The Toy Box

I kept my cell phone on just to see if she would call. I sort of doubted if she would, and even if she did I had no intention of answering. I kind of wished I could have been hiding somewhere in the house when she got home just to see her reaction. Of course, by the time she got home she'd have already been to the storage unit and that would have given everything away.

I thought about my interest in observing her reaction and thought about something that had happened to me back when I was a kid at the beach. I'd been walking along one of the sandy side roads between the cottages and I came upon this conch. I picked it up and found the animal inside it had died, and the thing was crawling with maggots. It was one god awful sight and I immediately dropped the thing, but then I picked it up again and looked at it some more. It was so hideously ugly that I'd been drawn to look at it again.

I thought about that maggoty conch; that was what had become of my marriage, and for me to want to be in the room watching Jeannie when she saw her stuff and read my note would have been like looking at that shell all over again. That was something I just didn't need to do.

I went down to the Marriot restaurant, ordered a nice meal, ate it, and went back upstairs. Sure enough around eight that evening my cell phone started singing. It sang and sang for most of the night. I suppose she called me thirty times. I didn't answer a single one, but once she'd stopped around four that Monday morning I did open it up and I listened to some of the messages. It was kind of hard to understand her since she was crying so much. I did get the parts where she said she was sorry, she wanted to see me to explain, how she promised she'd stop, how she'd quit her job, we could start over, how she'd make everything up to me, how she promised never to do anything so stupid like this again, and how she just couldn't explain why she did it in first place.

I heard all I could and erased everything. I've got to say it was hard listening to the woman I'd loved so unquestioningly for more than twenty years trying to explain how she could fix something that was so irretrievably broken. I'll say there's nothing more broken than a broken marriage, and nothing breaks a marriage more thoroughly than infidelity. It's like an egg; once it's dropped it's just a broken mess. I thought of that old rhyme; 'Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall...' I was stupid. I went to the lobby Internet and looked up 'Humpty Dumpty'. There must have been a hundred different interpretations of the meaning of that dumb verse.

Honestly, even that very next Monday morning if she'd called and said she needed a kidney, or some bone marrow, or a lung, or even both lungs, or someone was trying to kill her and she needed me to get home and take the bullet I'd have gone home and laid down my life for her. I loved her that much. But to try to go home and live with the shame and the knowledge she'd betrayed everything that mattered to me was more than I could ever do. I'd die for her in a minute. Sure, but my death would have ended it. I'd have done the right thing, the loving thing and been proud to do it, but to go back and live another twenty years with the woman who'd betrayed me in the worst imaginable way, I could never do that.

Now let's look at the racist thing I mentioned. I said I wasn't a racist, and I'm not, not exactly, but the fact that her sex partners were black mattered. I know black men can be pretty racist, and for more than a few of them getting into a white woman's pants is like some kind of perverse racist 'high'. For those three men to be calling my wife 'Miss Fancy' in front of me at that party was the ultimate put down.

I saw the looks on their faces; their smug self-congratulatory smirks. They knew what they were doing, and they knew they were doing it to her and to me. I suppose, forget that, no suppose about it; she was the 'arch-bitch' because she let them have the one thing that she had that was supposed to mine and mine alone for all our lives.

Jeannie had been a virgin when we got married. She gave away my, and I thought her, most treasured possession to three men who looked upon it as some kind of great racial conquest. I know now I'd seen it in their eyes. Spike Lee mentioned it in one of his movies; she'd given away the 'white man's pride'. Well she did it, she did it to me, and that was a thing I could never forgive.

I'm not a racist, but I am a southerner. Look at it this way. I'd never tell anybody who I voted for, but John McCain, sure, prisoner of war and all - come on, but I sure wouldn't vote for a guy who wouldn't tell me what he'd paid in income taxes. So maybe I did or maybe I didn't vote for the Kenyan the second time. That's my business.

Sure some pretty little bleach blond cheerleader gets all starry eyed when she meets the black college quarterback, she spreads her legs and he's dumb enough to marry her, that's OK. Black women have been cashing the same checks a lot longer. But this wasn't some ditz with pom-poms. This was my wife! Oh yeah she would pay, but I knew three guys who might need a visit someday. Yeah I'd be their gallimaufry.

