Rule 18

Rule 18

It was Tuesday evening, about 9pm. My wife Angela and I just finished watching Gibbs and the team solve another murder and put the bad guy away on NCIS. The episode ended, as many do, with Gibbs in the basement as he worked on yet another boat. He was joined by his friend and former FBI agent Tobias Fornell. As usual, Gibbs planed some wood as he and Toby drank Gibbs favorite drink, bourbon with a side of sawdust.

I noticed that Angela had failed to pay much attention to the show. She has appeared distant and somewhere else as was her pattern of late. Recently, she had kept longer hours that included many late nights and Saturdays at work. Even when she was at home, seldom was she with me even though we physically occupied the same room. I needed to speak several times just to garner her attention and if she spoke, it was a brief sentence or sometimes just a single word passed her lips, unusual for a woman who at one time was a nonstop chatterbox. This imitation of "Silence of the Lambs" had been going one for a month now. I asked her several times what was distracting her so much and she simply replied, "It's just a problem at work. It'll be over with soon."

As the next month unfolded, I found her to be ever increasingly terse and in a perpetual foul mood around me. I asked, pleaded, cajoled, and even screamed as I attempted to get her to discuss her problem. This prompted a response of "fuck you" or something of a similar ilk before she stormed out and slammed every door between us until she was locked in our bedroom and I left to fend for myself in the guest room. Finally, I simply gave up and found things to occupy my evenings that entailed the avoidance of my wife at all costs. I even decided to move into the guest room since she had seen to it that I spent more time there than in my own bed. I even installed a lock on the door. She never once questioned my move and I wasn't sure if she actually noticed. The next three weeks were hell on earth as I realized that she didn't even care enough to comment.

I started stopping off at the local watering hole after work and spent several hours commiserating with my friends while I silently cursed my wife for driving me out of my own home. I took all my meals out. I truly had no home life, nothing but misery that is, which was in an unendingly abundant supply. The only exception I made was Tuesday nights when I came home after I ate and retired to my room and watched NCIS on the television I put in the room for that purpose. I knew I couldn't maintain my current schedule as I had been as eating out every night and that grew prohibitively expensive. I knew something had to give and I needed to make a decision. It seemed my wife was hellbent on driving me to divorce her and she had failed to give me a reason for her behavior and her poor treatment of me as she went from loving wife to callous roommate in the span of six weeks.

It was a Thursday and I was at Lou's Place. As I threw darts with my team in the local league, I decided that I'd engage her Friday evening after work and we would either work on her or our problems or end this sad sham of a marriage. As Friday evening rolled around, I stopped by Lou's for a bit of intestinal fortitude in the form of a few cold beers. I finally arrived home at 6:30pm about 3 hours sooner than the regular hour of 10:30pm I had kept of late. I arrived home to a darkened house, unusual, as Angela normally arrived home by 6pm. I enjoyed the brief respite from what I had planned for the evening and possibly the weekend. I grabbed a beer and sat down to wait.

Six beers and four and a half hours later Angela had failed to arrive home. I checked my text and voicemail but nothing was there. My calls went to straight to her voicemail and my texts went unanswered and it appeared her phone was off. I called all her family and close friends but none had heard from her or knew her whereabouts. I was too intoxicated to drive around to look for her so I notified the police.

"This is Tom Hollister and I want to report my wife missing."

They sent a squad car to our house, the officers looked around for any sign of foul play before they took my statement. They asked me about my whereabouts and if anyone could provide me with an alibi. I gave them my information and the officers told me they'd check hospitals and such to see if she had been involved in an accident and that detectives would follow up with me. About 3am the phone rang and I screamed, Angela!" It was the police. They found her car in the parking lot where she worked. They, in concert with the night security in her building, checked the premises but she was nowhere to be found inside.

So, I finally resigned myself to the fact that I needed to go to bed. As I wearily entered the master bedroom, I noticed that propped up between the pillows was an envelope with my name on it. I opened it and read the enclosed letter.

