Susan's Diary

She said, "All right. I'll find it and do what you said."

"Just be careful," I answered, "don't let her find out or get suspicious and for heaven's sake keep out of her way."

Samantha answered, "We're good."

After that we went back to Gregg, his problems and Samantha's schoolwork.

So with Samantha at the helm I was back in the business of spying on my wife. I thought, 'How degrading could that be?' Still with the loose-leaf I could keep up with Susan's lame brained thoughts. Why I wanted to do that I didn't really know. I know I still loved her. Wasn't that an anomaly? Why would I want to continue to love someone who I knew never loved me, even after almost twenty years? I rationalized maybe it might help me at some point down the line. I guess it could've, but it didn't.

~V~

Samantha texted me, she'd found the notebook and copied several dozen pages. She wanted to know if I wanted them. I texted back that I did.

I met Samantha a few days later. She said she'd copied even more since our last texts. She handed me a little sheaf filled with close to thirty pages. I scanned through them, some were dated from the time right after I announced my intention to divorce her, other pages followed. I took them back to my apartment, fixed myself a Stouffer's lasagna, and sat down to read.

The first was dated Wednesday January twenty-fifth, and told me nothing unexpected.

"Jeremy wants a divorce!!!! He moved out. I can marry Bob! Can't wait to tell him."

The next was that Saturday, the twenty-eighth.

"Saw Bob. He's as excited as I am. Wants to consummate our relationship right away. I told him no, not till the divorce is final. He said why not other things, no coitus, but other things. I pooh poohed that too. I said, no way, not when we're this close. If Jeremy found out about us he'd have real grounds to divorce me. Bob understood."

I read the shit she scribbled and it hurt. The next several things weren't about anything. I found out Susan's sister Roxanne was fucking her boss and her husband Jeff had found out. Jeff had moved out. Susan was worried about her sister and glad she'd held Bob off. There weren't any more items about she and Bob till she got to April, but there was some other stuff.

I only skimmed it, but Susan was feeling put off that no one was picking up after themselves in the house, that she was doing all the laundry, and the vacuuming. Tough shit for her I thought. She pissed me off. The grass had started to grow and instead of doing it herself or getting Gregg to do it she'd hired a lawn service. I guess what pissed me off the most was how I'd worked hard for years trying to keep our cheap Montgomery Ward's lawn mower working. I almost bought a John Deere a couple years ago. Glad I didn't now.

There was a note dated April twenty-sixth I didn't like. She'd stopped going to church, skipped Palm Sunday and Easter, said people knew about us and she didn't want to get stared at or have to answer a lot of questions. She yelled at Samantha because she did go. The real pisser was she jotted that she'd boxed up what was left of my personal shit. She'd called Goodwill so I guess they got it. No one told me. I wondered if that included my grandfather's American flag.

~V~

My life, such as it was, went on. I tried some new things, I joined the "Y", thought I'd do some swimming, and caught a cold. Went to a few movies, ate the over-priced popcorn. I ate out a lot, especially Denny's and Texas Road House.

Thursday, May the fifth, we met at the courthouse. It was all over, but the official final date wouldn't be till sometime in August, that's how the judge wanted it. She said, "Just in case." I wondered, 'just in case what?' There wasn't going to be any reconciliation.

Samantha had been feeding me more of Susan's notes. She'd started to get more active after our "May Day", some Cinco de Mayo, ha! Some of what she wrote was good, at least for me, some of it was not so good. Reading all her shit anymore was just a waste of time. I knew Samantha had been reading it too. I told her I wished she wouldn't.

Anyway all summer from what Samantha said and from what I read in her little memoir Susan had become like two maybe even three different people.

I thought it started with Samantha's high school graduation. I, of course went, she was my daughter. I sat with my mom and dad. Susan sat with her parents and her sister. Jeff, Roxanne's husband sat with us. Both groups sat completely apart. Susan had wanted a post-graduation party of some sort, but hadn't planned anything. I found out and arranged to have a small catered affair at our old house. My parents got my sister and brothers to bring their families so, counting Samantha's younger friends and the 'new boyfriend' it was a pretty good party. Susan hadn't wanted it, she really didn't want to be around me so she and her family had gone to some restaurant. Gregg stuck with Samantha and me, and I was glad of that.

