The Second Draft

This is an edited version of an earlier story. My attempt to publish edit marks failed, making the first story unreadable. So I fixed it here. If you check, you will see that the first and second drafts become dramatically different stories with only minimal word changes. That was the game I played with myself -- to turn a story about a failed farm because of draught into a story of a failed marriage because of adultery. Otherwise, it both this story and the story within the story remain unchanged.

Sorry. No sex was committed in the writing of this story. No cherry was popped. No virgin ass was taken. No husband came in his pants while he watched his army buddy take his wife on the couch after dinner. That is to say, this story only concerns the destruction of a marriage in the aftermath of betrayal. If you are looking for something explicit, keep looking. Okay, you've been warned.

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You must write your first draft with your heart. You rewrite with your head. The first key to writing is... to write, not to think. -- William Forrester in "Finding Forrester"

Write what you know. -- Mark Twain

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My name is James Henry Clover and I'm a writer by profession. I come from a long line of writers, teachers, novelists, and newsmen. I'm not a particularly good writer, or at least that seems to be the general consensus, but I write for a living and I keep a roof over our heads. I write mostly technical manuals and companies hire me because I have a pretty good head for a broad range of technical subjects. I can cut through their in-house documents to create a user-friendly manual that makes more sense to the average consumer. My office is in the basement of my home and my work doesn't require me to travel very much. All things considered, we have a quiet life, but it's a good life.

Every writer like me wants to believe that he has inside himself at least one great novel and maybe a collection of short stories. I am no different. I try to find a little time in every week to write for me. Someday, with luck, I'll make it big. For now, what I do pays the bills.

My wife is Barbara and I love her with all my heart. I'm not an overly religious guy, but not a day goes by that I don't say a quiet prayer of thanks that she is in my life. She is my center. She grounds me. Without her, I think I would drift off in unknown directions. With her, I know who I am and I move steadily forward. She is everything to me.

In the five years we have been married I have kept only one secret from my wife. It's a little game I play, and it brings me joy. When I am in my basement office and the house is quiet, I can hear my wife moving around upstairs and most especially when she is in the kitchen. I can even hear her phone calls. I don't mean to eavesdrop on her. It just gives me pleasure to hear her voice and share that little piece of her day.

I should also tell you that there is a little quirk about our house that I enjoy: it's an older home and it's built on a pretty steep slope. It was built about 50 years ago by a carpenter for his family on an inexpensive piece of land. There is a 1-car garage in the back that opens onto an alley and I normally park there. A second attached garage was built more recently at house level that opens onto the street. Barbara uses that one. Because of the slope, there is a basement door out back and I often come and go through my office without much fanfare.

Ok, that's my life, such as it was. It was a happy life until it all ended.

First Draft:

It was a Saturday. I went for my usual morning run and came home through the basement door. Runs are a great way to clear the mind, let the thoughts flow, and get some new ideas. I needed those ideas. I was writing a short story about a farmer whose crops were failing. The whole county was in a drought and crops were dying everywhere. It was to be a story about a family coming together to weather the hard times, persevere and survive. I thought I had my head around it, so I sat down to write:

Henry was a farmer. His father had been a farmer as was his father's father before him. Farming was in his blood and it was all that he knew. That doesn't mean he was an ignorant man. He knew his job and it was his life. For Henry, farming was an act of faith in a partnership between himself and Mother Nature. Each would do their part to make the crops grow and together, they could do anything. Henry sometimes thought that with a little water and sunlight he could grow corn on a rock, but not this year.

This year, the whole county was dry. It was the worst drought he'd seen in all his life. The well held enough water for his family and the horses, but that was about it. His neighbors fared no better.

Henry was at a loss. He knew hard work, but some things were beyond his control. Without water, there is no crop. Without a crop, there was no farm. Henry didn't know where to turn. Being a farmer defined him and he invested all that he was in being a good farmer. His partner had let him down, she had failed him. Without her, there were no crops. Without her, there was no farm. There was just land without purpose.

