Revelation Blues Pt. 02

He had another fitful night. Telephone numbers, credit card cash withdrawals, and little dots invaded his thoughts and his sleep.

Chapter 9 – A Surrealist Weekend

The atmosphere that weekend was Kafkaesque. It started on Saturday like every other Saturday, as if nothing had happened the previous days and life continued at it's ordinary rhythm. Scott still had difficulty accepting, no, actually believing, maybe even understanding, what happened with Mary. He felt as if he was stunned into disbelief. He was an avid reader of Roman and Greek literature and remembered the words of one of his favorite authors and philosophers, the Roman poet Ovid.

'We are slow to believe that which if believed would hurt our feelings.'

While he was having his breakfast, he was conflicted between two feelings. He wanted to sit down and talk with Mary, get to the bottom of all this and then decide where to go from there. But he also kept reminding himself that he needed more facts, concrete evidence, solid pointers, before he confronted her again. He knew also that he wasn't going to get the truth from Mary. He never suspected Mary of lying to him before. Yet, since last Thursday he knew that she would lie or at best try to minimize what actually happened.

He could throw all his doubts and suspicions at her and see how she would react to them but then it would be like hitting water with a baseball bat hoping a fish will swim right under it. No, he needed facts, or at least solid pointers, otherwise he would be turning an already ugly situation into an uglier one.

He knew also that what he knew and what she told him so far was nowhere near the truth, the complete truth, and nothing but. That's what his gut feeling told him, and he always relied on his gut feelings. But this was his family's future he was considering here.

He started thinking about what he would do once he discovered this 'whole truth'. Is it really limited to what Mary told him so far and these were the only two 'lapses' or is there more, a lot more. Although his mind was leaning towards the latter, his heart was trying to clutch to the former.

The word Carla mentioned, 'lovers', kept creeping up again and again. That character, Andy Blair, was singular, one affair, there must be more, others.

Scott wondered how he felt about Mary now? Obviously not the same as he felt about her Thursday morning. Was there any love left, affection, and deep compassion? Or was there hate, disgust, indifference, and pain? Maybe a little bit of everything. Nothing was that simple any more.

He took again refuge in the words of his favorite Roman poet. He vaguely remembered something he read some years ago. He got up, retrieved the book, Remedia Amoris, from a bookshelf in his office and found the text he was looking for.

He read, 'It's a brutal thing to hate a woman one day whom you worshiped the day before. To make such a sudden change as that, you'd have to have the heart of a barbarian. Just give up paying her attentions; that's enough. If a man finishes up by hating a woman, he's either really still in love with her, or else he's in a frame of mind for which he won't easily find a cure. It is a disgraceful thing that a man and a woman, who were but lately head over heels in love, should suddenly become at daggers drawn. When love leaves no resentment in its train, it departs quite quietly and peaceably.'

Scott sighed deeply. What he was going through, as new as it was to him, was nevertheless as old as the history of mankind. Volumes were written on circumstances similar to his. For some reason, this didn't comfort him or help him feel any better.

He was deep in his thoughts, having little references to go by or experience in how to deal appropriately with this matter. Mary was avoiding him, finding all sort of things to do around the house to keep herself busy and out of his way. They pretended that everything was normal, she hoping that all will be forgotten, him knowing that it was the lull before the storm.

Scott went to his office mid morning and started transposing the telephone calls into the spreadsheet he had started. He used a blue color to identify the ones to Don, light blue with an 'F' in the cell for the calls to Fiona, and simply light blue for all the other calls. He highlighted them in half hour blocks, even the very short calls. When Mary was on the phone at home she couldn't be anywhere else, with a 15 minutes margin on either side. As the spreadsheet started to fill, he was stupefied by the density of those dark blue squares. It is one thing to read information in written form and another thing to see that information conveyed in graphical or schematic form. His job taught him that. The density of the dark blue squares was impressive by anyone's standards. He noticed the shift in density over time, a few here and there a year ago, and a sudden increase eight months ago. He then did the same with the credit card data. He used light green for that. He used some basic assumptions to fill the squares. He assumed an hour shopping ending at the time of the transaction on the credit card statement, he also applied the 15 minutes margin at either end. He applied a similar logic for stops at gas stations and cash withdrawals, but he used dark green to highlighted those. There was little, if any overlapping between colors, when he encountered such situation he compensated one way or another. He had a pretty good picture now of how Mary's days looked like. He was all done by late afternoon. He saved his work on his flash drive, as usual.