Dear Tom,

I deeply apologize for the way I've treated you these past six weeks. It was horrible and I'm ashamed that my quandary caused me to make your life a living hell. The reason is as simple and complex as this, I found myself attracted to another man. He is married and has a family. He told me how beautiful and attractive I am and how much he wanted me sexually. I've resisted but must confess that I wanted him as well. Until now, I've been every bit the faithful wife. Unfortunately, that is about to change over the course of this weekend.

I wrestled and stewed over a possible solution and then it hit me. Gibbs! Precisely, it was rule 18 that solved my dilemma, "It is better to seek forgiveness than to ask permission." So, this weekend, I invoked rule 18. I've left for a weekend with my lover and I'll be back Sunday and then I shall beg for your forgiveness. You're the only man I've ever experienced and though this may come off as shallow and self-centered, I wanted and needed to find out, just once, what it was like to be with another man. After this weekend, I'm committed totally and exclusively to you. Once this is resolved I'll make up for all the sins of this weekend and the past six weeks as we strive to bring our lives back to normal. This may sound convoluted given my attitude and behavior, but I've missed you and I continued to love you more than anything. Until Sunday evening,

Angela.

I collapsed onto the bed in a heap and I spun out of control as my whole world imploded before my eyes. She had been playing around with this man and at the very least been sharing intimate dates with him over the past six weeks. Given her mood and by her choice of words written in her letter, she had all but slept with the man and now planned to rectify it. Once I managed to regain some semblance of my senses, I phoned the police and informed them that my wife was safe. The desk sergeant asked me her whereabouts. I told him that they were still unknown but that she left a note stating that she had left to spend the weekend with a man unknown to me and for obvious reasons declined leaving me with that information.

After I hung up, I knew I needed a plan of action. The deep sense of hurt and loss remained but it was pushed aside in favor of seething unbridled anger. I was so emotionally disturbed, I believed at the time had they remained in my purview I'd have killed them both with my bare hands. I was angered that this interloper had robbed me of six weeks of my life and marriage and that she allowed it to happen. I was further incensed by the fact that by now, she had already broken the covenant of marriage and had fucked him and probably was still fucking him as to not lose one precious second riding his cock.

I sprinted down to the kitchen, a room I had traversed a thousand times plus in the dark but tonight I managed to stub my toe on the small kitchenette table where we shared coffee and breakfast over the years. I managed to find the light switch and flicked it on as a never-ending stream of cuss words flowed from my pie hole. I continued with my blue diatribe as I made a pot of extremely strong coffee. While the coffee brewed, I hobbled back up the stairs to take a steaming hot shower with the hope to fend off exhaustion. I used the time to think about a plan of action and by the time I shut off the water, the shower had fogged as well as the bathroom with a thick cloud of steam and the condensation had caused the mirrors, doors, and the walls to form droplets and those droplets became rivulets that cascaded down the mirrors, walls, and doors.

The shower helped me to focus and my mind became exceptionally clear and amid the fog I had formulated a plan. After I dried off and dressed, I returned to the kitchen and poured myself a steaming cup in my Gibbs Rules mug. I caressed the smooth porcelain exterior and absorbed its warmth. I slowly sipped the life sustaining nectar and as I absorbed the much-needed caffeine, I realized Angela was right about one thing, Gibbs Rules spoke to me as well, I now knew exactly how I needed to proceed. I retrieved a yellow legal pad and pen from my den and I made a list of everything I needed to do on it. When I finished, I began to put everything in motion.

As soon as the hour was respectable, I made supplemental calls to family and friends that I called last night in a panic and gave them an all clear. I was deliberately vague and just stated that she had an emergency trip for work and left me a note on the bed that I didn't find it until the wee hours of the morning. After giving a sigh of relief, they ribbed me for pushing the panic button. I accepted their criticism in the spirit it was intended but I still blamed her for making me out to be the buffoon.

