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The Six O'clock News Slot

By: FrancisMacomber



If your wife were away from home at 10:00 p.m., would you be worried? I wouldn't, because all I have to do is turn on the local news to see exactly what she's doing. 

My wife, Carol Martin, is the local co-anchor for the nightly news on the leading local tv channel here in Birmingham. She's as gorgeous as she is intelligent, and a lot of the smart money is beginning to bet that her next job will be in a major market, maybe Atlanta or Chicago. There are even whispers that she might get an offer from a New York station, which is the Promised Land for a news anchor.

I'm Tom Bailey, by the way. Carol kept her maiden name for on air purposes. Many female newscasters do that as a way of keeping their personal and professional lives separate.

I guess you can tell how proud of her I am, and how lucky I feel to have married her. We met while we were both at the University of Alabama at Tuscaloosa. As you might have guessed, she was majoring in broadcasting, while I was a marketing major. We met at a fraternity mixer our freshman year and I was blown away. She was tall, blonde and built with curves in all the right places. Me? I'm a pretty social kind of guy, but I wasn't an athlete nor destined to be a "big man on campus." And for some reason, no one has ever asked me to model fashions for GQ Magazine. But something just seemed to click between us, and we soon became a couple. 

I won't lie to you and tell you that everything was always perfect; we had our share of fights, and one time we broke up for two weeks. But by the second weekend I was going crazy missing her and cursing myself for letting whatever it was come between us. Finally, I started running across campus towards her dorm, hoping that she'd forgive me and we could get back together. Halfway there, I looked up to see her running in my direction. If there'd been a movie camera present, it would have been circling around the two of us as we held each other with tears in our eyes, vowing never to part again. We were, as they say, crazy in love.

By our senior year, we were engaged. We were already living together in a small apartment off campus, but at least we were smart enough to wait until we graduated before tying the knot. Besides, she wanted to have a big wedding, and her folks were well enough off to indulge her. I was smart enough to know to go along for the ride, so we were married in Canterbury Chapel on campus in May a week after commencement.

Carol was fortunate to land a job with the local tv station in Huntsville as their weekend weather girl. It wasn't exactly a prestigious position, but jobs in broadcasting are hard to come by even in small markets. It was a start, and Carol made the best of it. Within six months she was given the opportunity to do some on-air reporting, and a few months later she moved up to a regular reporting role.

I managed to land a low-level job at a local advertising agency. The place was so small that I did double duty as account representative and copy writer. It wasn't much, but it was good experience and a lot better than being unemployed.

But I didn't have to stay there long because Carol's star was already in the ascendency. By the end of the year, she'd been offered a reporting job at the largest station in Mobile. Her good looks and her winning personality had caught the attention of station management there, and so we moved to the Gulf Coast.

I really didn't mind being the coat-tail in our relationship. I'd known what I was getting into from the moment Carol landed her first on-air job, and my ego was strong enough to support her career. Of course, it didn't hurt than she was earning more money than me by the time we moved to Mobile.

The station management in Mobile was well connected with the local advertising agencies, and with their help I was able to land a job with one of the larger firms in the city. The people were nice and I had no trouble fitting in.

Carol, meanwhile, was doing even better. She'd joined the station as a reporter, but when a vacancy occurred she was given a shot as a weekend news announcer. People loved her, and the ratings for her news slot began a steady climb. It wasn't long before she had moved to the coveted co-anchor position on the nightly news.

If the audience loved her in the anchor position, they went wild when she announced on air that she was expecting. They followed her in growing numbers through every step of her pregnancy, and when our daughter Susan was born, the delivery was news in its own right.

As our beautiful little baby girl grew and developed, the station used the opportunity to produce a documentary series on the challenges facing a mother of a newborn returning to the workforce that won a regional Emmy award. Given all the success that Carol was enjoying, it really was no surprise when WXYY, the leading station in Birmingham, called to offer her the co-anchor position.

We'd grown comfortable with the laid-back pace of life on the Gulf shore in Mobile, and were sad to say goodbye. I had made some real friends at the agency where I worked and genuinely regretted having to leave them. 

But Birmingham beckoned, and we couldn't help but think that if Carol did well there, even greater things might lie ahead. So we sold our cozy little home, packed up our belongings and headed for the big city. Some people might laugh at calling Birmingham a "big city," but with 1.2 million people and the 40th largest media market in the country, the Pittsburgh of the South was a major step up for Carol, especially in the broadcast media arena.

After being so comfortable in Mobile, I was apprehensive about making the move to Birmingham, but I needn't have worried. Armed with a glowing recommendation from my friends in Mobile and with the help of the Birmingham station, I was able to land a great job at the second largest ad agency in the city. In fact, I can't say enough about the station management. They lined us up with a knowledgeable real estate agent who helped us find a lovely home in the suburb of Hoover. She was also able to help us find a great childcare situation for little Susan. All in all, the move was far easier than I had expected, and we were quickly and painlessly up and going in our new lives.

I should tell you a little about our routine, because being the husband of a tv newswoman is not a normal lifestyle. In the morning, I'd get up, fix breakfast for myself and head off to work, leaving Carol and Susan asleep. Carol would stay in bed as long as Susan would let her sleep, then get up and spend the morning with her daughter. After lunch, Carol would take Susan to Mrs. Alsop's home. Mrs. Alsop was a lovely lady who cared for Susan and two other children, along with her own daughter. She had a background in elementary education, so in addition to playtime she was giving her charges an early introduction to some of the concepts they could expect to encounter in kindergarten and first grade.

I'd pick Susan up when I left work, bring her home and fix dinner for us, including something that could be saved so Carol could eat when she got home. After dinner, I'd give Susan her bath and read to her until it was time to put her down to sleep. Then I'd read or watch tv until Carol finally made it home. Not infrequently, she'd have to wake me on the couch where I'd fallen asleep.

As for Carol, after dropping Susan off with Mrs. Alsop, she would head for the station, arriving at 3:00 to begin preparing for the evening news. Then, while the network news was running, Carol would be off to make-up and a last-minute review before airtime at 6:00. She and her co-anchor Ted Stevenson would go through their paces for the local news hour. After it was over, they'd grab a light snack – they never ate close to air time to avoid any embarrassing burps or belches – and prepare for the 10:00 p.m. recap. 