They had planned to go out later that evening and meet with some friends at one of the upscale bars in Miami Beach. Mary reminded him sometime mid-afternoon and asked him if they still planned on going or whether she should call and cancel. He wasn't in a socializing mood, far from it, and certainly not with Mary. But then he couldn't see himself sitting at home and thinking over and over again about Thursday's events and what followed and what undoubtedly is still to come. He told Mary to cancel and apologize.

He needed to get out but he didn't want company. When Mary asked if she should start preparing dinner he told her not to bother preparing anything for him. He was going out to get some fresh air. There was no response or reaction from Mary. He got up, went to their bedroom, and changed clothing. Mary watched him as he went back down and prepared to go out. Dean was watching one of his preferred cartoon channels in the den. Scott went to him, hugged him and kissed him on the head, and wished him goodnight.

Usually, when Scott went out on the weekend, almost always with Mary, he would take one of his two pets out of the garage, a black cat or a yellow pony, and put them through their paces. Not tonight. He was in no mood for fun. He drove his company car and headed slowly toward Miami Beach.

He parked his car and took a long walk along Ocean Drive in the Art Deco district. He hoped the crowd and the noise would take his mind away from his problems, but that didn't help much.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a bunch of revelers that bumped into him. He crossed the street, sat in one of the restaurants, and ordered a chef's burger and a beer. For a while he was distracted by the food and the buzz of the crowd.

Nibbling at his food, he remembered again that this evening they were supposed to be out with some of Mary's friends. He had almost forgotten that Fiona was supposed to be there. Fiona and her boyfriend of the day, whatever his name was, and Wanda and her husband Aldo Spiteri. Scott didn't mind much the company of Aldo and Wanda, they were a nice couple, they met them at one of Don and Carla's parties. But Fiona was something else.

It was easy for anyone to notice that Scott didn't like Fiona Volpiano. Actually, he didn't like her at all. She was toxic as far as he was concerned. If the human brain had folders, then one would be labeled 'major universal plagues' and Fiona would be right there along with the Bubonic Plague and the Ten Plagues of Egypt. He wasn't sure if Volpiano was her maiden name or her ex-husband's name. She told them that she was divorced but Scott often thought that she was most likely widowed, he could easily imagine her putting an early end to any man's life.

Fiona was roughly the same age as Mary and her son, Steve, was the same age as Dean. Fiona was not beautiful by any standard but she had a certain charm that drew both men and women to her, like a deadly magnetism. She had affairs, mostly with married men and occasionally with married women, she never made a secret of it. Her preference always going to wealthy ones that could offer her all the little luxuries in life that her meager salary and life conditions wouldn't allow her to indulge in. All her affairs ended in drama. She reveled in telling her audience all her stories along with the crunchy and less crunchy details.

Mary had met her at the Crandon Park beach two years earlier and they became quite close over a short period of time. They saw each other regularly and went shopping or to the beach together. Mary knew of Scott's dislike of Fiona and did her best to avoid having her over to their house when he was there. Scott found out however that Fiona came over, and sometimes stayed over, when he was away on business trips. He warned Mary that this woman was toxic and would cause problems, but Mary didn't heed his advice. Why hadn't he felt the same about Don? He didn't have a high opinion of Don but never considered him a threat to his family.

He finished his meal, hailed the waiter and paid for his dinner, then got up and walked back towards his car.

