Stepping in the River, Twice Ch. 01

The bartender helped me figure out the time difference, which was no easy feat after three beers. I don't drink very often so alcohol affects me faster than most people. The bartender was able to explain there was a 12-hour time difference between the Philippines and California. The only thing I was interested in was, knowing what day and what time it was in San Francisco. The bartender spoke pretty good English but I was having trouble understanding because of his Tagalog accent. I was thankful he was patient.

He explained that it was 8:30 PM Philippine time on a Tuesday night which meant it was 8:30AM Tuesday morning? For some reason I could not think in terms of time differences which had the bartender laughing like a little kid. I thought it was funny as well and settled for knowing it was 8:30AM west coast time either Tuesday or Wednesday morning. It meant, in my muddled way of thinking that Margo should be at the Real Estate office. So I placed the call to Margo from the bar.

"The Real Estate Office. How may I direct your call?" I did not recognize the receptionist who was most likely someone from a temp agency filling in for Jenny.

"Margo Bassler, please."

"May I ask who is calling?" The receptionist sounded old. She spoke slowly and deliberately with a formalness that was striking to Jenny's familiarity.

"This is Matthew Bassler, her husband."

"Mr. Bassler, I am sorry to tell you but she is not in the office at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?"

"Please tell her I called and will call back later."

"Very good. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No, thank you." I was about to hang up then quickly added, "No, wait! There is something else you can do for me."

"Yes Mr. Bassler?"

"Please connect me to Stan Masson."

"Just one moment, Mr. Bassler. Have a nice day and thanks for calling The Real Estate Office." I was on hold for no more than a few seconds.

"Stan Masson speaking, how may I help you?" I realized the temp receptionist had not alerted Stan as to who was calling.

"Stan, Matthew Bassler calling." I gave him a few moments to gather his thoughts.

"Matthew, how may I help you?" Good, he wasn't going to hang up on me.

"How long have you been fucking Margo?" I reasoned it did no good to beat around the bush with bull shit niceties.

"Matthew, you need to believe me, I have never been any more intimate with Margo than the day you walked in on us." His answer was matter-of-fact. He didn't hesitate. I wasn't sure I believed him but wanted it to be the truth. I wanted verification Margo had not cheated on me.

"Why should I believe a word you are telling me?" I asked him. It didn't really matter how he answered or what he said, I wasn't going to believe anything I heard.

"Simply put, she loves you to death, you dumb fuck." Not words I expected from someone who was seeing my wife in an intimate way. "Sure, I would have liked to sleep with her! She is a very hot woman. She wasn't seeking anything more than a way to make you jealous, to spice up your relationship. So don't waste your time pointing your finger at me and getting indignant." No, his angry response was not at all what I'd expected. Stan was, however a bright man with exceptional gift-of-gab and was a Broker because he could read people quickly. After all, being a Broker means he was good at "reading" people, much like a poker player reads other players.

I decided talking to him on the phone was not going to accomplish much. It would put him on notice regardless of the validity of his words.

"Stan, where is she now?" I asked changing the subject..

"She took a week off after tendering her resignation. I wouldn't let her outright resign until she'd had the opportunity to talk to you. She has several clients who she has listings with that, when they sell, mean big money for her and for Coldwell Banker. We all stand to lose if she resigns now." Leave it to Stan to be thinking like a Broker. The bottom line had nothing to do with whether or not a marriage went down in flames, only the commission mattered.

"Well, Stan, you need to consider what will happen if I file for divorce and name you and The Real Estate Office as the reason for the destruction of my marriage, regardless of what you are telling me now. Am I clear?" Until that moment I had not seriously thought about divorce.

"You can't prove anything. All you saw was the two of us kissing which is unfortunate. It has caused all of us more problems than necessary. So sue me and we will see how things flush-out when the dust settles." Stan was one self-assured bastard. I did not like the man.

"I don't see it that way Stan. If my attorney deposes everyone in your office what will they all say happened between you and my wife? Think about it but don't think about it for too long, I wouldn't want your blood pressure to go up to high. If I litigate it won't matter if I can prove it or not. It will be costly. It will be sticky. It will be public. Your business will suffer and it could go on for years. So don't give me your blustery bull shit about not being able to prove anything." I disconnected the call realizing Stan was one of the most arrogant persons I knew and I would have to make good my threats. Then the thought occurred to me that he could very well be telling me the truth.

"Not good news, my friend?" The bartender was being the therapist all good bartenders can be.

