Sign of the Times

I guess that got her. She must have realized she'd been caught. She called out, "No! Wait! Cale it was just a thing. It doesn't mean anything. It was nothing. It was just...just kind of a stupid meaningless thing. It doesn't mean anything... I mean...not to us."

I tossed the Pepsi toward the sink. I was careful not let it hit her or let anything spill out anywhere. I answered, "Yeah I agree. I guess it was a whole lot of nothing about nothing. Just nothing," I looked at her, "Match, set, point. Game over," I think I got that wrong. I didn't care I turned around and started back up the hall to the stairway that led upstairs to what had once been our bedroom. She didn't follow.

I got upstairs, pulled out my 'two-suitor' and my ditty bag. It took me less than ten minutes to pack just about everything I'd need. I figured I got everything that was necessary. I guessed she'd be changing the locks once I left. If she did I'd just buy new stuff to replace what I couldn't take now. I was certain I'd never set foot back in this house ever again.

I stopped at the bathroom that adjoined the bedroom for just a second. I leaned over. I had to puke up the Pepsi. I just couldn't keep it down. My head felt fuzzy. I had a really bad headache. I saw those bright sparky things a person sees just before they pass out. I was all woozy and dizzy. I grabbed the bathroom door and knelt down on the floor until the spell had passed. For a second I thought maybe I'd have a massive heart attack. I thought that would be OK; that would fix the problem. It didn't happen. I didn't die.

I carried my suitcase and ditty bag downstairs. I looked neither to the right nor to left. I went straight for the front door. I didn't hurry, but I didn't tarry either. She was the murderess not me. I got to the front door, opened it, took the house key off my chain and tossed it on the chair nearest the door. I walked out, closed the door, walked to my pick-up, got in, started it up and drove away.

Daphne didn't call out after me or anything. I did see her standing at the front as I pulled off.

I thought maybe I should get out on one of the highways; one of those high speed two lane highways where cars meet each other. I could pick up speed, get up to about seventy miles an hour and just cross over into oncoming traffic. I'd end it all right now, today! I gave this idea some very serious thought. I even thought of a place where I could be the most certain I'd be killed, but I changed my mind. I wasn't chickening out or anything; I just thought why would I want to I kill somebody else too?

I kept driving. There were places where I could just drive off the road real fast. I'd crash into a tree or fly into a ditch, or fly into some really deep hole. I could do that, and then I wouldn't have to worry about anything anymore. I'd be dead. I didn't do that either. I thought about my kids. I knew they were my kids. I mean Daphne could be fucking every guy in the county, but I knew who my kids were, and the last thing I'd ever want to do was to leave that kind of example behind for them. They say a child of a suicide is sixty times more likely to commit suicide themselves than a child without that example. I read that someplace. Durkheim I think.

There was only one place I could think of to go. I could go home; not my home where Daphne was, but back home to my parent's house. I knew them. I'd known them all my life. That was smart! I knew I could count on them. I pulled my truck around and started for home. I could talk to them, maybe I could get my head together, and then I'd get my life back on track. I'd do a reset. I'd start over.

++++++++++

I got to my parents. I told them everything I knew. At first they refused to believe me so I got Hillary on the phone. They couldn't deny what she said. She also said she'd be over to fill us in on all the rest of the grisly details.

My mom and dad said I could have my old room back for as long as I needed it. They made me promise not to do anything crazy; they wanted me to cool down. I told them cool was one thing I was; cool as a corpse, like dead.

One thing I did do was to call Ralph Stevens. Old Ralphie boy was in the middle of some marital problems of his own. The scuttlebutt was he'd gotten caught with his hands in another man's wife's panties so I had nothing on him. Hell, I sort of figured who the other wife was. He was some kind of hot shot ATF agent or something; he could probably kill me using one hand!

Look, no one should get stupid and ask if like I know any Martial Arts. I knew a guy named Art once, and every now and then I see a county car with 'Marshall's Office' painted on the side.

I got Ralph on the phone, "Hey Ralph this is Cale. You know your old buddy Cale McCallister," I could kind of sense he knew what the phone call was about.

He replied, "How about it Cale; great party the other night, had a good time."

I replied, "That's not why I called Ralph old buddy old pal."

"Oh yeah? What's up?"

"I just wanted you to know I saw you and my wife at the Holiday Inn today."

