0 comments/ 129183 views/ 19 favorites The Outside Beer Party By: toesman A funny thing happened on my way home from the airport the other day. No, not funny "ha ha", but funny like strange. I saw my wife sitting on another man's lap, and they were all wrapped up in each other and they were in public too. I had managed to get the client's on-site physical inspection done much sooner than everyone (including me) expected; more than a full day earlier in fact. I had told my wife Abby on Thursday when we last talked that I was sure that the earliest I could fly back into town would be sometime Sunday mid-day, if not into that evening. Abby told me not to worry about it; she'd call her sister and they would get some supper Saturday and then hang out. I didn't comment on that; Abby knows how I feel about Amy, her older sister. Well, not that much older, they're only 11 months apart in age, and growing up as the only children in a single parent – mother – household, they became more like twins than just 'sisters'. But Amy is a round-heeled slut, and although I can't prove it, where there's that much smoke, there has to be some fire. I personally know of three marriages she's broken up, counting her own, of course. Still, I knew how devoted they were to each other and it wasn't worth a cold-shoulder couple of weeks at home to make some derogatory remark about her sister to Abby. So I gritted my teeth, and simply and succinctly said, "Whatever..." Even that got me an exasperated intake of breath on the other end of the phone call. Anyway, I found out that I could finish my inspection project late Friday evening, so I checked out of my motel room that Friday afternoon late, so that I was able to catch the first available flight Saturday morning which I could, and by 2:00 p.m., I was on the ground in Atlanta. I thought about calling Abby, but I remembered that she had said that she and Amy were going shopping that afternoon, before they went out that night. I expected that Abby would go home and change and maybe shower before going out to supper, so I thought I'd just go home and catch her there. Our neighborhood is what called "transitional"; that is, it's a mixture of residential, multi-family, light commercial and business, with homes ranging from 60-70 year old houses, older and newer apartment complexes ranging from some shabby-chic to really nice expensive multi-story townhomes, and multi-level homes some have called 'Mac-mansions'. My way home from the airport typically takes me by my favorite liquor and wine store. I remembered that I had asked Murandi (the owner) to order me some of my favorite Columbia Valley Smokerise late harvest California Riesling. He had left a message that he had gotten in a full case for me, so I decided to swing by his store on the way home, and pick it up. Murandi and I talked for a while, and he informed me that a little neighborhood bar called the "Last Drop Inn" located just down the strip mall from him was having an outdoor bar-b-q and beer fest, with live musicians, so he didn't know if I could drive out that way or not. He thought that I might have to retrace my drive back up the main street, and go the longer way around the block instead of going through the parking lot like I ordinarily would to go home from his store. There was an SUV partially blocking that portion of the parking lot, but the band was still setting up, and it looked like I would be able to drive on through to the other end of the parking area, and back on to the side street that would take me home, instead of making a three-block detour. The "Last Drop" was one of our watering holes, although it was sort of a rough bar, where a fair number of bikers and wanna-be hardasses hung out. But Randy Simmons, who owned the place was one of my clients; my company had installed his video and internal camera security systems and we had an on-going service contract with him, so when Abby or I went in, we never got hassled. I decided to try getting through the parking lot, so I eased my vehicle by that SUV when I had to stop as a man walked out from behind it toward the outdoor bar area. As I was stopped, I looked the crowd over, and much to my surprise and shock, I saw under an outdoor tent at the far end of the parking area several people sitting and drinking. That was not the shock; it was that Abby was one of those people, and she was sitting in the lap of Charles Smith. Now Abby and I both knew Charles; he was one of the regulars at the Last Drop, sort of a biker type, who didn't seem to have a steady job but somehow always had money. Although we didn't socialize with him, we saw him more or less on a weekly basis either at the Last Drop, or Sancho Pancho's, our favorite Mexican restaurant, which backed up the Last Drop on the other side of the strip mall. So the surprise was not so much that Abby was sitting in his lap, it was that they were all wrapped up arms entwined, him nuzzling on her neck, and all out in public. Now this might be the time to mention several relevant factors that caused my shock. One, Abby was not an overly demonstrative person; in fact, it was almost worth a fight to try to kiss her in public, as PDOA's (public displays of affection) were usually not allowed; and two, Charles is black. Abby and Amy grew up in rural south Alabama, and their mother and especially their maternal grandparents were, at best, rather racist. Since they and their mother lived with the grandparents until both girls were out of high school, it meant that both Amy and Abby were also rather racist. I had heard both, on more than one occasion, bitch about it if they saw a mixed race, black man-white woman couple in public. I needed to think about this whole scene, that was for sure. I couldn't imagine under what circumstances I would find Abby with a