Tommy and Helen

I got to the door of the motel room; it was room 123. I knocked. No answer. I knocked again. Someone inside said, "I told you to go away. I wasn't doing that."

I didn't recognize the voice. I knocked a little harder, "It's not who you think it is."

The person inside opened the door slightly. She had the door chain attached. Right away I could see it wasn't my Helen. I wanted to yell, to scream, to cry out. The woman inside said, "Who are you. Are you the police?"

I answered, "Oh no, I'm not the police," I thought real quick; I reached in my pocket, pulled out the wad of bills I'd gotten from the two men who'd tried to cheat my boys earlier. I handed a fifty through the door, "Here," I said, "please let me in, just for a minute."

There was quiet for a second; then the door slowly opened. The woman was standing back and away. The room was kind of dark. It looked like she had a pistol in her hand. She whispered menacingly,

"You're not the police?"

I answered, "No ma'am."

She pointed toward the floor with what I thought was pistol.

I knelt on the floor.

She asked, "Who are you then?"

I kept my hands up like they do in those cowboy movies. By then I had the thing figured out. I said, "I think I'm the husband of the woman you were impersonating tonight."

She kept what she had in her hand pointed at me. I could tell now it wasn't really a pistol, but what it was I didn't know.

She asked, "What do you know about that?"

I told her, "The man you were with earlier made some bets that he could sleep with my wife before Thanksgiving," I almost choked up on that. I noticed a blond wig on the bureau by the bed, "But it looks like he must have paid you instead."

She grimaced, "Yeah a real creep."

"Can I get up?" I asked.

She put down the chicken wing she was holding. It was then I noticed the KFC box, she said, "Yeah, you can get up, but don't try anything I know Karate."

I doubted if she knew anything, but I wasn't concerned. I looked at the clock on the bureau; it was still pretty early, I asked, "How much did he pay you,"

I could see the wheels turning in her head. She said, "$500.00."

My guess was he probably paid her a lot less. I offered, "How would you like to make $500.00 more?"

"What do I have to do?" she asked.

"It's still early. I bet Carpenter, that's the guy who paid you, is at the country club right now collecting on the bet he thinks he won. I'll pay you another $500.00 if you come with me now and expose him."

She held out her hand, "Money."

I peeled off the necessary number of Franklins. I was glad I didn't let those two bastards who tried to cheat on the wood pay me with a check. I'd made them go with me to their bank and draw out the $1,600.00 in cash. Now my paying her would wipe out a lot of hard work, but I was thinking it would be more than worth it.

While the prostitute got her coat on I called my home again. I got my mom, "Hello mom? Is Helen home yet?"

My mom answered, "No she's still out. When will you be home? I have to get home to your father."

I told her, "I'll be a little while." I could tell she was just a little pissed, but what I wanted to do was too important.

The prostitute and I got in my old SUV and took off for the country club. Wayne had gone. Yeah Carpenter was there when we got to the country club. I got the whore to dress up like she was my wife again, and we paraded right into the country club like it was Christmas. It was just a little past the dinner hour so the place was still pretty busy. In fact they'd hired a small band for the evening so it would be hopping for most of the night.

She and I walked right past the front desk and straight into the restaurant and the bar. Old Jim Carpenter was at the bar with several other men. I took my new female friend by the arm and walked her over to the bar.

I waved at Harry Forsythe one of the guys standing next to Carpenter, "Hey Harry," I said, "you've met my wife before."

Harry was dumbfounded.

Carpenter turned around. He took one look at the woman and turned white as a sheet.

I said, "Hey Jim, hey guys, you've all met my wife. You remember her? She's been with Jim here all afternoon."

The prostitute took off her wig.

Harry was smarter than the average bear. He looked at Jim and said, "I think you owe me some money Jim."

Carpenter reached in his pocket and pulled out a roll of bills. He peeled off a few and handed them to Harry.

Harry didn't move, "Now how about my winnings?"

Jim said, "Oh yeah," he peeled off several more bills.

By then several other guys had lined up behind Harry. Carpenter was reaching for his checkbook. I wondered just how many of these sons of bitches had bet my wife would fuck this guy. I mentally took note of every guy in line. One of them was an officer of the club.

It was just about then the president of the club noticed the line and the exchange of money. Laying bets and collecting on them was OK, but no one was supposed to do any collecting in the restaurant or at the bar; it was considered vulgar.