His voice got kind of tremulous, "Hey listen Cale; it's not what you think."

I was pissed now, "Oh really? Tell me Ralph; what was it? What do I think"

I could tell he was nervous. I couldn't imagine why he'd be nervous about me. I' was 5'11". He was 6'4". I was an office guy who'd never set foot in a gym. He worked out. He'd been taking martial arts since he was maybe three weeks old. Oh I was a jogger. I ran constantly; that's what kept my weight down. But me a fighter? Never happen. If he and I got in a tussle he'd break me like a pretzel.

He replied, "Well yeah I guess it was, but it wasn't at all how you think," then he asked me, "What did Daphne say?"

I gulped back a tear, "She said it wasn't anything. She said it was like nothing."

Ralph sighed, I heard him sigh over the phone, "Yeah that's about it; no big deal, a big nothing."

I hung up. My life, my marriage was a big nothing. I burst into tears. That's when Hillary showed up.

Hillary walked in and went straight to mom and dad. I heard her say, "How's he taking it?"

My mom said, "Not good. Listen."

I tried to stop crying; I kept hiccoughing and coughing back the tears. It just wasn't working.

Hillary came in. I was in the living room. She sat down beside me, "I think this has been going on for about three weeks. They've been meeting at different places, but today was the first time they actually...well...you saw."

I took in a deep breath, "Yeah, I saw."

Dad and mom and came in. Dad sat across from me. There were only two men in the world who I had undying respect for; one was that old man across from me, the other was my older brother Chris. Right then I wished Chris was here with us too.

Dad's an old retired steel worker. He was dying; he'd gotten emphysema from all the dust and crap in the mill. He relied on oxygen to breathe. He carried it with him everywhere. I wondered if he was one of Mitt Romney's forty-seven percent. I put that out of my mind. I'm not a political guy except when it comes to what government does regarding money. I liked Romney. I guess I would have voted for him if I'd bothered to vote. That doesn't mean I definitely would. Hell I don't know. My dad always looked grey; he looked extra grey today.

They'd screwed him over on his retirement. He'd put in nearly forty years at the mill; never missed a day's work that I could remember. He had that 'work ethic' everybody talks about. We all got it from him. Near the end of his career the mill was having financial difficulties. I can say unequivocally my dad didn't cause it. A group of financial analysts took over the business. I suppose they were men like me. They took the company apart, sold off the assets, gutted the pension fund, put it all back together and said they'd fixed everything. They blamed the union for everything. The analysts made a fortune, my dad and his coworkers got the shaft. That's capitalism; always all about the money. I ought to know. That's what I do.

I'm sorry I said all that. I'm just feeling sorry for myself.

Dad looked at me, "Son that girl loves you. There's got to be some explanation. I wouldn't jump the gun. Give it some time."

I whipped out a rueful grin, "Dad there's only one way to spell divorce."

Mom stepped to the plate, "Oh no honey; there's always another way."

I interrupted, "I'm not going back there."

Hillary took over, "No I think she means you do something else. You could go for a trial separation or something. It's legal. You could stay apart for like four to six months. Look you and I, we'll find a good divorce lawyer Monday. I feel responsible for some of this. We'll find someone who'll give us the right dope."

"I'm no wimp Hillary. She cheated. Ralph even admitted it. Hell Daphne did too!"

My dad took up the tune, "Cale you're no fool. You never ever jumped into a bucket of shit without first checking how deep or how fresh it might be. Listen to your mother. Follow your sister. Get a lawyer. Check out all your options. Divorce is like the death penalty. You don't know; there might be a way out of this."

I crossed my arms in front of my chest, "I'm no wimp. I won't go crawling back."

Mom added her own perspective, "You know you can even find grains of corn in fresh shit," we all had a laugh at that.

Hillary interjected, "You're no wimp Cale, but you've been hurt. Let's stop the bleeding first," then she turned to dad, "Where's Chris?"

Nobody's seen Chris in years. Dad heard from him now and then. Dad said Chris was a big shot on the oil rigs or something. He was always away some place, Alaska, Indonesia, Nigeria, just name it. It was all kind of hush hush.

Dad looked from Hillary, to mom, to me, then he looked back at mom, "I've got his cell number. I'll get a message to him tonight."