black man, all but making out in public. I put my vehicle in reverse and backed up until most of my Murano was hidden by that Explorer, but I could still see Abby. As I watched suddenly I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. Abby had swiveled around and she and Charles were kissing. This PDOA from a woman who had once threatened to slap me if I kissed her on the mouth in public. And where was Amy? They were supposed to be together; but maybe this scene would have been too much for Amy who, if anything, was more racist than Abby. I slowly backed up, behind the Ford Explorer, and parked. I always carry digital cameras with me, both for use in my job, and because I'm an avid amateur landscape photographer as a hobby. I got out my work day Minolta Maxxum 5D, and put on my 75 – 300 mm long telephoto lens. I stood behind the Explorer and bracing my arm and hand against the back panel, took several different shots of Abby making out – hell, call it what it was, 'swapping spit' with Charles. I heard some loud laughter over to my right, across from where Abby was seated with Charles. Swinging my camera around that way, I saw Amy, sitting with 3 different men, all of whom were (at least) wannabe bikers, two of whom were also black. Well, this was a side of the sisters that I'd never seen before. I didn't know where this had started, but I'd find out, that was for sure; and I was fairly confident that I knew where it would end, as far as Abby and I were concerned. I consider myself laid-back, easy going, try not to make waves, you know, "go along to get along", as the phrase goes. That being said, however, there was no way in hell that I would tolerate this behavior from Abby, especially when, if it had been me, she would have slapped my face or at least jerked away from me and the cold shoulder scene would be going on. I took some pictures of Amy and her group also, and then swung back just in time to take pictures of Charles with his arms around Abby and at least one hand was cupping her breast. This was more than I could stand, but rather than making a scene here that could get violent, I decided to go back around the block, go home and wait for Abby to show up before she and Amy went out together. I could only hope that this was some sort of aberration because Abby was drunk, although I doubted it. I called home when I got back in my vehicle, to document the time. I then called Abby's cell phone, watching her reaction to see what she would do. She pulled the phone out, looked at the number and then let the call go to voice mail. Well, I had a partial answer at least. "Hi, honey, it's me, just calling to see what you and Amy are up to. I'll be home earlier than I had thought; I'll call you again from the airport when I get in. I left a message at home for you also." I drove home, deactivated our home security system, and took my luggage into the house. I then went upstairs to our bedroom. Right away I noticed that the bed was not actually made up like Abby did every morning, but that the covers had been just pulled up into place. I got a funny sick feeling as I pulled the covers back down, and noticed obvious signs that someone had had sex in our bed. I had fallen down one time, while playing golf, and the only thing that I really remember from that fall was how events seem to be moving in slow motion, and that my vision was like tunnel vision, like I was looking through the big end of a telescope. This was the same reaction that I had now when I realized what I was seeing. For a moment a white-hot surge of anger flashed through me; I honestly believe that for the first time in my adult life I could have committed violence against someone, either the man or my slutty wife. I went into the spare bedroom, and unpacked my luggage. I opened my laptop and logged into my office server to catch up on any matters within the last 12 hours. As I logged in, I saw the icon for my home security system. Maybe it had been activated so that I could see what had happened. When I logged into the home system, however, I saw that someone, apparently Abby, had deactivated the monitoring system last night. Well, that answered yet another question for me. I pride myself, however, on being calm, cool and collected; it was one of the traits that made me and my partner so successful in our security systems business, and that was my ability to stay calm in the eye of the hurricane. What Abby didn't know was that our home had been wired up with all the bells and whistles, with every available option for top-line home and home office security. Moreover, the system was a show piece that we used for potential clients, and it had a feature that no one but my partner and I knew about. It could be remotely activated, either from my office or from my laptop through a VPN connection to my office, and if activated in this manner, the video monitoring aspect of the system could not be deactivated from home, although if such deactivation was attempted the system would react as if video monitoring had been deactivated. I then activated the entire system for the first time, other than for a test run for possible clients; everything was hot. The nanny cams that covered every room but the commode area of the bathroom, the audio systems, the video recording that went remotely to a DVD burner in the server in our basement and with a backup to my office. I waited in the den, in my recliner watching golf until after 8:00; when it became apparent that Abby was not going to come home before going back out. I got back in my car and drove over to Amy's apartment, but although Amy's car was there, Abby's car was not, and the apartment from the windows I could see was dark. I drove back over to the Last Drop, but everything had been moved back inside. I parked and went up to the door to