Normally, Carol and Ted would alternate doing the 10:00 p.m. slot; since the late news is just thirty minutes long, only a single anchor is required. But lately, Don Sanchez, the news director, had been holding post-mortems after the late news, and both Carol and Ted had to stay late to critique their performances and look for opportunities to improve. 

Local news programs are big money-makers for tv stations. The stations get to keep all the advertising revenue, and the station with the highest ratings gets to charge a premium, so the competition is fierce. The higher the ratings, the higher the premium, so stations are always looking for ways to increase their audience share.

Being in the advertising business, I could understand why the station would put such a priority on increasing its ratings. But as a husband, I also was feeling the lack of time alone with Carol. Truthfully, with Carol working in the evenings and me working during the day, it had always been a challenge to find time just for the two of us, especially after Susan was born. Of course we usually had the weekends, but we tried to find a little time during the week as well. But lately, those weeknight rendezvous had become rarer and rarer, especially after Don Sanchez instituted the late night post-mortems. Even our weekend time had shrunk as Carol began to make more public appearances, "showing the flag" for the station. 

With only rare opportunities for intimacy, it felt as though Carol and I were living more like roommates than husband and wife, like friends rather than lovers. Because our schedules were out of synch, I could rarely find opportunities to discuss the situation with her, and she seemed reluctant to talk about it with me, I guess because there were no easy answers.

Even though I wasn't happy with the situation, I was reluctant to press the issue because I'd known what I was getting into when I married Carol. We'd talked about the schedule issue and the challenges of being married to a tv personality, and I'd signed on all the way. Moreover, we had friends from college who were struggling with the opposite situation: husbands traveling frequently and working long hours with little time for their families. Had I been in that situation, I would have looked to Carol for support and understanding, so I didn't want to be a hypocrite. And, I kept reminding myself, Carol was earning a lot more money than me, which made our lives much easier. Still, money isn't everything.

It had reached the point where I couldn't keep my frustration to myself any more, and one day over lunch, I spilled my guts to Lou Farraday, the director of media services at our agency. Lou was only a couple of years older than I, was married to a lovely woman named Terri, and had a little girl only slightly older than Susan. With so much in common, it wasn't surprising that he'd become my best friend at work, someone to whom I felt comfortable seeking advice.

So that day when he was telling me about how happy he and Terri were, I blurted out my instinctive response: "Damn, I wish I had what you've got."

"Sounds like there's trouble in paradise, buddy," he said. "What's going on?"

Then it all poured out, surprising me with how badly I was feeling. "I'm married to one of the hottest women on television," I griped, "and I don't see her much more than her fans watching her on the news."

Lou shook his head in sympathy. "Damn, Tom, that sucks. Isn't there some way you two could get away for a vacation, or even just a long weekend? I'll bet your folks would be glad to keep Susan."

"I've thought about that," I said, "but Carol says that Don Sanchez is keeping the pressure on Ted and her to pump the ratings up. They're his top draws, and he's afraid either of them being gone will result in some slippage that they won't be able to make up."

"Look," Lou replied, "I've known Don Sanchez for quite a while. He's a gifted news director and he's driven to succeed, but he's also a decent human being. Maybe you ought to talk with him and see if there's anything he could do to give you and Carol a little together time."

"I don't know, Lou," I sighed, "I think Carol would kill me if she knew I'd contacted her boss."

"She doesn't have to know," Lou replied. "Don is coming over to the agency tomorrow to hear a pitch for a new viral video campaign we're working on. You know him well enough -- I bet you could get a few minutes of conversation with him after we're done."

"I don't want to screw up your sales pitch, Lou," I said. "My personal problems don't belong in the office."

"Don't be silly. This is just a preliminary meeting. Don wanted to see how we're coming on the concept, and we invited him to drop by. It'll be a perfect opportunity for you to pull him aside and talk to him about you and Carol."

I was still apprehensive, but I couldn't think of any better idea. My resolution was strengthened that night when Carol got in even later than usual. She didn't even bother to wake me on the couch where I'd drifted off while waiting for her. Instead, I woke up on the couch during the middle of the night to find the tv turned off and a soggy cushion where I'd been drooling in my sleep. I dragged myself upstairs, undressed and crawled into bed beside her sleeping form. "Damn," I thought, "now I don't even get the chance to kiss her goodnight."

When I got to the office the next day, I was determined to do something to try to change the pattern into which our lives had fallen. So I kept a watchful eye on the conference room where Don Sanchez was meeting with Lou and some of his guys. When their meeting started to break up, I stuck my head in the door and waved at Don.

He was clearly in a good mood. "Hey, Tom, how's the husband of my favorite news anchor?" he yelled at me. 

"Hi, Don, good to see you. Listen, have you got a couple of minutes?" I asked.

"Sure, what's on your mind?" he asked cheerfully.

I decided to keep it light. "Hey, you need to give Carol a break – you're working her too hard," I said, mugging a scowl.

But he took me seriously, and a look of concern crossed his face. "Has she been complaining?" he asked quickly.

"No, she loves it," I replied. "It's me who's suffering; I never get to see her any more."

He relaxed at that. "Oh, well, you knew she had a dangerous job when you married her," he joked. I could tell he was relieved that his star performer was not upset.

"Sure," I agreed, "but all those special appearances and those after-show post-mortems are really cutting into my alone time with her." I tried to soften my complaint with a wink.

"Okay, okay," he came back, "we've probably have been overdoing it on the 'show the flag' efforts. I'll see if I can't ease up on the schedule there. And you don't have to worry about the post-mortems – we haven't held one of those since the last set of ratings came out. Did you see how badly we're beating the competition? Station management is ecstatic!"

"Speaking of management," he went on, "I've got to get back over there for my next meeting. Good to see you – keep your bride happy!" With that, he clapped me on the back, turned and headed for the door, leaving me standing in my office.

As I returned to my desk, all I could think of was when the last set of ratings had come out. I checked my computer – our agency is a subscriber – and sure enough it was a full month ago that the last ratings were issued.

