Not Going to Happen

Comfortable. That's a word that used to describe my life. No problems, no cares, no stress, no worries, in other words, my life was comfortable. I'm not saying my life was boring, far from it. But, at almost fifty, I was looking forward to ten years down the line when I could take that final step and retire. Then something happened to add another word to my vocabulary. Naivety! I guess one should go through life with their eyes wide open, even in the supposed best of times.

At twenty-three, and on our one-year anniversary we were still knee deep in the honeymoon stage. The sex was so white hot and often, that I don't know how we were able to fit work in. All I know was that on Friday nights, we'd stock up enough food and beverages so that we never had to leave the apartment, that is unless we wanted to. Our playground was a king size waterbed. We sailed its waves day and night, never getting enough real sleep. Hell, neither did the couple that lived on the other side of our bedroom wall. Let's just say Rhonda was a little vocal and leave it at that. Life was better than good.

On our fifth anniversary, life was still great. The sex was still hot but we had to now work around Timmy, who was born in the third year of our marriage. Having a baby in a one-bedroom apartment cramped our style somewhat, but we made due. We were both crazy in love and if possible, Timmy brought us that much closer together. We still managed to do it five nights a week but were both moving up the food chain in our jobs, so life was a bit more complicated.

By the time our tenth anniversary rolled around, changes seemed to come by leaps and bounds. Little Victoria came into our lives at year seven, and yes she was planned. Gone was our one bedroom apartment and was replace with our first house at year eight. It was a fixer upper and like everyone, we had big plans to make it the house of our dreams. We just didn't realize it would be so much work and take so much time.

Both of our careers had taken off, and between work and the kids, life wasn't as carefree as we would have liked. Thank God neither of us had to travel or I don't know what we would have done. Life was a lot more difficult, but we were deeply in love and that got us through the tough times. We may not have had the time to make love 24/7, but we took the time to connect whenever we could.

By year fifteen, I barely had a chance to breath. There was soccer and baseball practice for Timmy and Rhonda was deep into dance with Victoria, or Vicki as we now called her. Evening meals together usually only happened on Saturday's and Sundays, but although we were all busy, we were happy. We both gained a few extra pounds by eating fast foods instead of good home cooked meals, but they would eventually melt away when things settled down. But they never did.

I was promoted to office manager but along with the promotion came additional duties along with longer hours. I tried to impress my new boss and in the end probably put in way too many hours that first year and our home life suffered. I was doing this for us and it would be worth it in the end wouldn't it?

Now, lovemaking had to be scheduled. Gone was the spontaneous sex of the past. We scheduled it for Tuesdays and Thursdays and always date night on Saturday. Sometimes it worked, but most of the time it didn't. Life kind of got in the way.

At twenty years we moved into the house of Rhonda's dreams. It has four thousand square feet of living space and a kitchen to die for. This was what we'd worked so hard to achieve, but why wasn't I doing backflips? To me it was way too big for just the four of us. It added another twenty-five minutes to my daily commute, not to mention a yard that would take me half of Saturday to mow.

That first month I thought we were on our honeymoon again. Rhonda wanted to show her appreciation and she did, every night. I went to work tired most days, but with a smile on my face.

In our new neighborhood, everyone knew everyone, and BBQ's on the weekends happened at least three times a month. Rhonda wanted to show off our new house so we it seemed always had people over. It was fun, but tiring all at the same time. We were now a member of suburbia and were living the good life, or thought we were.

However, for the first time in our marriage we argued. There never seemed to be enough money for everything Rhonda wanted, not needed. And I wasn't happy about the frequency of our lovemaking. It was down to maybe twice a week at best. Most of the time we made love after coming home from one of the many neighborhood BBQ's. The only problem with that was that Rhonda developed a taste for wine and usually by the time we got home, she was either too looped or tired to do anything.

"I'll make it up to you tomorrow," got old real fast, especially when tomorrow never came, thus the arguments. But we were still hopelessly in love, or so I thought.

At twenty-five years I mellowed out. I decided to let the small things go and not stress about them any longer and believe it or not, it worked out pretty damn well. I let her run around like a chicken with her head cut off and just sat back and enjoyed life.