The president of the club strode over, "What gives?"

I turned around, "These gentlemen all made wagers with Mr. Carpenter here that he could seduce my wife before Thanksgiving. It seems Jim here couldn't get my wife to go along so he paid this lady to impersonate my wife. He must have gotten pictures as proof."

The president kind of sagely nodded, "That so."

Carpenter tried to slough it off. He scoffed, "It was all a joke, just a joke."

I interrupted him, "It wouldn't have been a joke if I hadn't caught it. My wife would have been humiliated," I looked at the president, "I'm sorry Mr. Benson, I'll withdraw my family's membership in the morning.

The president took my elbow, "No you won't," He looked at Carpenter, "I want you out of here right now," then he looked at the other club officer who'd been in on the bet, "You, you get out too." He glared at all the other men, there were six of them, "I want to see all of you first thing in the morning. None of you; don't bother to tee off. And don't think I won't remember who you are. I think all of you will be looking for a new club and a new course pretty soon. And you can bet if any of the other clubs in the area ask why you're not with us anymore you can be sure I'll tell them."

I looked at the men; some of them I thought were friends, nice guys. I knew some of their wives were good friends with Helen. Well too bad, too fucking bad!

The president wouldn't let go of my elbow, "Mr. MacMillan, Tom, please don't leave us. We need people like you here."

I wondered if he really meant it, or if he was thinking about in the winter when I did the parking lot for free. I realized then we wouldn't leave, at least not right away. If we left it might be taken to mean my wife might have done something, and nobody, not nothing or nobody was hurting my Helen. I told him, "This hurts Mr. Benson. Helen's my wife. I'll let you know."

I nodded at the men, took the prostitute's arm and walked her back out of the club. Shortly thereafter I had her back at the motel. I thanked her, and asked if she had a ride. She said she did so I left to go home.

All the way home I wondered where Helen was. Actually it wasn't all that late; she could have been doing some early Christmas shopping. She might have been shopping for Thanksgiving dinner. There was something else too; I was exhausted. It wasn't just the long drive, or the hassle with the 'would be' cheats in Martinsburg; it was the whole thing at the country club with Carpenter, and my 'so called' friends' who'd bet on my wife's infidelity.

While I pulled down my street all I could think about was my TV, my big easy chair, and a big bowl of rocky-fudge ice cream. I didn't even want dinner. Shit I knew I wasn't getting the ice cream; bitch Helen would see to that.

As I pulled close to my house all I saw were cars all over the place. Shit somebody must be having a fucking party. We lived on a nice quiet street. Most of the homes were ranchers. Christ someone was sure having a big party; there were even cars parked on my lawn!

God damn; it looked like the party was at my house! Shit had I missed something? Oh hell, if Helen had planned something and I forgot there'd be real hell to pay. As I couldn't get in my own drive, I parked my car on the street. I started up the walk. God bless America I knew it; I was in a real world of shit.

I opened the door as quietly as I could. Maybe I could sneak in and no one would notice. Then as I opened the door I saw all these lights. Someone had painted a big sign. The place was packed. Then everybody started yelling, "Surprise! Happy birthday!"

Suddenly there was this cacophony of noise. Helen rushed up to me. She was wearing a pale blue button up blouse and a dark blue mini-skirt both of which showed me exquisitely why anyone would want to get in her pants. She said, "Where were you? We've been worried."

My kids were climbing all over me. My nephew Wayne, smiling like the deceitful shit he was threw a trash ball at me. Helen took me by my arm and pressed her breasts against me.

I whispered, "I had to stop off at the club."

She leaned down, remember she's taller than I am, and she kissed my cheek, it was a sloppy wet kiss, the kind I liked, she murmured quietly, "This didn't have anything to do with any bets at the country club did it?"

I blushed. She'd known; she'd known all the time. She swung around and her long blond French braid got me right in the face. 'Damn it,' I thought, 'I can't wait till everybody goes home.'

Helen, my wife, my sweetheart, the mother of my kids, she wrapped her arms around my waist and started to pull me toward the living room, "Come on in. We've got your cake, there's ice cream, there're presents, potato chips with your favorite dip, and all sorts of stuff." She looked out at the crowd, "Look everyone Tommy's home; my husband, my big handsome hero's home."

And so I was.

Well there you have it. It really was a loving wife story too; a real Hallmark.

*****

Thanks for reading.

Carvohi