see if I could see Randy from the door. He was behind the bar, but at the closest end to the front door, so I walked inside and over to the bar. I had never seen Randy look shocked before, but his face when he saw me had a clearly shocked expression. "Randy, dude, what's up?" "Marty, this is a surprise; I'd heard that you were out of state on a business trip." "Really? Who'd you hear that from, my loving wife?" Randy got a funny look on his face, like he had bitten into something sour. "Yeah, well, I don't know where I heard that, you know." "So, have you seen Abby and Amy today? I had heard that you had an outside beer bust this afternoon, and that they were planning on coming down." Randy was silent for more than a long moment. "Marty, we've been friends a long time. You did a great job for me and gave me a great deal on my security system, but I don't want to get in the middle of something here." "Randy, the best way that you can avoid getting in the middle of anything, as you so artfully put it, is to tell me what you saw this afternoon. I'm pretty sure that you're not really going to shock me." Randy then proceeded to tell me that when the beer bust was going full-steam, he had gone outside to check on things and he had seen what I had seen; both Abby and Amy making out with Charles and some of his black biker guys. He said that he was shocked and had made a point of going over to speak to Abby, after which she then got out of Charles' lap and sat down beside him. Randy acted like he hadn't noticed what was going on, but he made a point of asking about me, and that was when Abby had told him that I was out of town until Sunday. Randy had also spoken to Amy and had made a point of how obvious Abby's behavior was in our own neighborhood. Amy had gotten somewhat testy with Randy, and basically told him to mind his own business, that Abby was a big girl, and besides she was just having a little innocent fun with her friends. Randy had gone back inside and when he came back out 30 minutes or so later Abby, Amy and Charles and his two homeboys were gone also. Randy said that he didn't see them leave and didn't know where they had gone. I was certainly not going to drive all over Atlanta, hoping to spot Abby's car, so I sat down and ordered some supper. Randy came over and sat down with me while I ate what little that I actually could make myself eat. He then apologized for his actions earlier. He said that he just didn't know to react and, judging from the way both Amy and Abby had acted, he thought maybe that I even knew about it already. "Hell, no, I didn't know about it, but I came home early and drove by here after stopping at Murandi's place. I saw most of what you just told me about. I don't know what she's thinks she's doing, but our marriage is just about to be toast, unless she has some really great and truthful explanations when she comes in tonight." Randy and I sat and talked for a while longer after I finished eating. Truthfully I was not all that hungry in any event. I tried several different times to call Abby at home, on her cell phone, and at Amy's apartment. Nothing, just voice mail; so I left messages that I was calling, with no indication that I was already back in Atlanta. I finally went home around 10:30 or so, needless to say, Abby was not home. After desultorily watching some sports for another hour or so, I set the alarm and went to bed in the guest bedroom. To my surprise, I slept rather soundly, as the alarm did not go off to wake me. When I got up around seven'ish or so on Sunday, I checked the master bedroom (funny, how it was already not 'our bedroom' anymore), and of course, Abby was not in bed. I started calling Abby's cell phone, again no answer, straight to voice mail; then I tried Amy's home phone. The third time I called around 8:30 or so, Amy answered. "Amy, this is Marty. Where is Abby?" "Martin (she always called me Martin because she said I was such a 'tightass'), she's here with me; hold on, I'll see if she's up yet?" {If she's up yet, now there's a phrase I could parse} I could hear talking in the background, at least two different voices, for more than just a short moment. Finally, in a faint voice, I hear Abby. "Hello, Marty. Where are you?" "I'm back in town, on the way home. Why are you at Amy's?" "I spent the night here; we both got wasted last night and I'm really hung over." "Well, are you going to meet me at home, or what are you going to do? You knew I'd be back in town this morning. Why did you get all wasted last night? I tried calling you at home all yesterday afternoon. I called your cell phone up until late last night. You never answered the phone. Where were you that you couldn't answer your cell phone?" "Marty, I've not been home since yesterday lunch time; I've been with Amy. I guess my cell phone is off, or maybe the batteries ran down; I don't know. Anyway, don't yell at me. My head is killing me, and I feel like I'm going to throw up. I can't drive now." "Okay, then I'll come by there and pick you up. We'll get your car later, or did you ride with Amy yesterday?" "I drove, and I sure don't feel like even riding anywhere now. I'm going back to bed here, I'll come home later. Why don't you go by the office? You generally have to work on your exit reports, and I'll call you when I'm feel better and ready to come home." "Abby, this is just great, just fucking great. I'm gone for most of the week, and I come home to this. I've got to go back out to Savannah at least by Tuesday. You need to come home, we need to talk about what in the hell is going on here." There was a dead silence for a moment, and then she said, "What do mean, 'what's going on here'? There's nothing going on here, and don't give me any crap. I told you my head is killing me, I'm sick at my stomach, and I have to go throw