Strange Car in the Driveway - Dude

"Stop the bullshit, Vera. You let this slick prick into your heart, right from the beginning. There's no way the woman I married would have played me so cruelly, period. Leaving a car in the driveway, just to humiliate me further in front of our neighbors? Hiding my gun, probably giving it to HIM, to hold onto? Removing our valuables?

"Oh, here's a sledgehammer, honey - knock yourself out." I put on a scathing impression of her voice. "Get it all out of your system. When you're done I'll give you a pity fuck, and then, after you're asleep, I can masturbate while remembering my once-in-a-lifetime experience on a dark stage, fucking fondling each other in front of the unsuspecting class!

"Maybe you can dream about screwing Reg in our bed after loading the gullible husband up on sleeping pills. Jesus, Vera, the prick's been working on you since day one, and I don't see you showing even the smallest amount of resistance. Getting in his car, going to his home, talking to him from our bedroom. He's gonna make you a widow, is he? If I keep fucking with him? Tell your fucking boyfriend I haven't even started with him yet. When I'm finished, he'll be on his knees begging. When I run him out of town, you can go with him."

I take a breath to continue, and realize I can't hear my wife's wailing moans. "Vera? Vera?"

Shit. She hung up on me. Well, fuck her. Damn, that went off the rails fast. I went off the rails. It hits me that I've been holding it in for over a week now. This is really the first time we've had it out.

Twenty minutes later, my phone dings. It's a text from Vera.

I found them both. Nice touch on the pen, BTW, it even writes.

So? Whose fault is it that I have zero trust left? I type back.

Yeah IK, I was going to call you back and rip into you, like you just did me. Thankfully, I came to that conclusion before hitting speed dial. She returns with.

How many times, Ver?

It takes a minute, or at least longer than normal for her to answer. Then my phone rings.

"Never Gary. I promise!" she screams. "I need you to hear that in my voice. I wish it was in person".

My lack of response brings out the hopelessness in my wife.

"But then again, why ask? It doesn't seem that you are going to believe me now anyway."

"It's...important. But it's gonna happen, even if it hasn't already. You're in an emotional relationship already. You two were fighting in his car like an old married couple. And you flirted with him, the very first night I left, fondly reminiscing over the fondling."

"OMG. Now I know why you stayed away."

"That's why I told you to be prepared to tell the truth about everything.

Another question Ver? When did you find out he was lying about his marriage?"

"The day I took his tablet to his house." She admits. "Like a fool, I sat there and listened to him tell me all about his former wife, and their marriage. Then we commiserated, I guess. God, I sound so stupid to myself, trying to explain it."

"And then you had sex with him, as part of the commiserating?"

"NO!" she starts right away. "I yelled at him at first. He tried to claim embarrassment about a failed marriage. Said he'd really loved Penny; that she dumped him for a rich guy. Then he admitted he had developed feelings for me. You're right. I did get sucked in...slowly. I didn't see it until that day. He had me thinking about his feelings and mine, and...he made his move. We kissed and made out for a couple minutes. At first, I resisted, but didn't stop him. Then he tried to go up my skirt, and it jarred me out of my stupor. I ran out. Don't say it, I already know."

"See?" I said. "Last question Ver. In your ridiculous letter, you said, "If you are up to it, you could join Penny, Reg and me at the Denny's near our house, but I have a feeling you won't." What do you think would have happened to our marriage had I gone there? No Penny there at the table, and a skilled seducer, giving me that piss-ant smirk, that says, "Hey fucknut, I'm banging the shit out of your wife." I'll bet he made sure to sit on the same side of the booth with you, just in case. Better yet, don't answer that right now. The conversation in his car tells me, when you put your husband in the same 'childish' basket as him, that you don't know shit about men - him or me. If we don't stay together, Ver, you had better figure it out before you go looking for the next serious guy."

It takes three or more minutes for her to respond. I need a shower and to get some sleep for tomorrow. Putting my phone on speaker, I brush my teeth and get my clothes ready.

