Friday is Date Night

Jerry gave me the pictures of them and his license plate at work the next Monday. We had a position come open and I pushed to get him back.

He asked me to meet him at home the next night. I got there and he introduced me to his cousin.

"This is Billy. Among other things he is a techie bordering on nerd status."

That got him a punch on the arm. He continued, pulling out a box he had in the garage.

"This is a pretty high end GPS system he took in trade for installing some security gadgets for a guy. Here's my thought. You work for a living, and I know you're not rolling in money. I felt bad taking it, but it helped with our bills."

"Here's what I think you should do. Billy will give you a good price on this thing, installed. All you have to do is get her car to us for an hour. Once in, he'll set it up to ping on my computer if it leaves your house after six on Friday. Billy, me, or Amy will go to the address she stops at, take some pictures. Then we'll leave, but monitor movement. If she goes home we'll know. If she goes somewhere else, we'll get the location, drive by, and snap a few shots. The system will log the time she gets home for your review."

Amy had gotten home by then.

"This sucks for you, it has too. But, from what I've seen, it's just dates. She goes out, eats, talks, maybe dances, but she's always home alone before midnight. I don't think she's looking to have sex, for what it's worth."

"Do you think what she's doing is acceptable for a married woman?"

Her face colored.

"Hell no! My first husband cheated on me, same with Billy and his wife. These are threshold events in my opinion, nothing serious now, but it's opening the door to disaster. If she can do it without having sex and not get caught, how long will it take before she feels safe doing the nasty? Better stop it soon. Ask her point blank what the hell is going on and proceed from there."

I thought about for a minute, then told them I would drive her car Wednesday, it was due an oil change, then run it by Billy so he could install the unit.

.................................................

Without out right confronting her, I shook her up pretty good the next Saturday.

I had been home long enough to put the fish I had caught in the freezer, clean up, and grab a beer. We were on the patio, trying to decide whether to go out or have something delivered. I asked her what she was in the mood for, and she said it didn't matter.

"How about French? My boss told me about a place called La Petite Chateau, said it was really good. It's a little fancy, though. Feel like dressing up?"

Her face lost almost all it's color. She pulled herself together quickly.

"Not really. The more I think about it, the more I think we should just call Wongs', get some General's Chicken and some egg rolls and hot and sour soup. Sound good?"

I lazily agreed, saying I didn't feel like dressing up. That night she didn't reach for me, and I didn't make any overtures, the first time in years we hadn't played on a Saturday.

...............................................

I endured it for five more weeks before putting the whole thing to rest.

She had developed a steady boyfriend, dating him four Fridays out of five. They were starting to linger over dinners, giving each other soft kisses.

I drove the truck down three hours early that Friday, hopped a small commuter flight back to town. Four and a half hours of driving reduced to fifty minutes. I rented a car, drove home, and waited until she left. I sighed as I watched her walk to her car, trying to remember the last time she had dressed so elegantly for me. No matter. Not anymore.

I gave her forty minutes and called Amy.

"Are they together yet?"

"Yes. They just ordered drinks and are looking at the menus. Are you sure about this?"

I know she could hear the pain in my voice.

"Not at all. But I'm doing it anyway. Now."

Amy walked up to them.

"Mary Travers! Is that you?"

She looked embarrassed, not remembering Amy.

"I'm Amy. My husband Jerry works with your husband."

She looked at the man.

"Is this your brother?"

The man was smooth, I'll give him that.

"No, I'm not. We're old friends. My wife was out of town, so we decided to share a good meal. It beats sitting home."

She looked at Mary, who eagerly nodded.

"Well, enjoy your meal. Tell Bill I said hi." She turned to go, then turned around like she had an after thought.

" While I'm here I have something for you. You've been served."

All right, she wasn't really a process server. But it was dramatic and unexpected, and that was what I was going for.

PETITION FOR DIVORCE was in big letters across the front of the paperwork. Mary sat there stunned.

"Oh, by the way, it's for you."

She handed Mary the throwaway phone I had bought and walked away. Fifteen bucks with thirty minutes of free airtime. More than enough for the conversation I wanted to have.