So if Don hadn't held a post-mortem session for a month, what was Carol doing all those nights when she got home from work so late? The question shook me to the core. Maybe it was the fact that I was already unhappy about our relationship, but the first thought that hit me was "She's having an affair."

The minute I thought it, I knew I had to be wrong. Carol loved me, and even though things had been a little strained, she wouldn't do anything to jeopardize our marriage. Besides, there were plenty of other perfectly reasonable possibilities why she would be so late. Maybe she just wanted to unwind a little, perhaps go out to grab a late-night snack. Maybe she was behind in her fan mail and was trying to catch up. There were tons of reasons why she might need to stick around. So why didn't I feel any better?

Just then, Lou stuck his head in the door. "Hey, I saw you talking with Don. Did he give you any relief?"

"I'm not sure, Lou. I guess I won't know until I have a talk with Carol."

He looked at me quizzically, but when I didn't say any more, he turned to go. "OK, buddy, let me know if I can do anything."

I was a zombie for the rest of the day. I went through the motions – anyone walking by my office would have thought me hard at work. But I couldn't concentrate on any of my projects; my mind kept coming back to what Don had said. I kept trying to remember exactly what Carol had said when I'd asked her about her late hours. Most of all, I kept thinking about what I was going to do next.

Part of me wanted to confront her and demand an explanation. But no sooner had I chosen that option than another part of me thought how foolish I would look if there was a perfectly innocent explanation. Accusing her of having an affair certainly wouldn't do anything to improve relations between Carol and me, I knew. Then, when I'd rationalized my fears away, another voice in my head began to call me a wimp for not asserting myself and demanding the truth. 

By the time I left work to pick Susan up, I was no closer to a resolution than before. The only good thing was that now I had an active, demanding four-year-old on my hands, and being her Daddy took almost all my attention and energy for the next few hours. Perhaps she sensed my mood, because she was unusually clingy that night and didn't want me to stop reading to her in bed. 

Finally, she dropped off to sleep. As I tiptoed out of the room, I looked back at her sleeping, innocent face, and was surprised to find tears in my eyes. How sad it would be if her Mommy and Daddy were headed for divorce!

Emotionally exhausted, I walked back into the den and plopped down in front of the tv. At that point I knew that I did not have the energy for a confrontation. I watched some mindless police drama for an hour, but afterwards I had no recollection of the plot. Then the news came on, and I watched my beautiful wife review the events of the day. Looking at her carefully made-up face during the "talking head" shots, I remembered how I'd been so taken with her all those years ago in college. Surely this bright, beautiful woman wouldn't cheat on me.

It was well after midnight when I heard her car pull into the driveway, and she made her way in from the garage. She was startled when she saw me. "Oh! I didn't think you'd still be up."

I stood up from the couch, walked over to her and put my arms around her. "I just wanted to see you. I've missed you. You're awfully late tonight."

She gave me a quick kiss and pulled away to bend down and pull off her shoes. "Yeah, sorry about that. Don kept us late again for one of his cursed 'post-mortems,'" she said. "I'm really beat, honey. I'm going to head on to bed." Without waiting for me, she turned and headed up the stairs.

I turned off the tv and sat there in the dark. "Oh, God!" I thought, "she just lied to me." Once again, warring sides took up the argument in my head. 

"Maybe she didn't lie. Maybe Don did call another review session." 

"That doesn't make any sense. Don told you today that he hadn't held a session in a month. And after you brought it up, he certainly wouldn't call a special session tonight."

I didn't want to believe my wife was cheating on me. But I also didn't want to be an unwitting cuckold who kept his head in the sand rather than facing the truth. What was the truth?

When I went up to the bedroom, Carol was already sound asleep. I lay down beside her, but sleep was slow in coming for me.

The next day I stopped by Lou's office and asked him to have lunch with me. When he looked up at me, he must have seen something in my face that stopped him from making his usually wisecracks. "And Lou," I added, "please plan on a long lunch." Now he looked at me very seriously, but he only nodded and said, "Sure thing, buddy."


The Six O'clock News Slot



I swung by his office about 11:15 and suggested we eat at a place a couple of miles from the office where we would be unlikely to see anyone else from work. We drove to the restaurant in silence. I didn't want to get into things and have to stop, and he recognized that I wasn't interested in small talk.

When we'd ordered our lunches, I sat there for a minute, uncertain where to start. He looked at me sympathetically and said, "It's Carol, isn't it?"

His comment was like lancing a boil, and all the nasty infectious stuff seemed to pour out of me. He listened in silence, letting me lay out all my fears and my uncertainties. When I eventually ran down, he shook his head. "Damn, I would never have believed this. I thought you and Carol had the happiest marriage in the world."

"Me too, Lou, me too," I nodded sadly.

"So what are you going to do?" he asked.

Just his simple question seemed to crystallize my thoughts. I knew I had to do something; I couldn't just sit there in agony any longer.

"Lou," I said, "the only thing I can think of is for me to go over to the station and see what's going on for myself. If I'm wrong and it's perfectly innocent, hopefully I'll be able to sneak out of there without being seen, and Carol will never know what an insecure idiot I've been."

"And if you're right?" Lou asked quietly.

"I don't know, Lou, but at least I'll know where I stand. That's better than the agony I'm going through now."

"What about Susan?" he asked.

"I've already thought about that," I told him. "When we get back from lunch, I'm going to call Mrs. Alsop and ask if she can keep Susan late tonight. She's offered to do that before, so hopefully that won't be a problem."

We finished up our lunch and headed back to the office. I was still in turmoil, but at least I had a plan, something to do to get some resolution to the situation. I guess even condemned men feel some relief when execution day finally comes.

Mrs. Alsop told me she'd be glad to help, but she asked me not to be too late. "Please be back no later than 11:00," she told me. "I have to get started first thing in the morning."

That didn't give me much time to see anything, but it was the best I could get, so I promised.

After work, I drove back over to Mrs. Alsop's house to let Susan know about the change in plans. At first my little girl teared up when she realized I wasn't there to pick her up, but Mrs. Alsop came to the rescue. "We're going to have a pizza party, Susan," she told her, and Susan brightened visibly at the thought. I paid Mrs. Alsop for the extra time, and also gave her the money to order pizza for everyone. It was the least I could do. Then I headed out before Susan could become upset again.

