Undermined

Took a little time off since I last published. The twists and turns of life will do that to you. To those who kept in touch, thank you.

Scattered about are lyrics from a Don Black & Mark London song.

Burton Cummings / Bachman: "No time for the love you send. Seasons change and so did I. You need not wonder why. There's no time left, no time left for you."

= = = =

Imagine a somewhat typical family. The father, that would be me Trevor Fruedan, is a slightly balding forty five year old. Decent shape but no six-pack abs. Could probably stand to lose ten pounds. Not a fan of facial hair. Contacts instead of glasses. Still don't need readers.

The mother of the family, Michella, has a bit of a pouch and a well-rounded ass. It's a good look that I actually prefer. Just your run-of-the-mill woman. You wouldn't stare at her either because she's ugly or gorgeous. Also forty-five, she chooses glasses. She detests any form of shortening her name.

Rounding out the family is the twenty-one year old daughter, Allie, who is a fairly bright college senior. Much like her mother, she's gained a few pounds since her high-school volleyball days. She's fiercely independent and very vocal about women's rights. Although she wants to change the world, she still relies heavily on her parents.

I'm the only one who works and it's been pretty tight these last few years. The last thing I wanted to do was saddle Allie with student debt. In exchange for that she reluctantly agreed to live at home. That's not to say that either Michella or Allie don't get nice things. Whereas I drive an old F150, they have expensive luxury sedans. Our house has little equity as their lifestyle had to be funded somehow and home equity loans did the trick.

Our neighborhood is probably a typical suburban enclave. Block parties occur a few time every year. Can't say anyone has taken a liking to us, or us to them. It's just a different way to break up a weekend. We are pretty good friends with our immediate neighbors and a couple down the street whose daughter, Sally, is Allie's best friend.

Once Allie started college Michella seemed lost. She'd spent so much time doing things with Allie and now there was a void. Upping the amount of time spent doing volunteer work didn't seem to help.

So one night I broached the subject "Michella, are you happy?"

"Happy with what?"

"Your life? You've withdrawn from me and seem to have lost your spark."

"I miss the time I used to spend with Allie. I guess I'm bored."

"How about US? Is there something I'm doing or not doing for you?"

"We're good. I don't have any complaints. What's with all the questions?"

"I just want you to be happy. Maybe you can find a counselor to help you find a balance, you know, give you suggestions to help improve your spirits."

"I don't know. I'll think about it."

There was now a little chill in the air so I let it drop. However, two weeks later Michella started once a week sessions with a 'life-coach'.

Now you might think, I know I hoped, that maybe things would heat up in our bedroom. Well, no. We are twice a week fornicators. Been that way forever. I'm not complaining. Michella tolerates my occasional quick releases and I tolerate her occasional faked orgasms. Are we normal? Beats the hell out of me. I've never talked about my sex life with anyone nor do I try to get my friends to share details of their bedroom activities.

+ + + +

Mark and Cindy are my neighbors to the south and they are in their sixties. Mark stands a better chance of poking an eye out than loosening a single screw. Although Mark is a bit standoff-ish, Cindy loves to bake and I've gained more than a few excess pounds thanks to her oven.

I was next door working on their sauna pump for Mark. The part he needed had been on backorder for four months. This was the first nice weekend day since the part came in. In early December you don't get many chances like this and I was taking advantage of it.

Our sliding patio door has seen better days. It makes a scratching noise when you push it open. I heard that sound. Unless Michella is back from her mother's house it had to be Allie. That was confirmed with I heard her talking.

"He's inside somewhere. His car is still here. I haven't seen him in a while so I'm out in the backyard sitting in the gazebo. So, have you thought about it?"

I paused what I was doing. Obviously Allie didn't want me to hear this conversation.

"Gawd mom, you're such a dinosaur. Just try Max once. Sally says he's an animal but does his best to make sure you're satisfied. Maybe this is just what you need to break out of your bedroom boredom."

What the fuck? Michella has been complaining to our daughter about something being wrong with our lovemaking? We have problems? Michella hasn't mentioned a thing to me. Where did this shit come from? Still, confiding in our daughter? That's just wrong.

"I know you have to think about it. Look, dad told me he was doing that Bambi killing thing next weekend. I'll have Jeff invite Max over to the house. He's kind of scrawny but he has the hots for you. Sally also said his pecker is just the right size for some anal fun."