"You're right," she says, "about everything. I freely admit, now, that I don't understand men. Maybe, I just didn't try, or think. I did understand that I would hurt you. That's why I played the forgiveness card. Still, I never imagined what it could do to you emotionally. I should have been able to see those things, right from the start. That doesn't bode well for me as a person, let alone a loving wife and mother. It did seem childish, at first - what you were doing for revenge, I mean - because women don't think or react that way.

"At the same time, I saw Reg as just a nice guy trying to help a fellow student out with her assignment. That was clearly way off base, and I'm ashamed because I've had to fend off my share of slick-talkers. Everything's my fault entirely, but that doesn't change the fact that I truly and deeply love you." She sounds confident. I don't know what to make of it.

"How are you gonna prove it? We talked through a lot of things before that night, you know. We've always been honest before, and we said we always will be in the future. I'll be brutally honest if you won't. I don't know if I want to stay married. Right now, today, if I did, it would be for the kids. That doesn't change my love for you. If I didn't love you, this would be a lot easier."

She comes right back. "So where do we go from here? If I can think of a way to 'prove it,' will you let me?"

"Sure. Why not?" I reply. "You can start with this. Stay away from the asshole. You have nothing that ties you to him, including the car. It's at Ray's shop. You're off the hook on that, so now you know. I'm pretty sure Sal is going to go after Reg to collect, which is just another reason for you to stay away. But my trust in you is so low that I wouldn't be surprised if you tried to warned your play-mate about what I just said as soon as we hang up"

"Done," she says, ignoring my last dig. "I never want to see him again as long as I live."

"Reg belongs to Sal now." I state flatly. "Sal can basically get away with murder in our town. That's how connected he is. I guess when it comes to the asshole, I get whatever's left. We have to talk later. I have to go to bed. Big day tomorrow."

She ends the conversation with, "Good luck. I know you'll do great! I love you and I'm proud of you."

I don't reply. As I lay in bed, I consider the irony and laugh. If it wasn't for that car, Reg wouldn't have ever met the most dangerous person in our city.

For the remainder of my first two weeks in Denver, my mind is forced to focus on work. Three of the four efficiencies that we have to address are fixed quickly, with great input from the managers already in place. They and their subordinates are flush with pride. Most of them work great together. They wonder why it hasn't happened before. I spend Happy Hour with the crew on Wednesday and Friday.

Ray calls me on Friday night of the second week.

"Hi, Gary, how's the job?" I tell him a little of what's been happening, and then he changes the subject.

"That issue...it's been resolved."

"You can speak freely, Ray," I tease. "My phone isn't bugged."

"I went with Sal to his house. He thought we were solicitors when he pulled the door open. He was confrontational until he recognized Sal. Then Sal just pushed his way in, asking where his money and car were.

"The idiot tried to act tough, telling us to get out. Sal pressed him on the money. Dipshit said he'd file a police report for extortion and get a lawyer. Sal told him he'd need a lawyer because if he didn't pay Sal right there, he'd file a report for auto theft.

"Reg looked from Sal to me, and told us to go ask you, and then he said something like - '"and that slut of his,"' before I punched him hard in the gut. When he doubled over, Sal pushed him from the side, knocking him down, and then gave Reg a few good kicks to the kidneys and at least two to the plums. That fucker rolled up in the fetal position and vomited all over himself.

"Sal pointed out how easy it was to do damage without ever leaving a mark. Then he proceeded to tell Reg all the things that would happen, in graphic detail, if he didn't leave town in five days. By the time you get back, I'm pretty confident Reg will be in his new town."

"That's great news, Ray," I reply sincerely. "I owe you, and I suppose Sal too."

There's a pause. "Gary?" he sounds pensive. "I've spoken to Vera. I'm sorry, but I had to hear her side. Honestly, I think it's about as bad as you've said, but... she is sorry. She regrets her actions very much, and she wants you to forgive her."

"So, you're gonna stab me in the back now?" I yell. "Did she happen to mention the 'things' that either of us could do that would be unforgivable?"

"On the contrary. I've still got your back. I just think you two have a shot. You told her to 'prove it' and I may even help her a little, but we'll see. All I'm saying is I think she's sincere - sincere and remorseful. Gary, I've been around the block a few more times than you. Trust me on this: give it a chance. More importantly, I tend to give more credence to people who learn from their mistakes. I really think she has. Tell you what: if she ever does anything even remotely like this again, you can cut off my ear."