Now the only question was how to kill a few hours. I went home and fixed myself something to eat. Then I proceeded to pick at the plate for half an hour before scraping the food into the trash. I should have realized there would be no way I could eat. I cleaned up the kitchen and puttered around the house, looking for some way to distract myself. 

The more I thought about it, the worse I felt about my plan. The news wouldn't be over until 10:30; how much could happen in the next thirty minutes? Worse, what if Carol came straight home? She might beat me back to the house before I could collect Susan and return. What would I say then?

All these doubts and fears were paralyzing until I remembered the resolve I had felt at lunch with Lou. I had to do something, even if it failed. I just couldn't let things go on the way they were.

By then it was almost 10:00. My plan was to get over to the station while the news was airing, go in just before it ended and see what I could find. There normally weren't too many people at the station that late; just the engineer, two camera men and the sound engineer. Hopefully, there wouldn't be any other visitors, and I could stay out of sight.

When I got to the studio, I immediately realized my mistake. Sitting there in the lobby was old John, the night watchman. I'd completely forgotten about him. He knew me from previous visits, so there wasn't a problem gaining entry, but I'd have to sign in. So much for going unnoticed!

When he saw me come in, he looked at me curiously. "Evening, Mr. Bailey," he said. "Come to watch the news?"

"That's right," I said, and signed his log book.

He gazed at me with a strangely sympathetic look. "There's not going to be any trouble, is there?"

"Oh, no, of course not," I quickly replied, and went on back toward the studio.

"What did he mean by that?" I wondered. Then it hit me: "He knows."

Oh, shit.

I made my way back to the set and peered through the overlap in the blackout curtains. The news had just ended and Carol was pulling off her lavaliere mike. Then she headed back toward her dressing room. I circled around the studio to follow her, but to my surprise, Carol didn't go into her dressing room; instead, she headed down the corridor to the green room.

The green room is an area where guests can wait and relax before going on air. But there are never any guests on the 10:00 news, I thought, and indeed the whole area was in darkness. When she opened the door, however, I could see that one of the table lamps inside was on, and I could see a male figure sitting in one of the lounge chairs. Then the door closed and no light or sound came from within.

My heart was pounding and I didn't know what to do. The door wasn't locked, so I could go barging in there and demand an explanation. But if it was an innocent meeting – if Don Sanchez was in there, for example – Carol would never forgive me. Yet if I stayed outside, I'd never know what was going on.

I had just decided to burst in and the hell with the consequences when I remembered something. On the far side of the room was a small window that allowed station personnel to check on the guests unobtrusively without having to disturb them. In fact it was Carol who had pointed it out to me when she gave me a tour of the station when we'd first arrived.

I quickly headed around to the side where the observation window was located. As I went, I checked the time. Damn! It was 10:45 already! I'd have to leave quickly to get to Mrs. Alsop's house by 11:00.

I eased down the darkened corridor, and could see faint light coming from the small observation window. As I peeked in, I could clearly see Carol. She had stripped off her dress and was standing there in a flimsy black bra, garter belt and stockings, and a black thong. I'd never seen that set of lingerie in my life. She was wrapped in a tight embrace with a man who was running his hands over her back and her ass as though he owned her, which I suppose he did at the moment. They were locked in a passionate kiss.

I pulled out my cellphone and began taking video. The light levels were low, but the black lingerie seemed to make the light on her skin that much brighter.

The man slid both his hands down to her ass cheeks and pulled her tightly to his groin. I could almost hear her passionate moan as she arched her back to push her crotch tightly against his. As she leaned back, I realized that the man embracing her was none other than her co-anchor, Ted Stevenson. Then, she slid down his body and began to unbuckle his pants. I knew what was coming next, and I wanted to put a stop to it right then and there. But as I turned and headed back toward the door, I glanced at the time. It was almost 11:55. Dammit, I HAD to get Susan.

I ran down the hallway and into the lobby, nodding at Joe as I headed for the front door. "I'm sorry, Mr. Bailey," he said. 

"Damn," I thought, "does everybody but me know what's going on?"

I hopped into my car and broke the speed limit getting over to Mrs. Alsop's home. As she let me in, I found my Susan already asleep. Bundling her up in a blanket, I picked her up, got her things, and turned to leave, thanking Mrs. Alsop for keeping her. 

She looked at me strangely, and asked, "Are you alright, Mr. Bailey?" When I stared at her uncomprehendingly, she said, "Your eyes." Only then did I realize that tears were running down my cheeks.

"Oh, that," I said. "It's nothing, I just got something in my eyes when I got out of the car."

I thanked her again and took Susan out to the car, buckling her up with the seatbelt even as she was still wrapped in the blanket. I don't think she awoke for the drive home, and I know she continued to sleep while I carried her up the stairs and laid her in her bed. She looked so sweet and innocent, and I was filled with longing for the innocence I had lost tonight.

I got a beer out of the refrigerator and sat in the darkened den, waiting. Everything was quiet. Oddly, my mind flashed back to my grandmother's death. I'd gone into the chapel where her casket lay, and had been aware of the silence then, made greater by my deep sadness. It felt the same way now.

It was almost 1:00 a.m. when she came home. She came into the kitchen and switched on the light. When she spotted my form sitting there in the unlit room, she was surprised. "Tom, what are you doing up?"

"I was waiting for you," I said in a flat, emotionless voice.

"The guard told me you'd come by the studio. Is everything alright with Susan? Where is she?"

"Mrs. Alsop kept her late for me. She's upstairs in bed now."

"Well, if you came to the studio, why didn't you come and see me?"

I tried to steel myself: this was it. "I did see you tonight. I saw you go into the green room with Ted Stevenson."

"Oh, yeah, we were just having a little meeting after the news."

"Carol, I went around to the observation window. I saw what kind of meeting you were having. I even got to see the new lingerie set you've been hiding from me."

At least she had the decency to look embarrassed. "Oh, Tom, I'm so sorry."

Now my anger was rising. "Are you sorry you did it or just sorry you got caught?"