She had put it on speaker. I had heard the whole conversation.

"Mary, pick up. I know you can hear me. It could get real bad for you if you don't."

I heard her voice, quivering slightly

"Bill? Honey, is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me. And you don't have to call me honey anymore. If you've got one brain cell left in your head, you need to come home. NOW, Mary. If you don't, it could get pretty ugly."

I could hear desperation in her voice.

"Bill, please, I can explain. It's not what it looks like."

I cut her off.

"What it looks like, Honey[I put as much sarcasm as I could into the word]is you having yet another romantic dinner with your steady boyfriend. Are your other boyfriends disappointed? I hope you let them down gently. It was kind of cruel to let them wine and dine you, then not seal the deal. Like I said, come home, or deal with something really bad."

I hung the phone up. Amy had gone out, but Jerry stayed behind to watch.

I had found out the name and address of every man she had been with through their license plate. All were married. One was as young as thirty, one was sixty three. I sent some very nice pictures of them with Mary to all their wives, along with the date they had met. They had no idea where they came from, although it did come out later in court actions that it was me.

The wife of her steady boyfriend got a bonus, their exact location that night. As Mary was trying to process what was happening, she came blasting through the restaurant door with her lawyer, and an off duty policeman.

"You slut!" she screamed at Mary, and would have slapped her had the officer not grabbed her arm.

"I hope you have room for him at your house, because he's not coming back to mine."

She looked at her husband, who seemed to be trying to disappear under the table.

"I warned you, but you didn't listen. Shouldn't have signed that post nupt the last time I caught you. I brought you a suitcase. This nice officer has some paperwork for you. See you in court."

She turned to leave, but had a few more words for Mary.

"I hope you end up with him, you deserve each other. Oh, have him drive you over tomorrow, and I'll let you and him explain to our twelve year old daughter why daddy isn't going to live there anymore."

The off duty officer served him with his divorce paperwork, along with a restraining order barring him from the house unless accompanied by an officer of the court.

The management came over, and asked them politely to leave, and asked Mary, up until then a loyal customer, to never come back. They were escorted to the door.

Amy was sitting in the car, and she said everyone walked away and left her standing there. Mary stood for a second, then ran to her car, actually squealing tires going out of the parking lot.

She got home five minutes after her sister and mother came over, at my invitation. They were sitting on the couch, leafing through the photos I had thoughtfully left. Pictures of her with everyone of her dates, especially the ones of the goodbye kisses. I heard later her sister ranted at her while her Mom just sat and cried.

Me? I disappeared. I was back down at the beach and checked into a little Mom and Pop motel my friend the bartender had recommended. It was old, off the beaten track, but it was clean and well maintained, and fairly reasonable. It even had basic cable. I paid cash and left no paper trail.

I had taken two weeks of vacation, and turned my cell phone off. At noon and eight I would check my phone. It was full of messages from Mary, mostly crying. A few from her mother and sister, and some from friends and even my boss, all saying to call them back or to call Mary. The only one I called was my boss.

"Bill! Where the hell are you? Mary must have called twenty times, and been by here twice. When she found out you had taken two weeks of vacation, she almost collapsed. I don't know what's going on, not my business, but you need to call her."

"Thanks boss. Do me a favor, call her and tell her I talked to you, and I'll call her when I'm back from vacation, not a minute before. And tell her if she keeps it up, for every time she calls and bothers you, I'll wait another day before I call. And boss, I'm sorry she called you."

"Oh no, I'm not getting in the middle here. I'll call her, tell her I heard from you, and that you said you'd call her at the end of your vacation. After that, I'm done. Where the hell are you, anyway?"

"If you don't know, you can't tell. See you when I get back."

I fished a lot. Sat in the pub and watched baseball. Bartenders are almost physic by nature and training. He prodded a little, and pretty soon I told him the whole story.

"No way back?" He asked, gently.

"I don't see how. Twenty six guys! And that's just the ones since I found out. Out drinking, dining, dancing, dressing to the nines for them. It doesn't matter that they didn't have sex. Every time she left the house to meet them, she cheated on me. Could you live with that?"

