Shadows of the Past

Time passed and with it the last cold nights of winter were gone. I still had a cord of wood in the garage for next winter and I'll get another when it's time. I started keeping the windows open both days and nights. In the days, with the warmer weather and open windows, I'd finally blown the stale winter air from the closed-up home and replaced it with the scents of spring. When a man lives alone, that's what passes for spring cleaning. The former owners planted lilacs around the property, and it won't be long before their intoxicating aroma fills the house. When the wind blows gently in the right direction, it can be a heady brew of lilacs and roses.

Over the weeks between early spring and mid-May I saw my friend and neighbor regularly. Truth be told, I saw him too regularly and he always had a sad tale to tell. His marriage wasn't getting any better. Cheryl was staying out late more nights than she was home; and when she was home, she was a bitch. Craig was on his last nerve and I could see it in his face. His love and his patience were both gone. I suggested counseling several times, but he said she refused to go. I had offered to let him stay at my place for a time thinking that a time out might cool the fires of hell, but he never took me up on my offer. I was preparing to suggest a good lawyer, but the end of his marriage came more abruptly than I anticipated.

"She left me." That was all he needed to say. We just sat there on my back deck, drinking our beers, and waiting. "A moving truck came while I was at work and she moved out."

"Did she say why?"

"She tried to say it was me and threw every insult at me that she could think of. She said I ignored her, and I wasn't meeting her needs. She said I was boring, and she was tired of cleaning up after me. That's a laugh! It's been months since she did anything around the house but sleep, get dressed, and go out. I tried to talk with her, reason with her, and then she went nuclear on me."

"I'm told every wife tells her husband the sex is bad when they're leaving. It's so common it's a cliché."

"Yeah, she said that, but that's not what I meant. She said she'd lost respect for me."

"Did she give a reason?"

"She didn't have to. These past months all she could talk about were how brilliant and rich the lawyers she worked for were. They wear expensive suits and drive expensive cars. She seems to think they exude power, devour the weak, and shit out bits and pieces of the little people."

"The little people like engineers?"

"Yeah, and everybody else that doesn't show contempt for the people around them."

It was a quiet night with occasional conversation of divorce law, as if we knew anything about that, and how he could protect himself. This much we knew. We lived in a no-fault state and she made nearly as much as he did. There were no kids. They both had their own car. They were still relatively young, so things like community property and investments weren't a big issue. The divorce should be simple enough. I gave him the name of a friend in the family law business and he promised to make an appointment for Monday.

I offered him a room for the night, but he said that Cheryl had left, and he'd be damned if he would let her force him out of his own house. I repeated my warning not to do anything stupid and watched my friend trudge back to his house. I knew he'd be drinking heavily that night.

With news of his broken marriage and a type of closure on the pain he'd been feeling for many months, my own thoughts again drifted back to my marriage and how I came to be here.

It's taken two years now, but I'm finally starting to feel settled into this house. It took a strange and unfinished path to get me here. One man carried the responsibility for it all. Just one man who changed the direction of my life forever.

Peter Harris. That was his name. Peter, the fuckin' drunk, worthless shit, Harris. Peter, one for the road, I can hold my liquor, it's just a ten-minute drive, Harris. Claire was working late. It was that time of year in her office. Harris ran a red light and hit Claire's car in the driver's door. They used the jaws of life to cut the car open and get her out, but she was DOA when I got the call and life as I knew it was over.

I was a walking, empty shell of a man after that. I raged at the world and I cried endless tears. When I finally got myself together and went to find the worthless drunk, he was already behind bars and he stayed there. In fact, he died there. One of the inmates had lost his mother to a drunk driver. Now he's facing a murder trial and Harris is buried deep in the ground. How do you take revenge on a dead man? I had only one option left to me, so one night I went to the cemetery and I pissed on his grave. It gave me no comfort. He wasn't worth the effort.