* * *

As he pulled out slowly into the traffic he wondered where to go next. He didn't feel like going back home. He was barely a couple of miles away from where he was parked, about to engage on the MacArthur Causeway, when he decided to go to a club they knew in Coconut Grove. He needed a drink or two and people and noise around him. Driving helped him relax, maybe not as much as if he was driving one of his pets but it helped anyway. Something in the back of his mind told him that he was looking for trouble but he chose to ignore it. He and Mary had been to that club a few times before, mostly with Don and Carla. Was he hoping to come across Don there and have a man-to-man chat with him? Maybe more than a chat? He didn't know for sure what he wanted but the thought of bloodying Don's nose was so very tempting.

When he entered the night club, he was greeted by Phil, the part owner and manager. The look on his face and his unusual careful selection of words led Scott to believe that he knew that something was up. Phil led him to a cubicle ordinarily reserved for himself and his guests and sat him there. Unusual, Scott thought. Phil asked Scott what he'd like to drink, brought his drink over and told him to enjoy his evening, the drink was on the house. Another unusual gesture. Phil did occasionally offer them a drink on the house but usually that was just as the bar was about to close or after they had consumed a few, well, several drinks.

Scott sipped on his drink, scanning the club randomly. For some reason no one, not even a waiter, came over to his table nor tried to talk to him. He must have had a pretty depressed or discouraging look on his face. He finished the drink he was offered, and to be polite, but also because he needed it, he waived a waiter and ordered another one. Still not much said except for the occasional comment from Phil when he passed by his cubicle.

The place was crowded and noisy, but there was no sign of Don, he didn't really expect to see Carla. When Phil again passed his cubicle, Scott made a sign for him to sit down.

"Have you seen Don and Carla recently?" Scott asked.

"No Scott. I spoke with Carla several times on the phone in the last few days but haven't seen her, or Don for that matter, for some time," Phil replied.

"Oh! I see," was all that Scott managed to say. He didn't know Carla and Phil were on such good terms to call each other frequently.

Phil smiled, he saw the puzzled look on Scott's face, "Not many people know that Scott, but Carla and I are half brother and sister. Same mother, different father."

"I didn't know Phil, and would have never guessed." They just looked so different.

Nothing was said for a few seconds, then Phil turned and looked Scott straight in the eyes.

"Scott, I know this is none of my business but, as you probably guessed, Carla shared her doubts with me and told me about her chat with you and with Mary," he paused for a second, "In fact I am the one that suggested she speaks with you about her suspicions when she called me earlier in the week. I always thought you were a decent guy and you deserved to know, at least be warned. To be perfectly honest I suspected something was going on between Don and your wife for some time, but then what you see in a club is sometimes distorted. People do things in clubs they don't do in their daily life, we attribute it to drinks or people just relaxing a bit too much and forgetting their normal behavior. So we keep what they do in the club, especially when you manage it, we don't talk about it or shout it on rooftops. It's somewhat cynical, but you don't earn money by driving your customers away."

Phil paused again, looked around, then continued, "Don is an asshole, I never understood why Carla married him in the first place, nor how she stayed married to him for so long. Kids I suppose. Things are different when kids are involved. I've avoided talking about Don with her years ago, it was stressing our relationship beyond the tolerable level, so I dropped it. It's her business after all. She asked me a few times to give him a job here, she just wanted him to do something instead of wandering around like a lost soul. I knew he never seriously looked for a job, he is just a lazy bastard. Despite my best common sense I offered him a job, twice, and twice I had to let him go. All he did was take money from the cash register and chase the waitresses, I even suspect he bedded one or two but I have no proof, and it's not the sort of thing you go around asking people about. I couldn't prove that he took the money either. I couldn't tell Carla that her asshole of a husband is a thief and a cheat. As I said I had no proof and I didn't want to stress our relationship more than necessary. The only thing I could do was to let him go. Carla is not stupid you know, she suspected that something serious happened, but she didn't ask and I didn't tell. That is until last week."

Scott was taking all that in, he didn't want to interrupt Phil, he was astounded by what he was hearing, but something Phil said registered in the back of his mind.

"Phil, you said you suspected something was going on between Don and my wife for some time. Why? What happened that made you suspicious?"