~~v~~

That Monday morning I checked in at our biggest work site, and then went off to find as good lawyer. I found one and explained to her what I wanted. What I wanted was out of the marriage. I said I'd agree to any terms, and any economic pay out to get away. She tried to explain that in our state my wife could really rake me over the coals. I told my lawyer she'd already done that. What she couldn't do was take away my ability to make money. If she got everything I could simply find another place and start over.

My lawyer wasn't optimistic, and she was right. Jeannie did get a lawyer, and she did take me to the cleaners. She got the house, alimony, half of all our material possessions, and since she hadn't worked most of her life she got a hefty portion of whatever money I made through my company from then on. Luckily the kids were both over eighteen so she couldn't get child support. Regrettably, though the company was in my name, the judge said she'd contributed by being a productive homemaker. I had to buy out her share of my company. By the time they'd finished with me I was pretty much penniless. I still had the business though.

We went our separate ways. She did quit her job, and from what the kids said she pretty much just stayed home. She called the kids and made up some cock and bull story. I loved my kids and I still loved their mother so I decided it wouldn't do anybody any good to try and get at the truth with Angela and Travis. They would believe what they wanted to believe. They knew me, and they knew their mother. My guess was that if they heard the truth it would have sounded so crazy they wouldn't have believed it. All her life Jeannie had been a good girl, a good Catholic, a loyal wife, and a devoted mother, the whole thing with her sex games was just so far-fetched even I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't found the physical proof. I did find out though.

Finally five months after that fateful Sunday we had our denouement. I had agreed to one face to face. There weren't going to be any counseling sessions. I won on that one. By the time of our meeting I had started dating another woman, a pretty Polish girl and a Catholic. She was thirty-seven to my forty-one. She was divorced from a man who'd had an affair, and she had two daughters, one thirteen, and the other eleven.

OK, I missed Jeannie terribly, but Vonja showed up at just the right time. She needed a man she could trust, and God knew I needed a trustworthy woman. Vonja had these two girls, and they reminded me of Angela in a lot of ways.

I knew I could be a good help mate for Vonja in raising her two little blonds. I wasn't going to try to replace their father, but I thought I could be there if they needed someone. Both girls were into dance, and they needed things like costumes, dance shoes, and most of all transportation. My Angela had never gotten into anything like that; brother I found out a lot. They have dance contests all over the country. Vonja and her girls were traveling all over the place, and her girls were so ebullient it was like every day was a party. It never fixed the scars from Jeannie, but it sure made a terrific band aid.

In fact Vonja and her girls, Ruta and Ursula were so physically and emotionally different from my Jeannie, Angela, and Travis, it was like starting all over again.

Vonja really needed someone, and I needed to have someone who would need me. I was there for her. Honestly, I'd never neglected Jeannie; I'd always been there for her too. I guess she just got bored. But with Vonja and her girls I'd found a new life. I was still hurt, but I knew I could go on. I was still young. I could still perform in the sack, and Vonja was really great in that way.

The final showdown came with the face to face that was to officially end my marriage to Jeannie. We did it up in one of those tall buildings downtown. While I was upstairs Vonja and my new girls were downstairs in a coffee shop waiting for me. There was a reason they were there. It was selfish I know, and Vonja knew why too, but she said she was glad to do it. She said she'd only wished she'd had someone like me on hand when she and her first husband had their final face off. I'll get to all that at the very end.

Well I walked in and sat down with my lawyer. Jeannie waited till I was already there. Wouldn't you know it; she brought the kids too. I didn't know they were coming, but since I'd hardly spoken to them anyway I thought we could get it all out of the way once and for all. It seems Jeannie had never told them the real reason for our split, and like I said earlier, I saw no purpose to it either. Both my kids blamed me for everything.

Jeannie, Angela, Travis, and her lawyer all came in. I thought Angela looked beautiful. I thought Travis looked his typical insolent self. Poor Jeannie looked bad, but then maybe I wanted her to look that way. She looked old and tired. Her face had this pallid appearance, and I bet she'd lost twenty pounds. If I hadn't known the reason I'd would have been all over her trying to make her feel better.

