Plan B

There is no sex in this story. It's a simple tale about family loyalties strained to the breaking point. It might seem a bit silly to some, and some will say it was nobody's business, but not as silly as what I first intended. Besides, loving families stick together. Sometimes that means that love hurts and sometimes it means confronting someone you love before they destroy their own life and the lives of others you love.

*****

Where do I start? Looking back, I suppose it all started with a business lunch. No, that's not true. It started with my parents. You see, my parents, Jack and Barb, raised four kids. I'm Jason, the oldest, then Jennifer, Cathy, and Dillon is the youngest. We all had a great childhood, which makes it even harder to explain what happened. My parents gave us a great life, good educations, summers that any kid would die for, and all the love we could want. When we were young, they welcomed all our friends. Our house became the home base for every kid in the neighborhood and my parents always made sure there was fun food and cold drinks for everybody. As we got older, there were parties and cookouts. My parents welcomed the seemingly endless parade of girlfriends and boyfriends and when we married, they put their loving arms around our spouses and treated them as if they were their own. That's the thing about my parents: they didn't have sons and daughters-in-law, or daughters and sons-in-law. They only had sons and daughters. When we married, the family grew. The parents of our spouses became the best friends my parents ever had. Their other children were like sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, that we never saw often enough. There was always enough love for all, and no one was second best. This is how the four sisters came to be.

You would think that anyone raised in that atmosphere would grow to understand the value of love, trust, faith, and commitment. Three of us did. Somehow, Cathy did not. She hid it well; I will grant you that. We never knew what she was capable of until eight years into her marriage. Even then, her true face was revealed only slowly, partially, until it took the three of us to put the pieces together and see the full depth of her betrayal.

Cathy married a great guy. His name is Bob. I know, how many Bobs have you known who are Mister Excitement? He's not the part animal. He's a solid, dependable, and committed husband who tells a good joke, takes care of his family, and keeps his commitments. Bob is an accountant who balances the books by day and brews his own beer in the basement. His idea of a good time is grilling some meat on the back deck, playing with the kids before bedtime, and slowly sipping just one beer after they've gone to bed. He helps with the dishes, keeps the house maintained, and he loves his wife. No, he's not Mister Excitement, but he's a great husband and father.

I'm an investment banker, also not the most exciting man at the party, but I work out and run regularly. I'm not trying to stay chiseled. I just want to stay healthy. Dillon works out with me. Being younger, his job is to play the rabbit and I try to keep up with him and fail. Jennifer is more the aerobics type and focuses more on her figure than her strength, but she works out with the light weights. I made sure she knew how to throw a punch and take care of herself from an early age. That resulted in one incident on the playground when young Dillon was being bullied, but that's a tale for another time.

Like I said, it was eight years into Cathy and Bob's marriage when the truth was revealed. I was across town meeting some clients for lunch. We were in one of those places that has a divided dining room. Cathy came into the place on the arm of a suit I didn't know. I had to smile when I saw her and started thinking how could I surprise her? Then, when they reached their table, she turned and kissed him. She gave it to him on the lips and she lingered when she did it. My stomach turned and my appetite soured. I watched their body language for a time, and if the kiss didn't say it loud enough, it soon became apparent that this was no innocent lunch. Eventually, my companions got my attention and I tried to resume my meal without it being obvious that I was watching Cathy and her companion. I failed badly.

"Earth to Jason, what's going on? You've hardly touched your lunch."

"Oh, sorry, I've been distracted. I'm trying to figure something out."

"Can we help?" I finally noticed that they were looking in Cathy's direction, trying to understand what or who had caught my attention.

"Oh, no, sorry. Sorry. How's lunch?"

"Done. At least, we're done."

"I'm really sorry."

"That's okay. We can hang while you eat. We'll keep you entertained with the latest projections of hog futures."

"No, one word: plastics."

That joke never gets old in the investment business. It can't get old. It was old when it started and it's old today.

"No, I've lost my appetite. I'm ready to go."