I sat there typing away and for once the words flew from my fingertips. I was a happy man; I was in the groove. I heard the phone ring and I knew that Barb was upstairs to get it. I had to smile because this is the kind of day that I lived for -- the words were coming, my wife was with me, and all was right with the world. I heard her answer as I continued typing. "Hello... David, I told you not to call here... Yes, he's out for his morning run, but still... No, I can't... Of course, I want to... I can't just run off without an excuse... Watch it, boyfriend, I'm not as free as you... Yes, but... I miss you, too, but I can't just run off... Maybe... Ok, but just for a few hours. I'll leave a note and say I went shopping... You are bad! What am I going to do with you?... Ok, lover, I'll see you in twenty." She hung up.

I was frozen at my computer. I'd heard it, but I didn't believe it. What does she mean by "boyfriend" and "lover"? Who is this David? I know the sound of a woman flirting and I heard it in her voice. What the hell is going on? I wanted to rush upstairs and confront her, but what if I did? I'd give up the one advantage I have -- she doesn't know I can hear her from my office. In return, I'd get a denial, possible lies, and an argument; and I would know no more than I know now.

Two minutes later I heard the door close, her car start, and she left. I went upstairs and found her note. It said, "James, I've gone shopping for a few hours. I will be home to fix dinner. Love, Barb." I wanted to believe it, but I knew better. It was a lie. I wanted there to be a good explanation for what I heard; but in my heart, I knew there wasn't.

I walked to the bedroom in a daze and I showered from my run. I dressed for the day and I thought about what I'd heard. Every word that she said on the phone was in conflict with what I thought to be true. Even her note was a lie. There had to be an explanation. I sat for several hours as my mind ran in circles getting nowhere.

In time, I went back to my office to think some more. She would be home eventually, or at least I hoped she would, and I needed to decide what to do. Should I confront her with what I heard? Nothing had changed since I overheard her on the phone. What if she denies it? If she's innocent, she'll blow her top. If she's guilty, she'll lie. Either way, I'd lose. Should I hire a private investigator? Could I even afford one? Should I buy some technical gadgets to track her, track her phone, or record her calls?

I was sitting in my basement office when I heard her return. She called down the stairs, but I didn't answer. I guess she figured I was out. If she didn't walk down to the back garage, she wouldn't see my car. I heard the shower start and I quietly walked up the stairs. Barb was in the shower and her clothes were lying in a pile on the floor. I picked up her panties and I saw it. There was no mistaking the patch of sticky goo in the crotch. It was semen and it clearly wasn't mine. My wife was cheating on me. She was lying to me and fucking some sack of crap named "David".

Some men would confront their wife at this point. Some men would become violent. What is the point? Did I want to teach her where she went wrong so she could become a better cheat? Did I want to be lied to again? Did I want to hear how she loved only me? I quickly packed a bag, carried her panties to the kitchen where I put them into a plastic sandwich bag that I sealed tight, and I left the house.

I didn't have a plan and I didn't know where I was going. For now, I just wanted to disappear. I drove without purpose until I found myself outside a friend's house. Kevin's wife ran off with her fuck buddy about a year ago. He would understand. I knocked on his front door. He answered and invited me in. I told him my story, showed him the panties, and I cried like a baby. Kevin understood. He'd been through it himself and I'd been there for him when he needed a friend. Now our roles were reversed.

"I don't want her to know where I am. I want to just disappear until I can figure out what to do. I don't want to talk with her. I don't want to hear her excuses or her lies. If I have to look at her right now, I'm afraid I'll do something I can't undo. I swear I could kill her right now!"

"I get it, James. Believe me. I've been there, and I understand it all too well." Kevin was a true friend.

I asked Kevin, "What did you do when you found out?" I needed his advice.

"I came home to a note. She was already gone. I was lost. You remember. It was like I was in shock. I didn't know what to do. You sat with me for days until I got my head out of my ass and then I went to see a lawyer. Now I'm going to sit with you just the way you sat with me."

