What It Means To Be a Spare

Everybody, including the General knew this of course and took it into consideration.

"Good idea. In the meantime, if you have any suggestions about my situation, I'd be happy to hear them." With that, we went our separate ways to prepare for our visitor. I went to the dining facility to have the Dining Steward, formerly known as The Mess Sergeant, set up a VIP table.

The lunch went well and several soldiers got to chat with the General. They enjoyed it and so did he. After he left, Top asked if I had a few minutes.

"I have an idea," he started. "The best way to find out if it is your wife is to have someone keeping an eye on her. Now, I know you're not destitute, but hiring someone to watch her constantly, would cost a fortune, but maybe you could do it yourself."

"I've thought of the same thing," I said.

"Good. Great minds think alike." He smiled. "The XO and I can handle this place for a couple of weeks. Why don't you tell her you're going TDY (Temporary Duty) as a member of an inspection team, or some bullshit thing, but take leave and track her yourself. That way, you'll be able to satisfy yourself if she's guilty or not and no outside people will be involved. If you need help, the XO and I can pitch-in and it stays in the family."

I had considered the same thing except I hadn't planned on involving him and the XO. "Type me up a leave request starting tomorrow. Make it for 15 days. I'll clear it with the General."

He smiled. "Yes, sir!"

Working the hours Jeannie and I worked was its' own problem. At least five days a week I left home at 6 in the morning and got back around 5. She left at 2 in the afternoon and got home around midnight. That didn't leave much time to spend together and there was no doubt that out relationship suffered. We had been living like that for the two years we had been stationed there. We kept hoping her hours would change, but the day shift nurses had seniority so she was relegated to the 3 to 11 shift. We figured she would be able to get day shift at some point, but that hadn't happened. The worst-case scenario was that we had one more year to deal with it before we were transferred and we could try to get back to a normal life; normal for a military family, that is. Again, we thought the adversity would be worth it in the long run; but it appears that maybe we were wrong.

Apparently, her work shift was not the worst-case scenario we thought it was. If the indications I've had so far are true, her cheating would be.

Our social life suffered, but our sex life was the biggest victim. Sometimes we went weeks without intimacy, but I never once suspected that she would cheat. Never. We talked about the future and being able to have enough money to travel and do all of those things that retirement would provide and her working full time, even dealing with not being able to work day shift, would help accomplish that.

I told the General I had a family situation to deal with and he approved my leave. That night I packed a suitcase, waited for Jeannie, and told her the first lie I ever told her. "I've been chosen to be part of a TO&E (Table of Organization and Equipment) evaluation team and will be leaving in the morning." As far as I knew, no such team existed, but it sounded good.

"On such short notice?"

"Yes. I'm replacing someone who had a family emergency." Lie number two.

"How long will you be gone?"

"Two weeks." Lie three.

"Where are you going?"

"Washington." Four.... Okay stop counting.

I told her that since Washington was just a few hours away, that I was going to drive. We then talked about what needed to be done in my absence before we went to bed. To sleep. Not one mention of having "I'm going to miss you" sex.

She was still asleep when I left the next morning. I drove across town and had breakfast since it was too early to check into a motel. Then I drove to the car rental location, parked my car, and got in the rental. I had planned in detail what I was going to do and how I was going to do it, but while sitting in that restaurant facing it in real life, I was almost overwhelmed.

I knew she took the same route to work every day, so that would be no problem. I could see when/if she deviated and that would be easy. Watching her in her work place was impossible. This was not going to be easy.

I suspected she might not wait to go to work at her regular time, so I was sitting outside the main gate of the base at mid-morning, and watched as her car was waved through by the security guard. She followed her regular route for the first few blocks then made a turn when she would ordinarily go straight. She slowed and appeared to be looking for a place to park in the middle of the local university complex. There were no parking places on the street, but a car pulled out and she quickly replaced it. I watched as she parked, got out and hurried up the street. The driver behind me honked his horn because I was sitting still and blocking traffic. I looked in my rearview mirror at him waving his arms wildly. His lips were moving, probably cussing me, but I couldn't tell.

