No new ground covered below. A reader asked for a short story about a certain situation which she admits to doing as a freshman. I needed a twist for a long shelved story, so I stitched them together.
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Barry Gibb: "Where is the girl, I loved all along? The girl that I loved, she is gone, she is gone."
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My name is Noah Stevens. Professor, if it matters to you. Doctor of Philosophy for those that think that's sexy. I teach American History at a small College. I've written a few books about the Great Depression and the Dust Bowl. My colleagues accuse me of having very little gray areas in my beliefs. It's either this or that. Choose one. I think that adequately describes me.
Recently my personal life fell apart. Now I'm faced with a dilemma. If you are right, and no one agrees with you, are you really right? The more they assault my beliefs, the less confident I am of my position. Has my moral compass been compromised? If so, I'm too stubborn to accept it. My detractors are going to have to live with it.
"Give it a break Dad. She screwed up. You know it, I know it, Mark knows it, and Mom most definitely knows it. So what? It's done and over. It was over a long time ago. You've been fine all along but all of a sudden this is the end of our family. I don't understand you."
My daughter, Holly, was attempting to convince me that ending my marriage with Sandra, my wife of twenty years, was a mistake, ON MY PART!
"Holly, it is quite obvious that you don't understand. Without trust you have nothing. Not only did your mother make a mockery of our wedding vows, she continues to lie about it. The only reason that 'I was fine all along', as you said, is that I wasn't aware of it. I have no desire to live the rest of my life with someone I can't trust. Deal with it."
Holly started to get all defensive so I put up my hand and zipped my mouth shut. At least she took the hint. I retired to my office, or I should say my office slash bedroom.
Around the time my son, Mark, got home from basketball practice, I heard a loud tap on the door. Without opening "Who goes there?"
"Dad, open up."
As I opened, I made sure his traitorous mother was not hanging around. After giving him our typical man hug greeting he plopped down in MY chair. The things we let our kids do. I sat on the corner of the desk.
"What's on your mind Mark?"
"Why are you breaking up our family?"
"Because I can't trust your mother. I won't spend one more minute of my life with her. I'm cutting all ties to her and looking for a suitable replacement."
"What about us?"
"You are both old enough to choose which parent you want to live with. I'll let the courts decide who gets what and the custody issue. I doubt the other party will be denied reasonable visitation."
"I don't understand. This happened five years ago. You guys couldn't have been happier until two weeks ago."
"As I tried to tell your sister, without trust you have nothing. Your mother made a mockery of our wedding vows, then lied about it. The problem with lies, is that there is only one truth. If you tell anything other than the truth, then, when asked again another time, you might tell a different lie. Your mother couldn't keep her lies straight and, with a little help from my father, we pieced together what happened. Besides, we might not know the full extent of her betrayal. Forgiving what we know doesn't remove the doubt."
"So what. She screwed up. That's no reason to throw away your family."
"Mark, SHE threw away our family. Her selfish sexual exploits, outside of marriage, doomed our family. Sooner or later I might be able to find an example that you can relate to. Until then, all I can tell you is that my love for you and Holly is unwavering, and I'm no longer in love with your mother."
Much like I'd done with his sister, I put my hand up, zipped my mouth shut, and escorted him out. I saw Sandra lurking. As Mark left she took a few steps towards the door. I made a point of slamming it shut.
A few minutes later a sheet of paper slide under the door.
'Noah, how can we get past this if you won't talk to me? I love you. Sandra'
I wrote her back 'We are NOT getting past this. Without trust you have nothing. You've been served and I fully intend on following through with the divorce.'
I slid it back under the door. There, we talked.
+ + + +
To understand how I got here, let me take you back in time.
Sandra works at her family's business, Morgan Hardware. Morgan is Sandra's maiden name. It's an independent home improvement store. Our little city just isn't large enough for the big box stores, like Lowes or Home Depot, so they've found a niche. I seriously doubt that they could compete if a big box store moved in. For the time being, life is good for them.