That was the start of so many long, lonely nights. The house held so many memories of Claire that I saw her ghost in every room. My therapist told me I needed to move on and eventually I knew I couldn't do it in the house we shared. So I sold the McMansion with most of the furniture, bought an small, older home from a lovely older couple, and settled into building a new life with old memories. It was slow work and even now I was far from moving on. The pain had lessened, and the memories were warmer, but I was still a man mourning his wife and I knew it.

Over the next weeks Craig was a frequent visitor. I would occasionally show up at his door with a six pack and a pizza, but I made sure he knew he was always welcome at my place and mostly left him to come or go as he pleased. Cheryl was being generous, or what passes for generous from a wife without a shred of interest in the life she left behind. She let him have the house, but they had so little equity in it that it was hardly an act of generosity. They split their limited savings down the middle and each kept their cars and their retirement accounts. It was a very civilized modern divorce that left him sitting alone at night and wondering why?

It was about five months after she'd dropped the bomb on him, and we were again sitting on the back deck. It was fall now. The older trees around the property were showing their colors and the garden was put to bed.

"I just wish I knew what I did to deserve this. I tried to give her everything she wanted. I thought she was happy. I keep thinking back and I can't figure out where I failed."

"You didn't fail, Craig. I don't think you'll find your answer there."

"Then why?"

"Honestly?" I didn't know if I should answer him. My best intentions get me into trouble every time. "If I tell you what I think, Cheryl won't come off looking very good. Then, next week or next month, maybe next year, if you two get back together, you'll resent what I said. That's the kind of luck I have!"

"Trust me, you couldn't say anything that's worse than I've been saying to myself."

"Okay. Cheryl is the kind of woman who always wants more. She wants whatever she doesn't have and more than you can afford. Craig, she moved on because she thought she could do better and that's the simple truth of it. She can't do better than you, but what you offered isn't what she wants."

My friend was quiet, and I wondered if I'd gone too far. Then again, in for a penny... "Craig, Cheryl has always admired importance, power, and prestige. You said it yourself. She worshiped those lawyers she works with like they could walk on water. Is that the kind of man you want to be?"

He was shaking his head.

"You're smart, kind, generous, patient, and fundamentally decent. Whatever Cheryl was when you married her, she became a woman who no longer values those things. I think you need to face the fact that her head got turned by someone or something and she's no longer walking the same path as you."

"You think she's hooked up with one of those lawyers?"

"I think it's a possibility."

Craig took a deep breath and thought about it for a long time. "That would explain a lot. The woman I married would never cheat on me, but this last year Cheryl hasn't been the woman I married in any way, and she seemed to get further and further from that woman with each passing week."

"I'll tell you one thing I believe and maybe it will help you. A wife who cheats, if Cheryl was cheating, is no wife at all and you're better off without her."

He was quietly nodding his head and eventually spoke. "Maybe it's better this way. If I'd known she was cheating when she was living here, I don't know what I'd have done. Maybe it's better she lied to me and just left without a warning. If I had to face her knowing that she was cheating on me, I don't think I could have taken it."

I wasn't sure if I was helping or hurting my friend and decided to back off a little. Hell, there was no doubt in my mind that Cheryl had cheated on my friend. I had noticed her evolving behavior in the months after I moved in. She was pleasant at first, but as she became more comfortable with me, she would drop the pleasant façade and make dismissive little remarks about money and geeks. That wore thin real fast, but I held my tongue for Craig's sake. In time I came to believe she was little more than a shallow, greedy bitch that controlled my friend with smiles and sex, but I damn well never told Craig that and I wasn't going to go that far tonight.

"Maybe it's best if you don't know. The possibility alone is painful enough and considering it could help you to let go. The reality might just build layers onto the pain and bring more things to light that you can't do anything about. Maybe it's best just to let sleeping dogs lie." Don't think that reference to sleeping dogs was an accident. That about summed up my evolving opinion of Cheryl.

"Maybe, or maybe the reality will help me even more."