"What the fuck am I gonna do with an ear, stupid?"

"Stupid is as stupid does, sir." We always used Forrest Gump references when we were out together at the bar or fishing. At least he makes me laugh.

"Alright, Ray. I'll consider it. If you're wrong, we can't be friends."

"That upsets me, Gary. Vera told me about the chat you two had regarding forgiveness. I guess I'm not that good of a friend." He's just giving me shit. He knows I'll forgive him. He doesn't lie to me. He doesn't cheat me. There are worse things than wanting to see a friend's marriage pull through a rough patch. There are worse things than having a little faith.

The job in Denver gets done; everything is up and running, right on schedule. Mr. Sanders, my new supervisor, even calls me personally - with all good news, no fake-outs and no bullshit. That's a nice change.

"Gary," he says, "I called to let you know how happy the company is with your work, and I wanted you to know that I'm proud of you too. Very proud. With all the hardships you've had to deal with coming into the fold here, well, let's just say some people were betting against you. To me, though, you seemed very determined, and I fought for them to send you. You didn't let me down, and, more importantly, you didn't let yourself down. Enjoy some time with your children, and I look forward to seeing you rested and ready to begin a new adventure."

New adventure, huh? That might be my life in the short-term. Everything said and done, it came down to my feelings about Vera; her level of remorse and repentance. That would help me work through my feelings and decide if I could stay with her. I feel drained and melancholy, but not quite indifferent, yet. So I decide to hope for the best, and take this time to plan for the worst. While the kids are in school this week, I'll be checking out a new place to live, just in case. My life will be in transition for some time to come. The thought of that makes me sad.

The flight home is uneventful. I spend almost the entire flight thinking about what's happened since Vera did this to me. She and her cohorts declared war. I fought back and now it was time to sort things at the treaty table. I'm also going into the treaty part short-handed. The kids would be worried, depressed about a divorce, and they would need assurances from both Vera and I. Our extended families, too, would be upset with my decision. Hell, even my new boss and my partner in crime want me to give my wife another chance. That makes me uneasy, unsure even. I can't see a way to live in a marriage where trust and respect don't exist.

For most of the flight, I feel numb. I know I won't be in a good position going into this negotiation with Vera to decide the fate of our marriage.

Vera stabbed me in the heart. To hear her tell it, she didn't even know that that's what she'd done until well after the fact. Then she cheated - fuck the hairsplitters - and then she lied. Hell, she lied even after I practically told her that she was under surveillance. I can't imagine how to forgive that.

How is she going to prove to me she's changed? If I really thought she'd known in advance how much hurt she'd be causing me, I don't think there'd be a need for further conversation. If I believe otherwise, though, that means that my wife was painfully naive. She was fucking stupid. How do you fix that?

Still, I can't turn off my love for her with the snap of a finger. She's still Vera, just not the person I thought I knew. It's still not clear to me what I want. I suppose I want a miracle. I want Vera to "prove it," like she said she would, even though I have no idea how she possibly could.

When we spoke on the phone last night, Vera suggested I come over to see the kids. She made it clear that that's why I'd be at the house. She said she'd take care of everything - including dinner, of course - and let me just spend as much time with them as possible. She said the kids had started chomping at the bit as soon as she'd told them when I'd be back. It was nice gesture. I accepted. Even if our marriage ends, maybe we'll do better as co-parents.

Pulling down my street, I almost chicken out. Thank God for the kids, who will keep me sane and grounded, and especially keep me from talking to Vera. As I approach the driveway, I actually do a once-over of the house and the address numbers to make sure I'm in the right place.

There it is: a strange car in my driveway.

I'm about to just drive past when I see the kids running out the front door, followed by my mom and dad. Dad signals me to park at the curb, effectively blocking my own former driveway. The kids are on me before I can even put my car in park. After some wild hugging and excited banter, none of which I can understand since they all talk at once, I start up the walk.

