119 comments/ 133312 views/ 31 favorites I Never Saw It Coming By: Slirpuff THE MIDDLE—CRIME AND PUNISHMENT It was somewhere around two o'clock in the morning and with the exception of just a few faint lights in the corridors, it was pretty dark. I could see silhouettes and shadows of what little there was to see in my ten by ten cell. With my arms folded behind my head, I was deep in thought rather than sleeping like I knew I should have been. My mind had the bad habit of drifting back to things I had tried my best to forget, but couldn't. Hearing steps, I started counting them. Seven, eight, nine, ten, then I saw him look in at me. His face was hard, emotionless, like everyone else's around here. He was doing his job, making his nightly rounds, and not interested in making friends. I didn't even know if he saw me looking back at him but it made no difference—he was out there and I was in here. When he passed by my cell, I stopped counting, no point, he won't be back for another ninety-two minutes. Looking at the ceiling, I again started planning what I was going to do when I get out of here. Five days and a wake up and I will be walking through those doors for the last time. I was thinking, I will have served just about seven months of my one-year sentence. My job was waiting for me but that probably was going to be the only thing that would be the same once I get out, and I knew it. My older brother had repaired my car, was looking after my house, and managing what little was left of my savings after legal fees. Was I still angry? Angry didn't even come close to describing what I continued to feel, but these emotions were tucked deep away until after I got out of this place. I had finally figured out why guys who do ten to twenty years are empty shells when they are released. All traces of humanity are left at the door when you check in. It's all a matter of survival and this place is a damn resort compared to the facility up north where they send the hard-core prisoners. So I closed my eyes again and for the umpteenth time I tried my best to fall asleep, hoping that I would be lucky this time and get a few hours of sleep. I longed for my old bedroom—the one with the room darkening shades. I knew that room, like everything else in my life, would never be the same again. "I'll be picking you up next Tuesday," my brother Gary explained to me on the phone in the prison's visitor center when we last spoke. We looked at each other through the Plexiglas wall separating us hopefully for the last time. "Anything you want to eat your first night out?" "A steak. A big steak, medium rare." Gary grinned at my request. "Steve, you're too easy. I thought you might say something that would be a little harder for me to sneak by my wife. You'll be staying with Andy and me until you can get settled again. I know there is no food or much bedroom furniture left in your house. This will give you time to get what you need. It won't be the Ritz Carleton but at least it will be clean and you can come and go as you please." He smiled, I didn't. "I want to thank you..." I started to say before he stopped me. "Forget it. We're family and that's what family does for one another. And don't worry about Mom and Dad. I know they will come around once all this shit dies down." But we both knew that wouldn't be for quite a while, if ever. Emotions on both sides ran pretty deep. "You see my kids lately?" "Last time was about two weekends ago at Mom and Dad's. Heather looks about the same but John now has this stupid bowl shaped haircut that is all the rage. It looks like shit and I told him so. You know what that little prick told me? Said I wasn't his dad and he didn't have to listen to me. I would have slapped the shit out of him but Mom was right there. You're going to have your hands full with that one." I knew that John wouldn't have dared say such a thing with me anywhere in earshot. Even though I was his dad, he wouldn't be living with me when I got out. He and his sister would be with their mother, at least for a while. Oh well, I had time. Hell, I had all the time in the world once I was out of this shit-hole. I would wait for just the right moment—I was in no hurry. Although the divorce was already final, I still owned half the house. Kathy would owe me somewhere in the area of sixty-five thousand dollars to buy me out. I knew by now she had probably raided our bank lockbox and grabbed all our bonds and CDs. Luckily I had given my attorney a list of everything by serial number so there wouldn't be any question as to who owned what when I got released. And it would be sooner rather than later. Kathy and my ex-buddy Bob had done a real hatchet job on me, basically handing me my gonads on a silver platter, but that was in the past. I'd been caught flat-footed and ill prepared the first time. That would never happen again, at least not in my lifetime. So I was waiting, remembering, and looking forward to better days in the future when my ass was out of this rotten place. Only then can I rebuild what was left of my personal life and start a new chapter, closing the old one in the process. I hoped so anyway. I hoped I could hold it all together until that point. THE BEGINNING—PART ONE—SO I THOUGHT They were good, really good, because I never saw it coming. Weeks before I even went to jail a few of my supposed friends would come up to me saying they knew something was going on but hadn't said anything. What the hell was everyone thinking? Did they think I knew about it and was okay with it? Every one of those people had to know I never would have stood for it, but I supposed they didn't want to get involved with someone else's problems, most people had enough of their own. We had a great marriage, so I thought, twelve years and counting. Two kids, a nice house, and jobs we could both be proud of. Sure there were some minor disagreements now and then; what marriage didn't have a few rough patches? But, I loved my wife to death and never dreamed of what she was truly capable. We didn't have a slew of friends. We mostly hung with a few couples from the neighborhood. The majority had been married seven plus years and were all pretty much the same age as us. We all had at least two kids with the exception of Bob and his wife Connie. They had been trying forever to have a child, but nothing was working. I guess Kathy knew the real reason why, but me, well, I was trying to stay out of their and everyone else's personal business. We were close, but I didn't want to be that close. One thing that eventually became apparent to everyone in our group was the amount of alcohol Connie started to consume. Since no one had to drive home the booze flowed at our parties, more than if you were getting behind the wheel. We all lived close enough so anyone of us could almost crawl home if we had to. Her drinking started about a year ago and progressively got worse. At first Connie was just a lot more melancholy, but after a few months it started to get a bit ugly, then a lot ugly. Bob drank very little because he had his hands full taking care of his wife. "Bob, honey, get me another drink, will you?" It would start out at the beginning of the night. By the end of the evening she was telling him to get his worthless ass over there and get her a damn drink. More than once he had to practically carry her home she was so drunk. I felt sorry for him, but it was his problem not mine. "Connie was in rare form tonight," I said, getting undressed and ready for bed. "I think she passed out more than once. I am guessing the main reason Greg and Judy left early was because Connie started taking her clothes off and asked Greg to help her. There was no way anyone was letting her get in that pool." "I felt sorrier for Bob," replied my wife, throwing her shorts and top on the chair next to our bed. "I know Connie is devastated that they can't have kids, but her taking it out on her husband is the wrong approach. I told her she could adopt but she wasn't hearing it. She simply said if her husband was more of a man, they wouldn't be in this pickle." "Well, they'll either work it out or get divorced," I told my wife. "I know Bob isn't going to put up with it much longer. You do know we're all supposed to go out to dinner next week. I hope to hell she's on her best behavior, though I'm not counting on it." I was kind of wishing we weren't going. "I'll talk to her this week. Maybe she'll cool it for one night." My wife was trying to be optimistic. "I can only hope so." But Connie didn't cool it. "Waiter, waiter!" Connie yelled at everyone who passed by our table. "How's a girl supposed to get a drink in this place anyway?" she asked, slurring her words. That's when she started in on Bob for the second time. He was about to blow a gasket when I tried to defuse the situation. "Come on, Connie, you promised me a dance tonight, remember?" I said. I put her drink down on the table and pulled her onto the lounge dance floor. She started to say no but I was already on my feet, not taking no for an answer. We were close to getting kicked out because of her, and I was doing my best to at least try to do something, anything at this point. I carried her around the dance floor for three songs. I saw my wife talking to Bob who looked lower than whale shit. When we danced near the hall Connie excused herself saying that she had to go pee. I steered her towards the ladies' room door and eased her through it. When she hadn't come out after five minutes I debated what the hell to do next. When two women started to go in I asked them if they'd check to see how Connie was doing. It wasn't good. "Does she have on a bright yellow dress?" one of the ladies asked, sticking her head out the