"I don't know the answer to that. The real question is if you can find some way to."

Truth? I couldn't.

..............................................

I went back to town, back to work, but not back to Mary.

She tried mightily. My boss had to bar her from the property. She finally got a lawyer and the dance started. She fought it hard as she could. I wouldn't even speak to her. If she managed to find me, I'd leave wherever I was. Finally had to get a restraining order after she caused so many scenes in the parking lot of my apartment building they almost threw me out.

Finally, after four months, my lawyer and hers reached an agreement she would honor.

Six counseling sessions. More only if I thought it would lead to something. If not, the divorce would go through.

It was probably the most painful four hours of my life. I met the counselor, liked her, and caved just a little. Six sessions, with the first two solo, so she could get both versions of the story.

The first joint session was pretty much a waste of time. Mary just sat and cried and begged me to come home. I looked at the counselor and she sighed.

"Mary, this is not productive. To have a successful session, there has to be a dialog, a give and take. What caused the rift? Can it be fixed? I won't assign blame, but I will need to determine which spouse triggered the events leading to where we are now. I'm going to cut this short and give you time to compose yourself, then I'm going to ask you to do some things to prepare for next week."

"Write it down, it will help. Be honest. One half truth or verifiable lie and I'll cancel the sessions and recommend the divorce go through. If you have even the slightest hope of reconciliation, do this for both of you. Now, I want you both to go home and think about where you see your marriage now, and where you hope it will go. See you next Tuesday."

We actually made progress the next session, even if I didn't like what she had to say.

Mary remained fairly calm, which surprised me. I guess she finally figured out all the tears and apologies in the world wasn't going to do the job.

She had a notepad in her hand.

"First Bill, and I'll only say it once, I apologize for possibly ruining what was up to now a very good marriage. I know you have questions, so ask what you want, and I'll answer them to the best of my ability."

"Very good, Mary. I'm sure Bill will appreciate that."

The counselor was upbeat, hoping for a breakthrough.

I just looked at her for a second.

"What made you do it? Was what we had not enough? Was I not enough? If you were unhappy, why didn't you say something? I would have done anything to fix it, you know that?"

She burst into tears, excused herself to the bathroom. After five minutes, I nodded at the counselor, and got up to leave. she rushed back in just as my hand touched the door.

"Bill! Please, don't leave. I'll be all right now."

"Still haven't answered my question, Mary. Why?"

"Boredom, and stupidity. I was fine for awhile when you first started being gone overnight, then I got bored. You can only visit your family so many times before you get tired of each other."

I snorted.

"So, it's 'I'm bored, so I'll just slip out on my husband, he'll never know, and I'll have a good time.' Is that what you were thinking?"

"Yes...No! I don't know! I was just tired of sitting home, watching television, while you were at the beach, eating in restaurants, ogling bikinis, having drinks in a pub. Why couldn't I do that?"

I lost it and walked out.

.................................................

It took two weeks for the counselor to talk me into coming back, reminding me if I'd honor my commitment it would soon be over, one way or another.

She was downcast, listless. Her hair was a mess, no makeup. She was a woman defeated. It was my turn to speak.

"Do you honestly think I was having minivacations while I was gone? I was working, damn you. I admit I enjoyed the fishing, but sleeping alone in a strange bed, driving hours on end, eating food nowhere near as good as what you fix, is definitely not my idea of vacation. And bikinis? Yeah I saw a bunch. It was THE FUCKING BEACH, in the middle of the summer!"

"So I looked, but that didn't prompt me to hunt down their moms and ask them to dinner."

I stopped to get my breathing back to normal.

"All right, tell me this, how did you meet these guys? And how many were there? I know more than you think, so be really careful about lying. Tell one too big and I catch you, I'll leave and not come back. Ever."

She hung her head down.

"You told me where to look."

"Huh? What the hell are you talking about?"

She refused to look up.

"Remember last year, when you were ranting about that cheating website? It stuck in my head. I went online and checked it out. At first it was just chatting, talking about all kinds of things."

