And Then The Light Bulb Went On

Traci cooked us a nice breakfast Sunday morning, and while we were eating, I brought up the subject of divorce.

"The affair was over 20 years ago! You didn't even know about it, for Christ's sake. It's done, now let's just move on with our lives," she practically screamed at me.

"Wrong is still wrong, no matter how long ago it was," I yelled back at her. "You deceived me, you lied to me, you cheated on me, and you broke my trust. Those are not time-sensitive issues!"

I got up from the table, leaving half my plate of food, and went outside to mow the lawn. That was the last I spoke to Traci until dinnertime Wednesday, when she told me that Jeannie Anderson would be joining us this coming weekend. Needless to say, I was not happy, but Jeannie was an old, dear friend and endured the same cheating I did, so I figured I owed her the courtesy of a chat.

Jeannie showed up Friday night at 6 after a two-hour drive from her house. She did not bring George with her. Traci had made stuffed flank steak with mashed potatoes, and I had picked up a couple of bottles of Merlot to go with that. The conversation was light and friendly during dinner, then we retired to the family room with our wine glasses for what I presumed was the main event.

Jeannie started out by talking about the affair as if it were a history subject, very sterile and quiet, but as she talked further she got more emotional, and she and Traci both got tears in their eyes.

"When George told me about the affair, I guess it had already been over for a couple of years, and he promised me that it would never happen again," Jeannie said. "I have to admit, though, I was devastated at first, but the more I got to thinking about it, the more I realized that since it was over before I even knew about it, I guess I wasn't hurt too badly. And since I knew Jeannie wasn't some kind of gold-digger, I guess I could see how it could happen. George's personality is kind of magnetic, isn't it?

"Although I didn't know about Marissa until a few weeks ago, when everybody found out about it, I guess. I really am sorry about that, Clark."

Jeannie never mentioned the few times Traci and George hooked up after the main affair ended, at the Anderson's lake house. I wondered to myself if they even told her about that. I didn't bother to go there. But I did think to myself that George must be a great lawyer, because Jeannie was almost apologetic for George having the affair, instead of being upset at him.

Unfortunately for Traci, I am not wired the way Jeannie is, nor am I that taken by her oratory, because I wasn't ready to give Traci and George the pass that Jeannie had, even if the affair had been over for 20 years.

"I just think back to what my life would have been like had I left him, and how things would be so different for me and the girls," she continued. "They say you should always consider whether your life would be better or worse if you leave your spouse, and I just know mine would have been worse."

"Thanks for sharing that with me, Jeannie. It's certainly food for thought. I'm definitely going to have to consider that, although there are several factors for me to consider -- including the fact that unlike you, I wasn't told about the affair -- I found out about it quite by accident.

"Traci knew it was wrong when she did it, and she knew what my reaction was going to be. So she figured it was apparently best for all concerned if I never knew, and just lived in ignorant bliss. And that's what it would have been except for the test.

"So now, 20 years later, I find out that the center of my world loved another man and was intimate with him, and then was a saint and gave him up for his career, falling back to me by default. That about right, Traci?"

My wife hadn't said anything during Jeannie's discourse. She just sat there calmly while Jeannie spun her tale. She was sneaking peeks my way the whole time, trying to judge my reaction. She didn't know that I knew she was watching, so I sat impassively while Jeannie talked, just to drive Traci a little nuts.

My reaction to Jeannie's story was not what Traci wanted, nor Jeannie for that matter. They looked at each other with pain in their eyes. I just shook my head and went into the kitchen, poured myself another glass of wine, went back to the family room, and flipped on the big screen, indicating to both that I was done talking for the night. The women took the hint and moved into the living room, where I could hear them talking softly. When whatever it was that I was watching was finished, I shut the TV, poked my head into the living, said my good-nights, and headed up the stairs to our bedroom.

Jeannie cornered me alone in the family room on Saturday and said we needed to talk. I had no idea where Traci was, but I said OK, and we retired to the formal living room and sat down on two chairs in a corner.

"Clark, I do understand your pain, I really do, but not forgiving Traci and divorcing her would be a terrible mistake for both of you," Jeannie began. "You love her and she loves you. That should be all that matters. The rest is history, and for you two to spend the rest of your lives apart for what happened 20 years ago would be terrible.