door. When I nodded yes she shook her head. "She's passed out in one of the stalls. If you want, I'll stand guard while you get her." I went in, stood her up the best I could by the sink and splashed some cold water on her face. It helped for a second or two, but then her legs buckled again. I ended up practically carrying her out to our table. "Bob, let me give you a hand getting Connie into your car. She's out cold and I don't think she's going to be waking up anytime soon." I stood at the table holding up a very drunk and dazed Connie. Bob couldn't hide his embarrassment and anger. "Steve, I can take it from here. Sit back down and I'll handle it. It's not the first time, but it's definitely going to be the last." Against his objections, I carried her out while he grabbed Connie's purse and said his goodbyes to everyone. I laid Connie down on the rear seat and slapped Bob on the back. "Sorry man." What else was there to say? "Thank you, for your help tonight. I'm at my wits end and don't have a clue what to do next." "You two need to see a counselor. It's a sure bet the neither of you can figure this out on your own. If you need a little moral support just give Kathy and me a call. We'll help you anyway we can." All right, I was giving him mostly lip service but it sounded good. We couldn't fix their situation and truth be known, their problems were probably too far along for anyone to solve at this point. I gave them a couple of months at the most. I wasn't too far off but no one ever expected the final outcome. It was just after ten thirty on Thursday night three weeks later. We heard the sirens and walked out the front door to see what the hell was going on. I saw a slew of bright lights at the end of our block. It seemed that everyone in the neighborhood was running down the street towards the ruckus. I yelled to Kathy, "Stay here, I'll see what's going on." I ran towards the scene along with the rest of the block. It wasn't pretty. Everyone in the neighborhood watched the fire rescue squad pry open the driver's door of Bob's car. "What's going on? Is Bob all right?" "It's not Bob, it's Connie. Someone said that they were having an argument, she grabbed Bob's keys and ran out the door and got into the car. He tried to stop her but she put the car in gear and went flying down the street." I could see she didn't get far. My informer continued to explain the unsettling situation. "Connie rear-ended a parked car on the street doing about forty plus miles per hour." I was about to ask how she was when the ambulance pulled up. They put her on a stretcher, piled her into the back, and were gone in less than thirty seconds. I saw Bob climb in the back with her at the last minute. The show was over. Their front door was wide open and all the lights were still on inside the house. From the looks of it, Bob and Connie had had a real drag-out fight. Things were scattered all over the floor. I called Kathy from Bob's phone and told her what had happened. I closed up his house leaving him a note on the front door saying I had his house keys. "How's Connie?" my wife asked when I finally made it back home. "Not good. She wasn't wearing a seat belt and swerved just before plowing into the back of someone's car. The air bag deployed so she didn't hit the steering wheel but her head hit the driver's side window hard enough to shatter it. The cops said she was doing about thirty-five miles per hour. Bob went to the hospital with her, so we'll just have to wait." "Don't you think we should go down there?" "Honey, he's going to have his hands full tonight. We'll go down there tomorrow when everything settles down. Right now we need to get to bed. Tomorrow's going to come a lot faster than we'd like." We kissed goodnight but didn't sleep much with both of us having Connie on our mind. At about eleven o'clock the next morning my cell phone rang. "Steve, Connie's on life support!" yelled my wife over her cell phone. "I'm leaving work right now. Bob's a mess and someone needs to be there with him. Meet me there when you can," she said frantically, before hanging up. Damn, the guy couldn't catch a break to save his soul. On the way over to the hospital I picked up lunch for the three of us at a nearby McDonald's. I called Kathy's parents pick up the kids from our house after school. I quietly walked down the hall into the waiting room where my wife and three others were consoling Bob. "How's she doing?" I asked. "Not good," my wife whispered. "The doctor pulled Bob into his office a while ago. He came out looking like a zombie, and hasn't said more than three words since." "Bob?" I said, sitting down next to him. "You okay?" It was a stupid thing to say, I know, but what the hell, I needed an opening line. "Steve, she's not going to get any better. The doctor said there is little if any brain activity. I don't know what I'm going to do?" He started to cry into his hands. I motioned for everyone to back off and leave us alone. "Has anyone notified Connie's parents?" "They're on their way over and should be here any minute. Steve, the hospital staff is asking me if Connie has a living will and if she carried a donor card? I'm starting to feel like they're vultures circling around my wife. The doctor had the gall to ask me if she were brain dead would I consider pulling the plug. For Christ sakes, they're talking about my wife not a fucking piece of meat." He was shouting now, not caring who heard him. "Why can't they just fix her? They're God damn doctors, why can't they just fix her?" I didn't have an answer for him. Connie's parents arrived a few minutes later and the three of them went into her room. There was a lot of loud crying and cursing. I think her father was somehow trying to blame Bob for his daughter's condition. The attending physician went in and about twenty minutes later everyone came out. Her parents left heartbroken knowing they'd never have the chance to talk to their daughter again. We left the hospital at around eight o'clock and swung by Kathy's parents' house to get the kids. "God, I hope I never have to make that choice," I kept thinking to myself. Forty-eight hours later with Bob, Connie's parents, and the doctor in the room, they shut off the machine that was keeping her alive. She went quietly and peacefully. We tried to consol Bob anyway we could. Even though Connie had been hell on wheels for the last year and a half, Bob really loved her. At times like this you usually remember the good stuff not the hard times. The funeral was packed and there wasn't a dry eye in the house—even the men wept openly. Bob took it hard, finally taking a month's leave of absence from work and visiting his family back east. I told him that we'd take care of his place until he got back and not to worry about anything. "I love you, you know that, don't you?" I said to my wife while getting ready for bed. It had been an exhausting couple of weeks and things were starting to get back to normal. "If I'm ever like Connie, just pull the damn plug. There is no way I'd want to be hooked up to a machine like that forever." "Steve, don't even talk like that. It was a stupid mistake on her part. It could never happen to us." Bob came back a couple of weeks later somewhat functional. He asked Kathy to help him go through Connie's clothes and get rid of everything. I helped him take out his bedroom set when he bought a new one. It seemed after three months he was coming to grips with it all. Everyone bent over backwards to make sure he remained involved and included in all the social functions. Two of our neighbors even fixed him up with a few blind dates, but they didn't go anywhere—it was way too soon. So life went on, or so I thought. When Bob got that spark back in his eye about six months later I was happy for him. And when I saw him smile and start to enjoy himself at our get togethers again, I was relieved he was out of that damn depression he'd been in for so long. He was intermingling with everyone. We finally had our old Bob back. Looking back, I should probably have seen it and maybe I did, but it never quite registered. Kathy and I were still a happy couple only there was something not quite right; I just couldn't put my finger on it. We were close as always and made love about as frequently as we had before all this shit with Connie and Bob had gone down, but I don't know—maybe it was just my imagination. Nonetheless, after a few months I ended up asking Kathy outright if there was something bothering her. "Nothing really, Steve, why do ask?" "I don't know, you just seem to be a little out of sorts and distant lately." I responded, trying not to be confrontational. "Everything's fine," she told me, smiling. "Maybe you haven't been getting enough sex. If you want more, all you have to do is ask." "Sex?" I thought to myself. She'd never referred to it as sex, she had always said lovemaking, and why should I have to ask? Stupid, stupid me I just smiled, gave her a peck on the lips, and shut my brain down. THE BEGINNING—PART TWO –WHO'S SORRY NOW? I'll never forget Friday, August 20th. It was the day my world came crashing down around me. Kathy called at work to tell me our kids would be spending the weekend with her folks and asked what time I'd be home. "Honey, in that case I'll make sure I'm home a little early. You want me to pick up anything special on my way?" "That won't be necessary. I just need to know what time you're going to be home, that's all." All right, a million things started running through my brain. Looking at my watch I noticed it was half past three. Shit, an hour and a half before I could leave. I adjusted the hard-on in my pants thinking about all the fun we would be having this weekend. I