Reinventing Myself

Neither of us wanted to let them go, so they could be returned to their incubators.

By the end of their second day, Beth got to come home, with the sadness of leaving Carolyn and Marilyn behind. We were told that both of them were thriving, and might only need another two or three days before joining us at home.

I was very lucky being able to do the majority of my work at home.

With my wife getting her strength back, and both of us visiting our girls at least twice each day, we were getting our house readied for our newest members, in just another day.

The night before their arrival, at home, I was catching up with my work, when I heard Beth's phone ringing. I realized my wife must have left it next to my desk, so I answered it.

While waiting for the operator to ask if I'd accept a collect call, I heard a familiar voice yelling at unseen people, "shut up you bitches, I need to get my daughter to get her ass down here, to bail me outta here."

Waiting for some semblance of calm, I quietly asked Brandy what was she jailed for.

"Let me talk to my daughter!"

"She's sleeping. If you gave a damn, you'd realize how tiring it is to give birth to twins." I didn't realize how angry I was, until Brandy asked me what did we have.

"Not that you're ever going to see them, but we have two girls. Goodbye, Brandy."

I hung up trying to keep my anger under control.

When her phone rang again, and the operator asked if I'd accept another collect call from the Cowlitz County Jail, I very calmly told her, not a chance in Hell. I hung up, again.

When Beth came out of our room, she must have seen by the expression on my face that something was wrong.

"Is something wrong, Justin?"

"Only the fact that Brandy wants you to bail her out of jail!"

"Oh, shit. Do you know what she's done?"

"Didn't ask. Don't care."

"OK, let me shower and go see our babies."

"Do you want me to shower with you?"

"You do know what's off limits, don't you?"

I just walked up to her, taking her in my arms, and gently kissing her forehead.

"There are still things that I can wash on you."

After showering and dressing, off we went to see how the Bobsy Twins were doing.

Getting gowned up and waiting for our treasures to be brought to us, we were finally given the opportunity to change their diapers. Remembering what I'd learned in our birthing class, I actually did a decent job.

Sitting holding Carolyn, while Beth was feeding Marilyn, we were talking about what to do concerning Brandy.

"Do you have any idea what she's done to warrant jail time?"

"Some sort of fraud, I'm guessing. She has a couple of lady friends, her own age, that aren't exactly pillars of the community."

"Beth, I have to ask. Did you have anything to do with any criminal activity?"

"God, no, Justin. Give me a little credit, please."

I just took her in my arms, holding her close to me. I could feel her body shaking a little, as I whispered to her, that I would be supporting her one hundred percent.

Over the next few months, as we got our routine going, nothing more was mentioned about good old mom.

I started doing more and more work from home, which gave me the freedom of planning my own schedule. Don't get me wrong, I still had deadlines that had to be met, but I learned how to utilize my time to the fullest.

If the twins wanted my attention, and that meant giving mommy some mid-day time off, I was fine with that.

It also meant if the twins were down for a nap, Beth and I were in bed, doing everything we did before they came into our lives.

We did make the decision to stop with the two we had, not wanting to risk another set of twins. Or maybe triplets!

Things were fairly quiet around the Roberts house, much to our liking.

As our girl's first birthday was approaching, who do we get a call from?

Yep. Brandy, asking if she was invited to their birthday.

"Are you still in jail?" I asked with the appropriate amount of snarkyness.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, Justin."

I told her what we were planning, and the date. Secretly, I was hoping she'd be a no-show. Beth was glad she at least made the effort to ask.

This may come as a shock to some of my loyal readers, but grandma Brandy didn't make her only granddaughters' birthday.

I was actually glad, so I didn't have to put on any act around my parents, and our friends, who definitely enjoyed our little celebration.

As we were cruising towards our fourth anniversary, and the twins were turning two, out of the blue Beth mentioned she'd like to visit her mom, as she had in the past.

"I take it you mean by yourself?"

"Yes, and I really think you are more than able to handle the girls by yourself, for a week, or so. Besides, I haven't seen mom since a few months before they were born."