I then began executing my plan. First, I secured a moving company for the first thing tomorrow morning. I then placed a call to one of those quick sale property investors. He informed me that he'd be over later that morning to give me an estimate. I told him I needed the deal to be closed by Monday. He snorted a bit about that but I told him that this was in essence a fire sale and once he saw the house, he'd move heaven and earth to get it done. I added that he needed to get a hold of an appraiser, inspectors, and such. He informed me he did all that himself and that if the title search showed the title was unincumbered he'd make Monday happen.

Then I went to my bank and withdrew $2000 in cash until my new debit card was issued from my checking and savings accounts. I had them issue me a cashier's check for the balance of my share of our accounts. Then I phoned my boss and explained why I needed a couple of weeks off. Thankfully, I had worked for the firm for the past 20 years and my boss appreciated that I always "pulled my share of the load and then some", his words not mine. I'm a tax accountant and tax season is always a bear. Fortunately, tax season had passed and we were in that lull where things had slowed down tremendously.

People wrongly believed that waiting to file at the 11^th hour maximized their cash flow. Truthfully, it created 12--14-hour days for the accountants tasked with sorting through a morass of receipts that were disheveled and unorganized. Then making sense of their files as to provide the client and more importantly, the IRS with accurately prepared returns that minimized the chance of an audit while maximizing the refund to the client. Today, my dedication was rewarded and repaid in spades. My boss even went as far as to log in to the system and change my direct deposit to my new account as soon as I had an account number. He also removed Angela from my company health and life insurance benefits and my retirement accounts as well.

I called and rented a storage space for where Angela's stuff would be stored. I then spent the late afternoon checking out apartment rentals. I found a place I liked and used most of my ready cash for the deposit. I had to run to the nearest convenience store to purchase a money order which I used for the deposit. I didn't want to write a check as that would've alerted her to where I moved to. I set a move in date for tomorrow. The remainder of the afternoon I was at home as I boxed up personal items and packed a couple of suitcases. I left the rest for the movers.

I called my brother Frank and sworn him to secrecy until Monday. He advanced me some cash, enough to last me 7-10 days when my debit card would arrive. I went online and opened an online checking account account and electronically deposited my check, ordered checks and a debit card, and gave them my new address. I emailed my boss the account number. I'd use my work credit card that I had for expenses like lunches for clients so I didn't leave a paper trail for Angela to follow since my boss suggested I do so. I assumed Angela would text me when she was on her way home with the time she planned to arrive. I decided I'd call my daughter as soon as I had received that text from her so that she wouldn't warn her mother ahead of time.

By late evening I was tired and famished. I went down to Lou's for a bowl of chili and a couple of brews. I returned home about 8pm grabbed a long hot shower and then watched a rerun of NCIS before I headed to bed as I knew tomorrow would be long and difficult. I awoke as the new dawn approached and small slivers of sunlight peeked through the curtains in my bedroom. I knew that the movers I hired would be here at 7. I stumbled down to the kitchen and while it was still relatively dark, I had regained my ability to navigate blindly and avoided stubbing my toe on the table leg.

I made a pot of strong coffee and with a steaming mug in hand I went to the bedroom and dressed for the day. I loaded the remaining clothes from my closet into my car and drove down to our bank where I drew out the funds from out joint account to pay for the movers that would move Angela's things to storage and one month's storage fees for her unit. I saw no good reason why I needed to pay for her. I grabbed a bagel and donut along with another cup of coffee plus a jug of coffee and two dozen donuts for the movers, courtesy of Angela, and headed home. The movers arrived and had things packed up by 9am. I took my bed from the guest room as well as a chest of drawers and my new television. I made a note to stop and purchase a coffee maker along with some cooking and eating utensils for my new place.

I followed the movers to Angela's storage unit and unlocked it for them. I had given the movers instructions to and the spare key to my new apartment. I instructed them where to put the boxes. They knew they needed to set up the bed and put the chest of drawers in the bedroom. I told them to leave the key on the kitchen counter as the door could be locked from the inside when they left. I had to meet the locksmith at the house at ten and the potential buyer for the house was due at eleven so I hurried back to the house after I grabbed another coffee.