"If I can forgive George, surely you can forgive Traci."

"I honestly don't know if I can, Jeannie. Like I said yesterday, I wasn't told about the affair, you were. I wasn't told because she knew it was wrong, and I wouldn't have forgiven her then. Why should I forgive her now? She deceived me for 20 years. She had an affair for several years, and deceived me for 20 more years. How can I ever forgive her? How can I ever trust her again?"

I shook my head, got up and left the room, passing Traci in the hallway. She was well aware of the discussion I just had with Jeannie, and she could see by the look on my face that I wasn't budging an inch.

Dinner Saturday night was a very quiet event. The women tried to make small talk. I wasn't having any of it. I didn't say three words throughout the course of the meal. After a quick thank you, I grabbed a jacket and headed out, telling the pair I'd be at Malone's, my favorite place for a quiet drink.

When I got to Malone's, Ronnie, the woman who owned the bar, was schmoozing with some other customers over in a far corner. Instead of taking a spot at the bar as I usually do when I go in, I sat at a table by myself, feeling miserable and, apparently, looking even worse. Marnie, the bartender, walked over with my usual Crown Black on ice, and made a comment to the effect that I looked like my dog just died.

"Sort of, but nothing quite as important as my dog. Just my marriage," I chuckled lamely.

Marnie went over to Ronnie and whispered something in her ear. Ronnie excused herself from the customers at the far end and came over to me, sitting opposite me at my table.

"OK, Superman, spill," she said.

Ronnie was about my age, a somewhat large woman of Irish descent with freckles and red hair, which she wore like a badge. She didn't take shit from anyone, but just in case anyone did give her shit, her husband, Moose, was cooking in the back. Moose stood about 6-3 and weighed 280, and was a former Marine drill sergeant. Malone's wasn't a rough place, but, well, in a bar things could occasionally get out of hand, but I only saw that happen once. The offender gave Ronnie lip, and when she lipped back, he wasn't smart enough to shut his mouth. Moose clocked him with one punch, then held the dumbass on the floor with his foot until the cops arrived to clean him up.

Ronnie called me Superman because of my name. Said it reminded her of Clark Kent, and she swore to everyone that while I was nice guy with a good job, she wouldn't want to see me get mad. We always had a good laugh over that. I'd been coming into Malone's for 20 years, sometimes with Traci, sometimes without, sometimes to eat, sometimes just to drink. Ronnie and Moose got to know both Traci and I well, and she could read people -- including me -- pretty good. She was like the sister I never had.

"Traci and I are done," I started.

I hadn't told anybody to that point, and I've got to admit, it felt good to finally get it off my chest.

"I found out she cheated on me with her boss about 20 years ago. Not just once, not just several times, but for four fucking years. Any my youngest, Marissa, is his!

"And she thinks that because it was so long ago and I didn't know it when it was happening, I should just accept it and move on. She says she loves me, always has, and doesn't want to get divorced."

"That little cheating bitch!" Ronnie exclaimed. "How dare she!

"You're not going to just puss out on that and let her stay, are you? If that happened with me and Moose, he'd have my ass strapped to the wall, and the guy's skin would be hoisted up alongside."

It was good to hear that Ronnie agreed with me. I very much valued her common sense, no-nonsense way of looking at things, and had she thought differently, it would definitely have made me rethink my position.

"Look, Superman, it's as much a matter of respect as anything. I love Traci, no I loved Traci, but her deception was certainly not done out of love -- and certainly not done out of respect. How could she let you think another man's child was yours for all these years!"

I explained the Marissa thing to Ronnie, pointing out that she didn't really know for sure, but Ronnie wanted none of that, pointing out that not getting the child tested was a convenient way of saying she didn't want to know.

"Has she ever apologized for the affair, or has she just said she's sorry for hurting you?"

Damn. This woman was good.

"She's never apologized for the affair. I don't even think she's really ever apologized for hurting me. I think the only thing's she's really every apologized for was me finding out," I said.