Now I understand when people read these stories the husband always wants to paint it like the wayward wife was really in a bad way after the awful thing she'd done. I'm trying to be objective here. I think Jeannie really did look like shit; nothing like the light and airy woman I had been loving and living with just a few months before, and absolutely nothing like the three bouncy little blue eyed blonds waiting for me downstairs.

We all sat around this table; me and my lawyer on one side, Jeannie, the kids, and her lawyer on the other. Jeannie still wasn't ready to accept what she'd done and the inevitability of it. She wanted to talk. When she asked me if there was any way, even now, if we could get things back; I asked her if she was satisfied with the financial settlement. When she tried to explain how she was sorry for the way things worked out, I asked her if she was OK with keeping the house. In short every time she tried to get personal I clicked back to the mechanical aspects of the settlement. I was just too emotionally spent. I didn't want her to know how badly she hurt me. I knew it was cruel me hiding my true feelings, but I hoped by doing that I might have hurt her a little more. I felt like a zombie, but I think it worked.

The whole time Travis just sat there with this smug self-righteous look, but Angela really went off. I was proud of her too.

Angela started yelling at me. She started telling me what a prick I was, and how much I'd hurt her mom, and how I didn't know how bad she felt, and how all she did was cry all the time. Angela said she'd never seen her mother cry so much.

Angela got to me. I broke down. I started to mist up a bit. It was the first time I'd cried, OK I did cry over this before but not in front of anybody. I really felt like a fool. Oh I'd cried a lot. I'd cried buckets of tears, but I'd kept everything to myself. I only shared it with Vonja who was always there to support me.

So I just lied a little bit; Vonja had seen me cry. Vonja had been my strong rock in many ways, and I was glad I could be there for her.

Tears hadn't been my only problem either. Up until the separation and divorce I'd been able to eat almost anything. Ever since I'd been on a variety of anti-acids. I just couldn't keep anything down. Yeah, I'd lost a little weight too, like almost thirty pounds.

Anyway Angela broke me. I had to say something. I looked at Jeannie and asked her if she'd ever told them the real reason why we were divorced. She didn't say anything.

I'm sorry I couldn't keep it in any longer I looked at Angela and told her there was only one thing her mother could have done to end this marriage and that was to be unfaithful. I told Angela to ask her mother about the three black men she worked with. I told Angela to ask her mother why they called her mother 'Miss Fancy'. I told Angela to ask her mother if she ever saw her special toy chest with all the little costumes she'd worn for her black boyfriends. By then I had to stop; Jeannie was just crying too much.

At last I told Angela that I loved her, that I would always love her. I told her I would always love her mother, but her mother had thrown away our marriage, she'd given it away, and there was nothing she or anyone could do to get it back. I told her it was gone, dead, over.

I finally got up and started to leave. That was when Angela really killed me. She got out of her chair, ran over and grabbed me. She hugged me like there was no tomorrow. She was crying her eyes out. She told me she loved me, and that she would always love me, and that no matter what I was her dad, and that someday she hoped she'd marry a man just like me, and that when that day came she wanted me to be there to give her away. All right that broke me down; I cried.

I looked over and saw Travis; the son-of-a-bitch had a smirk on his face. Honestly I could never figure the little shit out. Crap I did everything for that little prick, Karate lessons, little league baseball, lacrosse. I even helped the little turd with his homework. I don't think I missed a single lacrosse game. I hated fucking lacrosse. I guess I just tried too much.

Poor Jeannie, the bitch, she just sat there and cried. Her makeup was a mess. I really wanted to go over and console her. It was like I wanted to die for her; I just couldn't live with her, she'd broken my heart in the worst possible way.

We finally finished up and we all went downstairs on the same elevator. When we got to the lobby Vonja, Ruta, and Ursula were there waiting for me. They all rushed over and hugged me. Jeannie saw it. I walked my new girls over and introduced them to my old family. I told Jeannie Vonja and I would be getting married soon. I wished Jeannie the best, and then we left.

Denouement for part one.