It only took a couple of seconds to look at him but when I looked back to see where Jeannie was going, she had disappeared. I drove around the neighborhood several times trying to see her, but no luck. I continued driving around until a parking place opened near her car and facing in the same direction. I thought that if I sat and waited until she left that I could follow her.

After three hours, I had to pee; after four, I had to pee BADLY. I didn't want to give up my parking space, so I hurried down the street to a construction site. There was a port-a-toilet there that I used then rushed back to my car hoping she hadn't left.

At that thought, I started laughing at the situation. If she was with another man, how could I be hoping she was still with him so I could follow her when she left?

It was a moot point because her car was still there, but some other cars were gone. Apparently, classes were over and the students who drove to class were gone for the day.

At seven in the evening, I saw her and a man, and I use the term loosely because he seemed more like a kid, walking toward me, hand in hand. I knew she wouldn't recognize the car, but if she glanced my way, there was no way she could miss seeing me. I started the car, and pulled into traffic. She didn't pay any attention to me because she was looking at her companion. I only moved a short distance and pulled into another parking place. I got out and went back up the street in the direction they were going. They walked another two blocks and went into a pizza restaurant. The smell coming from there reminded me that I was hungry. Directly across the street was another pizza restaurant. We were in the university part of town and pizza was the main food group of students.

I went across, bought two slices and a soda and went back to my car assuming they would come back this way when they were finished eating.

I was right. Less than an hour later I saw them coming back down the street. I got out of the car, crossed the street and looked in a shop window. The shop sold all things pertaining to the university. I turned and watched as the two of them stopped at a car where the man/child she was with took something out of it before continuing to walk. Another block and they went into an apartment building.

I wrote the license number of the car they stopped at and returned to my rental. I had to use the port-a-toilet two more times before deciding at midnight that she was most likely not going to leave, so I went to my motel. I probably could have saved some money and slept at home in my own bed, but decided against it.

I also decided that the evidence was pretty clear that she was having an affair. It was also pretty clear that working the hours we did was most likely the cause, or at the very least, contributed to the cause, of the cheating.

So, now what?

The next morning, I drove by and her car was still parked in the same spot. I wondered if I would accomplish anything by sitting there another day. I hadn't made up my mind, but she did it for me. The two of them came rushing down the street. He was carrying some books, so I guess he was going to class. They stopped at her car long enough to kiss before he scurried down the street. She got in her car, and made a phone call before driving off.

I followed her back to the main gate of the post and watched as she was waved through. I went back to my motel.

The Commander of the Military Police Detachment and the Civilian Security Service for the post was a 1Lt (First Lieutenant). I called him. "Lt Daniels, if I had the license number of a car and I wanted to find out who the owner was, can you do that for me? Or is it against the law?"

"Ordinarily, sir, you have to have a reason to go into the system to get that information. That prevents stalkers, perverts, scammers, and other unsavory characters from getting it. Why do you ask?"

"It's a personal thing, Lt. No big deal."

"Give me the number, Major, and I'll see what I can do. I don't put you in the same category as the bad guys."

"Thank you, Lt." I gave him the number.

Ten minutes later, I answered my phone. "It's Lt. Daniels, Major. The owner's name is Frederick G. Wingard, his address is..." Lt Daniels also gave me Wingard's phone number. The address was certainly not the apartment building where the car was parked. It was in one of the nicer parts of the city. I assumed that since he was a college student, the address belonged to his parents.

I then went on a social site on the internet and found 15 Frederick Wingard's but only two had the initial G. The first one I checked lived in our city and the picture was of the same guy I saw Jeannie with. I read all about him and it WAS ALL about him. He was an egomaniac. "I did this" and "I did that" and "I did it better than this guy" and "I lasted longer than that guy" and "my new car was more expensive than Joe's" or "I held my breath longer than Judy" and on and fucking on and fucking on. But the most interesting thing I read was a dialogue about his hot girlfriend. He called her "Red" and "She's red in all the right places if you know what I mean."