In other ways it was like Susan was getting paranoid. It seemed that her 'great lover' had been spending most of his time in New York. That made sense to me since that was his company's home office, but Susan didn't like it. I gathered from her notes she wasn't sure of his fidelity. Ha! That was a joke! What kind of fidelity was she thinking - the carnal or the emotional. If it was the emotional brand she'd been off the charts for years. Her notes never revealed much on that score anyway. It was Samantha who had the real news.

Samantha had a lot to say. Gregg was completely out of hand. The only times he was even normal anymore was when I showed up, and unfortunately, due to my workload, that wasn't all that often. I was letting my son down, and he was headed for his senior year. At least he'd been holding his grades up. I made sure of that. I checked his report cards. He did always look scruffy though.

What Samantha told me about her mother was really annoying. Susan never liked housework, who did, so over the years I'd slowly adopted most of that. Samantha told me her mom's bed was never made, and she didn't think she ever changed her sheets anymore. She seldom shopped so she was stealing Samantha's shampoos and stuff. Samantha said all mom did anymore was yell and complain. Samantha had to wash all her own clothes; mom wouldn't help. Meals had become a joke. Samantha said she was tired of eating frozen waffles for breakfast and pizza for dinner so I gave her some extra money every week so she and Gregg could get something substantial. Susan found out about it, and yelled at the two of them. That was when I stepped in.

It was already August, the deadline for the divorce was just days away when I finally made a special trip to the house to see Susan. I'd been going over every week anyway, but I never saw her. Samantha made sure she didn't know I was coming so I caught her unawares. It was a Saturday afternoon, and she was upstairs in bed.

I got in the front door. Samantha and Gregg were in the living room smiling. Samantha rolled her eyes and pointed to the upstairs. I went to the bottom of the steps and called out, "Susan! Susan can you come down a minute?"

She yelled down, "Fuck you. What for?"

I cast about; all our family pictures, actually just the ones with me in them had been taken down. I yelled up, "Pleas come down. WE need to talk."

I heard her rummage around, and she did eventually find her way down. "What do you want," she rather grumpily asked?

"I want to have a talk."

She frowned, "What about?"

I shrugged and waved my arms about, "Look at this place. When was the last time the carpet saw the vacuum?" I pointed to the kitchen, "We only using paper plates now?" Then I lied, "I checked the downstairs bathroom. When was the last time anyone put a brush to the toilet bowl down there?"

She bristled, "You bastard," she looked over at the kids and gave them a surly glare, then back at me, "This is my house. You don't come in. You don't look around. You come over, you stay outside, you pick up the kids and you leave. Get it?"

"Susan," I said, "be reasonable, they need a clean place to stay. This isn't fair."

She stepped toward me. She was really boiling, "Who are you to say? You're the one who left. You're the one who wanted to be free. Now you think you can come in here and give me orders?"

"Susan let's talk," I said, "You need more money? We can hire a maid service, but you've got to feed the kids more than Dominoes."

That was it. She went totally off the wall, "This is my house! Those are my kids! Get out of my house!"

I said, "Susan."

She yelled, "Get out of my house! Get the fuck out of my house!" She walked over to the front door, opened it and pointed, "Get the fuck out right now before I call the police."

I tried one more time, "Susan I just want..."

"Get out, she yelled! If you don't get out I'll call the police. I'll get a restraining order! Get the fuck out!"

I looked over at my kids. Gregg looked scared, but Samantha was smiling, she knew what would happen. I shrugged and said, "Saturday?" They both nodded. I walked out the front door. Susan slammed it as hard as she could behind me. I thought, 'That was awful. Susan's going to have a stroke or something.'

~V~

Still snooping through the pages Samantha supplied me I saw after August things started to get really weird. For one, Susan had filled her little loose-leaf and had bought a real diary. Thankfully, though Samantha said she had a key, she never kept it locked. For two, it seemed life with Bob it wasn't quite what Susan thought it would be. The fall months of 2012, at least September and October, told an interesting tale. Actually it would've been fun reading had it been anyone else, but I felt sorry for her, her fantasy was unraveling.

By then Gregg had found a girlfriend and was shaping up nicely. I thought, 'Nothing like a pretty little girl with a ponytail to turn a sow's ear into a silk purse. Yes sirree, little Alicia Shackleford had lassoed, and hogtied our youthful miscreant. They both looked good riding around in the little Rav4 had I found for him at CarMax.