"I can't tell you what to do, Superman, but I think she's already told you what you need to do. I'm sorry, Clark. The Crown's on me and Moose tonight. The rest of the bottle is yours, and we'll call you a cab at the end of the night. Hand me your keys."

I did as I was instructed.

The cab driver poured me into my house at about 2 a.m. Traci met us at the door, and helped guide me up the stairs to our bedroom. I fell into bed fully clothed. Traci took off my shoes and socks, and that's how I slept.

Late Wednesday afternoon I got a call from my son at the office. He wanted to talk to me about the situation with Traci. He didn't say it, but apparently Traci figured she needed to call in the heavy hitters -- the kids -- to dissuade me from the divorce. My son and I are usually on the same wavelength on most things, but I could tell from talking to him that Traci did a lot of leaning, and it paid dividends, because he was most definitely seeing her side of this divorce thing.

"Dad, divorcing Mom would be the stupidest thing you've done since you wore a leisure suit in the '70s," he tried to joke with me. "Seriously, Dad. A divorce. For something she did 20 years ago, which you didn't even find out about until a few weeks ago.

"This is the woman you said you loved and wanted to spend the rest of your life with, just a few weeks ago. And now you're ready to throw that all away, and probably live the rest of your life by yourself, for a mistake. Seriously, Dad?"

"First off, Barry, a mistake would be what she made the first several times she had sex with him. After a few months, it's a decision, not a mistake.

"And what would you do if you found out Linda was cheating on you? Rip her head off, probably."

"But you didn't catch her. It's been over for 20 years."

"The physical act has been over. The deception, the lack of respect continued," I coolly replied.

"Barry, I thought you were smart enough to stay out of this, and not take sides. But you've apparently jumped in where no kid should -- get in between his or her parents. And for what, Barry? I'm not going to change my mind. I'm the injured party here, and you're just pissing me off. I put that woman up on a pedestal. I worshipped the ground she walked on, and she knew it. She never intended telling me, and if it wasn't for an accident, I would have gone to my grave worshipping her, while she just used me as a second choice when the man she loved the most wouldn't marry her. Do I feel used, Sonny. You bet I do."

"Dad, aren't you being a little dramatic here?"

I think he was still talking as I hung up the phone.

Traci had what smelled like a good meal just about ready when I walked in the door at about 6 p.m. She didn't look happy when I told her I wasn't hungry, poured some Jack into a glass, flipped on the TV and sat down in my favorite recliner. She came in and asked me what was wrong.

"Same shit, different day. Wife cheats on me for four years, has a kid by the other guy, and now my children are telling me that I'm the bad guy here. Do me a favor. Call Katie tonight and tell her not to call me tomorrow, unless she wants to get hung up on like Barry."

Traci put her eyes down. You would think after 31 years, she would know not to have other people piss me off on her behalf.

"What on God's green earth makes you think this divorce isn't going to happen?" I said, raising my voice. "Not only did you cheat on me for four years with another man and bear his child, but you replaced me in your heart with him! Can you sit here and tell me your weren't in love with him, and that if he would have asked you to divorce me and marry him, you wouldn't have done it? And there's the thing. You might love me, but you're not in love with me. You're in love with him. I'm just a safe back-up plan, because you've always known that you owned my heart, and I would do anything for you as long as I thought you were mine. You cheated on me, you deceived me, you disrespected me, and now you have the nerve to try to turn our kids against me. That was the last straw, Trace.

"But, no, I won't be cruel to you, and especially to Jeannie, and ruin George's wonderful career as a squeaky clean judge. I will file for irreconcilable differences, and we can each keep our own retirement accounts, and split the house and everything else down the middle.

The tears were rolling down Traci's cheeks fast and furious, and as she got up from her chair, I threw one more thing at her.

"You've still never told me you were sorry for cheating ... probably because you're not sorry, which at least is honest. The only thing you are sorry about is that I found out, isn't that right?"

I spent the rest of the night hugging my bottle of Jack.

I called my attorney the next day and told her she needed to get the divorce papers ready as soon as possible. She told me I could view them the next Tuesday, she could get them ready to go on Wednesday and Traci could be served on Thursday. I told her to get her server over to my house on that Friday evening. I wanted to be there when she was served.