I sat in the car and as I sipped my fourth cup of the day a van pulled into the driveway. Speedy Locks arrived and installed new locks, reprogrammed the remote to the garage door and finished the job in less than an hour. They handed me the new keys just as John Newsom from "We Buy Anything" pulled up and emerged from his car with a notepad and clipboard in hand. I filled him in on my decision to sell and he understood. He told me the title search determined it was a free and clear title so he inspected the house and found everything in order. Then he made me an offer, substantially less than I'd have received if I waited and listed it with a realtor but reasonable and it suited my purposes. Fortunately, I bought the house before I married and it was titled in my name only.

I told him I agreed to the terms in principle only if he agreed to pay me in cash for the amount above what I owed on the mortgage. He agreed. I asked him to hold the money until after my divorce was finalized and then issue me the check. He agreed to do so. He told me he'd been through a nasty divorce and had his shirt taken right off his back. The remaining monies would be paid directly to the bank to pay off the mortgage. He'd list the house Monday morning as if he had flipped it. I signed the paperwork on the countertop, we shook hands and he left.

I took one last look around the house. I grieved over the loss of my home and as I looked at the house, I felt a surge of anger at Angela for killing our life together. As I closed the door for the last time, I hoped that the new owners fared better. I taped an envelope to the door addressed to Angela before I left. As I got in my car Angela texted me and said she was on her way "home" and should be there by 2pm. It was 12:10pm when I got in my car. I stopped at a local Walmart and bought what I needed to set up home. I planned to buy some new furniture for my place on Monday. Tonight, I'd make do with a lawn chair at least I had a bed and a television. I put away some groceries I bought, cleaned the dishes, and set up the coffee pot.

I made a sandwich and opened a beer to wash it down with. It was 1:55pm so I called my daughter Julie and explained what had happened and gave her the news of my impending divorce from her mother. She was hysterical as she wailed on about how I needed to forgive her mother. I told her that was simply, not possible. I apologized for the pain she felt and told her that despite the divorce we both loved her and that wouldn't ever change. I was on the phone about 15 minutes with Julie, plenty of time had elapsed that Angela had to have read my letter. Seconds after I hung up with Jules, my phone blew up. I simply switched it off, enjoyed my sandwich and beer. Damned if it didn't taste just like another one.

The letter? What words of wisdom had I left Angela with? What explanation did I leave as to why I left after she blew up our marriage. It was not my pearl of wisdom, it came from that great American philosopher, Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

I wrote,

Angela,

Rule 18 is overruled by Rule 1, "Never screw over your partner." You screwed me over when you screwed that handy dandy. Finally, Rule 42 applies here, "Never accept an apology from somebody who just sucker-punched you."

Goodbye,

Andrew

Epilogue:

I avoided all contact with Angela and even years after the anger and hurt faded a deep sense of resentment remained. Her numerous attempts to talk with me proved futile. She even staked out my apartment but I refused to stop and speak with her. Eventually, it cost me my relationship with my daughter and grandkids. I refused to share the same space Angela did. If she appeared at a party, holiday or at a time I visited I simply left.

Unfortunately, Julie sided with her mother and thought I remained too inflexible in my steadfast refusal to forgive her and reconcile. My only role at Julie's wedding was to pay for it. About two weeks before the wedding she had a change of heart and decided that she'd allow me to walk her down the aisle and give her away. As soon as I walked her down the aisle the minister said, "who gives this woman to be married?" I simply told him, "I do." Angela looked shocked as I turned and rather than taking a seat next to her, I walked out of the church, skipped the reception, and returned home.

I visited at times when I knew for certain Angela wouldn't be there although Julie hammered at me constantly to give her mother a break. I was excluded from holidays as Julie refused to exclude her mother in any way. So, when the grandkids came, I visited and hoped Julie would relent and alternate on major holidays. However, she informed me that the holidays had and would continue to include her mother and she told me that frankly, if I couldn't accept it, not to bother coming around at all. She got her wish. After a couple of years, she tried to step it back. I told her I got used to living and being alone, especially on the holidays, and for her not to bother. I wished them all a good life.