up. Just go to the office, and I'll call you when I'm ready to meet you at home." "Alright, Abby, if that's the way that you want it. I'm going to the office now. When I finish my reports, I'm going home. I'll be there by two o'clock at the latest. If you're there, we'll talk. If not, I'll pack my bags for my Savannah trip and I'll head out. It's your call... and by the way, don't you ever take that tone with me again. I don't care how sick you are, you don't talk to me that way." "Fine, whatever. I told you I'm sick. That doesn't seem to mean anything to you, so you do what you have to do, and I'll do what I have to do. Goodbye!" And she hung up on me. Fuck this shit; I'm out of here now. I finished the laundry that I had started, completed packing my bags, enough for a 2-week stay away from home if necessary, and I was out the door by noon. I went to the office and completed my exit reports on my work in the Richmond area. Just to confirm, I checked in with the home security system every half hour or so and, promptly at two o'clock, I confirmed that Abby was not home. I called her cell phone to see if she was on the way, but again I got no answer. I confirmed that the home system was remotely controlled now, and that the VPN connection with my laptop was secured also. Shortly after 2:p.m., I loaded my inspection equipment in the car, and headed down I-75 toward Savannah. Just south of Macon at around 3:30 or so, as I was on I-16, my cell phone chimed. I looked at the number; it was Abby's cell phone. I thought for a moment about not answering, but decided what the hell; let's see what she has to say now. "Hello." "Marty, where are you now? I told you that I'd call you at the office when I was ready to come home. I couldn't get you at the office and so I came home, and you're not here either." "Abby, were you so sick that you didn't listen to me. I told you to be home by two o'clock. When I finished up at the office, I went home to clean up and get ready for my Savannah trip. When you didn't show up, I packed my bags and I'm on the road now, in fact I'm already on I-16 headed south." There was a long silence, so I thought maybe my cell had dropped the call. I looked at the screen but saw that I was still connected. About that time, Abby spoke again. "Marty, look, I was sick, okay? I didn't mean to get so drunk, but there was a big party, lots of people, we were dancing and drinking and it just got away with me." The Outside Beer Party "I see." "What does that mean, you see?" "Well, Abby, what did you expect me to say? That I understand? Because sure as hell I don't understand why you would go out with Amy on the day before I'm due back in town, knowing that I could conceivably come home even a little early, so we could spend as much time together before I have to leave for Savannah. And then you consciously get so drunk that you can't even make it home by two o'clock the next afternoon." Again there was a long silence. "I'm going to hang up now. This is getting old." Then I hear a faint sob, "Marty, look, I'm sorry. I know you're pissed, but all your traveling and being away from home is getting to me. Last night I was having so much fun with Amy and her friends, it just got away with me. But I'm sorry. Okay? Really truly sorry. I love you so much and I miss you and I don't want you to be mad at me, please. I just couldn't bear it if you're so mad at me." "Abby, you know how I feel about Amy and how you get when you go out with her. You act sometimes like you're not even married. You just act like she wants you to, instead of acting like my wife. And I'll tell you right now, I'm tired of it. I'm good and damn sick and tired of it." At this point, I heard her sharp intake of breath, so I knew what was coming. "Damn you, Marty, that's not true and you know it. And why do you always have to go off on Amy? She's my sister, my oldest and dearest friend and she's blood," and she took another breath to start in some more. Before she could take off on her rant, I overrode her. "Abby, I'm going to tell you something right now. You'd better listen to me and listen damn good. You say that you love me and you don't want me to be mad at you. I'm very pissed at you right now, and I'm fed up with how you let Amy control you when you're with her. The time has come for you to make a choice. I will not tolerate what happened this weekend ever again. Do you hear me? DO YOU HEAR ME? You say you love me and only me, that you can't live without me. Well, if that's true, I'll tell you that you'd better get your heart right with god." "What do mean? What are you saying?" "I'm going to Savannah; I'll start my security inspection a day early, and finish up by Wednesday or Thursday morning at the latest. I'll call you when I start home. I'll expect you to be there waiting on my call. When I get home, we'll talk about this past weekend. I'll expect you to tell me truthfully, and in detail where you were this weekend, what you did, and who you did it with. I'm giving you right now a 'get out of jail' free card. If you tell me the truth, the whole and complete truth about where you were, what you did and who with, we might get through this with our marriage intact." "What the hell do you mean talking to me this way, Marty? I'm not your child. Amy was right today. She said that you never want me to have any fun; that you treat me just like a child." "Abby, you just remember what I said. I'll not talk to you again until I start back, but you'd better think long and hard on what I've just said," and I hung up. I expected her to call right back, and sure enough, my cell phone started chiming right away. I just let it go to voice mail, which I promptly deleted. I got into Savannah late that evening, and checked into the hotel where I generally stayed while I was in town. Once I had eaten some supper, I went back to my room, got on their high-speed internet access and logged into my VPN at work. I checked into the home security system recording disk. Sure enough, as soon as Abby finished her rant at me for hanging up on her, she called Amy. Her tone to Amy, however, was rather different than I expected. "Amy, I just got off the phone with Marty. He's already on the way to Savannah. {..