"Tom, I'm sorry you saw us like that. I didn't want you to find out this way," she said quietly.

"Are you going to leave me for him?"

She fell on her knees in front of me and grabbed my hands. "Oh, honey, don't even think that. Of course I'm not going to leave you. This is just a little adventure I'm having, a little fling. It'll probably be over soon, and then everything will be back to normal."

I couldn't believe my ears. "'It'll be over soon.' You mean you're not going to stop? You're going to continue cheating on me?"

"Baby, it doesn't mean anything. It's just a chance for me to do a little experimenting with Ted. It won't last. Just let me have my fun and then I'll be back with you like always."

"I can't believe this, Carol. You're asking me to accept being a cuckold while you two fuck each other's brains out whenever you want. How could you ever think I'd stand for that?"

She stood up and stepped back to look at me. Her voice was quiet and had lost all its warmth. "Tom, you really don't have a say in the matter."

"Don't have a say? I'm your husband, for God's sake! If you won't stop this, I'll have no choice but to file for divorce."

She looked at me coolly. "I really don't think that would be in your best interest, Tom."

Her calm demeanor made me even more angry. I wanted her to show some kind of remorse, to beg for forgiveness or at least acknowledge a little of the pain I was feeling. Instead, she was telling me to accept her behavior and pretend like it wasn't happening. I couldn't believe it.

"Given your actions tonight, I'll be the one to decide what's in my best interests. And I can tell you now I'm not going to stand for this."

She crossed her arms and spoke to me like she would lecture an errant child. "Tom, listen to me. If you file for divorce, you'll be the one who'll lose – big time. You'll lose your daughter because the court will award custody of Susan to me. You'll only get to have her maybe a couple of weekends a month plus your birthday and some holidays. Regardless of how we divide our assets, I'll get the house because I'll be raising Susan. And, of course, even if there's no alimony you'll still be paying child support."

"Wait a minute," I yelled, "you're the one who's committed adultery."

"Tom, this is a 'no-fault' state. The court doesn't care who did what to whom, all it cares about is the welfare of the children. In the case of a four-year-old girl, the mother gets custody every time."

She paused to take a breath, and then continued. "If you don't believe me, go get an attorney and ask him. You'll find out I know what I'm talking about."

Her tone softened. "You don't want this to happen, Tom. I don't want it to happen either. I want our family to stay together. This little adventure I'm having doesn't have to affect us. Just think about it."

As I sat slumped in the chair, she came over and kissed me on the top of the head. "Just think about it, Tom. Now, I'm going to go to bed." With that, she turned and headed up the stairs.

I'm not sure how long I sat there. Thoughts kept flashing on and off in my mind, and every thought brought a different emotion: anger, loss, incredulity, sadness, bewilderment, fear, rage, frustration. I felt that I had to make some plans, had to do something, but I had absolutely no idea what. That Carol would cheat on me was unthinkable; that she would propose to continue her affair was so far beyond my imagination that I felt paralyzed.

Finally, I pulled myself to my feet and dragged myself up the stairs, exhausted by the rollercoaster of events and emotions I had experienced tonight. I fell heavily into bed and almost immediately fell asleep. 

Despite the fact that I was bone weary, my body automatically awakened at 6:00 the next morning. Mechanically, I showered, shaved and dressed. Wild impulses flew to mind: to run away and hide, or wake Carol and shake some sense into her, or kidnap Susan, or just go back to bed and never get up again. But when I went to Susan's room to look in on her sleeping form, I knew that I had to keep it together for her sake. Doing something stupid would only get me in trouble and likely cost me any chance I might have to keep my beautiful daughter. I knew I had to put her first, to be strong for her sake.

So it was that I completed my morning routine and headed to the office just as I did every day. I was able to go on auto-pilot and complete all the tasks required to get me to work. But once I arrived and sat down behind my desk, every reflex deserted me, and I put my head down on my desk in a daze.

"Tom?" It was Lou. "Are you OK?"

When I didn't answer, he came into my office and closed the door behind him. "What happened?" he asked in concern.

So I told him, every sordid detail, as much of last night's conversation as I could remember. Once I started, I couldn't stop.

Lou just sat there with a stunned look on his face. He was shocked when I told him what I'd seen in the green room, but he was blown away by Carol's attitude about her affair. "Damn," he said, "she's got a lot of balls to ask you just to sit there and accept her cheating."

When I'd finally finished, he sat up and looked me in the eye. "Listen," he said, "Carol has changed. I don't know what's done it – maybe her success has gone to her head – but she's not the same woman I met when you guys moved here. And that means you have to change the way you respond to her. You can't assume she has your best interests at heart any more. It's up to you to look out for yourself now, pal."

He stood up. "The first thing you've got to do is consult with a lawyer. I can't believe she can get away with this crap. You can't rely on what she says, you've got to find out for yourself."

"Hell, Lou," I responded, "I don't know any lawyers in Birmingham."

"That's where I come in," he smiled. "My roommate in college went on to become a lawyer, and he's in practice here in town. I'll bet he'll see you today if I ask him. Let me go make a phone call." With that, he was gone.

In no time he was back in my office holding a slip of paper. "You've got to love those old school pals," he crowed. "You've got an appointment for 1:00 p.m. today. Here's his name and address; he's expecting you."

"You're a lifesaver, Lou. At least this gives me something positive to do."

"No problem, buddy. After you've met with him, come back and tell me what he says."

The meeting with the attorney didn't go like I had hoped. He shook my hand and invited me into his office, then asked me to tell my story. I gave him the high points and then got to what I really wanted to know: what were my options in a divorce?

"Tom," he said, "it used to be that there was a good guy and a bad guy in every break-up. The court would listen to the two parties argue and then apportion blame. It was a no-win situation: 'He said, she said.' There was no way to determine who was right and who was wrong. Trials went on way too long; they were tying up the court system."

"Finally, somebody came up with the idea of 'no-fault.' That meant that unless a crime had been committed, the court didn't have to worry about who did what to whom. All it had to deal with was deciding on a fair division of the marital property and the welfare of any minor children. Lots simpler for everyone."

"OK," I said, "but what does that mean to me?"