Phil paused then let out a long breath, he knew that he had to tell Scott what he saw but he didn't want to be brutal or reckless about it. He just wanted to mention the facts, not just his own interpretation of what he saw.

"You know, Scott, I've been in this business for so fucking long I know all the moves and can read all the signs. There is light flirting, heavy flirting, light petting, and then the heavier stuff going on all the time. The more people drink, the more they let go their inhibitions and become someone else, some get pretty wild. I also know Don, the asshole thinks he owns the place when he comes here. I would throw him out if he came on his own, but when he is with Carla and others I just pretend he is just another customer, and treat him as such," he looked around then back at Scott, "What I saw on a couple of occasions is this, Don and Mary often return to their seats when you and Carla are dancing. Don would put his hand on Mary's thigh while they are seated and she wouldn't move it away until you and Carla return to the table, Don kissed her on the lips once, it was quick but she closed her eyes. Little things but they spell intimacy of a certain kind. I also saw them dancing, and the way they hold each other and press against each other when they are out of sight tells it's own story. You probably didn't see any of this because you were either dancing with Carla, chatting with someone, or away from your table. I am sorry to be so blunt but that's what I saw and that's how I interpreted it. To Mary's defense, like I said, it may be something she only did here at the club. But knowing Don, he wouldn't let such a prey get away from him. I guess I was right, unfortunately."

Scott leaned back. That was some revelation. He never saw or suspected a thing.

"How far back was that, Phil?"

"Three, maybe four months ago, give or take a couple of weeks. Come to think about it, the first time I noticed something was just before Christmas."

Scott shook his head in disbelief, then he stood up and extended his hand to Phil.

"Thank you for being so candid and honest with me, Phil. I really appreciate it despite the way I feel after what I just heard, but that's unavoidable. I think it is still not the full story. Just another chapter unfolding," he paused, shaking the hand that Phil extended in return, "I have to call it a night, go home and get some sleep."

"Sure thing Scott, hope things will work out for you. Mary is a nice person, I hope you two can work things out, the wolf in the story is Don."

"I guess, but Mary is no little red riding hood. Thanks Phil, thanks for everything, take care and see you around."

Stuart left the club much earlier than they usually did when he was with Mary and friends. His conversation with Phil added a new dimension to his puzzle. He got some new information about Mary and Don, it was troubling to say the least but, again, not conclusive. So many new questions trotted in his mind and not one helpful definitive answer.

Scott had no doubts that Mary slept with Don, she admitted it after all. What he didn't know is the extent of their affair and what led Mary to step out on their marriage. Scott had to be honest with himself, his travel and absences were fun in the early days but since he married they were just routine, he simply had to travel because it was part of his job. He fully appreciated that Mary would feel lonely when he was away, even more so since they moved to Florida. Mary needed company, she was a very social person. What Phil told him shifted the blame somewhat to Don. He must have noticed and exploited Mary's loneliness. But then this wasn't her first affair, that much he also knew.

No one sees his or her partner's behavior when they are not with them. Do partners behave differently when they're out of their spouse's radar range? He wondered. Scott had the impression that there were two Marys. The Mary he loves and sees when they are together, the loving wife and mother and the good friend and confidante. Then there is the other Mary, the one that behaves so uncharacteristically when he is away, or even when he is around but distracted. He is beginning to hate and distrust that second Mary. Which one is the real Mary?

These were the thoughts Scott was struggling with as he parked his car and the ones that accompanied his restless sleep. Mary was already asleep and he did his best no to wake her.

* * *

Sunday was a relatively quiet day. Scott spent most of his morning in his office, he briefly caught up with some work and business emails, the rest was spent retracing some events that happened over the last few months and that he thought should have alerted him. He went through Mary's diary in detail. Using the two monitors connected to his home computer, he transposed what he could read in the scans of Mary's diary on one screen into the spreadsheet he had prepared on the other screen. He could only get about four months worth of data from the diary, until mid April to be precise. He needed to get the rest from last year's diary.