'Yes,' I thought, 'Chris was the idea guy. He always knew what to do. He could fix anything; if I only had Chris.'

Mom looked at me, "I know you're no kid. You're almost middle aged, but at least go along with Hillary. See a lawyer, get all your options."

I nodded, then I looked at dad, "I need a drink, got any beer?"

Dad shook his head, "Christ Cale you want to really get sick. You drink two beers and you'll be throwing up all night."

He was right, "OK, how about a Coke or Pepsi?"

Mom jumped up, "I'll go get you one. You want ice in a glass?"

I replied, "Yes mom, ice please," if nothing else I knew I was on safe turf, no enemies here.

++++++++++

First thing Monday I called in to work and took Monday and Tuesday off. My supervisor threw a fit. He explained how we were on the cusp of some really nasty stuff, and they needed me in the office to manage things. Like I was fucking indispensable? That really pissed me off. I thought I'd been putting in too many hours already, and though they didn't know it I'd planned on seriously cutting back.

It bothered me. Geena was a dance fanatic, and I'd already missed two recitals because of crap at work that in the end didn't amount to a hill of beans. Michael was a needy little boy. What with three older female figures around the house he needed a male role model. How could I be a role model if I was gone all the time? And poor Brandy; well Brandy took horseback riding lessons, and there were occasions when she missed her time slots because either me or Daphne weren't available to take her. I was going to bring this up with Daphne before this current shit storm hit. Hell, we'd bought her a pony, and now she never had a chance to learn to ride! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Now I was getting a divorce I'd miss all that. That fucking woman!

I finally told my boss I didn't give a shit if the whole God damned country went south; I was taking off. I got so pissed I told him I was taking the week. By the time I was finished he'd completely changed his tune. He was all apologetic. He promised he'd handle everything while I was out. He said something about me needing an assistant. He didn't even ask why I needed the time. He told me to say hello to Daphne. That was another thing that really pissed me off; all my colleagues at work loved my wife. They kept telling me how we were like two peas in a pod; little did they know. Strange, no disheartening, that was something I was proud of just a few days ago

Hillary and I found a lawyer; it was someone Hillary knew from school. By the way Hillary is lawyer; her main specialty is real estate. We got an appointment for 2:00 p.m. The woman, a person named, Vanessa Blackthorn, told us what we needed to bring. I got all the paperwork ready. Hillary stopped by mom and dads and we were on our way.

Now all this time something else had really started to piss me off. This was Monday. I'd cracked the whip with Daphne on Saturday. I hadn't received one call, not a single call from her or anybody. From what I'd read the guilty spouse usually called and called begging for forgiveness and for a chance at reconciliation. So far I'd gotten nothing, nada, not a squeak. I'd even left my cell phone on so I could turn it off if she did call.

One thing, I thought for sure at least Geena would call. Geena's our oldest child, one remarkable kid. I'm a little prejudiced sure, but we'd had her tested. She's only thirteen, but colleges had already been sending literature. It seemed colleges in states like ours got extra money if they found and enrolled prodigies. Geena was just that, a real prodigy. Why hadn't she called? Crap I knew three languages, English, about six words in Spanish, and bad grammar. Geena was already fluent in all the Romance languages, and she was deep into German, some Belgian language I'd never heard of, and Russian. And I mean she probably knew more damn math than Steven fucking Hawking! Why hadn't she called?

Geena got her brains from her mom. Her mom was a classic underachiever; it really aggravated her parents when she blew off a free ride to Brown just so she could marry me. I never figured that one out. Why me? I mean she could have gone to Brown and really have stepped up. It's about the gene pool isn't it? I told her marrying me was like marrying a carp when Brown was loaded with small mouthed bass. She only laughed and said people in China thought carp was a delicacy.

Brandy's also a smarty pants, and little Mikey's probably got the good momma genes too. Why the fuck is this happening to me. What was Daphne thinking?

We got to the lawyer's, and after about a twenty minute wait we were shown in. Hillary insisted she go in with me. She said she didn't trust me to pay attention and make the good decisions. After ten minutes of discussion I was glad she was there.

I'll try to remember the whole interview. Hell why try to remember, I taped the damn thing. Shit that's when I figured out why no one called. I'd left my cell charger back at the house; the damn phone was dead. Oh well, we used Hillary's phone to record. That's another thing that pissed me off about Daphne; charging stuff like cell phones and the tooth machine, what is it, the damn thing we use to clean around the teeth. I must be getting Alzheimer's. Daphne handled all that shit. I never had to worry about any of it.

