The Goddess

I checked my wrist watch, 12:30. I'd need an hour to get there so I did what I could. I re-laced my boots, took three more Advil, got in my truck, and pulled off.

It was a crisp cold day. The temperature gauge on my cell phone read 28 degrees, and judging from the way my truck took the road it was more than a little windy. Why, I asked myself did it have to be a day like today. Oh the wind and the weather were bad, but I was going to have to face my wife and her lover with the worst cold I'd had in years. I wished I'd remembered to get a flu shot back in the fall. Damn, I'd made Frieda, Forrest, and the kids all get one. I didn't even know who "L" was; he might be some Karate expert, or a boxer, or even worse some rich professional. My luck, Frieda was hooked up with some doctor or lawyer. Those were the circles she traveled in. I knew that. Oh shit, did I know that! I might be sick, but I could remember.

Could I remember; oh yeah, what was happening now was the chickens at long last coming home to roost. I loved my wife. I wanted to keep her. I didn't care if she was being unfaithful. I had to keep her. She was my everything. Did I screw up? Yeah, maybe.

Frieda married me because she was pregnant. I knocked her up the night of her graduation. I wanted to get her pregnant. Getting her pregnant would mean she'd need someone, she'd need me. So we got married, went to Niagara Falls, came home and built a life. Lauren, our first, showed up right on time. Man she was wonderful. We tried to hold off, but Frieda wouldn't or couldn't take the pill, and I hated condoms, so it was the diaphragm. It worked pretty well, but then there was this party. We were in a hurry. It was just a quickie, nine months later Katy popped out, but that was OK. Katy made us the perfect family; a mom, a dad, and two sweet kids, but I wanted a son. Frieda said no; two was enough, but I wanted a little boy. I wangled, I begged, I pleaded, but Frieda was adamant.

It didn't matter. Diaphragms weren't always perfect, and Frieda got pregnant again. She was furious. She accused me of damaging her device. She told me she hated me, she said she'd never forgive me. I'd honestly done nothing, but I got my little boy. We named him Jessie. For some reason Frieda's third delivery created a slight added complication. When we got home Frieda told she'd had the doctor, not tie, but cut her tubes. No matter what Jessie was going to be her last one. From the beginning she made sure I understood Jessie was 'my' child.

Oh she loves me. She cares about me, but just the same, ever since, when I get too close, well...

After Jessie our love life took another turn. It had always been cool; me responsible for most of the foreplay, me being responsible for 'her' satisfaction, me always making sure, though she rarely acknowledged it, that she was happy. But after Jessie...

After Jessie I found myself doing it all; it got to be kind of a routine. First, she never ever initiated anything; it had always been me, and when I did I had to follow a pretty precise pattern. First, always in bed, with her clothed always in a soft free-formed silken bikini, something she's always known I've found incredibly enticing. She'd lie on her back, and it was 'my job' to 'arouse her'. She'd lie quietly, immobility while I would use my hands and fingers to caress and massage her body.

Starting near the top with her breasts, never her face or neck, I'm committed to gently maneuvering my way down to her panties. Then from the outside I'm to use my fingers and the heel of my hand for the real vaginal warm up. I can always tell from the moisture and by the quiet way she sighs and breathes when she's aroused.

With her increased arousal she customarily let's her right forearm drift over her face covering her eyes. That's my signal she's fantasizing about someone, not me I'm sure. With the sighing and heavy breathing continuing sometimes I've heard her murmur someone's name, never mine. This I knew has been deliberate, and only done to hurt me.

About then I'm expected to lower her panties and slide my fingers up and down her labia, and woe betide the poor carpenter if he doesn't have his nails trimmed. Occasionally she'd been so aroused as to experience a small orgasm. Sometimes, I believe out of cruelty I'm sure, after something miniscule she's rolled over to sleep leaving me to my own devices. Other times, in her cruelly graceful way she'd be stimulated enough to grasp the back of my head and push me down for a full service stimulation. This too, often led to an orgasm and another premature termination of our intimate time.

Alas, very rarely has she pulled me up, and encouraged full coitus. On those rare occasions Frieda has become so aroused as to reach a full blown apoplectic fit, breathing and heaving and crying, and yes even moaning my name. But as soon as we were done she'd leap from the bed, flee to the bathroom and shower, then returning and demanding that I change the sheets while she'd stand and wait. Once the sheets were changed she'd slide into bed, turn away, and pretend to drift off to sleep.