} No, no, he's really pissed. He's acting like he suspects something about this weekend." {..} "Damn it, Amy, this is not funny, and no, I'm not being paranoid. I've never seen him like this before. I don't know why I let you talk into what happened on Saturday. {..} Well, yes, I did enjoy it once we got going, but I'm really feeling very guilty now. {..} No, you're just saying that, but I know Marty. He is not screwing around on me when he's out of town, so don't go there. This is not about getting even with him. {..} "No, no, don't come over. I'm going to bed now. I'm still feeling sick and hung over. What the hell did you two put in my drinks anyway?" {..} No, I'll be alright, and I don't feel like any company now, even if it's just you. I've got to go to the library tomorrow. I'm filling in for Myrna Speeling. I'll call you when I get home. Yeah, love you too. I'll talk to you later." Well, that was certainly an enlightening conversation, but still not what I needed to know. Did Abby let Charles fuck her? If so, was it in our bedroom, in our bed? If so, how many times? How did this happen? These questions kept running around in my head like so many little squirrels on a treadmill. I finally got bourbon out of the mini-bar and chased it with water and two Tylenol PM tablets so that I was able to drift off to sleep. For the next two days, I concentrated on work during the day, coordinating with our commercial clients' security systems and our home office inspection agenda, and basically staying busy enough that I could forget for some hours what my home life had become. I checked the home system log about 10:00 p.m., as I noted that Abby was already in bed by herself. Interestingly enough, it looked like she had changed the bed linens. She had not called Amy from home, nor had Amy called her. I didn't know what, if any conversations they may have had from work, but truth to tell, I wasn't too concerned since Abby was working at the main undergraduate library. On Tuesday evening, Amy called Abby around 6:30 and tried to get Abby to meet her at the Last Drop. Abby wouldn't go, saying that she was worried about what Randy may say or think. Amy said that they could meet somewhere else. Amy apparently knew of a great new place up in midtown where a lot of the professional baseball players hung out. Abby told Amy that she was still tired, and she was again going to bed early, which she did. It had appeared that I could finish up Wednesday, but at the last minute, one of the servers at our best commercial client decided to freeze up, so I was there until almost eight p.m., getting everything fixed and the full scanning and monitoring system fully back on line. I was worn out, so I decided to order in a pizza and some beer and get to bed early myself. Truthfully I was dreading Thursday's conversation, even confrontation, with Abby. I almost didn't even check into the security system, since Abby had passed on going out the night before, and she knew that there was certainly a chance that I might come back into town that evening in any event. At the last moment, I decided to check in and confirm everything was okay, and then get to bed early, so that I could leave really early in the morning. I logged on into the system, and the first indication that I had of a pending problem was Amy's apparent call to Abby. "Hello? Oh, hey, sis. What? No, nothing really. I'm sort of expecting Marty to call. Why? {..} No, I'm not sitting home like a good little girl, as you say; Amy, I want to be here to talk to him when he calls {..} Why? I'll tell you why. Because I have this really strong sense that my marriage is in bad trouble [at this point, I'm nodding yes]. No, I don't really need any company. {..} Oh, alright, if you're already on the way, just come on. But don't start with me. When Marty calls, I'm going to talk to him, and try to get us back on track. {..} Okay, I'll see you in a few then." There was nothing more for a while, then the doorbell rang, and Abby let Amy in. They talked in the kitchen for a short while, then Amy made some margueritas and they went into the front room, sat and talked while drinking. They had just about finished the pitcher before Abby told Amy that she needed to do a couple of things before she went to bed, when the doorbell rang again. I could hear Amy as she smirked, "Oh, I wonder who that can be?" "Amy, what have you done?" "Nothing, sis. Just some friends of mine who've dropped by to pick me up, since you won't go out with me." "Oh, okay. Well, I'll talk to you later then, I'll let you run on," Abby said, as Amy walked to the door. Amy opened the door, and Charles and another black man walked into my house. All of a sudden, I was wide awake and alert, as I noted the time was almost an hour ago. I fast forwarded in short segments, as I could see Abby and Amy apparently quarrelling in the kitchen, then Amy and Abby mixing drinks for Charles and the other man, whose name I could hear was Ed. I fast forwarded again, and I see Amy and Charles sitting on our couch, and they begin kissing. I fast forward, then suddenly I notice that the backup alert blinks momentarily, to indicate that the in-house monitoring system is being deactivated. I check the sensor monitors. It's in our bedroom and it can only be Abby. I fast forwarded again, and I see Abby and Charles in the master bedroom and again they are kissing