Ms. Blackthorn was a nice looking woman. She had on a classy looking two piece suit with a crisply starched white blouse. For a moment I thought I'd find one for Daphne. Oh shit!

Well we sat down and started. Hillary went first.

Hillary told Ms. Blackthorn, "We're here because my brother caught his wife coming out of a Holiday Inn with another man. When he confronted her she admitted she been having an adulterous relationship."

Ms. Blackthorn asked Hillary, "Did he get anything on tape, any comments, any pictures?'

I started to say something but Hillary shushed me, "No, in fact Cale here couldn't wait. He went right after her as soon as he got home."

Ms. Blackthorn sort of shook her head. She looked at me and said, "You say you caught your wife cheating, and she admitted it, but in fact you don't have a single shred of proof. Mr. McCallister if you tried for a divorce on the basis of adultery with the proof you've got she could clean your clock and when she finished you'd be expected to thank her for it."

I tried to reassure Ms. Blackthorn, "Oh no Daphne wouldn't do anything like that she's..."

Ms. Blackthorn cut me off, "You know what you need?"

I asked, "No what?"

She smiled at my sister, "He needs a box of clues, because he doesn't have any, not one."

I asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

She smiled, "We're talking divorce. In this state when it's an amicable settlement the husband usually gets pulled through a ringer. You're talking unproved adultery. Man she could burn you alive. In fact we have an acronym for it."

Hillary smiled like she already knew, "What's that?"

Ms. Blackthorn grinned, "B.T.B.B.G.; Burn the Bastard But Good."

I tried to interrupt, "But."

Hillary saved the day, "We were thinking about some kind of legal separation first."

Ms. Blackthorn leaned back, "That would be better," she'd been skimming through some of the stuff I'd handed her, "says here you've got three kids. Your wife put you through graduate school. She handles the bills, she uses her paycheck to pay the mortgage," she leaned forward and looked at me, "Mr. McCallister, Cale, what do you do anyway? What do you bring to the marriage?"

I was nonplussed by that, "Why I'm the husband. I'm the man. I make most of the money. I mean, with my wife's help I'm raising three kids. I'm..."

Ms. Blackthorn held up her hand, "You ever studied ants Mr. McCallister?"

"No I..."

She pushed on, "With ants it's the females who make the babies, they raise them, care for them. It's the female that does all the work. They call the male ant the drone. You're familiar with the word drone aren't you?"

I didn't like where this was going, "Yeah a drone is like some worthless animal that sort of just hangs around and..."

I suddenly realized I was like one those butterflies zoologists pin to pieces of paper. Ms. Blackthorn just pinned me to the wall. As far as my family was concerned I was essentially a worthless piece of shit. Daphne was the one who'd been carrying the water all these years.

So I commented, "You're saying if I go for a divorce on grounds of infidelity I don't have a chance, but if I go for a divorce on any other grounds I don't have a chance."

She smiled, "Well you could go deep. You could fight it out. I'll make a lot of money. Your wife will hire a lawyer and they'll make a lot of money. It's a win win for me. But you...well..."

Hillary stepped in again, "What if Cale went for something else, like I'd said the legal separation."

Ms. Blackthorn was still skimming through the stuff I'd brought, "Let me ask you a couple questions."

I grinned. What else did I have to lose, "Sure, ask away."

"Do you know what a 'separation agreement' is?"

I replied, "No not really."

"Well," she said, "it's not just a separation it's a legal understanding. You and your wife have to agree on such things as child custody, child support, spousal support, I mean any alimony, property division, debt division and legal fees. If the two of you can't agree then you go deep, then you go for divorce."

I responded, "I don't get it," I really didn't.

Ms. Blackthorn went on, "A separation agreement would legally define each spouse's rights and responsibilities, what you and your wife can and cannot do regarding money, property, and the children. It is not a trial separation; it' more an alternative to divorce. You would stay married but live apart. In some instances the two of you might engage in counseling. In most cases a separation agreement is an understanding that the people would really perhaps prefer to try to work things out. Sometimes the two separated spouses even stay in the same house. That's rare though."