Never, not once since Jessie's birth have I heard a single word of warmth or intimacy while in bed. Frieda has determinedly held to her position that I cruelly used her, and it's her right, no it's been her duty, to repay me and punish me. Our bedtime relationship has been all Frieda all the time, but I've kept hoping.

III:

The Crisis!

So there I was at the Denny's waiting for my wife and her lover to arrive, fearing this has all been something she's done to punish me, and I'm totally sick. Why have I accepted this? I know why. I have my daughters, and I have my son, and I believe, I really believe Frieda still loves me. I believe one day she'll awaken, she'll come to terms with what she's been doing, she'll see that she's truly loved and in love, that no one used or abused her, and on that day, like sleeping beauty, her prince, me, will be there for her.

It was 2:05 Frieda when pulled up. I hadn't noticed; she pulled up beside a steel grey Mercedes, it looked new. She got out. A man got out of the Mercedes. Oh no! Roland Menisci, Dr. Roland Menisci, hot shit pediatrician and sometimes caregiver for our kids, affable, smooth, witty, a colossal bore, and married. Where did the "L" come from? Of course-"Lover".

Frieda was walking toward the doctor. She was smiling, a real smile. Jesus I'd have given a million dollars for a smile like that. He was smiling at her too. I coughed, wiped my eyes and then my nose. I opened the door to my truck and climbed down. I almost fell. Jesus! Something's wrong, and not just the flu!

They were arm in arm, walking toward the front door. I called out, "Frieda!"

She turned. She saw me. He saw me too. Frieda just stood there. She said nothing. Like a rock she just stood there. She looked... well... blank like a zombie

I walked over, "Frieda I know..."

Menisci stepped forward. He stood between me and my wife. I didn't give a shit about him. We were standing in an open space between two parked cars. Tired, woozy, head pounding, wanting to get past him to my wife I feebly placed my hand on his chest, "Please... I,"

Like a rocket his right arm shot out. All I saw was the blur of a fist and corduroy, and that was...

~~V~~

I was in a hospital. I knew it was a hospital because I recognized the environment, the bright lights, the buzzing and dinging, other hospital noises, the swish of stale, no clinical air, and the cold. I heard someone say, "He's coming around."

Another voice, a man's voice, "Brother you really got it good. We were wondering..."

My head was pounding it felt like there were rocks or something in there. I asked, "Where's my wife?"

Out of the shadows I heard her, "I'm right here dear."

The sound of her voice, though soft, rang like a hammer in my head. 'Dear,' I thought, 'that had to be for effect.' "What happened," I asked.

"Dr. Menisci thought you were going to hit him so he hit you first. Then I don't know. He followed you down. He kept hitting and swinging and kicking at you so I pushed him away, into the drive, there was a car. He got hit."

I couldn't see her very well. Things looked foggy. Hopefully I asked, "Did it kill him?"

"No," she said, "but he's hurt. He's in the next room."

My reply, "Oh."

Frieda asked, "Garrett, can you see me?"

"Everything's so bright. You're kind of blurry. My head hurts. Every noise..."

She responded, "I thought so. You don't seem to be focusing."

Oh my weary head, my weary life, "Frieda I know."

Jesus, she took my hand, "Yes, I know you do."

Someone came in. Maybe an orderly or a nurse, I couldn't tell, it was a woman, "What's your name?"

I told her, "Garrett."

"How old are you?"

"Gee, thirty-five?"

Then she said, "We're going to wheel you down for an MRI. Your wife's handled everything."

Frieda asked, "May I please go too?"

The woman replied, "You can follow, but you'll have to wait outside."

I was beginning to see a little better. The nurse looked young, a kid. Frieda didn't look so good, tired maybe. We were moving kind of slow. Suddenly I realized we were going past another open room. There was a man sitting up on a bed. His curtain was open as we passed by. He saw me. He saw us. He started yelling, "Hey hod carrier! I fucked your wife! I fucked your wife real good! I fucked her up the ass! Hey little tack boy I slammed her with my sledge! You should've heard her scream. I got your daughter too. Shoved it up her ass too."

I glanced at Frieda. She was as red as I'd ever seen her. I asked, "Has he got kids?"

We were just beyond the doctor's sight when she whispered, "Two I think."

I yelled back, "I fucked your wife! Your kids are mine! What do you think of that?"

We all could hear him, as he screamed, "I'll kill you! You God damn son-of-a-bitch! I'll kill you!"