"I heard her on the phone, but I didn't want to believe it. I thought there had to be another explanation, but all that talk calling him `lover' and `boyfriend' was too much. Then I found her cum-soaked panties and I knew there was only one explanation. How could she do this to me? What did I do to deserve this? Do I not make enough money? Don't I satisfy her in bed? God knows I've never cheated on her. What the fuck is wrong with her?"

"Does she know where you are?"

"No. I just left while she was in the shower, washing that fucker's smell and cum off her."

"Come on, we'll move your car into my garage. Then you can hide out as long as you want and face her when you're ready." We did exactly that. Kevin stayed with me throughout the day and into the night until I finally fell into a restless sleep.

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Meanwhile, Barbara was at home. She dressed after her shower and when she went to put her clothes into the hamper, she was unable to find her panties. She looked around the floor of the bedroom, under the bed, then back in the bathroom, and even in the hallway; but they were nowhere to be found. She just assumed that she'd put them in the hamper when she took them off. She was so unconcerned that she didn't even check. James could be surprisingly clueless. Three months of running around behind his back had proven that.

As evening drew on, she began to fix dinner. She did eventually go down into James' office, but he wasn't there. His laptop was also missing, but it wasn't unusual for James to go to the park to write. She became increasingly nervous as darkness fell and James still wasn't home. She called, but his cell phone didn't answer. She called his parents, but they hadn't seen him. She called a few of his friends, but she got nowhere. As it came time for bed her apprehension grew. She was worried for him. After all, she loved her husband. Where could he be? What happened to him? This wasn't like him.

She did eventually go to bed and she slept, but she woke not feeling rested. James had not come to bed and he was not in the house. Now she was very worried, but she never put the two together. She never associated her missing husband and her missing panties. It never occurred to her that maybe her husband was not so clueless after all.

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When I woke, I knew that Barbara would be calling around to find me. That meant my parents would start to worry, so I called them.

My mother answered. "Where are you? Barbara is worried sick about you! Are you ok? James, this isn't like you. Your father and I have been worried."

"Sorry, mom. I'm coming over to talk with you both, but can you promise me one thing? If Barb calls, please tell her you haven't seen me, and you don't know where I am. I'll explain, but for now please do what I ask."

"Why would we lie to your wife, James? She's worried sick."

"Please, mom, just this once."

"Ok, son, for now. Your father and I will wait for you to get here."

I drove over to my parent's home, wondering how I was going to break the news. My god, there were even words I needed to use that I'd never said in front of my mother! How was I going to explain this?

Well, parents aren't as naïve as their kids want to believe. Once I told her about the semen-soiled panties, my mother broke down into tears. We were crying, me and my mother, and my father put his arms around us both. It was a bad Sunday morning in the Clover house, and it wasn't going to get any better.

My mother was trying to find a way out, a way to believe that the daughter-in-law she loved like her own daughter would never do such a thing to her son. "James, maybe you heard her wrong. Maybe the stain isn't what you think it is."

"Mom, every man knows it when he sees it. And it wasn't a stain; it was fresh, just minutes old. She's having an affair with some guy named David and she snuck out to have sex with him yesterday." My father looked at my mother and nodded in agreement.

The three of us talked and cried for hours. When the phone rang and it was Barbara asking if they had heard from me, my mother looked at me and lied. I had never seen her lie before and I thought, "This is what it's come to? Now I'm forcing my mother to lie for me?"

My mother asked me where I was staying and she was saying that I could stay in my old room, but all I could think to say was, "Mom, I've already made you lie once. I don't want you to lie for me again. If you don't know, you won't need to lie. I'm ok. I'm somewhere safe with someone who will watch over me for a time." I felt like a child again, lost, with nowhere to go that was my own.

Eventually, they convinced me to go home and talk with my wife. I agreed, but it would be on my terms. I was in no mood to be lied to again and I didn't want to hear any excuses. She was happy enough leaving the house to meet him. I would give her one chance and one chance only to explain and convince me to stay. Either she cared enough for our marriage to tell the truth, or it was over.