Then I called over to Judge George Anderson's office, and told his admin I needed him to call me back on an important matter. He would know exactly why I was calling, and I knew he would call me back as soon as possible.

George seemed a little anxious when he returned my call about two hours later. Yes, he knew exactly why I was calling, although he didn't think he wanted to do this at his office. I totally agreed, and told him I would drive down to meet him at his and Jeannie's home on the following Saturday at 10 a.m. He didn't know that Traci wasn't going to be served the night before, although I'm sure he would certainly know it by the time I made the two-hour drive to his palatial home.

Over dinner at Malone's on Saturday night Traci admitted that Jeannie had called her and told her about my meeting with George the next Saturday. She wanted to know if I'd like some company on the drive.

"This is not a social call, Traci," I said. "George and I have some things to talk about, and you don't need to be there."

"You might want to remember he's an appellate court judge with an excellent reputation, who might even be on a short list for Supreme Court justice some day. Doing some macho-shit thing with him might get you arrested, and besides, you promised me you wouldn't do anything to hurt his career."

"That's right, choose him over me once again. But don't worry, I intend to keep my promise. I won't do anything that might get him taken off the short list of potential Supreme Court justices. God forbid. The show must go on."

After filling in the Old Man at the office about what was going on in my life, I took a couple of personal hours and met with my lawyer to check over the divorce papers. I gave her the go-ahead. As I turned to leave, she asked me if I had any plans for Judge George.

"Now why would you worry about that?" I asked, giving her a wink.

"Because I also still handle some criminal cases, and I figure you just might need a good attorney. You engineers don't seem to get too emotional about a lot of things, but I know you're wound pretty tight, and your methodical approach to things scares me."

She handed me her card, and I left the office.

Time went quickly the next three days. We were on a big project at the office, and that enabled me to concentrate on something other than my life. The Old Man even told me he was amazed at how focused I was despite the turmoil in my life. I told him I was pleased at least something was going right. But on Friday night before I left, I told him about Traci being served and me facing George, and I warned him that if things went sideways, I might be in jail on Monday. He assured me he had my back ... and my bail money. We left on a handshake.

I came home to yet another wonderful-smelling meal being prepared by Traci. She had been out-doing herself recently trying to get me to focus on her many skills. She was indeed a great cook. I almost felt guilty because I knew what was coming after dinner.

We ate our meal mostly in silence, as we had been doing for the last few weeks, although I made sure to tell her just how wonderful the meal was. I'm not an ungrateful bastard, after all. I then helped her clear the dishes, but as we were getting ready to head into the family room for that evening's TV viewing, the doorbell rang. It was almost straight up 7.

I knew it wasn't for me, so I didn't move to get it. Traci gave me a funny look, then went to the door and answered it. A well-dressed young man was on the porch, and he asked Traci if she was Traci Walters. When she answered affirmatively, he handed her a manila envelope, said, "You have been served," turned on his heel, and left. Traci never moved from the spot she was standing in, but I could see by the shake of her shoulders she was crying. I walked past her, closed the front door, and guided her by her shoulders back to the kitchen table. She looked completely stricken, despite the fact that I had told her this was going to happen.

We sat there in silence for what seemed like an eternity, but was in reality probably only five minutes. She finally muttered, "You bastard," and ran upstairs to our bedroom. I didn't follow her. The toughest part was done.

For one of the few times since we were married, I didn't sleep in the same bed as Traci that night. I went into the bedroom we had fixed up as a guest room and slept there, although calling it sleep was generous. I had made the break from the woman that up until a few weeks ago I considered the light of my life, my soul mate, my everything. Despite everything that had gone on, we had still slept in the same bed, I guess neither of us wanting to be the one to make the move. But now it was over, at least in my mind.

I got up and showered, and when it was time to get dressed I very quietly went into the bedroom and got what I needed, trying very hard not to wake Traci and maybe start something. I didn't look to see if she was asleep; I just got my clothes and left. I went casual -- collared sheet, decent pair of Levi's, and my custom metal-tipped cowboy boots that I had made for me when we had visited our son at his home in Dallas.