Some orderly or someone whispered to us, "He's very heavily medicated, plus he's been concussed. Pay no attention."

Through my pain I had to say something more so I yelled back, "Don't expect any child support you limped dick asshole. Your wife begged me for it. Said you were too limp to do her!"

I heard them close his curtain. Lover boy didn't respond, so I supposed his nurses had given him something. One of the emergency doctors came in and started tugging on me so I started groaning and moaning. Wasn't that what sick people did? I saw Frieda was biting her nails.

The doctor said, "We'll do an MRI, maybe some other tests. Looks like a concussion. There's a problem with that ankle. Can you see me?"

They were moving me again. I heard Frieda, "Take good care of him."

That was the last I remembered.

~~~~V~~~~

Frieda wondered...

She didn't know what to do...

One of the doctors was talking to Garret, "Looks like you've been concussed. Plus a bad ankle sprain. Could be some ligament damage there too. We'll get you to X-Ray. You'll be laid up for a while," he looked at the paperwork, "Mr. Hamilton?"

Garrett groaned, "That's just great." Then he looked at me and frowned. He didn't say anything though, and I was glad.

A few minutes later two nurses came in. They got Garrett out of his bed and back on another gurney. One looked at me and smiled, "We won't be very long."

As they wheeled Garrett out he looked at my mom and said, "That man... he was right you know." My mom's face turned white.

With Garrett gone she looked at me, "Forrest told me; he and Garrett and some firemen saw your car parked in front of some house when you were supposed to be in Lancaster."

"Forrest was with him?"

"They were coming back from a fire."

She thought she vaguely remembered hearing the firehouse siren. So Forrest and Garrett saw her car. Frieda looked at her mother and shrugged, "Well whatever."

She said, "Is that all you've got to say?"

Frieda couldn't look at her, "I came home early. Well, actually I never left. I spent all that last day with Dr. Menisci. He bought old Doctor Chambers practice and is on staff here. He bought one of the new houses out on Frederick's Schoolhouse Road too."

Her mom put her hand to her mouth, "You were with another man?"

"Don't make like it's a big deal mom. People do it all the time. I just got caught. That's all." Her mom didn't say anything. She just turned her head and then walked away.

~~~V~~~

IV:

Garrett reflects and Frieda's a mess...

For fifteen years Frieda and I had worked hard and shared the good with the bad, but there were other times when I thought Frieda drifted off. She'd done so well in high school; she was someone special, all her teachers told her that. I'd been a little older, and in school not the greatest student; I guessed I was the more the reliable the stalwart kind of guy. I'm not bragging, believe me I'd never brag, but come on everybody remembers the quarterback or the terrific wide receiver, but how many remember that 'very average' defensive back who sometimes was called on to receive the punt and make the fair catch. Not many, unless the clown dropped it, and I'd dropped one or two.

They weren't very often but Frieda, she'd have her days. She'd see an old friend and they'd get together, talk about 'old times', and catch up on what they were doing. I knew it bothered her when she heard about the average student who became the first female attorney at the in-town law firm, or the girl who went off to college and married the rich pediatrician. She never complained, but I saw it in her eyes. I just wished there'd been something more I could've done.

Changes in the economy didn't help either. When dad died Stephen and I went whole hog in the business. People were moving out from Washington, and the housing market was good. We both mortgaged our properties and dove in with everything we had. We'd bought lots and had wells dug. Then came 2008 and the bottom fell through; six years later and we're still trying to dig out. It had been touch and go for a long time.

There was more. I thought both Frieda's parents had always been thoughtful and loving with regard to our children, but when big brother's kids appeared it was like ours took second place. It wasn't the big things, but there were always those little nags. I'd always put it down to distance. I think my kids, my girls especially, noticed it. Funny, big brother's girls worshipped my kids, but grand mom and granddad and me not so much. Maybe it was me?