It was late afternoon when I walked into the house. Barbara ran to me with a mixture of anger and relief at seeing me. I held up my hand for her to stop and she stopped in her tracks.

"Barbara, I have a question for you and how you answer it will determine whether I stay, or I turn and leave for good. Do you understand me?"

Barbara was shaking now. I had left without a word. Now I had delivered an ultimatum that was so unlike me, and then there were still those missing panties. She was scared now.

"I think you've been lying to me. I want the truth and I want it now. Who is David and what is he to you?"

All the color drained from Barbara's face and her eyes dropped to the floor. "I don't know a David. What are you asking me?"

"Lies are not going to save us, Barbara. Who is David and what is he to you?"

She got her back up and confronted me. "I told you I don't know a David."

"Then tell me why your panties are soaked with cum." Yes, I knew!

For Barbara, there was no denying any longer. She collapsed on the floor and cried. "I'm sorry, James. It was a mistake. I'll break it off with him, I promise. It never meant anything."

I had my confirmation. The details didn't matter. I knew enough. My wife had chosen to lie rather than speak the truth and that proved more to me than her sex-laden panties. I turned and left the house with cries from my wife behind me left unanswered.

I returned to Kevin's house and parked in the garage. For now, I would remain invisible, lost, just as I felt I was in my marriage.

Barbara began calling everyone and begging them to tell her if they heard anything from me. When she called my parents, her mother-in-law answered. When my mother heard Barbara's voice, she broke down and cried. "Why? How could you do this? Please, tell me you didn't. Barbara, please tell me it's all a misunderstanding. James isn't strong. He can't take betrayal. Please tell me it isn't true!"

Barbara could not tell another lie in the face of all that she'd done. She was all out. She just cried along with my mother and begged for her forgiveness. Without another word, the line went dead, and Barbara felt more alone than she had felt at any time in her life.

I also felt alone. I had Kevin to watch over me, but I wanted my wife. I wanted our marriage, but in my mind it was dead. How could she betray me that way? What was so wrong with me that she would laugh as she left the house to be with her lover? I felt I was a failure in every way, and I could not see my life going forward. I was an empty shell; unloved, betrayed, mocked by a wife I loved and trusted. Her words kept ringing in my ears, "It never meant anything." If her affair meant so little to her, what could our marriage mean knowing that she risked it all to be with him?

By Monday I knew what I had to do. I called Kevin's lawyer, the one who handled his divorce, and made an appointment for Tuesday morning. His lawyer had seen it all before far too many times. He knew what was coming and how two people would be destroyed by a foolish and selfish act of betrayal. I could tell that he hated his job. "You have no kids. That's a blessing. It's a no-fault state, so you split it all down the middle. You both work and make about the same amount of money and neither of you can afford the house on your own. Plus, you haven't had the house for many years so there isn't much equity tied up in it. There's no reason for alimony. You each keep your cars and your payments. You divide your savings. You each keep your retirement accounts. You sell the house and if you are lucky you get a few dollars to split between the two of you. Her adultery never enters into it."

"Ok. Should I do anything now?"

"You can take half your savings and move it into your own account; and you can cancel your joint credit cards after you pay the outstanding balance, or just have your name taken off. You need to keep paying the power and gas bills, the insurance and such. It looks bad to the judge if you allow property you jointly own to become at risk."

"How long will it all take?"

"To get divorced? It can be as fast as four months if both parties agree or as long as a year if she fights it. Do you have any idea what she'll do?"

"No. Maybe she'll welcome it. She has her boyfriend and it's obvious she was more truthful with him than she was with me. Maybe that's where she's headed, anyway."

"I'd offer you some free advice; but let's be honest here, you're paying for it. Talk to her. Don't jump into something you can't undo later. I've seen every kind of stupid there is in a marriage and I've seen them blow up over everything and nothing. Talk to her. Maybe she's sorry. Maybe she'll try to make it up to you and you can get past this. Stranger things have happened."