"Either way, remember what I told you before. Don't do anything you will regret. You're a good man, Craig, and you don't need more pain and more problems now. Whatever you learn, just let it go and move on with your life."

My friend was nodding his head, but I could see he was thinking, and I knew they were dark thoughts. I'd been in a similar place not so long ago and I knew it didn't lead anywhere good.

"Why don't you spend the night here. The guest room is made up."

"Thanks, but I'm going to live in my house. That's one thing that's still mine."

"Okay. Breakfast tomorrow?"

That, at least, brought the glimmer of a smile to his face. "Bacon. I'm in the mood for bacon."

"When are you not?" So the evening ended on a light note, but again I watched my friend make his way home like a broken man who'd lost it all. And why not? He had.

Breakfast the next day found my friend in better shape than the night before. He said he'd gotten his first good night's sleep in months. He admitted that the possibility of Cheryl having an affair was one he had considered, but until last night he'd never admitted it was possible. Now, it seemed more than possible, and his loss was somehow diminished.

Over breakfast we decided that we both needed a distraction. So, what do two engineers (okay, geeks) do when they need a distraction? We started by hitting the car shops. The new models were coming in and we wanted to test drive something fun. Sure, we disappointed some salesmen, but we had fun doing it! Then there is a shop in town that sells interesting rocks and fossils, so we decided to check it out. We left there with our wallets a bit lighter and our geek cards punched, then headed to a favorite BBQ place for a late lunch of ribs and brisket. We spent the afternoon with the parts catalogs and started looking at components. We wanted to build something fun, probably several somethings, and we started throwing out ideas. It was too late for any spyware to change either of our lives, but there are chips now that combine GPS with HAM radio transmitters that can be made to report its location periodically. I didn't know what I wanted it for, but I had to have one. I also decided that I wanted to build a miniature Geiger counter. Don't ask me why, but as soon as I saw those little Russian tubes, I knew I had to build one. Craig went for the Raspberry-Pi chip and decided to build a small computer. Then, too, he got it into his head that he was going to build a high-end atmospheric monitor. He started with temperature, humidity, wind, and all the usual stuff. Then he added sensors to measure particulates and ozone. The latter was a bit pricy, but the idea fascinated him. Again, "Why?" wasn't one of the questions we were asking. We were just two boys having fun. We were getting our geek on. I had some leftover lasagna in the fridge and with some salad and a little red wine we finished the evening feeling pretty good about ourselves.

One day doesn't put to rest all the pain he was living with. I knew my friend and from time to time I could see the pain in his eyes. He hadn't forgotten his problems, but for one day they were pushed to the back of his mind and he was enjoying himself. I decided that I would not bring up the divorce unless he chose to, and after dinner as we sat in the living room he did. "You know, I don't even know where she is. I thought she was staying with her folks, but when I called there, they said she was 'staying with a friend'. They wouldn't tell me who. The conversation was difficult to say the least. I told them I've never harmed her in any way, ever, and I wasn't going to start now. I just wanted to talk with her, but they wouldn't tell me where she was. Her mother actually cried over the phone. My lawyer says to stay away and don't even think about going to her office. They'll call the cops on me when I'm still getting out of the car. Six years, man, six years and I can't even talk to my wife while she still is my wife."

"Have you been served?"

"Yeah. That happened two days after she left. I never told you? She was prepared in advance, had the papers ready, had the movers hired, and even had a new place to live. It's fuckin' cold, man."

Once again, I didn't know how far to take it. There were things I wanted to say, but I was afraid of hurting him even more. Actually, I was still worried that if I went too far and told him what I really thought, it might damage our friendship. People living with the pain of betrayal can be surprisingly protective of those who have hurt them. I suppose that's the optimism of holding on to the dream and the hope that somehow things will go back to the way they were, or is it the loss of eroding the memory that he wants to hold pure and untainted?