We dropped our obligatory twenties and headed for the cars. Fortunately, the path to the door didn't take me past my sister's table. I needed time to think and I thought about it all afternoon. When I got home that night, I continued to think about it. After dinner, and once the little ones were in bed, my wife came to me in the living room. The TV was on, but I couldn't tell you what show it was. I wasn't watching it.

She sat down next to me. "Okay, husband-of-mine, what's up?" Carol wasn't one to beat about the bush.

"What?" No one has ever accused me of being quick on the uptake.

"What's on your mind, mister? Spill!"

"Oh, nothing." How's that for a brilliant retort?

"Start talking or you can sleep with my feet in your back all night." Now, for you single guys, there is something you need to know about wives. Their hearts may be warm, and their kisses can light you on fire, but their feet are cold as ice. Don't ask me to explain it, but every married man knows that it's true. "You've been sulking all night and I want to know why? Is it something I did? Is there trouble at work? Talk to me."

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out. "I saw Cathy today."

"Is she okay?"

"She's fine, but I didn't like what I saw."

"Well, what did you see?"

"She walked into the restaurant with a man and it was not a professional lunch. He had his arm around her walking in. She gave him a distinctly non-professional three-Mississippi kiss on the lips, and spent the lunch hanging on his every word."

"Are you sure?"

"I know a date when I see one and this wasn't their first."

"Are you sure it was Cathy?"

"I know my sister when I see her. Plus, she had that dumbass Cupid tattoo on her arm. How many of those have you seen on women who are twins to my sister?"

After that, we both just sat there in silence. Neither of us wanted to think, let alone say, what came next. It was Carol who broke the silence.

"Do you think she's cheating on Bob?"

"If she isn't, she's considering it. Either way, what I saw didn't pass the wife test."

"Any chance he was Bob's long-lost first cousin?"

"We've met all his cousins. Hell, we've met most of his childhood friends. I don't see how it could be anything other than what we're thinking."

"I don't want to think it. It's got to be something else. Are you going to ask her?"

"Am I going to ask her what? 'Oh, Cathy, are stepping out on Bob? Are you getting a little on the side?' Is that what I'm supposed to ask her?"

"Well I wouldn't phrase it like that!"

"There's no good way to say it. Even if we're right, there's going to be hell to pay. If I'm wrong, I don't even want to imagine how that conversation will end."

"If you're wrong, you apologize. If you are right, you lay into her and read her the riot act. She's a married woman. She has no business going on lunch dates and kissing other men."

"I have to think this thing through. I'm not ready to do anything yet."

We spent the rest of the evening just sitting together, ignoring the television, and pondering the possibilities. That night I said more than a few prayers of thanks that I had a loving wife who I could trust with all my heart, who could give me advice when I needed it, even when I didn't want it, and who kept our home the happy, loving world I cherished.

I headed to work the next morning with my mind still on my troubles. It was an impulsive decision, but about a half hour before lunch I grabbed a sandwich from the deli downstairs, jumped in my car, and parked in the lot across the street from where my sister worked. I crouched down low in my seat, ate my sandwich, and watched her door. At five minutes before noon she came walking out the door with the same suit, gave him a decidedly inappropriate kiss, got into the passenger seat of his car, and drove off. I lost my appetite, wrapped the remainder of my sandwich for later, and headed back to work. I texted my wife, "She's doing it again."

Carol's response was short and to the point. "Fuck!" Fourteen years of marriage and I'd never heard her use that word. We talked at home and reached the only possible decision. I would speak with Cathy directly, try not to make her defensive, and ask what's going on.

Sunday, as with every Sunday, the family gathered at my parent's house. Sunday dinner wasn't just a meal. In our family, Sunday dinner is an event. It marks the end of one week and the beginning of the next. It's a time for celebration, for commiseration, and for touching base. It was a reaffirmation of the family bond and as is often the case, the parents of spouses were there, too. That meant the dining room table was the adult table, there was a "kid's table" for the people my age set up in the living room, and the grandchildren ate in the basement. Don't ask. So long as my parents are alive, my generation will be "the kids".