Her downfall was the short affair she had with a salesman from a power tool distributor. I think I know the reason behind the affair ending five years ago. It's the only affair I'm aware of. That's the catch on affairs. Was that one of one, or one of one hundred? As far as I was concerned, one was fatal. Like Russian roulette, once the chamber with the bullet is used, game over.
I think the reason for the end of the affair, was exposed by the trail of deception I uncovered. Her sister, Emily, drove her over to the county seat. For the first day trip, I was told it was about getting a building permit. Two days later, the same pair retraced their steps. I was told they had to rectify some deficiencies in their application.
Regardless, their story at the time seemed reasonable to me. With my background, I don't have any reason to know anything about building permits.
At the family BBQ around the fourth, I asked her dad about their construction plans. He denied any such activity.
On our way home I posed the question "Your dad says he didn't need any building permits. I thought you and Emily filed some?"
"We did, but not for the business. They were for her brother in law Ralph."
That satisfied my curiosity at the time. It was a few days later when I found myself wondering 'Why did Sandra need to go if it was something Emily could handle?'
So I asked and was told "Emily gets flustered easily. I was just helping her out."
Fast forward to three months ago, almost five years later. I found myself at a wedding for someone related to the Morgans. Emily and her extended family were in attendance. I hold no special place in my heart for weddings. As the reception dragged on, I found Ralph, Emily's brother in law, acting equally bored.
"Hey Ralph, haven't talked to you in ages. How did that construction project of yours turn out?"
"Well Noah, since I've never done one, I guess it turned out great. Must be someone else you're thinking about."
I was stunned. Sandra had lied to me, repeatedly.
"I guess so Ralph. Maybe this boring evening is damaging my brain cells more than I thought. How's the golf game?"
We chatted, but I was distracted. On our drive home I thought I tie the noose and see if Sandra hung herself.
"Do you remember way back when you and Emily went up and got that building permit. Who was that for and do you remember what they were building?"
Without hesitation "Emily's friend was building a shed."
There she was, dangling from the gallows. Now I had to find out what really happened.
+ + + +
My father, Gerald, was more than interested in helping. He's a retired firefighter. I confided in him and his eyes sparkled. He went from considering himself useless, to being a private investigator in one afternoon meeting. The best part for me was that he was willing to do it for just expenses.
I really didn't want to know if everything he found out was obtained using completely legal means. The first break came when dad got a copy of Emily's expense report that covered the two trips. She filled her car at the same gas station each time. A check of businesses nearby produced a list of about one hundred within a reasonable distance.
A week later, dad had narrowed his focus to a few businesses. He wasn't going to let my emotions influence him one way or the other, so I was never privy to the details. I agreed that if I went ballistic on something, he might not see things with a level head. Dad narrowed it to a medical facility.
Call me cynical, but I seriously doubt that the medical records for Sandra, from the abortion clinic, were legally obtained. That second trip, a few days later, now made sense as there's a waiting period for an abortion. The abortion she had without my knowledge. Was it my child?
I needed to clear my head, so I took off for a few days on an imaginary book promotion trip. These were feelings that I had never experienced nor endured before. There was a horrid pain in my chest as I realized that I had no soulmate. I didn't really believe that I could morph so quickly and easily from loving Sandra, to hating her.
Whichever scenario I played out would end in divorce. She didn't want my child, or she had gotten pregnant with someone else's child. Without trust you have nothing.
Gerald figured out a brilliant approach to get Emily to squeal. Emily, almost certainly, wouldn't know Gerald's voice. He anonymously phoned and gave her a choice. Convince him otherwise, or he would show her husband Terry the evidence he had of her entering an abortion clinic on multiple occasions. He said she balked at first, but when he gave her dates, she tossed Sandra under the bus in a heartbeat. Attempting to show her sincerity, Emily gave Gerald the name of Sandra's lover and a timeline as best as she could remember.
His name is Trent Hudson, and is seven years younger than Sandra. Dad spent a week on the road tracking him down. He now lived a few states away with a wife of nine years and two kids, aged six and eight. When accused of fathering Sandra's child, he knew all about the abortion and claimed that they hadn't had sex since. The affair lasted six months, with most of the sex happening in the backrooms of Morgan Hardware.