"No, but the news, in a way, was informative. Seems my wife may have started this in order to spice up our marriage and test my love for her. All I can say is that she has not accomplished either of these things." If I wanted spice I'd eat a little Louisiana Hot Sauce.

"Another beer?" Another beer would put me in the category of being drunk.

"Please. And I need to make another call." I realized I could go up to my room and place the call on my cell phone but I'd turned off my cell phone the Saturday Jenny and I caught the red eye flight to Manila. I was also being lazy, wanted to drink my beer and be in a public environment where there were people. In my room I would be alone, sitting on a bed not-my-own, staring at a wall painting of a shoreline I didn't recognize.

The bartender helped me place the second call.

"Hello?" The sound of Margo's voice almost made me hang up. I realized it was a bitter-sweet sound, but so familiar and somehow comforting.

"Margo, its Matthew." I took a deep breath to calm myself.

Silence often says more than a gaggle of words. Silence, when emotions make it difficult to think, eat or sleep will command one's attention. It was not more than 30 seconds of silence that actually elapsed but felt like hours but told me she was surprised. She may have even been holding her tongue to stifle an angry response.

"Matthew, thank you for calling me." I realized she'd probably left me at least one message on my cell phone. "Are you coming home? I need to talk to you, to see you, to once again hold you and set things straight." Her voice was soft and subdued, not angry or challenging. Margo's voice was also filled with a resigned sadness that reflected how I felt.

"My return flight is this Saturday and gets in around 8:30AM. We can talk about what happened when I get back to Sacramento."

"Your flight? Where are you?!" Her sadness seemed to evolve immediately into concern and agitation. After all she had no idea I'd left the country, or did she? There was something about the way she spoke that told me she was holding something back.

"I'm in the Philippines."

"The Philippines? Where we went for our honeymoon?" I would have liked to see her face at that moment, smell her perfume, and wondered what she was wearing. These thoughts were the testosterone-driven male in me who realized she could easily bend me to her will by kissing my neck, dropping her skirt, or tossing her head casually to the side so as to fling her long dark hair across her face to and on her shoulder.

"Yes, but I am in Boracay. It would be too painful for me to return to Katanduanas. My memories of our honeymoon are too special, too perfect. I just needed time to think and to feel sorry for myself. Sitting here drinking beer I suddenly realized it was not fair for me to just disappear without a word to you. Of course it wasn't fair for you to take up with your Boss either." I couldn't resist a little dig knowing it wouldn't do anything except make her feel a little guiltier. I didn't really know if she felt guilt for what had happened?

"Matthew I know this is my fault! Do you want me to pick you up when your flight arrives?"

I let the silence invade our call as I tried to think.

"No. Thanks. My car is at the airport and you don't need to make the drive from Sacramento to San Francisco." We were avoiding discussing me walking in on her and Stan the previous Friday. Over the phone was not the place to have that conversation.

"Matthew, are you still my silly rabbit?" Yes, that was the question to be answered. Silly rabbit was an endearment she'd used many times to reassure me everything was alright.

"Margo we will talk when I get back, okay?" I wasn't sure the silly rabbit in me was there anymore.

Again, silence across time multiple time zones.

"I love you Matthew. Know that above everything. I love you and am so sorry." The line then went dead. It occurred to me that I did not know what she was sorry for.

I was thankful she hung up before expecting me to respond to her "I love you." Yes, I loved Margo, and did not have to think about how much or why, but there was that sense of exclusive innocence that was no longer there. For whatever reason Margo had not been able to resist temptation and in so being tempted she probably reasoned it would not affect our marriage.

We are human beings and have the ability to make choices that are full of good and lead to happiness. We are also capable of choosing to do things that are fraught with evil, pain and sadness. Margo was capable of reason, of making choices for good and happiness, and had chosen poorly. If she still loved me as she confessed then she would punish herself in ways I will never be able to imagine.

I paid for my San Miguel, cervaza at its best, and said my goodnight to the nameless yet helpful bartender.

"Hoy, boss, just remember you can only control the happiness in your life. Make the best of it and He will watch over you. It really is in His hands now, right?" The bartender's words resonated with me. I was a little confused, at least for a moment, who "He" was. We don't always remember to discuss things with God when everything goes to shit so He must have been God.

After the call with Margo I decided not to drink the fourth beer and went back to my room to wait for Jenny and consider the fact that I may have over-reacted big time to finding her kissing Stan.