Then a pause while my building rage clouded my judgement. Let me get this straight. MY daughter is trying to set up Michella with some friend of Jeff?

"You don't have to do a thing, but you said you've never tried anal and I'm just saying that you might want to experiment with Max."

The next pause might have been because I was blowing a gasket. The bitch and her off-spring ARE conspiring to end my marriage? What did I do to deserve this?

"Okay, well let me know. Love you too. Bye bye."

I was so pissed I guess I'm lucky I didn't poke my eye out working on that damn pump.

+ + + +

Things were miserable around the house all week. I went out of my way to piss off Michella and Allie. It worked and I spent much of the week in my office or out in the garage. My power tools are now sharpened and shine.

I didn't postpone my hunting trip. However, I had someone monitor Michella's activities. Pictures of Allie, Jeff, and a scrawny kid entering the house around noon on Saturday wasn't a good sign. Allie and Jeff left around two. The scrawny kid left about four.

When I returned late Sunday Michella was wearing sweats and tried to be all hugs and smiles. I was having none of it. Although it didn't confirm anything, I noticed Michella was sitting with legs crossed leaning hard left much more than usual. Somebody's ass a little tender?

Later, in the kitchen, Allie sealed everybody's fate when she playfully slapped Michella's ass and they both giggled.

With a fake cough "I'm feeling heavy in the chest. I hope those clueless morons I was hunting with didn't expose me to something. I'll sleep in the living room on the couch."

Michella bought it. In the morning I announced I was headed to the doctor with a phony 'I'm having trouble breathing.'

My boss had no problem with me taking the day off. My intent was to pretend to have Covid. That would buy me the time I needed to expedite my exit. With several accumulated days of sick leave and vacation weeks I could afford to take the time off. That would get me to our traditional Christmas Eve dinner.

Announcing you have Covid scares everyone away. Did I have Covid? Beats me. I'm fully vaccinated and couldn't feel healthier. My heart is shattered and I want to kill four people, but my lungs are fine. I checked into an extended stay hotel. No reason for me to live like a pauper.

Michella seemed relieved when I announced I'd be out of quarantine in time for Christmas Eve. She'd been calling twice a day, along with her offspring. Rather than tip my hand, I was cordial but feigned sleepiness to get off the phone.

I spent my time plotting hideous revenge scenarios, and making a list of changes for all my financials. There are wills, beneficiaries, and emergency contacts. It never occurred to me that I had accumulated so many things with those hooks. Apartment hunting was tough. It drove home the finality of my decision to divorce Michella and kick Allie into the real world without my financial support.

Jeff deserved some form of punishment and I really wasn't sure how to go about kicking Max in the nuts about ten thousand times. When you are filled with rage all sorts of things cross your mind. Most of them would land me in jail and somehow that didn't bode well for my future plans.

The idea of hiring an escort to trap Jeff came from watching a short story on the news about a company who got caught doing just that to cull unwanted employees. That dual-edged sword would also inflict a great deal of pain upon Allie. Well-deserved I might add.

+ + + +

The plastic tree was aglow with blinking red, white, and green lights. Some heavily scented pine cones gave it that holiday smell.

We gathered around the dining room table about to start our Christmas Eve tradition. We'd done this annually for the last twenty three years. The first two were held without Allie.

Michella had been slaving over a hot stove and now that meal was in front of us. Normally this would be where a short prayer of thanks would be made. NOT!

I stood up to speak but it sure wasn't going to be my jovial toast "So, uh, Jeff, what'd yam think of Heather?"

The color left Jeff's face after I posed that question. Allie turned her curious eyes in his direction. She and Jeff have been together since high school. Was there anyone who doubted that they'd be together fifty years from now? Oxo, too, ask me! Things were about to change.

Jeff stammered "Heather? I don't think I know a Heather."

"Oh come on Jeff. You know, that raven hair beauty with ruby lips you enjoyed yourself with last Sunday night" as I gave him the thumbs up sign.

Jeff would have jumped out of a high-speed train at this point. He resorted to a politician's play-book, deny, deny, deny.

"I can't place that name" was spoken less than convincingly.

"Well here, let me play this then."

