Strange Car in the Driveway - Dude

Having time on my hands, I take Reg's tablet out from under my seat and start trying to go through it. That damned audio file had been set to play over the start-up program, I guess so it didn't stop when the device put itself to sleep. I've had no luck with the six-digit code, and I'd already tried a lot during my down time at the hotel.

I look up as the headlights shine over the heap and the windshield. There he is: smug bastard in the Porsche. He gets out, looks around and goes inside. I have to wait ten or more minutes until there's no one around. The Buick purrs to life. This car is starting to grow on me.

The best gift Reg could have given me, he'd never know about. Instead of parking along the last two rows where I was, he just couldn't be bothered with all that walking. He squeezed into a spot closer to the entrance, along a cinder block wall separating the bar and the pizza joint next door. I carefully and slowly line up my hood emblem with his driver's side door. Oops.

Tap.

Back up.

Tappy-tap.

Back up.

Cozy on up into the indent I'd just created. Give it a little gas. It's like pushing a shovel through beach sand. Oops. A little too much noise as the opposite side of the Porsche makes contact with the cement wall. First gear for a little extra torque.

Push. Oops. The driver's door buckles. That also made a bit of a noise. Man, I thought these Euro cars were supposed to be well-built. Oh well, time to leave.

At my hotel, I check the website that houses the recording from the pen in Vera's purse. There's surprisingly very little. Vera usually sings, loudly, when she's driving alone. Not today. No calls except from her mother, and one of the kids' sports teams, looking for a donation. I'll bet there would have been plenty to listen to tomorrow night, but sadly I'll be on my own couch, discouraging Vera from spilling her guts to anyone.

In the morning, I take one last look around, and check out of the hotel before breakfast. Watching Vera leave to take the kids to school, I once more grab the bedroom recorder and download its contents. This one, too, has to wait. Eating breakfast, my mind falls into a conundrum. I wonder how she'll get that tablet back to Reg. I wonder if my marriage can survive this. I wonder about child custody. Everything hinges on Vera now. It actually makes me feel helpless. I'll have the final decision of course, but two days ago, I felt a lot more in control.

Spending almost every spare minute with my children tonight is like medicine. I'd never been away from home and them for more than a two-day fishing trip. I fleetingly wonder if Vera cheated on me then. Loss of trust really screws with your head.

After the kids go to bed, and I'm double-checking the house for anything I forgot, Vera asks me some questions, but not about us or the future. I reach into my bag and hand her the tablet.

"How much did you put in our checking?" she asks. She's worried about money. That's fair enough. I resist the urge to think the natural thought: money grubbing whore. It isn't easy.

"There's over six grand in there for now. Mostly for an emergency. No emergency means you have a budget of five hundred per week."

Vera starts to roll her eyes, and then thinks better of it. Her demeanor changes and she looks at me.

"Did you have anything to do with Reg's accident last night, Gary?" Her stoic tone isn't enough to convince me that she's not terribly worried.

"Oh? He had an accident?" I reply sarcastically. "Hope he's okay."

"You didn't answer my question," she comes right back.

"No, Vera, I didn't. I won't tell you that I'm upset about it, though. When he recovers," I say, trying to pretend I don't know the details, "you should tell him to make sure our paths never cross. Tell him I said he should find a new college, in a new town, and bother the married women there. Actually, it would be better for his health if he learned how to date single ones."

Vera looks very sad and leaves the room. I don't think she believes me.

I'll miss my kids the most, of course, but sitting on the plane with just my thoughts for company, I realize I'll miss my wife too. I wonder how long that will take to go away if we split up. So much heartache over a stupid class project. Then I start to think, and remember, that it's not just a class project, turned deception, turned humiliation. I hope Vera gets her head out of her ass. I'll be too busy for at least the first two weeks of my trip to worry about mine.

That evening, in my fairly luxurious extended-stay room, I pull up the audio files from the bedroom recorder. I should hit pay dirt here, since it's really the only place she can talk while kids are in the house, sleeping or not. Sure enough, there's an interesting conversation.

"Hey, Reg." Vera sounds wiped out. She probably had a bad day.

"No, he left for his new job today."

"Three weeks. I have your tablet. We can hook up tomorrow." There's a long pause while he talks.