kept backing off on the accelerator, driving home, no use starting off my great weekend with a speeding ticket. I did, however, set a new record by making it home in just under twenty-eight minutes. I should have suspected something was up when I saw two cars on my driveway, but I didn't since I recognized it as our friend Bob's new car. I Never Saw It Coming "Hey honey, I'm home," I called out, walking in from the garage. Bob and Kathy were standing in the kitchen. "Hey Bob," I greeted him. "What's going on?" "Steve, I need to talk to you about something, why don't you have a seat." Kathy was nervous, her voice quivered, she kept wringing her hands, something was wrong. "I'll just stand here," I told my wife, looking at the both of them. "Steve, I wanted to tell you myself before you get the papers." I was confused. "Kathy, what papers?" She took a step backwards. "Divorce papers." She could barely choke out the words. My heart skipped a beat. "Kathy, what the fuck are you talking about? What divorce papers? I don't understand?" "Steve," Bob started to say before I put my hand up to stop him. "Bob, stay the hell out of this. This is between me and my wife." Then it hit me. I looked at her, then at him, and then back at her. "Bob, I think you should leave and right now." My hands were starting to form into fists. "Bob, stay," my wife told him. "Steve, this also concerns him." "Bob, you have ten seconds to leave this fucking house, and if you don't you may be leaving in a God damn body bag." He took a turn towards the door. "Kathy, you and I need to talk and right now!" I shouted at her. "Steve, there's nothing to talk about. I'm in love with Bob. Steve, I'm so sorry." "You fucking tramp. How long have you been banging our good buddy, Bob? Was it even before he drove Connie over the edge and killed her?" Bob had stopped making his retreat and looked at me. He had fire in his eyes now. "Steve, you don't know shit." "Oh, I think I do. All the while I was trying to console you, you sneak behind my back and do my wife. I ought to rip your fucking head off, you piece of shit! Well, you're not going to get away with it, you hear me?" The two of them were now standing together panic stricken while I ranted and raved. "If you think I'm going to just roll over and let you both walk all over me you've got another thing coming. Both of you get the fuck out of my house!" I was screaming all this at them. "Steve, it's my house too," Kathy replied, recovering from her fright. "Not anymore. No whores allowed, and you certainly fall into that category now, don't you?" It was all I could do not to kill the two of them. "I'll be out of your hair as soon as I get my things." "No fucking way. You will leave right this fucking second if you know what's good for you." "Kathy, let's just leave," Bob said, motioning her over to the door. "Listen to your new fucking wimp." I said, trying to goad Bob into doing something. "Steve, I'll be back for my stuff when you cool down." "You'll be dead and buried by that time," I admonished, with as much bitterness as I could muster. They both backed out the kitchen door, all the while never taking their eyes off of me. After that I went nuts. At least two beers and a whole lot of damage is what happened next, followed by dishes, our microwave, and four walls being either partially or totally destroyed. Not bad for two hours worth of work. It took me four trips, but I finally got everything out of Kathy's bedroom closet. I dumped it all on the front lawn and set the sprinkler timer to run for the next four hours. I shut the doors, locked them, and put the safety chains on. Over the next forty-five minutes I heard a lot of screaming and yelling, it only lasted through beer number six, then all got quiet. I'm a lightweight drinker and six beers put me on my ass until the following morning, which was probably a good thing. Going out to get the morning newspaper I saw Kathy had taken all her belongings. "At least I won't have to drag them to the curb," I thought, trying to smile about what I'd done but it wasn't helping. I was devastated, and the more I thought about it the angrier I became. I probably should have called my brother and parents to tell them what was happening, but I didn't. I wasn't sure whom Kathy had told, though I was pretty sure most everyone didn't know just yet. However, after last night, I suspected that most of our neighbors now knew something was up—this morning I really didn't care. When I called over to Kathy's parents' house and tried to talk to my kids, her mom wouldn't let me speak to them. "Steve, Kathy picked them up last night." "Bullshit, Fran, last night Kathy was too busy picking her clothes up off our front lawn. Let me talk to my kids!" I roared over the phone. She hung up on me. I called back but she never picked up. "Bitch," I said under my breath. I still wasn't thinking straight but knew enough to cut my losses by canceling all our credit cards. I told the companies they had been stolen and to cancel them immediately. I went to an ATM and got out all the cash the bank allowed from our savings and checking accounts. I figured on Monday I would be there when the bank's doors opened up. With a couple cups of coffee and a few pieces of toast in me I planned out my day. Change the code on the garage door opener, get new locks for all the doors, and pull out anything of value and bring it over to my brother's house. I was about to leave when the front doorbell rang. I almost opened the door but then stopped with my hand on the knob. I looked through the peephole and saw someone on the other side with a large manila envelope. He stayed there for another couple more minutes before leaving. He was going to catch me eventually, just not today. I gave my brother Gary and his wife Andy the high, or should I say low points from last night. I told him to keep the bag of stuff under wraps and not to say anything to anyone about it. He said he was sorry and I agreed with him that Kathy had turned into a sorry son of a bitch, after which I headed out to Home Depot. With three new locksets in hand I started for home. I figured it would take two hours at the most to install the new locks. I was still coming down my street when I saw Bob's car in the driveway. He was standing just outside the driver's door looking at Kathy who was loading up the back seat of his car. I probably should have driven on by and waited until they were done, but I was way too pissed off for that. Instead of driving by I sped up. With tires squealing I turned into my driveway and plowed into the back of Bob's car. Bob had just enough time to jump into his car as mine made contact. The initial impact drove his car right up against the closed garage door. I put my car into reverse, backed up about fifteen feet and floored it again. This time I drove his car through the garage door. I could barely see with all the steam coming up from under the hood of my car. My car's engine was making a terrible racket, but when I put it into reverse again, it complied. I only backed up about ten feet this time, and although I put my foot to the floor, my car could push Bob's car just a few feet—then much to my dismay, it stalled out. My heart was pumping at capacity when I flew out of my car and let my adrenaline take over my brain. I grabbed my son's aluminum bat from inside the garage door and started swinging for the fences. While Bob huddled on the floor of the front seat of his car, I took out both the windows on the driver's side and finished destroying what was left of the windshield. I was about to open his door when I heard loud voices behind me. "Drop the bat and put your hands on your head," an authoritative voice ordered me. I dropped the bat and turned around. Two police officers were standing right outside the garage, guns drawn. "Drop the bat, put your hands on your head, and kneel down, NOW!" Since they weren't going to take no for an answer, I surrendered my bat and did as they ordered. I was pushed forward onto the garage floor, handcuffed, and put in the back of the patrol car. Only then did Bob pull his sorry ass out of his car. He was more than a little shaken and looked as scared as anyone I'd ever seen. I wanted to stick my head out the window and tell him I wouldn't miss the next time, but I never got the chance. My cunt of a wife was crying, talking to the police, and looking at me. I smiled back at her. I was taken downtown, booked, and given one call— I called my brother Gary. Since it was the weekend I had to spend two nights in jail before I could be brought to court Monday morning. My appearance before the judge lasted only about 3 minutes. I pleaded not guilty and he set my bail. It was late afternoon before Gary could make bail and get my ass out of jail. "Steve, they're talking about attempted murder or at least assault with a deadly weapon. "I know. I heard it at my initial hearing before I pleaded not guilty. First things first, I need you to take me to the bank immediately. She's probably cleaned out the accounts, but I need to if she hasn't." All the cash was gone from of our savings and checking accounts but not the CDs and bonds in our lockbox. However, there was already a court order in place preventing me from removing any of them. "You could have at least left me five dollars in our bank account; you really are a cunt, you know that?" I told her when she answered her cell phone. "I needed that money for me and the kids to live on until the rest is taken off hold." "What's the matter, doesn't Bob make enough money for you all to live on? I've got a fucking house payment to make. Maybe I should just make a little fire in the living room, you know, just to take the chill