"That's the least of my worries. My boss will let me work from home for as long as I need. I'm just a bit concerned about those pals of your mothers."

"Oh, Justin, she doesn't even mention them anymore."

Against my better judgment, I tried putting this trip out of my mind. Yes, I truly had concerns, but I had to trust my wife. Didn't I ?"

This trip was supposed to be seven or eight days, but Beth called me on the seventh evening telling me she needed to stay an extra few days, as her mother wasn't feeling well. The flu, or some sort of bug, she said.

This raised the hairs on the back of my neck. I logged onto the Kelso police department, to see if anything popped. And what did I find? Just a short blurb about some disturbance a few houses down from Brandy's house.

No names, but when the police arrived, there wasn't anyone to be found. This report said whoever called this in, said he saw people scatter, but didn't know where they went.

I smelled a rat. The following morning, I called my wife, and asked if everything was alright.

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"Was there some sort of disturbance down the block, last night?"

After a pause, I heard, "just some high school kids messing around."

After we hung up, with Beth telling me she'd be home the day after tomorrow, I realized she never asked how I knew about any disturbance. Again, that gave me cause for worry.

Once again, things were a bit tense when she returned. I just couldn't put my finger on the cause, but something just wasn't right. Things were just OK in the bedroom, but I wanted more than just OK.

Each time any conversation concerning her mother came up, she deflected it, passing it off with a quick statement that things were going along just as usual. For the next six months nothing was mentioned about any return visit.

The less we talked about Brandy, the better I liked it.

With our fifth anniversary on the horizon, I could tell things were deteriorating. Beth was once again talking about 'visiting' her mom, for a week or more, and when I asked why, she'd only reply that she didn't stop me from visiting my mother.

When I'd counter that my mother never called me from jail, she would quit talking, and stomp out of the room.

I didn't realize it at first, but my marriage was slipping away, and I wondered if it was really worth fighting for.

A few days after that that verbal exchange, I quietly asked her what she had planned with her mother for the week they had talked about.

"Since you're asking, Justin, we're going to have some quiet mom/daughter time, and visit with a few of mom's lady friends."

"Are these lady friends the same ones she landed in jail with?"

"No. Mom told me they don't even live nearby, anymore. Besides, give mom some credit. She learned her lesson the hard way, and doesn't want a repeat."

Three days later, when I got out of bed, Beth was already dressed, and packed. She walked over to our girls, bent down, giving them both a very nice hug, a few kisses, and told me she would call when she arrived.

And out the door she walked.

I knew it took about two hours for the trip down, but after nearly four hours of silence, I got worried and called her cell phone.

When she didn't answer, I left her a message, bit the bullet and called Brandy.

When my mother-in-law answered, I could hear loud music playing, and before she said anything, I heard her telling whoever was there to quiet down.

"Hello, and who's calling and interrupting my party?"

I could tell she'd been drinking.

"Brandy, is my wife there, and is she safe?"

"Yes, and yes."

I then heard her saying something along the lines of, "oh, shit, Beth, its that killjoy of a husband of yours "

I just hung up and slumped onto my easy chair.

That afternoon was one of the worst in my entire life. Not only was I thinking my marriage might be over, I had to be happy enough around our three year olds, so they wouldn't know how upset I was.

The next morning, after feeding and playing with our girls, my phone rang, and I could see the caller ID said 'unknown caller' but I answered anyway.

With an overwhelming sense of dread, I answered.

"Hello."

"Justin, please listen for a minute."

"Are you all drunk, already?"

"Can we talk calmly, please? And, no I'm not drunk."

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"Please, Justin, all I'm going to say is mom has some very wild friends, but I'm not involved with them."

"So, are you coming home, now?"

"Justin, I'm trying to get mom back on the right track. I should be home in a few days."

"Goodbye, Beth."

After hanging up, I did what I thought needed to be done, both financially, and personally.

For three more days I didn't hear a word. It was all I could do not to call my wayward wife, but I devoted my time to my work and my children.

Just before going to bed, that third day, I finally heard from my wife.

"Justin, what did you do to our credit cards?" she yelled.