I was now an upper middle manager and found it a lot easier to supervised the work being done than actually doing it. My hours stabilized and so went my stress. My boss was grooming me for a senior position and per him it was mine unless I really screwed up. No chance of that.

With Tim in his last year of college and Victoria headed for her first year, we were pretty much empty nesters. I'd put away enough over the years for their education so my income never changed and maybe went up a bit. Rhonda was still trying to keep up with the neighbors but I'd given up years ago. When everyone booked a cruise the following summer, for the first time I said no.

"I'm not going. I see these people almost every week here at home, why would I want to travel fifteen hundred miles just to see them on a Carnival ship?" Rhonda wasn't happy and we had words. "Fine, if you want to go, go, but I'm not." She worked on me for weeks but I never wavered. Rhonda thought about going herself but in the end didn't, something about being a fifth wheel. She wasn't happy and let me know in no uncertain terms.

When we hadn't made love in almost three weeks I finally said something. "If you're trying to punish me, it won't work. And if you no longer want me as a bed partner just let me know. I'm only forty-seven and

don't plan on living in a celibate marriage. So my dear, you have a choice. You can be my wife in all senses of the word, or we can end it right here and now. It's your choice, but I'm not going to wait forever."

"Steve, are you threatening me?" Rhonda spit out at me.

"No my love, just telling you the facts of life." Our relationship took a deeper nosedive.

It was two weeks later that I took it to the next level. We were supposed to go to another damn BBQ and I'd had enough. I showered, put on a good suit and was just lacing up my dress shoes when Rhonda walked in.

"I think you're a little overdressed for Greg's BBQ tonight," she said looking suspiciously at me.

"Not going."

"What do you mean you're not going?"

"I don't think I stuttered. Tonight I'm going out to a good restaurant and afterwards headed to the new jazz club over on fourth Ave downtown."

"Well, what am I supposed to do?"

"Rhonda, you have two choices. You can take a quick shower and join me, or not. Your choice."

Okay, I guess I should have said something earlier but I was making a point. I could have a life outside of our marriage and group of friends.

"You're bluffing!"

I drove away in my three year old Lexus.

I had a fantastic time. I saw a friend from work and his wife at the restaurant and they asked me to join them. When they asked to where Rhonda was, I just said she had a previous commitment and that I needed a good meal out. We had a great time and I even picked up the tab.

The jazz club was packed, but luckily I found a seat at the bar. I sipped on Baileys and enjoyed the music. When two younger women hit on me, I was flattered, but knew that they were cruising for someone to buy them drinks. I'm not stupid and what forty year old guy wouldn't want a young hot woman to spend some time with him; especially after seeing one of Rhonda's friends two tables away?

I thought about dancing with her but decided not to push my luck. I knew my bride would know everything by the time I got home tonight anyway. Okay, I thought about getting a room and not coming in until mid-morning on Sunday, but like I said, I'm not stupid. One fifteen I walked into a wild woman in our kitchen.

"Where in the hell have you been and with whom?" My bride wasn't at all happy.

I told her everything and didn't even soft-soap anything.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'm tired and need to take a shower before bed." I was smiling.

"Why the hell do you need a shower? So help me God if you've cheated on me, I'll have your ass."

"I'm shocked that you'd think I'd sleep with someone else. I just need to get the smoke smell of the club off me. And as far as my ass, it's been there for weeks and you haven't bothered to take advantage of it, but soon it won't matter."

"What's that suppose to mean?"

"You're a smart girl, you figure it out." I left her in the kitchen and went upstairs to our bedroom.

Rhonda said nothing the rest of the night. I gave her a good night kiss and then rolled over and went to sleep. I thought I'd made my point, I had, but it didn't have the effect I'd wanted.

It was Thursday and our firm's largest customer was in town for a meeting. I'd planned on taking he and his wife out to dinner and Rhonda had known for a week about it.

"I'm not going tonight," Rhonda announced when I walked through the garage door into the kitchen. She had this stupid smirk on her face, like saying, two people can play this game.

I was pissed but wasn't going to play into her game. I took out my cell phone.