off." "Steve, quit talking crazy. I'm sorry about all of this but you're making it harder than it has to be. Why can't you just accept it and move on?" "I'll move on as soon as you send my kids back home." "Steve, I can't do that especially in your current frame of mine. I don't think you would ever harm them, but I can't take that chance. After this is all over, I'll let you see them as much as you want." "You don't have to worry about the kids, but I can't say the same about you or your fuck buddy, Bob." "I'm hanging up now and this is the last time I'm going to be talking to you. From now on you'll have to go through my attorney. Steve, I'm just sorry it all happened the way it did." "Kathy, you have no idea how sorry you and Bob are eventually going to be." She hung up on me. When my court date came up on the calendar a few weeks later my attorney pleaded temporary insanity on my part. He said that after Kathy told me about her and Bob I totally lost it. My actions weren't premeditated but more of an impulse thing. Kathy and Bob both said I had threatened them previously and even though there was a restraining order against me, they said they still feared for their lives, and with good reason. "Mr. Moore," the judge said, after looking at Kathy and Bob's statement, "Did you tell Mr. Kelly that if he didn't leave your house, he'd be leaving in a body bag?" "I don't remember my exact words Your Honor, it may have been something to that effect, but how would you feel if a friend of yours was banging your wife behind your back?" He wasn't moved by my argument. My lawyer quietly berated me, "Steve, say nothing, do you understand? From now on, you don't remember a thing you said or did, is that understood? I'm trying to convince them you didn't know what you were doing. You telling the judge it was something like that isn't helping your case." He was right. Chris, my boss and main character witness, backed me to the hilt. He testified that I was a model employee; he had never heard me utter a curse word, much less lose my temper. After Chris's testimony the case was closed. I only had to await the decision of the judge. He said he would hand down his ruling in the next few days. When I returned to work the next day my boss told me that he knew a couple of thugs who could make them both disappear, if I so desired. "Thanks for the offer, but this is my problem, and I'm going to handle it in my own way," I told him. On my way home from work I wondered to myself what they might have charged to do the job. Six fucking months and twelve thousand dollar later I ended up getting fucked by both my now ex-wife and the system. The divorce went through and she was awarded fifty percent of everything. The house was to be sold along with everything else of value. She had told the court all her jewelry had come up missing and accused me of taking it. I explained that all mine was gone too, adding she must have taken it all the day of the incident. At least I did not have to make good on that count. The system put in the final screw. "A fucking year in jail? Are they fucking nuts?" I screamed at my attorney hearing the judge read the sentence to me. "Steve, it could have been worse, you could have killed him, and then you would have been convicted of manslaughter. Look, with good behavior you'll be out in less than eight months, and if you stay clean it goes off your record in two years instead of having a felony conviction on your record for the rest of your life. Do the time, get out, and move on with your life." That was easy for him to say, he wasn't the one who was going to be spending twenty-four hours a day in jail. I appealed the ruling but after three months got nowhere. In less than a year my life had gone from being something great to shit. I had Kathy and Bob to thank for that. "Steve, your job will be waiting for you when you get out. Don't do anything stupid in there and watch your back." Those were Chris's only two suggestions, but they were good ones. After meeting with my children for the last time on Sunday, I turned myself in to the court. I was put in the county facility and started my incarceration. I had checked out everything on the Internet prior to getting there and thought I knew all the ins and outs, but looking on-line and actually being there were two entirely different animals. I did have my brother put money into my inmate account so I could at least buy things, but I found that most stuff was junk food and things I had no use for. So, with no cell phone or computer I wrote my thoughts down on a pad of paper, and once every other week I made my collect calls to my brother, my mom, and my kids. I wanted to keep up with what was going on in the real world. "Steve," my brother informed me during one visit, "I'll make sure to have your car repaired before you get out. I know a guy that will do it for what the insurance will pay if he can do it when he has down time. I will though, make sure he has it done before you're out. I also have someone taking care of your lawn, and I noticed that you hadn't installed the new dead bolts, so I had them put in. I told Kathy if she wanted in, she'd have to give me twenty-four hours notice. The last time she was there she took the rest of her and the kids' clothes. She wanted to take their beds, but I told her I would need to see a court order for her to remove any furniture from the house. She got a little testy with me but dropped the issue." I was glad my brother was looking out for my interests. Kathy allowed my parents to see my children every other Sunday afternoon. She was getting bitchier every time. She said she was doing it as a courtesy because, as she put it, they were no longer part of her family. It seems Kathy was bad mouthing not only me, but also my entire family; this is according to what my mom could get from the kids. Kathy started calling me their 'jail-bird father' and told them when I got out she was going to have words with me on what I was and wasn't allowed to do with them. She was such a cunt, however my parents went along with everything she asked of them. I wanted them to tell her to pound sand up her ass and shut the door in her face but they wouldn't. They said something about keeping open lines of communication with her. At 'T-minus seven days' I contacted my lawyer to confirm my visitation privileges. I would have the children every other weekend and a full month in the summer. The holidays were split down the middle and would flop over every other year. I let my boss know I was getting out. I told him I would need a week to get readjusted and everything set back up in my life. THE END—PART ONE—GETTING MY REVENGE I was never so happy to turn in my orange jumpsuit and put on my street clothes. Gary was waiting outside for me. We stopped at the first bar we found. "To freedom," I said, touching our bottles and sloshed down the first of three beers. "Andy has a meal fit for a king waiting for us when we get home. A steak dinner with all the trimmings just like you requested. I figure you can spend the first couple of nights with us until you can go through your things at the house. It's still up for sale but there hasn't been so much as an offer on it. Kathy wanted to drop the price, but she needs your okay for that." I smiled. "You've still got all the furniture in the house, but as per your instructions, I trashed the master bedroom set. Dinner was great. I ate more than I had in the last eight months. Unbuckling my belt and with a glass of wine in my hand, I enjoyed the true taste of having the freedom to do what I wanted to do, when I wanted to do it. Not only did I overeat, I also drank too much. I kind of remember five or six beers and at least three glasses of wine. It was after ten o'clock the next morning before I awoke, and well after eleven before I was finally able to sit up and hit the bathroom without falling over. I stumbled down the stairs into the kitchen. The note on the counter said it all. 'If you're reading this, you survived last night. There is coffee made, and everything else you might want is in the refrigerator. In the spare bathroom there is soap, a razor and shaving lotion, a toothbrush and toothpaste. If there is anything else you need we'll get it tonight when I get home from work. The keys to your car and house are on the key rack by the back door. I hope I don't have to tell you not to do anything stupid. See you about five thirty.' I guess my brother knew me better than I thought. Two cups of coffee and an English muffin were all I could get down. After a shower and a shave I almost felt human again. Gary had a fresh change of clothes laid out for me and within an hour I was on my way over to my house. The outside of the house looked the same. I think I must have sat in my newly repaired car for at least ten minutes before getting out. Memories, both good and bad, flooded my brain. I saw the new deadbolt lock and with a twist of the key I was inside. It was a mess, things thrown all around. It looked like someone had been in a hurry to get in and out of there. Pieces of clothing were strewn along the floor. The kitchen was halfway clean and the refrigerator still contained the food that had been there months ago. With my back against the sink I saw the damage to the wall where my fist had tried to go through but found a stud instead. I rubbed my knuckles remembering what it felt like that night when I walked in and found the two of them waiting for me. "Bitch," I said under my breath, walking upstairs. The kids' closets were empty but there were a few mementos they had either forgotten or didn't have enough time to take. My bedroom was empty with the exception of my dresser and my clothes