passionately, Charles undressing Abby, and then her undressing him. He is going down on her, then they kissed wildly, passionately, as Abby spread for him and then guided him into her apparently wide open wetness. I'm now within a few minutes of the actual real time, so I picked up my cell phone and called the home number. I could see and hear Abby freeze up in her movements, as she said to Charles, "Oh, shit, that's my husband. Be quiet. I need to talk to him." You've got to be kidding me, she doesn't even make him pull out of her. "Hello," Abby says in a small quivery voice. "Abby, did I catch you in the middle of something?" "Uuh, I don't what you mean. I mean, no. Where are you?" "I'm still in Savannah, but I'm packing up to return. Abby, are you alone?" "Alone? What you mean? Who did you think might be here?" "Abby, this is a simple 'yes' or 'no' question. Are you alone? And, damn it, I won't ask it again." I watched her face, as she tried now to move Charles off and out of her, although he's not really cooperating. "Hold on, honey. I need to turn off the TV now." She finally pushed him and got him to move out of her with an audible plop. "Abby, that was a strange noise. What was that?" "Oh, honey, I'm sorry. Something I ate. I just passed some gas." Charles is laughing silently as the bed shakes from his movements. "Abby, for the last time, are you alone or not? Answer my question." "No, okay? I'm not, okay? Amy is here visiting." "Ok, just you and Amy then. No one else there. No one, right?" "Marty, why are you acting like this? What's wrong with you?" "Abby, I guess then the answer to my question is no, you and Amy are not alone, and I'm acting like this because your 'get out of jail free' card just got taken away. By the way, you know that the house belongs to my company, right, because we have all those great security bells and whistles installed in the house. And, oh, did I ever mention to you that when I activate the system from my office, you cannot deactivate it from home, and I can log in to our home system in every room, both audio and video from anywhere on the planet that there is a high-speed internet connection, like, for example, right now the one here in my hotel room. So, Abby, smile. You're not on Candid Camera, but you're going to wish you were." And I hung up as Abby screamed out, "NOOOO!" I could see Charles jump out of bed startled by her scream, and then Amy came running into the room and went to Abby, asking her what was the matter. By then, Abby is in full-blown hysterics, sobbing and screaming out to Amy, "He knows! Marty knows. He's taping us right now." "What are you talking about? What do you mean, 'Marty knows'? How can he know?" "Our home security system is on. He's watching us in real time now. That was him! I told you! I told you he was going to call tonight. Get out now! All of you, get out! I've got to call him. I've got to explain this to him, to tell him how much I love. I've got to tell him how sorry I am. GET OUT! GET OUT NOW! Amy, that means you, too. Get out of my house." Abby picked up her cell phone and ran into the bathroom and locked the door. She then tried to dial my cell phone. In the meantime, Amy was hustling both men into getting dressed and out of the house, while still trying to talk to Abby. Abby finally got my speed dial connection, but I let it go to voice mail, since I could hear what she was saying. "Marty, please pick up. Oh, god, please pick up. I'm so sorry. Please let me talk to you. Oh, Marty, this is my biggest ever screw up, but you know how much I love you. You're the only man for me. Please don't let this ruin us. Please, Marty." I cut the live feed and let monitoring recording go to my VPN connection straight to the disk backup at the office. I'd had all I could stand for one night. I turned off my cell phone, and lay down on top of the covers and I finally drifted off to sleep. Thursday morning came with wispy streamers of fog, and a gray overcast sky; a totally suitable day for how I was feeling. I had planned on a very early start, but now there was no real reason to rush back. At just after nine o'clock, I called James Scott, my company's attorney, and told him to get started on the divorce paperwork that I had talked to him about on Monday of that week. I then called home to talk to Abby. I didn't bother to turn on the live feed, as I had absolutely no desire to see her even one more time. "Abby, it's me." "Oh, thank god, Marty, thank you for calling. Marty, I'm so sorry..." I interrupted her. "Abby, be quiet and listen to me. I just called to tell you this. I don't want to hear about how sorry you are. You and your sister are two of a kind. I tried to tell you, but you didn't want to listen. Well, now, whatever Amy wanted to accomplish, she has, and you fell right into it. So don't tell me you're sorry, or that you love me, or that it won't happen again, or anything else, because I don't want to hear it." "What I do want is this. I want you out of my company's house before I get home today. I've already forwarded the DVD's of last night's little fuck fest in my home, in my bedroom, and in my bed to my attorney and he's getting the divorce papers filed today. So trust me on this, you really don't want to be in that house when I get home. So get your slutty sister to take you in. You're now free to fuck whoever and whenever you want, just like her." "Marty, please, please listen ..." "Abby, what part of what I just told you did you not understand? Get out of my house. You can arrange with your attorney to get the rest of your belongings later, but you'd better be gone when I get there." I hung up, finished packing, arranged to have the DVD backups delivered to James Scott for his review and his use in the final preparation of the divorce pleadings. When I got home, Abby was