"Debby, this is Steve. I know it's a little late notice, but would you like to go to dinner with me and the Williams tonight?" There was a pause as Rhonda's face dropped. "Wonderful. Text me your address and I'll be there in less than twenty minutes. Make sure to wear your dancing shoes." I hung up. "So as you were saying?" Rhonda stormed up the stair to our bedroom.

Again I had a wonderful night. Debby was the customer service manager, good looking, single, and Rhonda knew all that.

After dinner Debby and I must have danced to ten songs. I made damn sure Ken and Brenda had a good time and told them we'd have to do this again the next time they came to town.

"I haven't had this much fun in ages," Debby said, as we said our goodnights to the Williams. "Too bad your wife couldn't make it, but if you ever need another fill in, just give me a call."

It was a work night so I made sure Debby was home halfway early. I gave her a hug at her door.

Like before, Rhonda was waiting up for me. "Have fun?" she asked, but not in a sarcastic tone this time.

"Yeah, had a pretty good time. You would have enjoyed it, Debby sure seemed to." Her eyes narrowed. "Well, I'd love to chit chat, but I've got an early morning meeting tomorrow." I turned and walked towards the stair. "You coming?" I asked, looking over my shoulder. She didn't.

I apologized over breakfast. "I'm sorry about last night and it was uncalled for me to invite Debby. Let's bury the hatchet and get back to where we were. Okay?"

We kissed, hugged and I took her out to dinner that night. We made love when we got home and I made sure she was one hundred percent satisfied before I finally let her breath. We slept in each other's arms that night. I had my wife back. Life was good again for a long while, then it wasn't.

When she added a ting of red to her hair color I noticed but said nothing. When I noticed that her portions at dinner were smaller and looked to be losing weight, all I did was hug her tighter and tell her how much I loved her. I started again giving her foot rubs at night and at least maybe twice a month I'd bring out the massage oil and give her body a twice over. We always made tender love after that.

There were no tell tale girls nights out, she didn't have after hours business meetings, but I could feel that she was pulling away from me. The kisses weren't as intense and even when we made love; I felt she was somewhere else.

Dinner wasn't totally quiet but was subdued. I'd barbequed steaks on the grill and Rhonda had made a salad and crescent rolls. I opened a bottle of wine and all in all it was a lovely meal. The gap had grown larger.

Cleaning up the grill, I went over the last couple of months and tried to figure out what more I could be doing, and then realized it wasn't me.

I showered, got my clothes ready for work, checked our e-mail and then went back upstairs. Rhonda was reading a book in bed. I did my nighttime routine, slipped under the covers and set something in motion that could likely end our marriage.

"Do you love him?" I didn't look at her but she never looked up from her book. I grabbed my two pillows. "I'll sleep in the Tim's room." I walked out and felt her eyes on my back, but she didn't stop me.

I didn't sleep a wink. Hell, I didn't even try. I just kept asking myself how we'd let it get to this point. By four thirty I was in the shower and by five thirty I was out the door on my way to who knows where.

I had breakfast at Denny's and was at my desk by seven thirty. I got nothing done all day long. Every hour I would check my phone for a text, there were none.

I left work about five thirty and hit Tony's, a local hang out about a mile from where I worked. I saw more than a few friends there and I went through the motions of having a good time, but my brain was somewhere else.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. "Are you coming home tonight?" I just looked at the message.

"Not sure," was my quick reply. I never got another one.

I walked in about two o'clock in the morning, dead cold sober and not in the greatest of moods. I'd been driving around for the last two hours, thinking about my life, marriage and I didn't like either right now. If she wanted to leave, then she could leave. If I wasn't good enough for her any longer, I didn't even want her to stay. But what I really wanted to know, was if she'd slept with him. That question gnawed on my very being.

I went to Tim's old room, undressed and sat on the bed. I was confused at what to do next but my anger was coming to the surface again. Why? The word kept bouncing off the walls of my brain. I needed an answer.

My turning on the bedroom overhead light startled Rhonda and I guess my shouting also had a lot to do with it also.

"Did you sleep with him?" I said in a loud monotone voice that I think the neighbors could hear. She cowered and grabbed for the covers looking surprised and I think scared. I didn't wait around for an answer.