hanging in the closet. I could see the dark spots on the carpet where our bed and her triple dresser had been. This room would have to be gutted and redone before I would set foot in there again. The rest of the house was as I left it. It would need a good cleaning if it were ever to sell. But, I was in no hurry whatsoever to have it sold. I had an agenda and selling the house wasn't a priority at all. I sat down at the kitchen table and started making a list of what needed to be done. I could probably have done most of the repairs myself if I wanted to, but at this point in my life I just wanted it done. Folding the list, I put it in my pocket and headed for the bank. I Never Saw It Coming I wasn't surprised when I looked in the lockbox and found she had cleaned out everything. I needed written proof from the bank that she had taken it all. I was told they had video recordings of the lockbox area if I needed additional proof. A call to my attorney confirmed she had taken everything. But what I didn't know, was that he had already filed a motion with the court to get everything back. I guess we'd won the first round, since the court had already ordered Kathy to return everything she'd taken from the lockbox to the court. My lawyer caught me up to date on the rest. "Steve, she's offering her share of the house for your share of the CDs and bonds. I told her to return everything like the court directed her to do or I would have her arrested for not complying with a direct court order. She's crazy if she thinks I care that I'm also on her shit list. My job is to legally represent you and only you by making sure your interests are protected." That's the reason you hire a lawyer, I told myself. Back at my house I took an inventory of what I still had. I knew a local contractor in the neighborhood and made a note to call him to fix the walls. I next called Merry Maids to come in and do a full cleaning especially in the kitchen and dining room where I'd flung the microwave and tossed the dishes against the wall. Too bad it hadn't been Kathy's grandmother's good china. No one had turned off the electric, phone, or water so I figured by the weekend I'd be able to move back in—as soon as I bought a bed that is. I wasn't looking for a full bedroom set, more so just a queen-size bed. It had been forever since I had shopped for even a mattress and there were a million styles and material types not to mention prices to choose from. You could pay anywhere from five hundred dollars on the low end to well over seven thousand dollars on the upper end. I just wanted something to sleep on. I settled for a good box spring, mattress, and frame for just over nine hundred dollars. At least now I wouldn't have to worry about sleeping on a mattress that someone had fucked my ex-wife on. Hank, the contractor, came over on Saturday morning to give me a price on repairing the damage. "Your walls are pretty solid, must have hurt like a son of a bitch when you hit that damn stud," he said with a faint smile. "I just want to get the holes fixed and a fresh coat of white paint put on, nothing special," I told him. He made a few notes looking at the damage I'd done to the four walls. "How does two hundred sound to you?" "Awfully low." "Well, that's my price take it or leave it." "Hank, I've still got money left, I don't want to take advantage of our friendship." "Steve, whether you know it or not, you did me and every other guy in this neighborhood a big favor. After your incident with Bob and the car, most of us guys kind of looked up to you. I don't know what I would have done if it had been my wife and me, but she and every wife in the neighborhood now know their husbands would never put up with what your wife did to you. Hell, Randy and Linda got into it hot and heavy one night when she took Kathy's side. Randy told her if she felt that way to take her shit and fucking leave because he would have probably put her in the damn grave if she'd done that to him." Hank took a deep breath, recomposed himself, and continued. "Let me reiterate; I repeat, you are our neighborhood hero." It made me smile a little but he didn't know the half of what it was like to be in my shoes. I thanked him and said that he could start whenever he wanted. With that, all the easy things on my list were done. Within six weeks, all the bonds and CDs had been returned to our bank lock- box. The house had been repaired and professionally cleaned. Life was starting to get back to my new normal. When my kids spent their first full weekend with me we were all a little apprehensive. In other words, no one knew quite what to say. "Kids, I know it's going to be a little strange for a while, but this is still your home. If you have something to say, just say it. I don't want you to feel you can't say or tell me what's on your mind for fear of hurting my feelings. Over the last year my skin's gotten a lot thicker and I don't think there is anything you could say that would shock me anymore." I think they were a little relieved I'd been the one to break the ice. "Dad, you know we both love you and we're sorry Mom did this," John said, Heather nodded in agreement. "Dad, we didn't know about Bob until after that weekend when Mom said we were going to live at his house. We weren't happy, we still aren't happy there." "There was nothing either of you could do, it was your mom's choice. Even if Bob was out of the picture your mom and I would never get back together again. What we had is over and done with, and we're all going to have to deal with it. I just want you to know I'm still your dad, that I love you, and if you ever need anything I'll be here for you." We all hugged. A pizza and a movie started and finished off the evening. Did I want to belittle and slam their cheating ass mother? Hell, yes, only I wasn't going to lower myself to her level, not yet anyway. Our first weekend was a success in my book. We started out on a tentative note but ended up like we always were, which was a family. However, in this new kind of family we were together, yet apart. The one thing I did do, was get John a decent haircut—no more bowl cut for him. On the outside life went on. I went to work, had a small social life with my friends in the neighborhood, and filled up the rest of my time with the kids. When John started soccer and Heather started dance I became even busier. Everyone, except my brother, told me to get over it, to move on, start my life over. "You're still young, you can find yourself another girl, get married, have a new life." To them I would just say, "Fuck you and the horse you rode in on." I wasted fourteen years on that bitch and if I wanted to still be mad, I had every fucking right to be. Talk was cheap. They hadn't gone through what I had over the last two years. Sometimes you just need that pound of flesh to make the pain and hurt go away, and that's what I was going to get one way or another. Kathy wanted to lower the price of the house—I flatly refused. She was totally pissed off—I didn't give a shit. "Steve, it's never going to sell at that price in this down market. We need to drop it at least twenty thousand to move it." "If you want to give up twenty thousand of your share I'll agree, but if not, the price stays where it's at." Although I dragged my feet, we eventually divided the bonds and CDs. She spent hers in less than three months on a new car and a vacation for her and Bob. Not me, I banked everything. This was going to be the start of my nest egg of a sort. Eight and a half months after I got out of jail there was a fire at Bob's house. It was reported that while they were at a soccer game, someone doused the inside of the electrical box and rear of the house with gasoline and started it on fire. By the time the fire was out, the back half of the house was toast; in addition they had no power. The next day I had two police officers at my front door. A trip to the police station did them no good. You see, I was at a neighborhood party and had no less than ten witnesses to substantiate my alibi. "Steve, you were only one block away. You could have easily snuck away and done this," accused one of the officers. "Prove it," was my only reply. I let them go on for a little while, but when I'd had enough I made my move. "If you don't mind, I'm out of here," I said, standing up. "Mr. Moore, we're not done with you yet," the larger of the two cops said. I guess they were playing good cop/bad cop. "Either charge me, release me, or I'm calling my lawyer because I'm not saying another word," I told them, taking out my cell phone and looking at them. "We're going to release you, but we will be keeping our eye on you. " I smiled on the inside while mentally checking off my 'things to do list', one down, two to go. I volunteered to take my children because they couldn't live in a house without any power. The repairs to Bob's house were going to take at least two months, so the three of us had a mini vacation together. "Steve, I know you did it no matter what the police say," said a suspicious Kathy, picking the kids up one night for dinner. "I don't know what you're talking about. I was with all our good friends, or should I say my good friends. Too bad you and Bob are no longer invited to the get togethers. Maybe I could put in a good word for you?" I suggested sarcastically, smiling inwardly. "Don't bother, we wouldn't go even if they begged us." She responded, sounding bitter. "Well, I guess you two have each other and that's all that matters, at least for now." What's that suppose to mean?" Kathy responded wide-eyed. "Nothing. I just meant that the two of you are so lucky to have one another, that's all." I smiled, and not just on the inside this time. The