"Oh, do you mean the lower limits I've put on them, so you can't bail someone out of jail?"

Deafening silence.

"Did I hit the nail on the head, Beth?"

"Goodnight."

Click. And I was off to bed, just after sending my parents a message, asking if it was OK to drop the girls off in the morning.

Getting them ready in the morning, and loading up a days worth of toys and a change of clothes, just in case, I dropped them off, without giving mom and dad too many details.

Off I went to see for myself the world of shit I was heading into, down in Kelso.

Pulling up in front of Brandy's rental house, I noticed my wife's car parked in front, so I went to the front door, and rang the bell.

When my wife opened the door, she turned white at a ghost. Plus, looking like she hadn't slept in a few days.

"You want to tell me what's going on, and will you let me inside?"

Stepping aside, I walked around my wife only to see what looked like the remains of a fraternity party gone wrong.

Not only did this living room reek of alcohol, tobacco, and sex, there were empty booze bottles, overflowing ash trays, and a few discarded pieces of ladies underwear, and empty food containers, everywhere.

Before saying anything, I started looking everywhere for any discarded items, and didn't like some of the items I found.

More than a few used condoms. The remains of several joints. But the killer was a discarded hypodermic needle.

"Would you like to explain? And how is it you aren't in jail, too?"

"Would you believe me if I told you I was hiding in the back bedroom, when the cops showed up?"

"And before. Were you hiding the entire night?"

Just seeing the look on her face gave me all the answers I needed.

"Before you lie to me, just know that if and when you ever come home, you will have to show me a clear STD check from our family doctor, before I'll even consider letting you back into our bed."

I turned and left, while she still didn't offer any explanation. All I heard was the sobbing coming from her.

I was so disgusted, I didn't turn around to look at her, and I definitely didn't say goodbye.

As I was driving away from that house, I saw two Kelso police cars approaching, with their lights and sirens on.

They both pulled into the driveway that I had just backed out of.

Did I want to stay and talk to these cops? Did I even think about defending my wife? No, and no.

I decided to follow them back to wherever they were taking my handcuffed wife.

I gave these cops a few minutes in their station house to start the process of booking her, before entering their offices.

"My name is Justin Roberts, and I'm trying to find out just how much trouble my wife is in."

A Detective Hamilton came out from behind the desk, and ushered me into what looked like an interrogation room.

"Mr. Roberts, from all the information we gathered, both last night and this morning, Mrs. Roberts just might be in less trouble than all the others. First, let me say that last night, Ms Bertrand was less than cooperative. Three of the other ladies all told us about this little gathering last night, well into this morning."

"Let's see," looking at the multi-page report, "it seems as if one Brandy Bertrand, and either three or four of her lady friends have this type of party at least twice a month, and have for around three years."

"Please, Detective, what sort of parties are these?" Wondering if I really wanted to know.

"Mr. Roberts, I'll try to explain. It seems as if this group of ladies have "Let's Teach Kids How To Fuck" parties every so often, thinking these kids need instruction on doing sexual things with older, mature women."

"Do they charge for these parties?"

"Yes, somewhere between $250 and $300, per person, depending on how much each of these boys get to participate."

"Do I dare ask how many participants attend each party?"

"From what we've been told, between 10 and 15, each time."

Oh my fucking goodness, I thought. Was my wife participating? What else would she be doing?

"Can I ask where kids from this area get that much money to 'learn' from these older, very horny ladies?"

"Well, Mr. Roberts, most of them come from the Portland and Vancouver areas, and it seems as if they have an unending supply of kids, with money to burn."

I just sat back trying to digest this information. It didn't surprise me that my mother-in-law would prostitute herself. But my wife? That just disgusted me.

It took over a week for my wife to return, and to say our relationship was strained was a major understatement.

Without even talking about what I required, she started sleeping on the futon we kept in our den/home office.

We did eat most meals as a family, but even at three, our girls knew something just wasn't right.

I knew Beth had a doctor's visit, but I didn't ask anything about it. I told myself that I'd wait for her to tell me what was good, bad, or ugly.

I did have a very necessary discussion with a well respected divorce lawyer, that had to be done.