I left, not even bothering to turn off the light. I slammed Tim's bedroom door and spent the next half hour trying to wear out the aged carpet and get control of my emotions. Screaming and shouting wasn't going to solve anything.

My fist modified one wall as my foot did another. I'd never been so angry. When I looked down and saw my foot was bleeding, I stopped, and then the pain came rushing in.

"Fuck!"

It was another long night. The hospital emergency room was busy, and I was put on the back burner; more critical patients needed to be tended to first. An idiot who had tried to put his foot through a wall could wait.

Three broken toes. They were wrapped, I gave the lady my debit card and I was out the door. It was almost five in the morning. Driving home was a bitch.

I was as quiet as I could be hobbling in on one good foot. The house was dark and all I wanted was peace and quiet. I lay down on Tim's bed fully clothed and my eyes got wet looking up at the dark ceiling. I wasn't angry anymore, only sad.

I guess I fell asleep at some point because the light coming through the windows told me it had to be at least ten.

I hit the bathroom, washed up, took a pain pill, and went searching for an outfit. No way in hell I could wear my dress shoes. I managed to put on a sock and slipped on one of my open toed sandals. It was rough looking but it would have to do. Now I wished I'd kicked the wall with my left foot because like last night, driving was a bitch using my left foot.

I walked into work at eleven o'clock and answered the same dumb question a hundred times. I walked into a wall in the dark and broke a couple of toes, no big deal. I heard the laughs, got no real sympathy, and spent the day at my desk. I'd lost my appetite two days ago, so I skipped lunch.

About three, I got an e-mail from Rhonda. "You coming home tonight?"

"Not sure," I typed back.

"We need to talk."

"WHY?" I felt the heat rising once again.

"It's not what you think. I love you!"

"Did you sleep with him?" I needed to see it in black and white. I never got a reply. I had my answer.

I didn't go home. I bought a few things at the mall and checked into a motel. I played on my laptop until almost eleven and went to sleep. I did the same thing every night that week. Friday I went back to Tony's, had a good dinner, and got hammered. My best guess is the bartender dumped me into a cab, because I don't remember much, that is until I awoke and found myself in my own bed. My head throbbed and my mouth tasted like, well I won't go into that.

I got up, put on my robe and headed for the bathroom. Someone had puked in the toilet; I could see the remnants on the rim. I took a slug of mouthwash and looked for my toothbrush. Then I remembered where it was. Mouthwash would have to do.

I made it down the stairs and smell the coffee. Rhonda was sitting at the counter, cup in hand. She watched me walk into the room, grab my cup and fill it with coffee.

"Feeling better?" she asked.

"Not really. What time did they bring me home last night?'

"After one."

"Who put me to bed?"

"The cab driver helped me get you up the stairs and I finished undressing you after you made the first of two deposits in the toilet. After that you just lay down and didn't move for the rest of the night. I had to check your pulse a couple of times to make sure you were still alive." She wasn't smiling. "You want to talk, that is without screaming at me?"

"Yeah, I think I can do that, but I'm not promising that if you say something I don't like I won't lose my temper." We sat in silence for a couple of minutes longer.

"His name is Stewart, and for the record, I knew him long before I met you. We grew up in the same neighborhood and went to the same schools together. He was an asshole then, and he's an asshole now. He's a customer of my boss and I saw him for the first time again about a year ago. And, no I haven't slept with him. I want to but I haven't."

I was confused. "Rhonda, you're not making any sense. I thought you said he was an asshole?"

"Look, I don't understand it my self. We've had lunches together, talked on the phone and exchanged e-mails, that's all. But, would I have gone to bed with him if he asked me? Probably yes."

There were another quiet few minutes as I tried my best to digest what she was telling me.

"Why? I still don't understand. You love me right?" she nodded. "You don't want a divorce, is that right?" Once again she nodded yes. "Than why on God's green Earth would you say that you'd sleep with him, it doesn't add up?"

"I don't fully understand it myself, but in my mind I've fucked him a dozen times over. I've thrown him down on the bed balled his eyes out and haven't felt a bit guilty about it. So, would I do it in real life? I'm not sure. Is he still an asshole and an arrogant prick, most definitely. As I said, I don't know why."