He sighed. "In a nutshell, it means that what Carol told you is right. Unless she's an unfit mother – doing drugs, criminal neglect, that sort of thing – the court will give her custody of your daughter. We can try for extensive visitation rights, but Susan is going to live with Carol, and Carol will pretty much determine how often you get to see your daughter. And even though Carol earns more than you, you'll still be expected to contribute to the cost of raising your daughter in the form of child support."

"What about the house?" I asked him.

He shook his head. "Well, you both bought the house, so it's a joint asset that will be divided between you. But the court's primary concern is the child's welfare, and it doesn't like to uproot children unnecessarily. So the most likely outcome is that Carol will get to live in the house until Susan turns 18. After that, the two of you can put the house on the market and split the equity according to the final property settlement. But for the next 14 years, the house is hers."

"But she's likely to move on to another media market in a few years," I objected.

"Then you can sell the house at that time. But until that happens, she stays put."

I sat there shaking my head. "Damn it, she knew exactly what she was talking about. I'm screwed."

"Sorry," he told me as we shook hands, "it isn't always fair, but it's the law."

As I drove back to the office, I felt like I had been sent to purgatory. I couldn't figure out what sin I'd committed, but I was sure as hell was being punished. 

Lou was eagerly waiting for me to return, but one look at my face and he knew the outcome without my having to speak. "Damn it, Lou," I said, "it's just not fair. She's got me in a bind, and I can't do a thing about it. She can act like a whore, and unless I want to give up my daughter and my home, I have to grin and bear it."

I began to pace around the office. "I'm beginning to understand why some men murder their wives." 

"Don't even joke about that, Tom," Lou was quick to say. "I know you want to get her out of your life, but if something were to happen to her, I don't want to have to testify that you were here making threats."

"Okay, okay," I agreed, "I couldn't and would never do anything like that. It's just that I feel like the ancient mariner, and she's the albatross around my neck."

As I passed by the window in my office, I glanced out and began to groan. There across the street was a billboard that had just gone up. It had a giant photo of Carol and Ted Stevenson staring intently at me with the caption: "Birmingham's Choice for the 6:00 News Slot."




The Six O'clock News Slot



"You see," I said to Lou, gesturing at the billboard, "I can't escape her even here!"

Lou came over and looked at the new sign. "WXYY sure is loving the ratings those two are getting."

Then a strange look came over his face. "I wonder, I wonder," he muttered. Then he turned to me. "How desperate are you to find a way out of this trap you're in?"

"Not so desperate that I'd ever resort to violence," I said. 

"No, no, we're not going to commit a crime, at least I don't think we are. But I've got an idea that just might solve your problem."

The two of us sat and talked for the next hour. Several times I told him that he was crazy and that we could never pull it off. I pointed out to him that even if we did, nothing might come of it. I reminded him that if things went badly, Carol would be coming after me for a divorce, and she'd be vengeful as hell. 

To all of that, Lou just kept asking, "So how much worse off would you be than you are today?" When I thought about that, I realized two things. First, I was stuck in a position that I absolutely could not bear, at least not for long. Second, I really had no option except to do something truly desperate.

"Okay, Lou, I'm in."

I may have sounded pretty committed when I left the office that afternoon, but second thoughts gripped me as I drove over to Mrs. Alsop's house to pick up Susan. I would be risking losing my daughter if I tried what Lou was suggesting. Would I be wiser just to swallow my pride and live as a cuckold? Doing nothing was the easiest course of action, no doubt about it. 

My thoughts – and my stomach – continued to churn as I got Susan home and began preparing dinner. For once I left the tv off; I didn't think I could stand to watch Susan and Ted interacting on the set, especially after what I'd seen a few nights ago.

Just as I was getting Susan ready for bed, I was surprised to hear Carol's car drive up. I knew it wasn't her turn to do the 10:00 news, but I'd figured she'd stick around to be with Ted. Yet here she was, coming in the door, scooping up Susan in her arms and carrying her delighted daughter up to bed. I heard the two of them laughing and giggling as Carol read story after story. The sound brought tears to my eyes: this was the way it used to be at our home before everything turned bad.

When Carol finally came back downstairs, I looked up and said sincerely, "That was sweet of you. She really misses you, especially at bedtime."

"I know," she said, "and I've missed her too." She had a faraway look in her eye that made me wonder if she was having second thoughts about this new lifestyle she'd chosen.

But all such hopes were quickly dispelled in the next minute. The look on Carol's face now reminded me of a mother about to lecture a child on an unpleasant subject.

"Tom, I wanted to come home early tonight so I could tell you about what's on the schedule for next week." She took a deep breath, and then plunged on. "I'm taking the next week off. I've talked with Don Sanchez and he's fine with it. In fact he encouraged me to get a little R and R. He says our ratings are so good we can afford it."

I was pleasantly surprised. A week together might be just the thing to repair our marriage. "I'll have to check with the boss tomorrow, but I think I can get the time off," I said. "What did you have in mind?"

She sighed. "You're not included, Tom. Ted and I are going to get away by ourselves. We're tired of having to sneak around; this is a chance for us to enjoy each other without having to worry about anything else."

I was stunned. I just sat there staring at her, not believing what I was hearing.

She hurried on, "I've already worked things out with Mrs. Alsop. She's going to keep Susan for the whole day next week. All you'll have to do is drop her off on your way to work and pick her up at the usual time."

She reached into her purse and pulled out a sheet of paper which she handed to me. "Here's all the information about where I'll be staying if you need to reach me. I'm sure Susan will be fine, but just in case . . ."

"We're going to be leaving on Friday. Maybe you can take Susan to the park over the weekend' she loves that. We should be back on Sunday week, and everything will be back on the regular schedule."

She looked at me a little uncertainly; I still hadn't said anything. "Okay, well, if you don't have any questions, I'm going to get to bed early tonight." Then, to my utter astonishment, she came over and kissed me on the head like I was a small child. "Thanks for taking care of everything, honey," she said and headed up the stairs.

"Oh, God," I thought, "that had to be the most humiliating experience of my life!" I was literally shaking with anger. There was no doubt in my mind now: I had to do something to reclaim my manhood. Lou's crazy plan suddenly looked like my best option. 