"No. What do you mean?" Asked someone named Ted.

"Don't go there," said JC. JC? Jeannie Clarkson maybe?

"C'mon, Red, everyone knows what that means. Ted's just being funny."

"Yeah, I'm just being funny. Everyone knows he means you have red hair on your head and in your armpits. Right Freddie?"

"Right, except she's red one other place, too."

"Oh? Where would that be?"

"Freddie........if you ever want to see or get near that place again, you'll end this conversation." Said JC.

"Lol. K, sweetie. Sorry, Ted."

"That's okay. Maybe she's just sensitive."

"Fuck, yes, she's sensitive. And in all the right places. Lol."

"You bastard," said JC. "If you keep telling the public about it, I'll stay home from now on."

"With asshole?" Asked Freddie.

"Yes, and he's not an asshole. He's just not what I want anymore."

"OMFG. Red is married!!" Said Ted. "No wonder she's sensitive."

"Fuck you," said JC.

"Now you've done it Ted. Now she's pissed."

"You started it, Freddie."

"Yeah, well, that was a mistake. I'm out of here. I have to kiss her ass and apologize."

"Is her ass worth kissing?" Asked someone named Lucy. Another of Freddie's 1427 friends.

"Phuck yes, it is. It's big and juicy and you would be jealous."

"Would I like to kiss it?" Asked Lucy.

"Lol you certainly would. Anyway, I have to go and make up to her."

"If she won't accept your apology, give her my phone number," said Lucy.

It was like reading private text messages or watching a reality show. Were there no secrets anymore? And if JC really was Jeannie, being so open went against everything I knew about her. And her saying "fuck you" to Ted was relatively new. She knew and used the word, but rarely.

What's next. If JC is able to participate in a conversation on the internet, she must have her own site. I looked and there it was. No picture. No personal information. And only one friend: Freddie Wingard. She obviously had the site solely for the purpose of communicating with him. But why? Why have an almost public site when text messages where so convenient and much more private?

The short answer was most likely Freddie's ego and him wanting it known all over the internet. What a jerk. That plus the fact that I had access to her phone and could possibly read their texts; but a second phone would be soooo much easier. Possible answer was, again, his ego. I know nothing about psychology, but maybe he needed to let people know he had a girlfriend and she was married. After all, he blabbed it at the party Dennis's wife overheard it being discussed, so why not let the world know about it on a social network?

And he called me an asshole? Christ, that's the pot calling the kettle black.

The next question is why would Jeannie tolerate it? Tolerate it? Hell! Why would she cheat in the first place? As Hamlet said, "Ay, there's the rub". So, what happens now?

At two that afternoon, I was, again, waiting outside the main gate when she left. I followed her, again, to Freddie's apartment building, and if it was like the day before, she would be there the rest of the day and all night. I remember wondering how many of the past 67 days she was supposed to be working that she spent here. The night before was probably their first all-nighter because she was never away from me at night.

It seemed that having taken 15 days leave was unnecessary. My mission was accomplished in two thanks to their rather cavalier attitudes.

Back to my hotel and my computer. Look up divorce and find lots of information; most of it bad news for the husband regardless of the circumstances surrounding the divorce. Wife cheats? Husband gets screwed by the courts. Irreconcilable differences? Husband gets screwed by the courts. Wife runs off with another woman? Husband gets screwed by the courts.

Fuck. I obviously couldn't stay married to a cheat, so how was I going to divorce her and not lose more than half of what we had. If we lived in a community property state, things might be easier. As it was, who the hell knew what would happen.

A search for an attorney took another three days of my leave. I hadn't talked to Jeannie in five days. I had made no effort to call her and she, likewise, had made no effort to call me.

I saw no need to try to follow her anymore.

The attorney I decided on was about 90 and looked like a really old Santa Claus, but there was nothing jovial in his demeanor. "Do you want to burn the bitch or just get out of the marriage?" was his first question after I told him my situation.

"I don't know," was my reply. "I would like to find out what I did or didn't do to cause her to cheat."