My cell phone played an audio clip 'Oh fuck Heather you're awesome! Don't stop! Gawd I'm Cumming again!'

I turned off the recording. All doubts that it was Jeff's voice left with the fading audio waves.

Allie went into full berserk mode "You cheating bastard! How could you? LEAVE! NOW! GET THE FUCK OUT!"

Before Jeff could get up, I stood behind him and pushed down on his shoulders, pinning him to his chair. Jeff and I deflected Allie's attempt to scratch Jeff's eyes out.

"Allie you're acting like a dinosaur. Michella, why don't you take YOUR daughter into the other room and calm her down. I and junior are going to have a talk."

Michella herded Allie out of the dining room and into the kitchen. It wasn't done quietly as Allie's string of four letter words were still echoing off the walls and simmering serving bowls.

It took just a few minutes to explain to Jeff how things were going to play out. He was to warn Max to NEVER let his path and mine cross or Max would forever regret being born a man. Jeff was told that his complicity was totally unacceptable and I never wanted to see him again. His ashen face told me he understood where he stood and what his limited options were. From my possession to his, a manila envelope moved. Jeff agreed to perform one last act for me.

I yelled towards the kitchen "Michella, come on back in and bring Allie with you. We're ready to talk."

If looks could kill, Allie would have done Jeff in. Michella sat with a bewildered look on her face. Both had been crying.

"First off let me explain how I acquired that recording. Jeff, her name isn't Heather. I really don't know her real name. She's an escort. Costly one I might add. I hired her to seduce you and record the session. There's video too if all want to see that."

Allie shrieked "DADDY! WHAT THE FUCK! You hired her?"

"I did sweetie. How's it feel, you know, to be stabbed in the back?"

Michella emitted a tiny squeak. Allie's eyes darted towards and then away from her mother. The women were dripping tears.

"Jeff, you have something to say?"

I turned the video mode of my cell phone camera on. Jeff stood up, took the folder in front of him, and then addressed Michella.

"Michella Fruedan, you have been served" as he handed the folder to Michella.

I wasn't sure if Michella was going to puke or feint. Passing out won. Puking would occur shortly after she regained her senses. The pine cones couldn't compete.

After Jeff presented the petition for divorce to Michella, as Allie did her best to comfort her mother, he hastily left the house. Allie was sobbing softly as the magnitude of the situation overwhelmed her.

While Allie and Michella were consoling each other, in the master bedroom, I directed traffic out front. Allie's Audi, an early graduation gift for finishing in four years, was loaded onto the carrier and vanished. Everything in her prized ride were in a garbage sack on the front porch. Check!

Michella's beamer followed soon thereafter. The difference between the two was that Michella's things had been transferred over to a twenty-three year old sedan, symbolic of the number of years we'd been married. My attorney told me that I still had to provide transportation for Michella to use. Check!

With all of our credit cards paid off and cancelled, Allie's too as I was the co-signer, I downed another shot glass of bourbon. Cell phones were cancelled. Again, I had to provide Michella with a phone. Trachoma it was, with sixty minutes of talk time and one hundred text messages. Check! Allie got no such consideration. Both still had their I-phone whatever with sixteen cameras or some such shit. Let them find their own plan and pay for it.

Covered in the garage was a 'For Sale -- Coming Soon' sign. With a few swift blows of my hammer, it was planted proudly in the front yard. Can't actually sell the house yet as Michella's name is on the title. I just wanted her to know what the future held for us.

Rather that listen to the Christmas music playing in the living room by the tree, I retreated to the basement. Sitting in the dark is soothing at times, especially when you hear the commotion above you as they realize that nothing they used to own was working. I was called some less than Christian names. Those names were tame considering the ones I'd been screaming in my empty hotel room preparing for this day.

'TREVOR! We need to talk!' 'Maybe he went for a walk.' 'His car is still here. My car is missing. Maybe he took it.' 'My phone isn't working.' 'My car is gone. Maybe dad took it.' 'He can't be driving both. Whose ugly car is that in front of the house?' 'My phone isn't working either!' 'That S O B better not have cancelled my phone.'

'Let's go see if Cindy will let us use her phone.'