kids wanted to spend more and more time with me, which didn't set well with either Kathy or Bob. On more than one occasion I heard about shouting matches between Bob and the kids with them telling him that he wasn't their father and to stop acting like he was. Kathy tried to intervene but ended up telling me not to keep stirring up trouble between Bob and the children. "Kathy, I don't know what you're talking about? I never badmouth you in front of the kids. You're their mother and I've told them on more than one occasion they have to listen and do whatever you ask of them." "How about Bob?" "Him? Well, he's a backstabbing, scum sucking asshole, whose mother should have smothered him at birth. Besides that, I guess he's a nice enough guy." If looks could kill I would already have been dead. "He's good to your kids, and I don't want you to bad mouth him anymore to them." "Not going to happen. He's less than nothing to me, and I only pray I get the chance to piss on his grave one day." With that she again gave me the look. "Not that I would do anything to harm him, mind you." "Steve, so help me," she started to say. "What are you going to do, Kathy? Cheat on me? Divorce me? Put me in jail? Make my life hell? Oh wait—you all ready did all those things to me, didn't you? I guess you really can't do any more to me, can you? Why don't you go back to that piece of shit you call a husband and leave me the fuck alone?" Without another word she turned tail and walked back to her house. "And to think I once loved that bitch," I said to myself, watching her walk away. Work was going great. It didn't take me more than a couple of weeks to get up to speed once I got back. Chris was pushing me to take over four more accounts. It would take extra time to do this, but without the kids or anyone else at home, what else did I have to do at night? After making initial contact with the customers, I scheduled several two-day trips to each facility to familiarize myself with their operations. Three of the accounts were a piece of cake and in the end would add only a little bit to my plate, but the fourth one, T.W. Inc., was an entirely different matter. They were in the middle of changing their manufacturing process, and it was going to take me one trip a month just to keep up with all the changes. The person they initially assigned to me, to keep up with the changes, left a lot to be desired. He was knowledgeable, but highly unorganized. The data I needed I never got, and when I pushed him for what I wanted he got a little arrogant with me. "Chris, I don't want to make waves, but if I don't get what we need, I won't be able to make the changes here, and in the end will screw up their system." After two calls, I was given an emissary between the engineer and myself. From that day forward, I met with a woman named Monica who worked directly with the engineer. "Steve, Monica Bradley," she said, introducing herself, holding out her hand for me to shake. She had a degree in process engineering, but had only been with this company for about five years. We worked great together. Somehow she got me everything I needed either by hook or by crook. When we were about two weeks away from finishing phase one, I asked her out to dinner for later than evening. "Monica, I'd like to take you and your husband out to dinner tonight as a little thank you for all your help," I told her. "The Hilton, where I'm staying, has an excellent restaurant so why don't the two of you plan on meeting me there about six o'clock." We shook hands and I was out of the plant by four thirty. For the next hour I got caught up on paperwork and e-mails. With fifty e-mails backed up I wondered what people did before the Internet. At five minutes to six I walked down the stairs and into the restaurant. I was shown to a table and waited for Monica and her husband to arrive. At precisely six o'clock Monica walked into the restaurant, all alone. I waved her over to the table and rose to greet her. "Where's your husband, parking the car?" "Steve, I'm not married." "Oh, I'm sorry, I just assumed," I said, looking down at the rings on her hand while pulling out her chair. "I wear these rings as a way of keeping everything professional on the job. No one is going to take the chance of hitting on a married woman and getting nailed with a sexual harassment lawsuit, so it just makes it that much easier at work. Besides, they seem to move up the married individuals a lot faster than the single ones for some reason." "I think the reason for that is because married employees seem to be more stable. How do you get away with it when it comes to company functions and things like that?" "I just tell everyone that he's either on the road or something else came up. I've done it so many times they don't even ask me anymore." "Well, you had me going, that's for sure." We had a wonderful dinner and by the end of the night I'd given her the highlights of my last two years. "I can't believe they would do that to you. That really sucks." "You're telling me? Well, it's now in the past and I'm moving on with my life, or whatever is left of it." I was, in fact, trying to mellow a little and rebuild my life, but revenge was still high on my list. "Hell, Steve, you're still young and there are a hundred women out there who would love a guy like you," she smiled, blushing a little too. "You're probably right, but I haven't had either the time or ambition to get back into the dating pool. I'm still a little leery." "Well, you asked me out, didn't you?" "You and your husband." I interjected. "Well, if I hadn't been married, would you still have asked me out?" "You know, I probably would have. You're easy to talk to and be around but most of all, not a pathetic twit like my ex." "I'm going to take that as a compliment, I think," she said, laughing. The rest of the dinner went great. I left the next day and wouldn't be back for almost a month. I told her to give me a call every week especially if anything cropped up. I started feeling more at ease around women, even those not in my inner-circle. We went out most nights when I visited there, which turned out to be every couple of weeks. I still had more than a few trust issues but was working on them. Phone calls and e-mails allowed us to stay in touch. After a couple of months we'd started kissing and doing a few other things, I was finally ready to take it to the next level. Was I becoming normal again? When Monica said she had a conflict Wednesday night I thought nothing of it. We'd been going at it hot and heavy on Tuesday night and I had forgotten to get a pack of condoms. "Steve, let's plan for a whole evening on Thursday," she said, giving me a full lip kiss at the door. I was giving myself a little hand relief before she even got to the elevator. Thursday I was going to remember to pack the protection. Wednesday I took out the city map and looked for a restaurant I hadn't been to yet. After six trips I'd eaten at all the local places, so tonight I went on a research mission, as I liked to call it. I found a nice Indian restaurant about twenty-five minutes from where I was staying. I sat down in a corner booth, ordered a beer, the full sampler platter, and was ready to kick back and relax. I didn't see them walk in but heard a familiar laugh just after I got my meal. I switched sides in my booth and wished I hadn't. There was Monica and some guy at a table no more than twenty feet away from me, and by the looks of it, this wasn't a first date. They talked, laughed, held hands, and never lost eye contact. After five minutes of watching their lip action I lost my appetite. I finished my beer paid my check and was out of there. She didn't look that conflicted, I thought to myself. I stayed away from her as much as possible on Thursday. Instead of eating in, I went alone to McDonald's for lunch. By three o'clock Monica was starting to become my shadow. She smiled and flirted, even caressing my lower arm when we were close enough to touch. "You take care of your conflict last night?" I asked. "Yes, I did, and tonight you're all mine." "I was thinking, I know a quiet and intimate restaurant you might like. I found it last night and the sampler platter is fabulous." I was looking right into her eyes. "What type of food is it?" "Indian food." Her face lost all of its color. "I was there last night. And can you believe it, in a restaurant all the way on the other side of town I saw someone I knew? What are the chances of that, Monica?" I never blinked. "Steve, I can explain." "No need. I probably should have realized what type of girl you were that first night in the restaurant. I got rid of one lying bitch and I sure as hell don't need another." I walked away, cutting my trip short that month. After not answering four e-mails I never got another one. Trust issues still seemed to plague me. I thought I'd finally started to get over them but Monica had brought them back with a vengeance. They assigned me someone else on my next trip, thankfully a guy. Three months later I got an early Christmas present. The parking lot for Bob's office was located across the street from his building. There was a four way stop light at the corner with a crosswalk and signal. It was a Friday night around ten after five. Bob was in a hurry to get home and as soon as the crosswalk light lit up he started to cross the street; he never noticed the car that was running the light to his left. It happened so fast the people nearest Bob didn't have time to warn him. The black sedan's right front side struck him and he went sailing over the hood and smacked into the street. Neither of the two women that witnessed the hit and run got a good look at the car much less a license