gone, as were most of her clothes and her personal items. The bed in the master bedroom had clean linens on it, and the old linens I never saw again. As if it were only that simple. After that Wednesday, Abby called the office virtually on a daily basis, at least once a day, trying to get me to sit down and talk to her. She even came by our office until my attorney told her attorney that we would get a restraining order if that was what it would take to stop what we characterized as her harassment. Once her attorney saw the DVD's, there was little talk of stopping the divorce. The talks became more of how can we settle this whole mess. I did have an interesting encounter one evening at the Last Drop; well, two encounters actually over a two week period or so. The first was about a week after that Wednesday night, when I was sitting talking to Randy and Bill Stephens, my partner, about upgrading Randy's security system. We had only briefly mentioned my situation with Abby and our pending split-up, and Amy and Charles' part in the mess, when Charles walked in the front door. Bart Weatherly, Randy's partner and part-time bouncer started after him as it became apparent that Charles was coming over to our table. Charles walked up to our table and said, "Hey, dude, I'm sorry for what happened. It was just one of those things, you know." I just looked at him and didn't say anything. He continued, "But I got to say, I hope you don't work things out because I want to continue to see her." I stood up then, pushing back my chair, as Charles grinned at me. I walked toward him and faked a punch toward him and then gave him my best forearm shot. I guess those four years as an outside linebacker for my college team weren't wasted after all. They told me that I broke his jaw in two places, and that he'd be drinking and eating out of a straw for about six weeks. Well, at least there would not be any open mouth kissing with Abby, not that I gave a rat's ass anyway. Funny thing, there were four witnesses who stated that Charles threw the first punch. Go figure. The next strange or funny encounter took place about a week or so after that, also in the Last Drop. This time Randy and I had finished eating (I was spending a lot of off-time with Randy, just talking about really nothing at all), when Amy walked in, and after seeing where we were sitting walked up to our table. I stood up just as Amy got to the table. Randy told her that she was no longer welcome in his place and that she needed to leave. Amy looked at both of us and asked if she could just talk to me for a moment. Randy looked at me, and I nodded that it was okay. I sat back down, as did Randy, leaving Amy standing there. "Can I at least sit down, please?" "Not at this table you can't. You're no friend of mine, and you're not going to be here that long. Say what you came to say." "Okay, I guess I deserved that." "No," I interrupted her, "you deserve a lot more than that, but I don't hit women." "Yeah, I've heard about Charles, so I guess he had that coming also. Anyway I'm here not to ask you to forgive me, but to ask you to at least talk to Abby. She's quit eating, she sits at home and cries, she never goes out. I'm really worried about her, about what she might do." "Amy, if you were worried about Abby, really worried, you wouldn't have led her into what you led her into. You deliberately tried to turn her into a black cock slut like yourself, and you succeeded. And now you're worried about her? That's just a little too late." "That was cold, but again, I guess I deserve it. But if she ever meant anything to you, please at least talk with her." "Amy, I gave her the last chance to talk that I was going to give that Sunday, when I already knew what you and she and your black fuck buddies had done. I gave her the chance to confess it, and give us at least the chance to move on. Instead she blew me off, and then you tempted her again on Wednesday. You and her both knowing I was going to call her, you deliberately tempted her again, and then she let that black asshole fuck her again. From then on, there was no going back, no talking, no forgiveness; there was simply nothing else to say. Abby said it all, when she went into that bedroom with Charles and attempted to deactivate the home security video monitors." "Okay, well, at least I tried. I can tell Abby that. So whatever happens now is on your head." Now, I finally lost it, "Fuck you, you black cock sucking bitch. Whatever happens is on your head and don't you ever believe otherwise. You turned her into miniyou, just another black cock loving slut, so get the fuck out here, and stay the fuck out of my life." The Outside Beer Party I finally did see Abby one last time just before the divorce was final, about four months later. She had begged and pleaded for just 15 minutes alone before we signed the final settlement and divorce papers. I had finally come to a place in my life where I wanted to move on, and I thought, let her have her say, and then it'll all be over but the crying. We met in my attorney's conference room, as agreed upon some 15 minutes before time to sign all the divorce documents. It was funny - not funny 'ha ha', but funny strange - how much physically Abby really had changed. She was noticeably thinner, but also wearing more make up than I was accustomed to seeing her wear. She and I greeted each other at least cordially, however, and then nothing was said for a few minutes. Abby seemed interested in the paintings on the wall, and she was not meeting my eyes, as she started to speak. "Marty, first of all, thank you for agreeing to meet and talk with me, even if only for this short time." I started to respond, but Abby looked at me and waved her hand at me, "Please let me finish. This is just so hard for me." I just sat back and let