Samantha had decided to go to community college so she could stay close to home. Between her classes, her boyfriend, and my work she and I were reading Susan's diary together. It got to be fun.

I finally got a good look at Bob, and for me that was a big phew!

Who was Bob, and what did he have that I didn't? Number one, at forty-one I was still pretty fit, the trips to the "Y" had helped out a lot.

Bob not so much. Bob was a paunchy little fellow, maybe 5'10" to my 6'2". He had a nice rounded tummy that bailed comfortably over his too tight pants; it was just enough to earmark him as a future candidate for some serious healthcare problems. I had brown hair his was more blond, but I had all mine, him, well that nice round bald spot I guess looked kind of distinguished in an egg headed sort of way. Actually he looked like a nice guy, and after August Samantha and I got the full dose from Susan's memoranda. What did Susan write?

"Bob and I finally did it! I didn't do or feel anything, but he did. It was still good though. I love him so much. Jeremy was a "hard body", all muscle, a real muscle head. Bob's soft, not effeminate, no he's a man, all man, but he's not preoccupied with how tough or how strong he is. Bob's cuddly. Jeremy was, well just Jeremy, big, gruff, and boring."

'Jesus,' I thought, 'how did she manage it for eighteen years?' It hurt. She never really showed it. I remember she used to tell me nice things; she even told me she loved me once or twice. I knew she loved me when our babies were born. I still had a clear mental image of her tenderly holding each baby in her arms while clutching at me with one of her hands. The looks of love she bestowed on each baby was matched by an identical look toward me. I knew she loved me once. I wondered if good old Bob had any kids.

Susan wrote other things too, but that was the worst. She did write about how attentive she thought Bob was, how he listened to her every word, and how he liked to bring her presents. He brought her flowers and chocolates and such. Shit! I did that! I never missed a birthday or a Valentine's. I guessed she forgot.

Samantha and I talked about the gift thing. She said mom saw her gifts as part of what I was supposed to do. Susan had a birthday, she got a gift. Samantha had a birthday, she got a gift. Gregg had a birthday, he got something. But Bob only got gifts for her. I guess I understood. I had to.

Looking back it got cool, not the weather, but Susan and Bob's relationship, cool to me anyway. They'd started doing other things; things like cunnilingus and fellatio, the old sixty-nine. I remembered that. I also remembered how the blow jobs slowly stopped, but the other stuff, Susan's stuff continued. Yeah, Susan liked it when I went down on her, but her doing me, that eventually came to an end. She never explained why it was OK for me to do her, but not OK for her to do me. I remember I hadn't minded, I still got the old in and out. I also remembered how usually, not always, but most of the time I made sure Susan got her 'thing', her orgasm. They weren't always big, but up until the last year I always did my best. It was embarrassing reading the damn diary with Samantha sitting there. Susan got pretty graphic.

She wrote, "Shit, nothing again. It's another 'just do me' night with Bob. He just lies there and I'm supposed to kneel over his fat little stomach and suck him off. He went to sleep on me the other afternoon. Sometimes he smells. He said he wanted to move in with me in my house. Not going to happen. For one I think Jeremy's having me watched. I don't know where he's getting his money, but the kids are always going places and doing things. Samantha got a lot of new clothes, and the money had to have come from Jeremy. The money Jeremy sends every month I use mostly for food; the rest I save or use for entertainment. I have my needs.

That's something else, Bob's stopped paying his way. Quite often now when we go out he expects me to pay. I asked him if we were ever going to get married. He hemmed and hawed. I'm beginning to wonder. He's so indecisive. I wish sometimes he had just a smidgeon of Jeremy's backbone."

I read that and I wondered too so I checked him out. I found out it was true what he told Susan about being a widower, but he may have misled her about what he did at Harper-Collins. He does work there, but he's no big executive. I couldn't find out what he made, but I did find out he didn't actually have an office in New York, he shared a space with several other employees. He was a little guy, a peon. For all I knew he might be working an hourly rate. That was Susan's problem, not mine.