Calm returned to the house. Tactical error on their part. I latched the entry locks shut. Now they were out of the house without working phones or credit cards. For that matter, with both of their purses still here they had no identification on them. I felt no regrets when I feed both driver's licenses into our paper shredder. Petty, I know, but I'm sure that will cause more than a little discomfort as they try to restore their lives.

Refilling my shot glass, I flipped the television on and watched a few minutes of some hokey feel good special. Our situation couldn't be any further from this Hallmark heart-touching show. Sitting in silence was a better choice.

There was a ruckus at the front door when Michella and Allie returned. It was then that Michella's daughter, I no longer claim her as my own, realized what was in the trash sack by the porch.

Allie shrieked "Oh my gawd! This is everything I had in my car. Daddy got rid of my car!"

Michella wasn't buying it "He wouldn't do that. That's just not something he would do."

"Well mom, maybe the reason your car is missing is that he sold it too!"

"I'll fucking kill him if he did! I love that car."

With the doorbell ringing every two seconds it was hard to make out all of their back and forth chit-chat. I had two ladies with holiday painted claws showing so I'd be an idiot to open the door.

Michella was pissed "TREVOR you open this door right now! It's freezing out here."

I yelled back at them "Well Michy, the keys to your NEW car are in the ignition. That orange and green Malibu parked in front of the house is your set of wheels. All of the crap from your previous car has been moved over. I'm told the heater takes a while to warm up. It has a full tank of gas. Maybe you could offer up your asses to Max and crash at his place. He probably still has the hots for you."

One yelped "OH FUCK!" and the other "He knows!"

"TREVOR! Please! Let me explain" was Michella's lame attempt to extend the conversation.

A few seconds of silence later Michella tried a sweeter voice "Trevor, I know you can hear me. Say something."

"MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS YOU BACKSTABBING BITCHES! GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE MICHY AND TAKE THAT CUNT OF A DAUGHTER WITH YOU!"

A few minutes later the old Malibu roared to life. Sounds like it could use a new muffler. Not surprising as the guy practically gave me the car to get it off of his hands. Ain't getting fixed on my dime. Without any fanfare the traitors pulled away from the house. It'd been forever since I heard about anyone dying from carbon monoxide poisoning from their muffler. Maybe I'd get lucky? Probably not.

+ + + +

About an hour later I saw my father-in-law's phone number light up my cell phone. We've never been drinking buddies but we tolerate each other. After a few seconds of actually considering answering, I let it go to messages.

'Hey Trevor. I've got a couple of distraught women here. Thought you might be able to shed some light on the situation. Call me. By the way, Merry Christmas.'

I put my cell on mute. With some spiked eggnog I gradually came off of my adrenaline high. The blinking lights of the fake tree lulled me to sleep.

The sun was shining on this bitter cold Christmas morning. All of the serving dishes were sitting cold on the dining room table but the microwave did a good job of heating up my breakfast. Ham with cheesy potatoes works day or night.

There were presents waiting to be opened. Santa had left me nothing as those gifts under the tree were there last night and supposed to be opened after dinner. Had anyone been paying attention, there wasn't a single gift from me to any of them. I didn't open any of their gifts. Instead, I gathered up the most treasured of my belongings that I wanted to take. Not a single picture of either of the bitches made the cut. Any that I found were now laying on the ground.

It took Michella a few days to track me down at my hotel. The sun had set and there was a bitter breeze blowing. I left the latch on when I answered the door. I somewhat expected another poinsettia sales presentation for some youth sports team. Instead it was a pale faced Michella without her normal make-up on or hair done up for that matter.

"Trevor, please don't close the door."

I didn't as I responded "What do you want Michy?"

"A chance to explain. May I come in?"

"No."

"Please Trevor, there's no reason your neighbors need to hear this."

"What part of NO don't you understand? I'd be happy to explain it to you."

"Okay. First off let me tell you how sorry I am. I don't uh can't explain my actions."

"What actions are you talking about Michy?"

"Please Trevor, not out here, let me come in and talk about it."

"WHAT FUCKING ACTIONS BITCH?"

Michella responded softly "Having sex with Max."

"You had sex with Max? Well don't that beat all!"

Her eyes flew wide open "You didn't know?"

"I suspected, but now that's been confirmed. Actions have consequences. "

"Wait! You were going to divorce me without any proof?"