On Friday I took off early from work. I wanted to be sure to see Carol before she left for her little getaway with Ted Stevenson. I had already made arrangements with Mrs. Alsop to keep Susan overnight. If there was to be any shouting or cursing, I didn't want Susan exposed to it. I had already checked Carol's closet that morning and found her suitcases, so I knew she'd have to come home to pack. That would give me the opportunity I needed.

When her car pulled up in the driveway, I positioned myself in my favorite chair in the den and waited for her to come in. She opened the door and came looking for me immediately. She knew I was home because she'd seen my car in the garage.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded. "Is Susan okay?"

"She's fine," I said reassuringly. "She's at Mrs. Alsop's."

"Then why are you here?" she asked again.

"I wanted to make one more try at persuading you not to go off with Ted this week," I told her.

She put her hands on her hips in exasperation. "I've already told you, I'm going to go off and have my little fling with Ted Stevenson, and there's nothing you can do about it. Once we come back, it'll all be over and everything can go back to normal. You just need to be patient and give me the chance to get this out of my system."

"But Carol," I whined, "what about our wedding vows? What about 'forsaking all others'?"

"Those wedding vows were written for a different time and place. Nobody believes all that crap anymore," she said with irritation.

"But you're talking about cheating, about committing adultery," I pressed. "I don't want you to dishonor our marriage."

Her impatience and irritation were clearly growing. "Tom, there's no need for us to have this discussion any more. If I want to go off and fuck Ted Stevenson, I'm going to do it, whether you like it or not. This is something I want to do; it doesn't have anything to do with you and me."

But I wouldn't let it go. "But Carol, what about your fans, all the people who watch you every night? You know they wouldn't approve of what you're doing."

I had clearly pushed her too far. "I don't give a good goddam what my fans think. They're nothing but a bunch of boobs and country bumpkins!"

"Listen," she continued, "in six months to a year I'll leave this hick town and land a job in a real city where they don't roll the streets up at night. In the meantime, what the people here think means nothing to me."

"Now please stop pestering me – my mind is made up. I need to go and get packed or I'll be late. And if you can't stand to see me with Ted when he comes to pick me up, I suggest you get out of here now."

I stood up, my shoulders slumping. "I'm sorry, Carol. I'm sorry for everything."

I turned, walked out to my car and headed off to a local tavern. I was shaking, and I needed to relax.

I was nursing my second beer when Lou walked in the door. "Hey, buddy," he said with a grim smile, "how did it go?"

"I don't really know, Lou," I admitted. "I was too close to it. You'll have to come see for yourself."

"Not until I've had one of what you're having," he said firmly.

After he'd finished his beer, we both got into my car and drove back to my house. As I'd expected, Carol was long gone. We went into my den and he sat down at my computer. "When did you buy this thing, in the stone age?" he asked. Nevertheless, with a few keystrokes he was able to do what he wanted.

"Okay," he said, motioning to me, "let's see what we've got."

He pressed another key and Carol's image filled the screen. We listened as Carol flatly rejected my pleas to her to honor her wedding vows and told me exactly what she planned to do with Ted Stevenson. "What a bitch!" I heard Lou murmur under his breath.

Then he listened to Carol explode about her fans and the city where she worked, and Lou's expression turned to glee. "We've got her, man. This is way better than what we hoped for."

When the playback had finished, Lou touched another set of keys and we watched Carol again, but this time from a different angle. "The second camera is important," Lou said. "It gives it greater realism."

When the second playback ended, he arranged to FTP both files to his office. Then he pulled out a thumb drive and made a copy of them. "Backup," he said. Finally, he went to the bookshelf behind my chair and removed the two small cameras we'd set up so carefully that morning.

With that done, we both got in my car and headed back to the tavern so Lou could pick up his car. But when we got there, he surprised me by insisting that I follow him home. "Edy's got a big dinner already fixed, buddy. If you don't show up, she's really going to be pissed."

I'd planned to spend the night alone, but Lou wouldn't hear of it. So I reluctantly fell in behind his car and followed him home. When we came in the door, Edy came up to me, embraced me and kissed me on the cheek, all without saying a word. I wasn't sure whether It was friendship or pity, but I appreciated it either way. 

I'm sure dinner was wonderful, but I really don't remember much about it. To be truthful, I just picked at the dishes Edy had prepared while Lou and Edy exchanged concerned glances.

Afterwards, they led me into their den and Lou opened another bottle of wine. We sat around drinking until Edy could no longer contain herself. "I am so angry and disappointed with Carol I don't know what to say. She always seemed so sweet and loving; when did she turn into a selfish slut? It seems like success has changed her and now she thinks she can do anything – and anyone – she pleases."

She turned to Lou abruptly. "Listen, you do whatever you can to help Tom. I don't like to take sides when friends get divorced, but this is different. Carol's gone way over the line here, and we have to help Tom keep his daughter."

She looked at her husband again with a piercing gaze. "And if one of those slutty little models or tv personalities you have to work with comes on to you, you'd better say no, or I'll be coming after your balls with a butcher knife!"

Lou and I both chuckled at Edy's threat, but I wasn't so sure she was exaggerating just to make a point.

We continued to talk and drink into the night, and I finally collapsed on their sofa. I vaguely remember Edy covering me with a blanket and patting me on the arm. The next thing I was aware of was the morning light streaming through their picture window and a terrible taste in my mouth.

Lou loaned me a toothbrush and his razor, and I did my best to make myself half-way presentable. By the time I was finished, Edy already had a big breakfast prepared, so I sat down with them. My appetite was a little better that morning; I guess the instinct for self-preservation had kicked in. 

When I had finished and thanked them profusely for their kindness, Lou took my arm. "Listen, Tom, leave everything to me. I've got a lot to do this weekend, and I need to get started. All you need to do is to get Susan and get out of here. I'll keep you posted all the way."

"Lou, I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been here," I said sincerely. With that, I gave him an awkward hug and then headed home. I had one more thing I had to do, and I wasn't looking forward to it.

When I got home, I checked our address book to get Ted and Missy Stevenson's number. When I called, Missy, of course, answered. "Hi, Missy, it's Tom Bailey, Carol's husband. Is it possible for me to come over and speak with you now?"