"No, we're not going out to dinner. I told you I have a real crisis here. I'm seriously worried he's going to leave me over this. I keep telling myself that it's his problem, his over-reacting, but the truth is, it was me who never really thought about what this stunt would do to his... psyche."

Again, I wish I could hear what Reg is saying.

"No he didn't say anything. Its...it's in his eyes. They look dead to me."

"How is that going to help me?" she asks sarcastically. Then she seems to steer the conversation in a different direction. "Did you find out anything about your car? No, I don't think he had anything to do with it."

There's more silence. "What?" Vera asks more vehemently. "That's impossible. Do you think it was that Sal? I mean, he has been harassing you for the car back or the money." Now it's Vera who's lost in thought.

"What did Sal say? Jesus, this is a mess. I should have never done this. The grade wasn't worth it."

After a very short pause, Vera's tone of voice changes sharply. "NO! What the fuck, Reg? My life is turning to shit - and yours too, it seems, and you're still talking about fucking fondling on stage?

"Are you crazy? I don't even remember anything about you down there. I was trying to remember my lines. Plus, it was through your pants and I only put my hand on it for a minute. And it was pitch black."

"What? Do you think I came home, found my husband gone, fed and took care of my three kids, and then went straight to bed to masturbate thinking about your paw on my breast? Get real."

He clearly had the standard comeback.

"Well, I'm not most women." Vera was getting more and more irritated by his machismo. He was failing miserably.

"I've got to go, Reg. Call me tomorrow and I'll figure out how to get you your pad."

It sounded like a lover's quarrel to me. Still, Vera sounded very frustrated with Reginald. Again, that was something. I'm too tired to think about it much. It's time to eat, call my kids and then get some sleep. I need to be fresh for my first day.

The first few days are very busy. I almost forget about Vera, which, even in the best of times, is damned hard to do. That first night, Vera wanted to talk, but I begged off, saying that I was tired from the flight. I told her to text me the answers to the three questions I asked, and that, when I was better prepared, we'd talk about it.

Her text came the following morning and was pretty simple - maybe too simple. I just don't know anymore.

With all the training, and the issues at the plant I was being targeted to fix, I don't read her text later.

1. I've never had sex with him.
2. He touched me, on my breast, during the play, and he put my hand on his lap. That was wrong.
3. During our time working on the play, I said too much about you, about us. We became familiar, and I know I shouldn't have. Especially now that I know Reg isn't quite who or what I thought.

Well, finally, some honesty. Complete honesty? Again, I just don't know.

The next two nights she's ominously quiet. She doesn't even get on the line after I speak to my kids. I wonder what, if anything, happened when she took Reginald his tablet.

On my fourth day in Denver, I'm been invited to Happy Hour with some members of the team I've been assigned to. A few of the women even flirt, which helps stroke my ego, but also makes me a little uncomfortable. Two of the women seem single, or at least I saw no rings. The other is married, and that bothers me, a lot. I'm sure she saw my wedding band at some point. I guess with one of her own showing, it shouldn't surprise me that she didn't care.

Once back in my room, I go online to check the pen recorder.

"Get in," Reg ordered her. As the motor revved into motion, I heard him start. "You need to get this under control, Veers."

Was this a little nickname, a term of endearment? My rage returns immediately.

"I'm trying," my wife responded. "He's being...intractable. He thinks we're fucking. I'm not so sure I blame him. But he won't even speak to me. He's on a mission. He started his new job and just up and left us. Told me to get my story straight so we can talk when he gets back."

"Yeah, well." Reg's voice got louder and more commanding. "You better figure something out. He's causing a lot of fucking problems. The next time he fucks with me will be the last time. Tell him I said that."

There was a pause. "Sure. Like that's going to help anything. He wants a piece of your ass, a pound of flesh from everyone involved. You have figured that out, right?" Vera was matching his intensity.

"What the fuck is it with men? Is everything a god-dammed competition for you? We deserve to get beat up a little, if it makes him come home."

"NO!" Reg said loudly. "He's pushed too far. He almost totaled my car for Christ's sake. I know it was him. It's gonna cost nearly four grand. That's not 'beat up a little,' as you put it."