plate number. All they said was it was a black four-door car with tinted windows, which just happened to match my black BMW. I was talking to my next-door neighbor Saturday night when the police car pulled into my driveway. The two police officers got out of their car and walked up to where we were talking. "Mr. Moore, we would like a word with you." the shorter of the two said. "Sure, no problem. Tom, I'll get back with you later on about the party," I told my neighbor. Tom walked slowly back to his house watching us as he went. "Mr. Moore, you own a 2002, 320i black BMW," the other police officer said, reading from his note pad. "That's right," I replied, wondering what was going on. "What's the matter, I forget to pay a parking ticket or something?" I joked, but they didn't laugh. "Is the car here?" "Yes, it's in the garage. What's this all about?" I asked. I Never Saw It Coming "Sir, we'd like to see the car right now, please." My car being a 2002 wasn't new and even though it was repaired after the night I rammed Bob' car, it had its share of dents and scratches. But it was paid for and still ran great. One of the cops went back to his car and got a camera while I went inside the house and hit the garage door opener. They went to the front right side of the car and started taking pictures. "Can you tell me how you got these scratches and marks on the bumper?" "Not a clue if you really want to know. I bought this car new and after eight years there are bound to be a few nicks and scratches. Now that I've answered all your questions, maybe you can answer one of mine? What's going on and what does this have to do with my car?" "Mr. Moore, there was a hit and run accident yesterday afternoon and the witnesses said it was a black sedan with dark windows which matches the description of your car." "And a million others in this town," I replied, getting a little annoyed. "Why me? Did my license plate match the vehicle or did anyone identify me as the driver?" "The two witnesses only saw the car." "Well, as you can see, there isn't any significant damage to the front end, and I can account for my whereabouts from about eight a.m. until six o'clock yesterday. Why pick on me?" "It's your history with the individual and your threats that prompted this visit. We will be on our way now. We appreciate your cooperation." "Wait a minute," I yelled to the two of them as they started walking back down the driveway to their car. "Who was I suppose to have run over anyway?" "A Mr. Robert Kelly." I started to smile. "Is he dead?" "No, Sir, but in critical condition." They paused a minute and then continued walking back to their car. I waved goodbye to them, went into my house and opened a bottle of wine. I ordered a pizza and ate almost all of it. I managed to drink the entire bottle of wine, though, in celebration. The neighborhood was abuzz with gossip about Bob. "The guy just can't get a break," some said, while others declared, "He got what he deserved." Me? I was in seventh heaven. Two days later Bob took a turn for the worse and passed on. I looked good. A new suit, a fresh haircut, and polished shoes rounded out my outfit. I even stopped off and got my car washed and waxed on the way there. It wasn't packed but there were a lot of people milling around outside of the funeral home. When I arrived everyone who was talking suddenly shut up and watched me walk up and go inside. I didn't sign the book, just walked briskly down the main aisle. Kathy looked up and saw me. I smirked inwardly when I saw the shock of me being there register on her face. My two children were sitting next to her and smiled at me. It took Kathy all of fifteen seconds to get to her feet and try to intercede before I got to the open casket, she didn't succeed, another inward smirk. From the moment I started walking down the aisle I'd been drawing it up from my inner bowels and by the time I got to the open casket I had more than enough in my mouth. I looked down at Bob lying peacefully in the casket and spit into his face. I had enough spit that it dribbled down his face onto his white shirt. Kathy screamed at me, all the while crying and calling me every name in the book. This time the smirk was on my face. "Two down, one to go," I said to her. That stopped her in her tracks. She was still crying but now had a look of fear in her eyes. "I warned you," I said softly, and walked out of the now quiet funeral home. I was questioned twice more by the cops over the next month. Kathy insisted just because it wasn't my car that didn't mean I wasn't involved. They never caught the driver and after a few months it became old news. When the patrol car pulled onto my driveway I had expected it. When they told me to they were taking me to the police station I wasn't even surprised. I locked up my house and looked at my neighbors watching me being put in the back seat of a patrol car for yet another time. "Mr. Moore, do you know a David Kent?" One of the two detectives asked, sliding his picture in front of me. "Sure do," I replied. "How do you come to know Mr. Kent?" "I hired him to watch my ex-wife," I said, speaking in a matter-of-fact voice. "He's been watching her on and off for about a month." I pushed the picture back to the detectives. "And why did you hire Mr. Kent to watch your former wife?" "Detectives, my ex-wife seems to have a black cloud hanging over her head since she took up with her now late husband. Because my children are living with her, I felt it was my duty to make sure nothing happens to them. So I hired David to watch them, mostly at night, to make sure my kids were safe." "Well, your ex-wife notified us that she thought she was being followed and watched. She saw your Mr. Kent on more than one occasion and called us. When we picked him up yesterday imagine our surprise when we found out you hired him." The officer said quite sarcastically. "Mr. Moore, this comes very close to harassment and you still might be charged if it continues." "I'm just looking out for my children's safety, that's all. I couldn't care less if something unfortunate happens to my ex, but my two kids are a different matter. If this is a problem then I'll rely on your department to make sure my children remain safe." "Mr. Moore, it's not against the law what you're doing, but it is stretching the limits. Why don't you just talk to your ex and try to work something out?" "Last time I tried that, I went to jail." They let me go, but for the third time they said they were going to keep an eye on me. They really did need to come up with a better line. I didn't pay David to be inconspicuous. I wanted him to be seen by Kathy. The next guy I hired was even less inconspicuous and looked a whole lot meaner—like someone out of a Hell's Angels movie. He cost me thirty dollars an hour and only worked three hours every fourth night, but I got the effect I wanted. You see, I wanted to try and drive my ex over the edge. I figured if she has a nervous breakdown I'd get the kids full time. We were a family, the kids and I, but I wanted what had been taken from me. "Steve, what the hell do you want?" A distraught Kathy screamed into the phone. "I want you to fucking die, that's what I want, Kathy." That must have shocked the shit out of her because she hung up immediately. I was waiting on my porch. "You guys are late," I told the two police officers when they came up to my door. Kathy was charging me with threatening her life, but this time I'd already contacted my lawyer. He was waiting at the station for us when we arrived. "My client did not threaten his ex-wife," my attorney told the police. "He merely said that he'd like to see her dead, not that he was going to do it." "Well, she took it as a threat on her life, and was concerned because she's still being followed by people hired by your client." "Look, it's not illegal to have someone watched and unless you have a recording of Mr. Moore saying he was going to have Mrs. Kelly killed, you don't have a case and you know it." "Mr. Moore, why don't you just move on? So she left you for someone else, it happens everyday. It's a shame you had to go to jail, but I understand those charges are already off your record. You're driving her nuts and if she snaps and someone gets hurt, we're going to come looking for you." He wasn't smiling. "Is there any way we can end this?" I talked to my lawyer. "All my client wants is his children back home with him. If Mrs. Kelly will give up custody he'll back off one hundred percent." "We have nothing to say about that, that's for the court to decide." "Well, you asked and we told you. So, if there is nothing else, my client and I will be leaving." And that's exactly what we did. I was having breakfast and reading the newspaper on the deck the following Sunday morning when I heard the front door bell. I didn't have a clue who would be up this early calling on me. I opened the door and there stood Kathy's parents. "Steve, do you have a minute to talk to us?" "Sure, come on in," I said, greeting the two of them. They were in their Sunday best. I figured they were either coming back from or on their way to church. "Can I get either one of you a cup of coffee?" "Nothing for us, thank you." "Well, what brings you around here?" I asked. Kathy's father started right in. "Steve, I'll get right to the point. I know what our daughter did to you wasn't right especially with you having to go to jail and all. But, she is our only child and we don't want anything to happen to her, if you know what I mean?" "Look, I am not out to put her in the grave no matter what she thinks. She has made some bad choices and now she's paying for them. All I want are my children back. They're better off with me