"I understand, but in my experiences, there is no single thing that causes women to cheat. Men, on the other hand, can become cheaters quite easily. If a man is inclined to cheat, all it takes is a woman to show a bit of interest in him. Of course, there are those men who would never cheat, but they're rare."

"Do all women cheat?"

"Oh, goodness no, and the ones who do need a reason, and that reason is generally psychological or emotional or a combination of the two. A man just being handsome and available doesn't do it for most women. Something has to be lacking for them to cheat. Not that they are justified regardless of the circumstances. I'm just saying that cheating is much more complicated for a woman."

"So, where do we go from here?"

"We file the papers. All I need to know is what do you want to show as the reason."

"Adultery, of course."

"Without proof, all she has to do is deny it."

"Isn't her spending the night in his apartment proof enough?"

"Not if they say all they did was play checkers. Or talk about how big an asshole you are. Unless there are photos or video, you'll never win."

"Then I'll get proof."

"Then I'll wait to file the papers. Any ideas how you're going to get it?"

"None at all."

I left his office and sat in my rental. I was paying for that car and a motel and was conflicted. I wanted to turn in the car and go home, but if I did that, I might lose an opportunity to catch her in the act and prove adultery.

It was the fifth day of my leave. Saturday would be day six and I wondered if Jeannie would be home.

Mid-morning Saturday I drove by his apartment building and they were standing outside. It looked like they were arguing. I kept driving.

That evening, Top called me and asked to meet me at my office. "You know I coach a Little League baseball team, right?"

"I do, yes."

"We were playing a game this afternoon. One of our players slid and hurt his ankle. His parents and I took him to the emergency room. The doctor saw him, gave him a couple of aspirin, wrapped it in an Ace Bandage and told him to sit out the next week. We were waiting for his discharge papers and someone came in the cubicle next to us. It was a man and a woman and I overheard part of their conversation. It wasn't difficult; there was only a thin curtain separating us. Anyway, I heard the man and he sounded upset. He asked if she was going back to her spare, the asshole. Her reply was angry and she told him to not call him that. Then he laughed. I heard her go 'shhhh' and he lowered his voice, but I still heard him. He told her she needed him and that she would be back. She said 'shhhh' again and told him she didn't like him talking like that. He sounded pissed and told her if she didn't like it she could go back to the asshole spare and stay. Then someone else came in and told them to knock it off. The third voice said that Jeannie should take her personal problems and life and keep them out of the hospital. Then our nurse came with discharge papers. I whispered to her about the voices and, in her own whisper, she apologized and said that one of the nurses was having trouble with another of her boy friends. We signed the discharge papers and left. I looked in their cubicle as we went by it and it was your wife and some guy."

"Did she recognize you?" He had been to our house a couple of times,

"Nah. I was wearing my uniform...baseball uniform, not my Army one, and she wouldn't know me from the man in the moon. Anyway, we were almost out the door and he stormed out and just about knocked me down in the process."

That pretty much ended our conversation and he left. I just sat there. "Spare" man. I didn't have to wonder who the spare was; him or me. He was getting laid; I wasn't so it was obvious who the spare was. If they were fighting earlier in the day when I saw them and again, or, rather, still, when Top saw them, she might have gone home. When I left the office, I drove by the house to see if I could see anything, but the house didn't have lights on inside. I then drove through the hospital employees parking garage and her car was there. I went back to the motel.

At the motel, I turned on my computer and went to his social page. There were a few general comments about school and "Red", but no conversations like last time. Her page was different. Again, I couldn't understand why they used this venue and not text messages, but there it was and it had happened earlier that day.

"I'm really pissed at you," said JC.

"It was a joke. I'm sorry."

"Messing with my ass is no joke and I'm tired of telling you."

"But I...."

"But nothing, you jerk. I'm really pissed. You waited until I was drunk and you took advantage."

"I told you I was sorry."

"That doesn't work anymore. We're finished."

"That's bullshit. All because of a joke?"

"Trying to fuck my ass is no joke."

"Okay. Okay. No more. I promise."