Seemed Bob had some other problems too. Susan had made a few notes. She'd written, "Damn, how many shirts does Bob own? Three? No more than four? I only see him in two different suits. Jeremy bitched about my house; he should see where Bob lives. We slept and made love in his bed. I'll never do that again, there were shit streaks on his sheets. He wears tighty whities; they give me the creeps. When we have sex it's like he doesn't try. I miss that in Jeremy. Oh Jeremy why can't you go away? You're like a ghost, always around. Sometimes all I smell is deodorant that's been sprayed over Bob's body odor, and to think I bitched about all the showers Jeremy took? I may have misjudged Bob. He needs a new car, or he could at least wash the one he has. He could clean it out too. He has MacDonald's wrappers that must be months old. I'm surprised he doesn't have ants. He could shine his shoes once in a while too, and he wonders why I don't take him out to meet any of my friends from work."

It was Halloween when Samantha and I read Bob's obituary.

Dated October thirty-first, 2012.

"I broke up with Bob today. He cried, but I just can't take it anymore."

----------

I asked Samantha, "I wonder what your mom's going to do next?"

"I don't know," she said, "what do you think?"

I said, "Don't know either."

It didn't take long before we found out.

It was Thursday, November the seventh when Samantha texted me, "Denny's, 6:00 p.m."

I was there. Samantha was waiting, "OK," I asked, "what's up?"

Samantha replied, "She threw it out. I thought she'd moved it, but I found it in the trash, the diary and the loose-leaf."

"You saved them didn't you," I asked?

"Yes," she said, "and there was one more notation."

I asked, "What was that?"

Samantha said she said, "Good bye. Time to turn around. Got to get him back."

I was puzzled, "I understand the good bye, but the get him back. She wants Bob back?"

Samantha grinned, "No, she called 'Merry Maids'. They've been in the house cleaning every day since Tuesday. She said she wants to take me shopping. Gregg had a game this past Friday and she went. I think she's coming after you."

I scratched, my head, "You don't say."

Samantha said, "So what're you going to do?"

"I don't know," I said, "it's been a tough two years. Remember, it started two Januarys ago? I don't think you're right. She's got someone else in mind. Regardless, hold on to that diary, it might come in handy."

Samantha added, "Oh, and she asked me if you were seeing anyone."

"What did you say?"

"I told her I didn't know."

"Good girl." I sat back and reflected, 'So Susan was up to something. If she thought I'd come back; that would be a tall order for her. With her diary in Samantha's hands, soon to be in mine, I'd hate to have to do it, but I could use her own words against her. Eighteen years was a long time. I thought we loved we each other, but looking back, the unnecessary arguing, the carping and complaining about things that hadn't amounted to a hill of beans I supposed had all been proofs of her unhappiness. She'd married me to dodge an abortion and to give her baby a name. Thinking about Samantha I'm glad I did it, but to go back to something like that, at least with Susan, it wasn't real, no way. She'd sink back into her old ways and sooner or later another Bob Schuster would show up.'

I got up and fixed myself a coffee, 'Besides,' I thought, 'I had a pretty comfortable life, neat and tidy apartment, queen sized bed where I'd already entertained a couple nice looking women, no one seriously. My kids had weathered the worst of the storm. Gregg would get through high school and head for college. Samantha was in community college; in two years she'd have her pick of some pretty good state universities. Money was tight, but things would loosen up. Was I lonely; maybe a little bit from time to time, but I'd been dating, there were women, quite a few of them who weren't as picky as Susan? I had prospects, and at forty I still had quite a few options.

~V~

I got a text on Sunday the eighteenth. It was from Susan, "Thanksgiving's this Thursday. Are you doing anything?"

I texted back, "Parents. Why?"

She texted, "Just wondering, kids thought."

I texted back, "Kids what?"

She texted, "Maybe we could all eat together."

I texted back, "You sure?"

She texted, "Yes."

I texted, "Time?"

She texted, "First game's at 1:00.

I texted, "Twelve thirty?"

She texted, "Egg nog?"

I texted back, "Sure." I called my parents and told them I'd be eating with my children on Thanksgiving. Mom wished me a good dinner. I thanked her.

So Thanksgiving Thursday arrived. I was at my old door at twelve-thirty sharp. I'd dressed casually, light weight jacket, blue Oxford button down, black khakis, New Balance tennis shoes.

Samantha met me at the door with a whisper, "Turkey's not the only thing on the menu dad."

I smiled as I handed her a bottle of inexpensive white wine, "I get it."

I walked in and saw immediately the house was immaculate; everything was spotless, all the family pictures were in place, my lazy boy looked freshly wiped, the television was already on, the table was set, even cloth napkins.