"But that's what I mean," Vera continued. "He went way off the rails. I was just trying to get a good grade. I got so into this project, and I thought...I thought he'd be proud of me...you know, afterwards. I knew what I was doing would hurt him. But not like this. This is silly; childish, even. So he gets a little back for himself and now you're threatening to what? Kill him if he fucks with you again? You're acting just like him."

Vera's voice cracked at that last part and I could hear her sobbing.

"Veers, listen." His tone was now more consoling. "He's not coming back. I'm sorry, but you know I'm right. He's just one of those guys. More worried about his pride than his love for a wife and kids. Don't cry. I told you, didn't I? All this traditional bullshit. What Penny and I once had was so much better. So much more...mature."

"I don't want what you and Penny had!" Vera cried out. "You're divorced, you moron, and they live thousands of miles away! If I'd known that, you fucking liar, I would never have gone for this idea of yours for my play.

"I want my husband back. Not to mention, I've got three kids at home that are terrified their dad's never coming home." The way she was berating him, I actually start getting worried for her safety. Men like Reginald don't take that tone well.

I started to feel for my wife, too - sort of. She seemed completely oblivious to what she'd done or how I'd react. Most of that was her fault. Like being young of mind, or immature is still the person's fault. Like acting like a dick is still the person's fault. She'd underestimated how I'd feel. On the recording, I hear the engine die down. Maybe he parked.

"Come here," he said soothingly, as if calling her into an embrace. "There, there. Maybe he'll come around. He doesn't have any proof we've done anything."

My ears perked up.

"It doesn't matter," she blubbered. "He thinks it's so, therefore it is."

There's silence for a minute or more. "Come on Veers, I know just what you need right now," the bastard started. Vera didn't answer. "Let's go to my place. He already thinks we did, like you said, so isn't it time to come full circle? You know I won't disappoint, and I can't stop thinking about you. I know you feel the same; I can see it in your eyes."

"You're kidding, right?" Vera sounded incredulous. "The only person that benefits from that is you."

"Not at all," he said confidently. "You'll feel better. How long's it been, anyway? He's been gone, what? Ten days, or is it more? Don't tell me you didn't like it last time. I saw it."

Motherfucker. There it was. I was actually starting to feel proud of my wife.

"No, God damn it!" Vera exploded. "We're not ever going to do that again. I shouldn't have let it get that far. I'm not in some open marriage, and I'm no cheater, either."

"Well..." The prick seemed to be weighing his options. "Like you said, he thinks you are."

I could almost see his face through the recorder. I knew now that she went to his house with him, and that something happened, although it wasn't clear what, exactly.

I've seen this special kind of sleaze in action before. He was about to go for broke.

"Hey, let's go to your house. I'll give you unforgettable sex, and we can get even for what he's done to us. We'll do it in your bed. Your kids are in school. Shit, if you don't care about payback, at least I'll feel better about what the repairs on my car cost me. He at least deserves to be made a proper cuckold."

"Fuck," my soon-to-be former wife said in a low, sad voice. "I should have seen this shit coming. It's like I'm a freshman at college all over again. Fucking immature, macho bullshit, and I'm right in the middle of it. And I put myself there, willingly. What a fucking idiot."

I hear her sigh heavily. "I need to get out of here. You and Gary, both, make me want to throw up with your tape measures and swords. I sure screwed the pooch on my marriage, and I only have myself to blame, but my biggest mistake was ever listening to you."

"Cool, baby." Dickhead had transitioned into protection mode. "I ain't got time for this sob story. I need to start working on next semester's conquest. Call me when you need my huge cock. Maybe I'll help you out, if I can fit you in, so don't lose my number. Tell the wimp to stay away. Final warning, or you'll be a widow."

"FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE!" Vera screamed at the top of her lungs as the door slammed hard.

I sit back, nursing my beer. Now, like most days since this shit went down, there are more questions than answers. What I do know now, is Vera let this fucker in - into her mind, maybe even into her heart and her pussy. Something sexual happened at Reg's house, but what, exactly? Does it matter now? I really need this to come to a resolution. Both of them were - are maybe - acting like children. I have too, I suppose. What a disaster.

Twenty minutes later I hear my text alert. It's from Vera.