Four very long days after her visit with our doctor, Beth asked to talk to me, after the girls went to bed.

"First, Justin, let me tell you just how sorry I am that this has gone this far. I never expected this to happen. Yes, I've known for the entire time what mom was doing, despite my objections."

"And?"

Taking out an envelope, she showed me a piece of paper from our family doctor showing no signs of any STD's. That did make me feel a tiny bit better.

"Are you going to tell me the entire story of what's been going on while you've been visiting Brandy?"

"First, I can't begin to describe how embarrassing that visit to Dr. Thomas was. I'm not sure if I can ever go back to see him. Also, can you give me a little more time to remember my entire story correctly?"

"OK. But let me tell you that I've had about a two hour discussion with the head of the Cowlitz County Vice Squad, and if one word from you doesn't jive with his account, you're out of here. Fair enough?"

She just nodded her head, and fled back into our home office.

From my discussion with the Vice Squad Captain, this is the sordid tale of the 'Let's Teach Kids How To Fuck Older Women' club.

It seems as if this pillar of society, Brandy Bertrand, convinced either four or five friends of hers, all about the same age, they could make lots of money having these parties, every two or three weeks.

They discovered more than a few college aged boys that didn't need much convincing to join in these nights of debauchery, with women in their mid to late forties, with one or two in their early fifties.

The longer this 'club' went on, the more horny teenagers they found. Possibly, the only decent thing they required was proof each of their clients was at least eighteen years of age, or older.

After talking with Captain Burke, I finally broke down and asked him, "what did my wife have to do with this enterprise?"

"For nearly the entire time she was the scheduler, and investment advisor."

"And recently?"

After a fairly long pause, I repeated my question.

"If you must know, Mr. Roberts, she never turned tricks, like the older ladies did."

I sensed he wasn't entirely truthful.

"But that last party in question, all the ladies, including her mother, told my detectives that one Elizabeth Roberts was the head fluffer."

For those who've never heard that term, a fluffer is the person on a porn movie set who keeps the men hard by either sucking their cocks, or giving hand jobs in between takes.

It took all the concentration I could muster not to puke my guts out.

I gave Beth another two days for her explanation, and she asked to talk just before I was going to demand it.

"Justin, I'm not sure if there is anything I can say to save our marriage, and for that I'm truly sorry. I should have valued our marriage more than my relationship with mom. She told me of this plan nearly three years ago, and I told her she was out of her mind."

Stopping to dry her eyes, and catch her breath, she continued.

"I told her that her plan was so 'out there' these kids couldn't help but brag to others, and the police were sure to find out. Let me also say that up until that last party, when they were all busted, I never screwed anyone. I know that doesn't excuse my actions, but I want you to know."

"And that last party, where everyone but you were busted?"

"I'm guessing you've been told what my roll was, and all I'm going to say is, it was my job to keep some of these boys stiff between all the fucking going on. For the most part, all I did was hand jobs, but there were one or two blow jobs, that never ended with them cuming in my mouth. I know that's a pretty lame excuse, and I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am."

"Were you aware that every one of those ladies ratted you out as the fluffer in charge, including your own mother?"

"Yes, she tried to tell me she didn't have a choice, that all the others told her to say the same thing, or else."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"Yes, more than you'll ever know."

"I hope you understand me when I tell you I just can't stay married to you, and I don't know if I can ever trust you to be alone with our girls. I won't ever deny you visitation, but I'm fairly certain I'll never allow Brandy to be anywhere close to them. Never."

"I understand, and I won't fight you on the divorce."

She turned and fled back to the home office in tears. I could hear her sobs for quite a while, until I figured she had cried herself to sleep.

Over the next few months, we did hash out a few legal details with our lawyers, concerning financial and custodial issues.

There was no child support, as I was the primary custodian. There was no spousal support because she had socked away a tidy sum for all the misdeeds over these past three years.

Concerning visitation, I made it very clear that Brandy was to have minimal visitation, if any. Begrudgingly, I was going to trust Beth's judgement on that, but warned that one misstep was all I was going to allow.