especially since she's having a run of bad luck. I'd hate like hell to have something happen to them if something unfortunate befalls her, if you get my drift." They just stared at me not knowing what to say at this point. "Steve, we'll talk to her, but you know how she is." Kathy's mother said, trying to overcome the discomfort they felt over my last statement. "That's where you're wrong. The woman I married way back would never have cheated on her husband or thrown him to the sharks. I don't recognize who she is now, other than being the mother of my children. I'd like to see her die a horrible and painful death. You see, I don't forgive and I sure as hell don't forget." With that said they made a hasty retreat. I think I got my point across. Thursday evening I finally received the visitor I'd been expecting all these months. It was just after seven and starting to get dark. She must have walked because I didn't hear a car drive up. She rang the bell; I looked through the peephole and let her in. She was already mad when she walked through the door. I had half expected a phone call but this was much better, her being here in the flesh. "Come on in, Kathy, can I get you something to drink? Acid, hemlock on the rocks?" I said, shutting the door behind her. "Very funny, you really are an asshole, you know that?" I reopened the door for her. "I think we're about done, nice of you to stop by. By the way, have a short, miserable life, why don't you?" I said, still holding the door open as she looked at me. "I'm not going anywhere until we have this out." She gingerly sat down on one of the living room chairs. "Suit yourself." I closed the door and went into the kitchen for a glass of wine. "Now, what brings you to my humble abode?" "Our humble abode. Remember, I still own fifty percent of this house." "Less what I've paid on it since the divorce," I reminded her. "Well, I want this place sold. What's it going to take to get you to drop the price?" "An act of God or you willing to make up the loss we're going to take plus interest." "Done, make it happen," she spit out at me. "I just want you out of this neighborhood and away from me." "That, my dear Kathy, is never going to happen." "You still hate me that much?" "More than you can possibly imagine." "It was shitty the way it all went down, but I never set out to get involved with Bob, it just happened." She couldn't think I was that stupid or naïve. "Bullshit, Kathy, nothing just happens. Unless he put a gun to your head, you went willingly. Was he so much better in the sack that you destroyed our marriage and our family?" My anger was surfacing again. "It wasn't about the sex, it was more so that he needed me. He had no one and I guess we just fell in love because we ended up needing one another." "What were you doing, fucking social work? I needed you, our kids needed you, our fucking marriage needed you, but you're saying your wet puppy needed you more? Now he's six feet underground and a hell of a lot less needy." I smiled, enjoying every fiber of that memory. "I only wish I had been driving the car that ended his miserable existence." "Steve, you've really become a hateful man, haven't you? To take enjoyment from another's misfortune is really sick." "I'd like to say I was self-made, but you and the dead guy had a hell of a lot to do with it, my dear." "That's a cop-out and you know it. Sixty percent of the marriages today fail and do you think everyone of those spouses goes around hating the other?" "I couldn't give a rip about anyone else's marriage but my own. How long was I the stupid, gullible husband?" "Does it matter?" "To me it does. Two months, three, five?" "About five months if it makes any difference. It just happened the first time and I almost told you about it that night. I was so devastated." She said it so calmly it almost sounded scripted. "But you didn't, and I guess you weren't that devastated because it happened again and again. How many times did you fuck him in our God damn bed?" "Never! I never would have done that to you," she said angrily. "I guess it was okay to fuck him everywhere else, huh? Do you know that a lot of our friends saw what was happening, but they never had the balls to tell me? It only goes to show you simply can't trust some people. You sure as hell proved you couldn't be trusted." "So, where do we go from here? This house is our last connection to one another." "How about the kids?" "I'm not giving them up and there isn't anything you can say that will change that." My mind was now moving a thousand miles per hour. "Kathy, I'm not going to even try to convince you. You were awarded full custody because of what you drove me to. If I hadn't gone nuts on Bob and his car that day, I would have stood a fifty-fifty chance of getting them. Bob got exactly what he deserved and now that just leaves the two of us." Her eyes got a little wider. "Steve, are you threatening me?" "Me, deprive my kids of their natural mother?" I said dripping with venom and sarcasm. "I would never do that. But if something should happen, you know like if you had a heart attack, or are struck by lightning, or are involved in an accident, I just want you to know that I'll make sure the kids remember you always. And if you have any last requests, I wouldn't wait too long before putting them down on paper, you never know when something might happen." I'd heard that line in a movie when the hit man had told his mark to get his affairs in order. I hoped it would have the same results. "I'm out of here," Kathy said, standing up. "We had twelve good years. In a way I'm kind of sorry it ended." She tried to give me a kiss on the cheek; I pushed her back with both hands almost knocking her over. "Don't ever try and touch me again, you fucking slut." That took her by surprise. "I'm sorry, I just thought..." "You thought what? That you and I were now okay with each other? You make my skin crawl." My eyes were breathing fire. "Sorry," she said all flustered, her eyes wide with horror. "Don't be because I'm not." She walked out the front door and started down the driveway. "By the way, you know that look you just gave me? Bob had the identical look on his face just before the car struck him that night. Too bad I didn't have a camera or I could show you." I shut the door, but not before watching Kathy run for her house. THE END—PART TWO—MOVING ON WITH MY LIFE In truth, I was the one who started the fire at Bob's house. Two Gatorade bottles of gasoline and a lit cigarette was all it took. I made sure everyone was gone from the house. I had hoped that it wouldn't be reported to the fire department until the house was totally ablaze—so much for that plan. It took less than five minutes start to finish, including tossing the plastic Gatorade bottles into a neighbor's recycle bin. I had excused myself to go to the bathroom, made my way out the side door and through the backyards to the back of Bob's house, no one even missed me. I'd like to take credit for Bob's death, but I can't. It was Bob being in the wrong place at the right time, or just plain dumb luck. If he would have looked both ways like his mother probably told him to as a kid he'd still be alive. No matter what I say, Kathy and her family still think I was involved, and in one way I'm sorry it wasn't me, but there was no way I would have done it. I'd been locked up in jail once and I never wanted to go back, especially to the joint up north. Anyway, by now Kathy was probably at home locking the doors thinking she's next on my list. Am I going to go after her? Not on your life. I'll just drop hints and innuendos until I drive her nuts and the court gives me back my kids. I will, however, tell any prospective homebuyer about the arsonist in the neighborhood who still hasn't been caught. You see, I like living just where I am, especially with my two children being just up the street. Who knows, when they turn thirteen they might just decide to live with their old dad. Well, I can hope. The only good thing that has happened to me during all of this was I met someone I think I may have a future with. Her name is Ellen and she works for the State Department of Corrections. I had to check in with her the first year after I was let out; just to make sure I was adjusting, rehabilitated, and doing okay. Ellen is tough and she takes no crap. After getting the formal garbage out of the way we began to talk and found out we may have feelings for one another. Ethically Ellen could not date me until my year of probation was up, but finally we were able to go out on a real date. I told her I had major trust issues and she one-upped me by telling me that most convicts lie to her in one fashion or another. So now we're both trying to move forward and in the process deal with our trust issues together while getting to know one another better. Ellen got me thinking about what I've been doing ever since that whore of a wife walked out on me. She showed me my actions were keeping me from having any kind of a real life and having any meaningful relationships. She told me it was time to move on. She further convinced me, when she told me if I fucked up and got thrown back in jail, my ass would be hers to do with as she wished. "And darling, I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy," she explained, with a smile that made the hair on the back of my neck stand straight up. And you know what? I believe her, I really do. And when I'm with her, she keeps things interesting because as tough as I think I am, Ellen is one lady I would never cross. Even better though, is knowing in my heart, she would never cross me either. I think I am finally ready to move on with my life and open myself up to love once again.