I guessed all in all I never quite measured up. I'd done my best. The kids never wanted. Hell, Frieda never wanted for much. No there were never any trips to Europe, there'd been only one cruise, and Bar Harbor, though nice, sure wasn't Hawaii. I loved her. I've always loved her. It just breaks my heart. I wish I was smarter or more clever, but all I've ever had has been my hands.

~~~V~~~

Frieda was a mess...

The doctors decided, owing to the possibility of something more serious they'd keep Garrett overnight. That gave Frieda time to go home and talk to the kids. She had to think up a story, plus Garrett would need some clothes.

What would she say? She realized there was no getting around Dr. Menisci. If when his wife came home and she found anything out there'd be some sort of scandal. The kids would ask questions.

When she got home the kids were all there, waiting. Mom followed her from the hospital. Dad had been at her house. Opening the front door to their home she found four sets of wide eyes; her kids and her dad. Forrest was there, but he knew.

Lauren was first, "Where's dad?"

Frieda took a deep breath and then, "Daddy's at the hospital," she saw the alarm, "He's OK. He'll be home tomorrow."

The more assertive Katy asked, "What happened?"

Frieda looked at Forrest, visually pleading for his cooperation, "Daddy had a spat with a man on a parking lot. I think I parked too close to another person's car. Then when I got out of my car, and this man got out of his I guess daddy thought the man was going say or do something. Daddy rushed to my defense, and they had a spat."

Jessie chirped up, "Who won... Daddy?"

Frieda deflected, "It happened very fast. Both men fell down..."

Not to be denied Jessie interjected, "Who fell first?"

Frieda lied, "I think it was a tie." She saw neither Lauren nor Katy were enjoying the conversation so she added, "and they both got beat up about the same."

Forrest got up and left. Thankfully he didn't slam any doors.

Frieda's dad interjected, "We had pizza. There's some left if you want any."

The last thing Frieda wanted was pizza, "No I'm not hungry. Besides I have to go upstairs and get Garrett some clothes to wear home tomorrow."

Her dad groused, "Well I'm still hungry," he glared at his wife, "You want some? It's in the kitchen."

Frieda's mom said, "No. I think I'll help Frieda."

Frieda looked at her kids and thought, 'God they're pretty. They all look like their mother,' then she said, "You guys go watch some television for a while."

The kids took the hint. Dad drifted off to the kitchen. Frieda and her mom went upstairs.

Upstairs in Frieda and Garrett's bedroom Laila laid into her, "You couldn't do it could you. You couldn't tell him. You had to go out and find another dick to swallow. When're you going to tell Garrett you don't love him and you want out?"

Frustrated and despondent Frieda replied, "Oh mom, don't start that again..."

"You should've never gotten pregnant. You should've never married him. You're still young. Take the kids. File for divorce. Make Garrett pay."

"Mom," Frieda almost sobbed, "will you stop it... Please!"

Mom wasn't done. She was never done, "If you divorced Garrett, I'm sure Bradley would be after you in a heartbeat."

"Mom that was fifteen years ago. I've got three kids, a house, a husband, a family. Besides he's got a wife."

Her mom looked wry and knowing, "I wouldn't count on any of that now. Not after what you've done."

Frieda looked at her mother ruefully. She thought, 'There was a time she would have considered leaving Garrett. Brad's wife didn't give two shits for him. Lisa had her own life, a career. Bradley was still wallowing around in a Bourbon filled daze trying to conjure the great American novel out of nothing."

More clearly she thought, 'She'd been so stupid. Brad had been her heartthrob back in high school, her one true love. She'd begged him to take her cherry. She'd told him she didn't care how much it hurt. She would've died for him. But he'd told her no, and off he went to Sewanee College where he'd learn the finer points of writing. But again! It didn't work out that way. He'd dropped out of college, actually he'd failed out. He came home. He decided he'd marry her after all. But then again! Out of spite, or anger, or she never knew which she'd turned to Garrett. She knew Garrett loved her. She knew he'd do anything. And that's what he did. They got pregnant. She wanted to get pregnant, and then they got married. It was on their Honeymoon at Niagara that her mom called. Brad was back and wanted her. But at last it was all too late. She was stuck with a calf-eyed moonstruck nobody and a baby.

Damn! Damn her mom! Damn Garrett! Damn Bradley! But most of all damn herself! Look where she was now! Did she really believe she could go on having cheap affairs and Garrett never finding out? Did she seriously ever really consider leaving her home, her family, and her husband for Bradley? Hell no! Garrett was just skin and bones, but Bradley had grown into a full-fledged whale. She bet his waistline was at least fifty, no sixty inches. She'd seen him; he got out of breath getting in a car. Besides he was a mealy mouthed self-centered whiner who had nothing better to do than complain about his wife and ungrateful and stupid publishing companies. But then what was she? What had she ever done to deserve a man like Garrett? Well damn! She'd made him his three kids. That ought to count for something. Plus she was beautiful; nobody would've ever noticed Garrett if she wasn't there.