

I turned to see a drop-dead gorgeous blond standing next to Spencer. Spencer got a pissed look on his face.

"Mandy, what the hell's wrong with you? I'm sitting here talking to my bud and you're interrupting. Go over and get us a table, I'll be there when I'm finished talking to Jim. Order me a beer."

With that, Mandy turned around and sat at one of the tables; she almost looked like a pet dog waiting for her master. I expected Spencer to say something like; "See, that's how it's done." But, what surprised me more than anything was that Spencer acted as if this was the most natural thing in the world. Women just did what they were told.

We finished our beers and I got up to leave. Spencer gave me his business card, said to call him and walked toward Mandy. She looked like a dog that had just been given a bone.

My beer-fuddled brain was now more confused then ever. What did I just witness? Just like in high school, Spencer Crasser was treating women with absolutely no respect and these women were eating out of his hand. Me, I treated them like ladies and got kicked in the teeth. Well, Nancy hadn't done that yet, but when would that shoe drop? Unfortunately, given my state of mind, instead of coming home and apologizing to Nancy for my behavior the night before, I was an ass.

In response to Nancy's warm greeting, I responded, "What's for dinner?"

Nancy had made a nice dinner and I spoiled it by putting too much salt on it. I made certain she saw me use the salt shaker twice. After dinner, Nancy cleared the table and washed the dishes while I watched a basketball game. When the game ended, Nancy was in bed reading a book. That night, for the first time in our relationship, I fucked Nancy, nothing I did could be misinterpreted as love-making. I rolled over afterwards to fall asleep, ignoring her soft sobs.

The next morning I rose to the smell of fresh brewed coffee and cinnamon rolls. It wasn't unusual for Nancy to have breakfast ready, but that morning I drew the wrong conclusion. "Maybe Spencer is on to something." I thought to myself.

I won't bore you with all the crap I pulled over the next four months; I started to hang out with Spencer and my marriage continued to deteriorate. Nancy spent those four months remembering the Jim she married. In retrospect, she should have told my mother how I was behaving and the two of them should have kicked me in the ass and the head.

The trouble was, as bad as my behavior became, Nancy kept trying to show me how much she loved me; which only reinforced Spencer's crap filling my head. A week before all hell broke loose Nancy sat down with me after dinner.

"Jim. I love you, but you're hurting me."

"If you don't like it, there's the door." I don't think I could have hurt her any worse if I stuck a knife in her heart. Nancy broke out in tears and ran to our bed. I downed another beer.

Saturday Nancy was supposed to be working all day. I went to the tavern before noon and started drinking with Spencer, Mandy and some redhead. Spencer obviously had his eye on the redhead, looking to score. Mandy being there made it awkward I guess, so he was pushing Mandy off on me.

"How would like a piece of this, Jimbo?"

"I'm married."

"You're married, but that doesn't mean you had your balls cut off. Look at the body on this woman. Did you ever have a body like that in your life? Did you ever think that you could fuck a piece of ass so fine? Mandy, go on go over there by Jim."

This was obviously a common request from the way Mandy reacted. She sat in my lap, Spencer just laughed before grabbing the redhead and taking her out on to the dance floor. The jukebox was playing some hip-hop junk, Spencer and the redhead started making a spectacle of themselves. Mandy pulled me up and did her best to out-raunch the redhead.

At some point I had to ask. "Why do you let Spencer tell you what to do? Why are you doing this with me?"

Mandy replied, "Because if I don't, I'll never see him again. I know he screws around and I guess I don't mind screwing around myself. So, this way, everybody gets what they want. Besides, you're kinda cute."

It didn't make any sense to me, but by this time I was just looking forward to actually fucking her.

We continued to dance; then Mandy laid a kiss on me with her tongue so far down my throat she must have been searching for my soul; then she stopped.

"Was that your wife?"

"What are you talking about?"

"There was some woman with long brown hair wearing a waitress get-up. She stood at the door watching us for a minute. She didn't say a word; just stared for a minute, turned around and left."

I ran out the bar in time to see Nancy's car race out of the parking lot and down the street.

Needless to say, she never came home or answered my calls all weekend. Monday I came home after work to a half empty apartment, her two rings and a short note. "I found the door."

Friday I received the paperwork for the dissolution of our marriage. Friday night I got drunk and punched Spencer Crasser in the nose. Saturday and Sunday I spent in jail. Monday I was back before the same judge that had presided over my divorce from Cecilia.

"You look familiar, Mr. Peterson. Have you been in my court before?"

"Yes, your honor." I reminded her when we previous met in her court.

"OK, what's this nonsense of you striking a Mr. Spencer Crasser in the nose?"

I told the judge how and why.

"What are you going to do now? Are you going to cause any more trouble?"

I told the judge the decision I made while sitting in jail over the weekend.

"Six months suspended sentence. If you do as you say and if you keep out of trouble, the charges will be dropped and your record expunged." With that she hammered the gavel.

The next day I fulfilled my promise to the judge and headed to the Army recruitment center. This was no last minute decision, I was approached by a recruiter months ago. The Army needed good diesel mechanics and were offering a decent enlistment package. There was no way I would do it when I was married, but my imbecilic actions had burned that bridge. With the promise that I would be a mechanic and not have to carry a rifle, I signed on the dotted line.

Immediately after boot camp (where they did try to re-teach me how to fire a rifle, but old bad habits die hard) I was shipped off to Forward Operating Base Sharana, Afghanistan. In the base garage I was introduced to my new teammates and a service bay, complete with the set of tools I'd need for the remainder of my tour. I spent the first two hours cleaning the tools left from the corporal I was replacing; someone told me he was meticulous until the day he was nearly killed by an incoming mortar. He was saved because the mortar landed on the other side of the vehicle he was working on, lots of non-life threatening injuries and it shook him up pretty bad; he wouldn't be back.

With the tools cleaned I got to work on my first vehicle, a Humvee.

In the fifteen months spent over there I was lucky; I never had to shoot anyone and better yet, no one shot me (although there were a couple attempts, but all misses). I spent ninety-nine percent of my time in the 'relative' safety of the base, but a few times I volunteered to drive one of the big rigs when we needed supplies. That's where I learned how to really drive a big rig. I didn't volunteer driving because I was a hero, but because it earned me some special considerations from the senior officers, such as a couple extra days on R&R.

I spent three years in the Army, finishing as a SPC in the motor pool at Fort Bragg, North Carolina. I received my honorable discharge and headed home to Washington State.

Not everyone has the same positive experience I had during my time in the Army, but for me it was the best thing to happen up to that point in my life. Growing up where I did, I had little interaction with men or women of different ethnic or racial backgrounds, maybe a few Jewish kids or Asians, but that's it. My best friend at Sharana was a black kid from Los Angeles. When his tour was over, we were practically 'brothers with different mothers'. Scottie Johnson was his name and he did so much for me, I can never pay him back.