her continue. "I just wanted to tell you again, although you said you didn't want to hear it, how very sorry, so very sorry that I am about all that happened. I just want to say that I would have done anything, hell, I still will do anything to atone for what happened. I knew how much you loved me, and believe it or not, how much I loved you – and I still do – more than anything else in this world. But I forgot that for a while. I listened to Amy, and that cost me more than I believed I could lose." She paused and took a sip of water from the glasses in front of us. "I heard about what Amy did and said to you that night at the Lost Drop; she came home that night and confessed to me that she was always jealous of us, of me, for having you. It was like she was trying to break us up. I moved out that next weekend, and I haven't seen her since, and we have only spoken a few times, until I made it clear that she was no longer a part of my life." Abby was crying softly now, as I just sat and thought about all that she had just said. "Marty, can you ever find it in your heart to forgive me. I don't expect you to get back with me, I know it's too late for that. But, is there any hope at all, can I at last have that much hope, that sometime in the future, sometime later, we could at least be friends, that I could maybe be even just that much a part of your life?" "Abby, if there's one thing I've learned, it's 'never say never'. But I have to tell you that I've moved on, and while I don't hate you anymore, I don't see how I could ever learn to trust you, or to even want to be around you in any significant way in the foreseeable future." She was crying somewhat harder now, but trying to stifle her sobbing. "I understand, and I don't blame you, I really don't blame anyone ultimately but me. I know that I will never love anyone again like I loved you, and that is my punishment after all. So my idiotic incredible error in judgment, this stupid lapse has cost me everything that I held dear in life." We sat quietly then, until right before our respective attorneys came into the room, when I spoke to her one more time. She was still crying about that when they came in the room, but she signed all the paperwork, and that was that. So it ended, as the poet said, not with a bang, but a whimper. Epilogue: A funny thing happened on the way home from the airport yesterday. No, not funny "ha ha", but funny like strange. I had called home to let my wife know that I was home earlier than I had thought. She was apparently not in, so I figured she had gone out with her sister and some of their old friends who were visiting from out of town. Since I couldn't reach her, I decided to stop on the way home, and get something to eat. I live on the far north side of town, far from the airport, so I really don't know anything about the south side of town, except that it has more black and Hispanic residents than does the area where I live now. I saw a bar-b-q place, which I had read about in the Atlanta Visitor, that supposedly served really great pork short ribs, so I stopped in. I got a table more toward the back of the place, which was more than a little dimly lit in any event, and was nursing a beer waiting for my meal, when Abby walked in the front door. It had now been more than three years since our divorce, and this was the first time I'd seen her since then. She seemed to be by herself, as she was shown to a table near the front bar area. I half expected to see Amy walk in also until I remembered what had happened. Abby looked around the room, but didn't seem to see me. I was rather taken aback at her appearance. She was rather heavily made up, and was wearing a really tight top and skirt. The skirt stopped about six inches up from her knees, and even across the room, I could see her four inch CFM strappy sandals. Wow, again, what a surprise, she had never dressed like that to go out with me. I decided to forgo eating there, so I called the waitress over, and asked that my meal be made to go. Just then, a very large, heavy black man walked in like he owned the place and sat down at the table with Abby. He grabbed her by the head and pulled her to him for a very obvious and sloppy open-mouth kiss. After I got my meal to take-out, I walked toward the front on my way out, and stared at Abby as I approached. When she saw me, her face turned red, then went pale. She turned her head away as I got close to their table, but not before I saw the tears start down her cheeks. She then looked back toward me, like she was going to speak, but I shook my head 'no'. I remembered the last words that I had ever said to her that day, just before the attorneys came in the conference room: Abby, I know you love me, I know how much, so now this is what I'll leave you with. You don't get to see me, to speak to me, to have me hold you and cuddle you, and treasure you, and love you with all my heart; you don't get any of that anymore. You've made that bed, now you can be in it alone without me there! As I got back into my car, I tried my wife Jenny's cell phone number, and this time she answered right away. "Marty, honey, where are you? I've missed you so much. When will you be home?" "Jenny, sweetheart, I've missed you like crazy too, but I'm back in Atlanta. I'm on the way home now." "Precious, that's wonderful, I'm here with Kristin at Bones. Why don't you join us?" "You know what, angel, I think I'll do just that. Better save some strength for later on tonight. I need to catch up on some of your sweet sexy loving." "Don't you worry about that, Stud. I'll be here with rings on my fingers and nail polish on my toes, just like you want, and it'll be all here for you alone. So just get your butt over here." God, I love this woman. Whoever said it is right: love is better the second time around.