I found a few minutes when my sister was alone and asked her to take a walk with me. On the way out the door I caught my wife's eye and we gave each other the nod. It was a nice evening for a walk, and I was hoping I wouldn't have a limp when I returned. We walked for about five minutes, talked about work and the kids, and I finally asked the question. "Cathy, I was at The Brown Steer last Tuesday for lunch and I saw you with a man I didn't know. I have to tell you I was very uncomfortable with what I saw. I was especially uncomfortable with that kiss you gave him. It wasn't very wifely of you. Are you..." I couldn't finish the sentence.

"Am I what? Am I cheating on Bob? No! Are you nuts? And who the hell are you to stick your nose in my business? I don't cheat. Frank is just a friend from work, that's all."

"You kiss all your friends from work that way? It was definitely three Mississippi on the lips." Okay, I was starting to get a little steamed. I've never responded well to lies and her answer triggered my bullshit meter.

"Are you spying on me? Are you squeaky clean? Do you pass the husband test all the time?"

"I wasn't spying, but I am clean, and I hope I pass the husband test. I can tell you that since the day I met Carol I have never kissed any woman the way you kissed that suit. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"You keep your nose out of my fucking business!" With that, she turned and marched back to the house without me. I know my sister and she was acting guilty as sin.

I followed and entered the house a few minutes after her. The whole way home, I walked slowly so I could think and replay the discussion in my mind. No matter how I took it apart, I came to the same conclusion and it made me very uncomfortable. I've already told you that in my family the spouse is family, too. I would no sooner sit back and watch my sister cheat on her husband than I would watch him cheat on her, but what if I were wrong? I could do a lot of harm if I were wrong. Was there any chance that what I got from my sister was just anger at me accusing her where it sounded like guilt? She gave me the silent treatment and evil stares the rest of the evening and I briefed my wife on the ride home.

You just don't go to your brother-in-law, or anyone, and say, "I think your wife is cheating on you." and you sure as hell don't do it when you don't have the evidence. And that's another thing: I didn't want to get the evidence. I didn't want to know that my sister was capable of such a thing. If I was right, I wouldn't be popular in the family. If I was wrong, I'd be groveling for a very long time to come.

Several weeks went by and it was Dillon who broke the stalemate. We were at my place on a Saturday afternoon, sitting on the back porch with a beer when he said, "Jase, I need to tell you something."

I looked at him without expectation. I was sure I was the only person who suspected Cathy, so I assumed that Dillon had his own problem that he needed help with. I wasn't entirely wrong.

"I saw Cathy in town last Saturday. She was with some guy and they were looking way too cozy. I mean, WAY too cozy. I was about to call out to her, but their body language told me to keep my mouth shut. Then she hugged him and gave him a very wifely kiss. The problem is it wasn't Bob."

"How sure are you?"

"I know my own sister!"

"I'm starting to wonder if we do." Dillon looked at me like I needed to finish that statement. "I saw her a few weeks ago having lunch with the guy. You're right. She was failing the wife test in a big way."

We both just sat there, not speaking, hardly drinking, until Carol and Gloria called us in to eat. Gloria is Dillon's wife and I love her like a sister, but then you already know that. I had already told Carol about my suspicions and I wondered if Dillon had told Gloria. I didn't wonder for long. After dinner, Dillon and I were sitting in the living room when Dillon asked me quietly, "Have you told Carol about Cathy?"

"Yeah. No secrets here. Besides, I needed her advice."

"What did she say?"

"She said I needed to talk with Cathy."

"And did you?"

"Yeah. Remember that walk she and I took a few Sundays ago?" Dillon nodded. "Remember how she got home a few minutes before me?" Dillon took a long, deliberate breath. "It didn't go well."

When Carol and Gloria returned to the room, it was Dillon who took the initiative. "Hun, Jase knows."

She looked back and forth between the two of us. "You told him?"

"Yes, but he already knew."

"I saw her a few weeks earlier behaving the same way."

We all sat quietly for a time. It was Carol who broke the silence. "I guess this is what they mean about being between a rock and a hard place."

Gloria said, "And damned if you do and damned if you don't."

"I prefer the simple expression, 'We're fucked!'"

"Jason! The kids are upstairs!"

"Sorry."