"One guy kept urging me to check out the romance section. There was no sex allowed, just dates, conversations, activities and interests you could share, but at the end of the night you went home, alone."

I already knew about the site. I had Jerry's cousin over one night when she was visiting and I knew she wouldn't be home soon. Plus, the GPS was still active, and if she headed for home we'd know it. He downloaded everything on a thumb drive for me, got me a good deal on a older laptop, and I would piggyback the WiFi from the motel I stayed at while I was gone. At first it was just chat, but as she got used to it it got a little more risque. In the fifteen months I had been traveling, she had thirty one dates, with twenty six different men. She date two twice, and her last four times. At first, it was just once a month, then it got to twice a month, then one set where she went out twelve weekends in a row.

She was still talking while I was reviewing my facts.

"How many? I don't really know. Over twenty, probably more. We just went out, mostly to eat. Sometimes we would go dancing, one took me to a street festival, another to a jazz concert. But I always came home, and I was always alone. I Did Not Cheat! I swear."

The counselor was letting her go, but at this point she asked her what constituted cheating. One too many kisses, inappropriate touching? Where did she draw the line? Did she really think I wouldn't react badly if I found out? Would she be all right with it if I started taking ladies to dinner, maybe fishing, or some other activity?

The tears started again.

"I'd hate it. I understand how he feels, I really do. It would break my heart to see him going out with others. It wouldn't matter how innocent it was, especially if he went out multiple times with the same woman. I get it, don't you understand?"

I felt my own tears.

"It doesn't matter that you get it. It doesn't matter what you want. The fact is you did it, went out on dates while I sat in a motel room bored and lonely. Different men, different styles, different ideas, and all them interested enough to go out a date with you. Don't tell me it didn't excite you, didn't give you a sense of power, that you could have such a big secret and I had no idea."

I paused to catch my breath. She started talking but I just got louder and overrode her.

"Tell me about your last boyfriend. And don't deny it, you dated him four times in a row. That isn't casual. That's a relationship, or the beginnings of one. You kissed him at least eight times the time before I decided to let you know I knew what you were doing. Still insist there wasn't any feelings there?"

She tried to answer several times before breaking down and telling the truth.

"I'm sorry! He was everything you weren't, in upper management, wore expensive suits, had a nice haircut. He could talk about things you had no interest in. I just wanted to pretend, just for a little while, that I wasn't a middle class woman that had to work to help maintain their lifestyle."

I laughed out loud.

"Your Romeo isn't in management, he's a salesman, and not a very good one, according to his wife. Their lifestyle is actually a little more conservative than ours. He has a great haircut because his wife is a hairdresser. The nice suits were knockoffs, and the two you saw him in were the only ones he had. The nice car was owned by his company, they could have fired him for using it for personal reasons. He was paying for your dates on a credit card he was hiding from his wife. There's your urbane, witty dream man, honey."

"Speaking of wives, I know she and two others have named you in divorce suits, nice to be popular, huh? Heard from any of the others yet?"

I had shocked her into silence with my tirade. Looking over at the counselor, I told her I wasn't coming back.

"There's no use. I'm not taking her back. If it was so easy for her to date twenty something men while I was gone one night, what would have happened if I was gone a week at a time? She says it didn't mean anything, but we all know that's a lie. It meant enough to her to risk her marriage. She knew how I'd react if I found out, I don't know why she pretends otherwise. I'll see you in court."

"Counselor?"

She nodded her head and I left, her sobs filling the room.

I returned, almost immediately, with an old suitcase.

"Since we're through, I need to give you these back. It's all your dating clothes you kept hidden in Rose's old room. Bet you thought I'd never notice them, hanging there with her old things. Luckily, I had pictures. And I also found the underwear. When did you ever wear a thong for me? And I bet you looked great in that bustier, too bad I'll never see you in it."

I shoved the suitcase across the floor with my foot. It came to rest against her chair.

"I wouldn't open it in here if I were you. I thought about it, and though I would never physically hurt you I needed a little revenge.