I thought that would be last time I would ever see my first wife. Angela used to call me and tell me how Jeannie just stayed home and moped around. She said she wasn't eating, hardly slept, and just wouldn't take care of herself. It made me sad, but only a little bit. It had been her fault. I hadn't run off with some woman. For more than twenty years I'd been loyal faithful and true.

As for Jeannie's black boyfriends; I was sure they find somebody else to screw over. Too bad, by getting Jeannie they got me too. But I figured I was about to start my second go, and I fully intended to make my new family as happy as possible. I guess I was wrong. What's the old saying; 'we make plans and God laughs'. I was making plans, and God was making his.

I'm sure this has been boring as hell, but it still hurts too much to try to jazz it up with a lot of senseless dialogue. Just another unhappy story. Oh well, as they say; life, it does go on. Shit, it's a damn shame, it gets worse.

Part Two: Jeannie's Story as told by Travis.

Well I guess by now everyone's read what my father said, and I can say it's all pretty true. Oh, I bet everyone thought they were going to hear my mom. She's not up to it. The whole thing's just completely torn her apart so if anyone's going to hear it they'll have to get it from me.

Yeah I'm the asshole; that's what my father usually called me. I'm his son Travis. Some people think they're so damn smart, they have all answers, and they know everything. That's been my dad ever since I can remember.

Well I'm old enough; I'm of age, I can tell this.

Our dad, my mom's husband Glenn Koch has been a pretty much a self-righteous 'know it all' all my life. Don't get me wrong; he's smart, he's loved me and my sister Angela without reservation. He's been good to our mom as far as it goes, but he's got some faults. Let me get some things straight first.

Dad's a big man; he's six foot four and easily weighs two hundred thirty maybe forty pounds. He's tall, blond and he's got blue eyes. He says he's not a bigot. He's not he really isn't, but I am. Well I wasn't, but I got that way. That matters later.

Mom, well she's tiny, five foot two, just a little over a hundred pounds. She's a blond too, but with green eyes. Angela takes after mom. I take after dad.

If anybody read the beginning of dad's story they should've been pretty much able to put the pieces together; first nobody messed with dad, and mom being the little Catholic girl, raised in parochial school in her navy blue jumpers and white peter-pan blouses was certainly the last to do that.

Mom's pretty, but she's no door prize; door mat has been more like it. I can't remember dad not ever giving her what she wanted, but I can't remember her ever defying him either. We'd go out when I was a kid and dad had a way; I wouldn't call it abuse exactly, but he had a way of intimidating mom without saying anything. Don't be misled. He never hit her or anything like that, but he absolutely controlled everything she did, right down to the shade of lipstick she wore and choice of her perfumes.

He didn't say anything about the sex. I figured out why too. I figured that out by the time I was out of middle school. I sneakily watched. They never knew it, but I did. He made her perform like she was some little monkey. I can still hear him and see her, 'Now lie this way, stand here, lean over this, come here and do this.' Yeah he ordered her all around. I think she liked it though. I know she laughed a lot, and it wasn't a nervous laugh, it was a real laugh.

In fact that was the way it was around the house all the time. She did the groceries and cooked the meals, but he made the lists and the menus. When I was in middle school I had to go help her. Dad had the shopping list plotted out by the aisles in the supermarket, and she was expected to follow the list.

Oh I don't mean she was some kind of slave, but I guess in a way she was. I can't remember her ever making a decision on her own. Dad decided everything. If there was a problem mom would always say something like, "Oh, I can't decide. Let's wait for your father," or, "we better get your dad's approval for this."

It was the way she was raised. Mom's maiden name was Herrmann. Herman, like in Hermandurii! They were an ancient German tribe whose name literally became synonymous with 'army'. I remember eating at her parent's house; man everybody sat down, granddad said grace, granddad sliced the meat, granddad served up each portion, and no one was allowed to talk until dessert. Granddad was 'der Fuhrer'!

My dad I think was raised the same way. I don't know because his parents were both dead before I was old enough to remember. His mom died of leukemia and his dad died of pulmonary fibrosis from where he worked. Mom said they were the only two times she ever saw my dad cry.