"But, yes, we are royally fucked."

The conversation continued quietly that night. Eventually, the only solution we could find was that we would reach out to our sister, Jennifer, and there would be an intervention. Carol and Gloria would brief Jennifer before it started. There was a brief discussion of who should be involved, but we all agreed that it would be best if the women spoke with Cathy alone. The husbands would take the kids to the zoo for the day to clear the house. Carol called Cathy that same night. She and Gloria asked Cathy to come to our house the following Saturday to bake and spend the day together, but she blew them off. Then they suggested the Saturday after, but all Cathy would say was "Maybe. We'll see."

"She said she already had a date with her girlfriend to go shopping next week and she couldn't break it."

"How much you want to bet her girlfriend has a dick?"

"Jason, the kids are in the house!"

"Well?"

She didn't answer my question. No one really doubted I was right, and the intervention idea was struggling to gain traction. During the next week, Carol and Gloria sat down with Jennifer and briefed her on what we knew. There had always been a certain tension between Jennifer and Cathy. Maybe Jennifer hadn't been the most patient big sister there ever was, and maybe Cathy had been a bit of a pain as little sisters can be, but the news pushed Jennifer over the edge. She wanted to go over to Cathy's house and confront her in front of Bob. It took several hours to talk her out of that and bring her in line. It very likely would have meant the end of Cathy's marriage and that's what we were hoping to prevent. Bob's not dumb. He's just trusting as most good husbands are. If things didn't change, the day was coming when he'd find out and none of us knew what would happen then.

It took several weeks and lots of discussions between the wives until Cathy finally agreed to meet the women for a Saturday afternoon. With enough advance notice, Cathy ran out of excuses to avoid meeting her sisters and the date was set. The Saturday after next, a good two months after I first saw her with the suit, they would get together for baking and bonding. I'm sure she didn't see it coming. The women had a long discussion about how to handle it and decided they would approach Cathy with love and forgiveness but tell her in no uncertain terms that she was gambling her marriage away. If that failed, there was always Plan B.

We called Bob and scheduled a fathers' day with the kids for that same Saturday. We would go to the zoo, have lunch out, and then hit the ball around at the park. The kids were getting big enough to swing a bat and they all needed practice, sons and daughters both. The day came and we packed four sets of kids, fathers, and a grandfather into three cars and headed for the zoo. The kids got a kick out of some of the animal activities and when the big cats are moving it's always exciting, but there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that gives a group of young kids a bigger case of the giggles than watching the large animals poop! Elephants, giraffes, or zebras, it doesn't matter. Large animals pooping was the hit of the day and what each of them remembered later. The boys would point, and the girls would pretend they were too mature for that sort of thing, but they all thought it was the most memorable part of the trip.

In hindsight, and yes, I did say that, maybe we should have done the zoo after lunch because when it was time for lunch the adults were still not quite as hungry as they might have been. The smell of the elephant house stays with you. After some ridiculously big burgers that the kids seemed to eat with more enthusiasm than the adults, we headed for the park. Bob seemed to be enjoying the day as much as anyone and I hoped this day wouldn't mark the end of his joy. There were other families there with kids the age of ours, so practice became a pickup game that grew until we were able to field two almost complete teams. The kids had a blast, the adults were exhausted, and the fathers ended the day just sitting in the grass wondering when we got old. It really was a wonderful day, but in the back of my mind I kept wondering how many more like this would we have?

Meanwhile, the women were not enjoying their day nearly as much as the men. Their day started uncomfortably and grew worse. One by one, the sisters arrived ahead of Cathy as they had planned and prepared for the intervention.

"We need to speak to her with love."

"We can't be judgmental."

"We are doing this for her and for Bob and the kids. She has to understand she isn't invisible and there are consequences."

"If she gets caught by Bob, the consequences could be HUGE!"

"Yes, we are doing this for her sake, and we love her."

"We need to avoid making accusations. We should tell her what we've seen, tell her what worries us, and ask her to explain so we can understand."

"But we aren't stupid, either. We can't let her just lie out her ass and pretend we believe her."

"No. We've seen too much that doesn't pass the wife test."