Mom hugs me tightly. "It's good to have you home Gary," she whispers in my ear as she holds me. Then Dad joins in, and after another minute, they ease up just enough so that we can start walking together. Instead of heading to the front door, though, they steer us to the side gate leading to the backyard. I'm so excited to see everyone that I momentarily forget about the car taking my former space. Momentarily.

"What's with this car?" I ask no one in particular. Passing it, I realize it's familiar to me, but dusk has given way to night, so I can't place it.

"Why are we going this...?" I don't finish my question. I hear voices from the other side of the gate. As we emerge into the backyard I see at least twenty-five people seated or standing around. I recognize our neighbors, Vera's family, and mine. Larry and Kara are here, and even Ray and Sal.

There's a large, hand-made sign hanging from the strung lights illuminating the deck. "WELCOME HOME GARY," it says.

I notice right away it says 'home' and not 'back.' People start noticing us and everyone starts clapping. Why? This is weird. Mom and Dad lead me to a chair, seemingly put there as some kind of throne in front of the railing overlooking the back yard.

Dad leans in and says, "Gary, I know this is a shock, but there's something you need to see. In the end it may not make a difference, but I'm hoping - we're all hoping - it will."

In the dark, I didn't notice the very large TV set up on a rather tall stand directly in front of me on the grass. As it comes to life, I see my wife's face on the screen, in a parking lot, with the strange car beside her. The camera, pans twenty feet to the left, and then back again, showing about fifty or so people that I suppose are Vera's fellow students. Larry and Kara, and both our families, are there too, along with Raymond and Sal. This is really weird.

Vera starts talking; on the LED board, Strausberg and Reginald's names start scrolling by, interspersed with unkind words and phrases - many of them with hashtags, to boot.

"My name is Vera," she announces to the camera, which is finally fixed and focused upon her. The pavement and car are shiny with recent rain. "Recently, I took a playwright class here at the university." Now I recognize the parking area, out in front of the school's English and Literature building.

Vera Continues. "Our final exam involved writing and performing a one-act play that was either drawn from our real lives, or would be believable to the class and instructor as such. The partner assigned to me was a man named Reginald Smith. He'd taken this course at least four times previously. Professor Strausberg, our instructor, knew that. She's allowed it to happen."

I hear booing from the small crowd, as my wife announces this on video. Vera's expression leaves no doubt how everyone should feel about those two.

"Reginald worked on me from our first meeting," she says, "convincing me that my play should involve an interlude of infidelity between the two of us that we would perform for the class. He knew I was married, and he told me that he was married too. The full scene would include the two of us - or the versions of us in the play, at least - calling it off before the deed was done, but Reginald also convinced me to use part of the scene to play a prank on my husband, tricking him into thinking that the two of us were having a real affair in real life.

"Sadly, and to my shame, I went along willingly." Vera could no longer stand there stoically. Her shoulders hunched and she looked down at the pavement beneath her.

"Reginald may have been the instigator, but I have to take responsibility for agreeing, and for everything I did afterwards. I set my husband up. I made sure he came home early and found a strange car in the driveway. With Reg's help, I turned our bedroom into a makeshift sound studio. We did all of that, to make him believe that the skit we acted out in class was really happening live. Before that, I'd deliberately changed my behavior when I was around him, giving him every reason to be suspicious of me.

"Worse," she says somberly, tears running and falling from her cheeks, "I can't tell you that it was all pretend. I did kiss Reginald twice. During our performance, hands wandered. As in the scene, we never 'did the deed,' but I was unfaithful. I broke my vows. I wasn't threatened. I wasn't forced. I was stupid and selfish. The idea of sex from guilt began to consume me as I worked on my project. Reg saw that each time we got together to work on the project and the prank.

"Looking back, I can hardly believe how badly I'd deluded myself. Deep down, I knew this was more than just a prank. The evening before the big day, I tricked my husband into promising to forgive me for 'something' unconditionally. Before he came home to the car and the bedroom, I made sure his gun was somewhere else. I hid our valuables for safekeeping. That's what you do when you're worried your husband might kill someone or burn the house down. That's not what you do to prepare for a 'prank.'

"And after all that, I left my husband a letter on our martial bed. 'Nothing happened'; that's what it said. It sounds so ridiculous now. How could I have ever believed that that's all it would take to make everything right again?