Meanwhile, Craig's pain and my own were starting to meld together in my psyche. Our stories were separate, but his pain was becoming too real for me and I knew that his pain was triggering the pain and anger of my own loss. I never had the chance to even the score with Harris and now my friend was holding the short end of the stick from his own broken marriage and suffering at least as much. I decided that his lawyer may have given him some very good advice about avoiding any contact with her, but I didn't need to take it. I knew there had to be more to the story than Cheryl was admitting.

I told my boss on Monday that I was going to be leaving work early and had some errands to run. He knew my work habits and never blinked an eye. In fact, he chuckled, shook his head, and just waved me off with the back of his hand. He's one of the good guys.

I parked in the strip mall lot across the street from Cheryl's office when it was almost time for her to be leaving. I had longer to wait than I expected. It was more than ninety minutes after office hours when I saw her finally leaving with a suit. He had his arm around her waist and there was a pretty serious make out session at the car. It wasn't her car and a darn sight more expensive than what she drove, so I'm assuming it was his and they left together. I managed to follow them, and they wound up at a high-end restaurant. It was just a typical Monday night and they were going to spend the kind of money that Craig could only spend on an anniversary.

I couldn't go in to check on them. Cheryl would recognize me if I did and I wasn't about to spend that kind of money on dinner, so again I parked across the street and I waited. They took their sweet time, but eventually they left and headed for the western side of town. The house was significantly more impressive than the one she shared with Craig. I guess she felt that she'd found what she's been missing. I did catch a glimpse of what I think was her car parked in the garage when the suit pulled in on his side, so I figured they were in for the night. I guess I had the answer to the question that Craig and I had pondered without conclusion. If Cheryl hadn't been having an affair before she left, she sure as hell started it up soon after.

I finally had time for my own dinner, grabbed some carryout, and headed home. Now it was time to answer the difficult question, "Should I tell my friend, or is he better off not knowing?" I had other thoughts turning in my mind as well. Harris and the suit were both sharing the same place in my brain. Harris had destroyed my marriage and it was clear to me that the suit at least had a hand in destroying Craig's. My hatred for Harris was all too easily transferred to the suit and I was already thinking that this was one injustice I could do something about. Harris was out of reach, but the suit wasn't. These were dangerous thoughts and they worried me.

I didn't spend much time trying to discourage myself from balancing the scales. I've never in my life hurt a woman, and regardless of what I thought of Cheryl I would never raise a hand to her. The suit was another matter. He was the kind of coward who screws around with another man's wife. He needed to pay. Now I knew who, but I needed to plan for how and when?

I needed time, but I was patient. Craig eventually told me that Cheryl's parents had called him to again express their regrets and their embarrassment over their daughter's behavior. They were good people and they saw that Craig had been a loving and dedicated husband to their daughter. Several times they had told him that they raised her better than this, but in the end, they had no control over her actions. They said Cheryl was coming to visit that weekend and they would again try to talk some sense into her, but they added that the suit was not welcome in their home. Cheryl had admitted to them that the affair had gone on for months before she left her marriage and I thought this might be my opportunity.

I followed the suit and Friday night he went out for a few drinks. I parked around the corner and waited for him in the parking lot. I've never ambushed a person before and maybe I went overboard in planning. I ran a wire from a post set in the asphalt by the back of the building to the shadows maybe eight feet away. The post was one of many set to keep cars from parking too close to the structure and provide a safe path for the clientele. I was ready, but the suit took his sweet time. Several individuals and couples walked by as I waited, but nobody noticed me crouching in the dark. Finally, as the suit walked by, I tugged the wire and he tripped forward, landing with his face and chest on the asphalt. Two quick steps and an overhead swing brought the end of the bat down hard on his right hand and I heard a very satisfying crunch. He groaned and instinctively rolled away from the pain. That was my opportunity to swing for the bleachers and I hit the side of his left knee. There was a loud crack, and I knew he was out of commission. He was no longer in a position to defend himself, but I felt no mercy. One more hard swing to his junk and he convulsed and passed out from the pain. No one was running or seemed to hear his scream, so I quickly walked to my car and drove away.