Honey, I'm sorry about all this. Starting to realize how badly my actions have affected us. Pls can we talk on phone tonight? I'll get the kids settled after you call them, and then can U+I talk, maybe?

For the first time, I feel the urge to communicate. All my plans are laid out, so no worries about tipping my hand. I might as well get this over with, so I text back.

Don't call me that. We can talk. Nine-thirty.

She replied with a simple, Thanks

I go across the street, to some popular restaurant chain. Tonight, for some reason, a salad sounds good. I'm surprised, but maybe my mind is telling my body something. If Vera and I end up splitting, I won't be much of a contestant in the game of love with these extra fifteen pounds around my waist.

Their chicken pesto salad is quite tasty. I start making a chronological list of all the bullshit my wife has been trying to sell me since this started. She was clearly out of touch with reality, and it's going to be hard to make her understand. She never picked up on the fact that dear 'ole Reg was playing her to get in her pants. She couldn't comprehend my reaction, or Reg's this afternoon.

What kind of a fucking name is Reginald, anyway? That's some real chicken-and-egg shit with the douche factor. His parents deserved a note asking if they had any kids that lived. The nickname only increased the 'creepiness.'

As I write my lists, I think a little about the 'for better or worse' clause in my marriage vows. Where does that fit in here? If Vera hadn't learned much about men by this stage of life, was it my husbandly duty to teach her? I don't think it is. She'd had plenty of experience with men at college before we met, albeit mostly sexual, and in a drunken or drug-induced haze. Shit, maybe I should have evaluated that before popping the question. She's still clinging to the idea that men are all childish and prideful - awfully convenient for her at this very moment, - and that means I probably would never get to tell her, or show her, differently. I'm a man, after all. If she couldn't learn that - or specifically - what her antics had done to me emotionally, then it would be another dagger in our marriage.

Vera had lied almost from the beginning - even before the beginning, if you include lying by omission. She knew this play would involve me from day one. All the other lies were just icing on the cake.

The trust is gone. That will be nearly impossible to overcome, especially considering how callous she's been. She completely disregarded my heart and my love for her. She took it, and me, for granted, and she was so painfully ignorant and naive that she had no idea how much she'd hurt me.

The worst now, for me, is the lie about not being intimate with Reg. She'd at least been in an emotional affair with him for three months now, and she lied about them having sexual contact twice until admitting to something in her text the other night. The most recent recording strongly suggested she was still lying. It had been once on stage, but also doing 'that' at his house, whatever 'that' was.

With the information in my possession, I now realize that if Reg had played his cards better, he would've ended up in bed with Vera already. Maybe it hasn't happened yet, but if she stays in contact with him, it probably will at some point. Do I even want to deal with that?

I decide that it's time to put my cards on the table. Then we can sort through the ashes when I get back.

"Hello Vera," I say coldly. Vera's come to know that voice, and says nothing for a moment.

"Is something wrong, Gary?" she asks shyly. "Should we talk later?"

"No, Ver, let's get this over with," I reply sadly.

"I don't want to get something over with, I want to fix it," She pleads. "What can I do?"

"Tell me the truth, for once, god damn it." My voice is raised now. "You either want him or me. You're still with him, and I'm gone. So the real question is: what do you want?"

"Gary, I don't know why you're saying that. I've NEVER been with him. Never." She starts crying. I'm not falling for it.

"LIAR!" I spit through my phone. "Where were you when you returned his fucking tablet, huh? Fucking liar. I told you before I left what would happen if you lied."

Vera is sobbing now, and her words are incoherent. It takes her some time to straighten herself out, and all I want to do is hang up. It's was clear that she finally believes me about knowing more than she thought I did.

"Okay, I went to his house...apartment. But nothing happened, I swear. How... did you know that?"

"I didn't," I reply. "You just told me!"

I need to be careful here. My thin line was the recorders and the PI. Trust but verify, and in this instance, the 'verify' is winning out. The other side of that thin line was me lying to her, while accusing her of lying to me. I feel I need my lie, to get to the bottom of hers. If we ever tried to put our lives back together, or I find out for sure she hasn't been intimate with Reg, this could be a poison - well, you know, more poison.