"Oh, hi, Tom. Yes, I guess that would be fine. Come on by." I could hear the hesitation in her voice; we weren't that close, and I knew she was wondering why I wanted to see her. She'd find out soon enough, I thought grimly.

As I drove over to her house, I tried to plan out what I would say. It isn't easy to tell a woman her husband is cheating on her. The fact that I didn't know Missy all that well made it just that much more awkward. But I felt I couldn't let whatever happened next hit her unawares.

Missy had been at the University of Alabama with Carol and me; she had even been in Carol's sorority. She seemed nice, but she was two years younger than us, so we didn't have many opportunities to interact. I'd been surprised to learn that she had married Ted; frankly, she didn't seem his type. In any case, we had chatted with each other at several station events, but Carol and I hadn't socialized with them otherwise. Except, that is, for Carol and Ted, I added bitterly to myself.

When I arrived, she welcomed me in and offered me refreshments. "Just a glass of ice water, please," I asked. I was afraid my mouth would dry out when I delivered my grim news.

After she had brought me a glass, I took a sip and then set to my task. "Missy, do you know where Ted is?" I asked.

"Sure," she said, "he's gone off to some broadcasters' convention. He'll be gone all week. Why do you ask?"

"Missy, I'm sorry to have to tell you, but Ted isn't at a broadcasters' convention. I've learned that he and my wife have been having an affair, and the two of them have gone off for an intimate getaway down on the coast."

Missy looked at me as though I'd slapped her in the face. "That can't be true," she protested. "I saw him off just yesterday evening." I could tell her mind was going a mile a minute as she shifted arguments. "He loves me, he wouldn't betray me like that." Another denial flashed by: "Carol was like a big sister to me, she wouldn't hurt me that way." Finally, she ran down and just looked at me helplessly. "Oh, Tom, are you sure?"

Grimly, I pulled out my cellphone and played the video I'd shot outside the green room. As she watched their erotic little tryst unfold, her eyes began to redden and then she began weeping. I didn't know what to do, so I sat down beside her, put my arm around her shoulders and began to rub her back gently.

"I know, Missy, I know."

Suddenly she looked up with anger flashing in her eyes. "That bitch seduced him!" she cried. "If you had kept her under control . . ."

But she stopped her tirade when she saw my stricken face. "Oh, Tom, I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking. You've lost your wife too, haven't you?"

Missy's words brought back all my pain and loss in full strength, and my tears flowed again. We held each other helplessly, seeking some kind of consolation that wasn't there.

Finally we pulled apart. She used a napkin she'd brought with the drinks to wipe her face, and then she asked me, "What are you going to do now?"

I felt that I had no choice but to explain the predicament that Carol had place me in, especially with regard to Susan. Missy, who had no children, immediately realized the leverage Carol had over me, and she grasped my hand in sympathy. "Oh, Tom, I would never have believed she could be that cruel, that cold."

Then she asked me again, "What are you going to do?"

"Missy, I'm definitely going to be filing for divorce, but there are some other things I have to do to try to ensure I don't lose Susan. It's probably better if you don't know what they are, in case somebody asks you about it later."

"You're not going to do any illegal, are you?" she gasped.

"No, but if I'm successful, both she and Ted will wish they'd never chosen to be unfaithful to us." I tried to give her a little smile to reassure her, but I doubt it was convincing.

"And what about you?" I asked. "Do you think you two can repair your marriage?"

"After what you've just showed me? After hearing that this has been going on for heaven knows how long? After learning that he and that slut are spending the week together? There's no way I could stay with him and ever hold my head up again."

"In that case, you may want to use the attorney I've contacted, unless you already have someone you trust," I suggested.

She gave me a wan smile. "No, I don't know anyone to contact. I hadn't exactly planned on needing an attorney."

"If you use my attorney, it may wind up saving you some money. And at least he'll have all the evidence I've got." I handed her a sheet of paper I'd prepared with my attorney's name, address and phone number. "If you'll contact him on Monday and let him know you and I are in this together, he can get your paperwork completed at the same time as mine." She took the information and nodded. 

"Missy, now I have an enormous favor to ask you."

"What is it?" she asked nervously.

"All I'm asking is that you say nothing to anyone – not your family, not your closest friend, no one – until you hear from me." I looked right at her. "If you tell anyone, it may cost me my chance to keep Susan."

She looked back at me very solemnly, and I felt she understood. "I won't say a word, Tom. It'll be hard to act like nothing's happened, but I promise."

I thanked her, stood, and headed for the door. "What are you going to do now, Tom?" she asked.

I smiled at her grimly and said, "I'm going to get my daughter and get her out of town until all this blows over."

She wished me good luck, and I did the same to her. "We'll both need it," I thought.

From there, I drove over to Mrs. Alsop's house. When I got there, she must have alerted Susan that I had arrived, because my little girl met me at the door and jumped into my arms. "Did you have a good time, sweetheart?" I asked her.

"Oh, yes, Daddy. I had a sleepover, and we had pancakes for breakfast, and then I played dolls."

Holding Susan in my arms, I thanked Mrs. Alsop for keeping her, and reminded her that Susan wouldn't be coming to her house the coming week. Mrs. Alsop looked at me shrewdly and asked, "Is everything OK, Tom?"

I glanced down at Susan and then back at Mrs. Alsop. "I hope it will be," was all I said.

She nodded and leaned over to kiss Susan on the cheek. "You take good care of that little girl. She's like one of my own. And Tom, I'll be praying for you."

"Thank you, Mrs. Alsop. That means a lot to me."

With that, I carried Susan to the car and put her in the car seat in back. When we got home, Susan began to look for her mother. "Where's Mommy?" she asked me, when she couldn't find her.

I felt my throat tighten as I told her, "Mommy had to go on a trip. But guess what, you and I are going on a trip too."

"Where are we going, Daddy?" she asked excitedly.

"We're going to visit Grandma and Grandpa at the farm!" I told her.

She squealed and began to dance around. Susan loved my parents and she loved to see the animals on their small farm in rural Alabama. "Can we see the ducks and the baby pigs?" she asked.

"Sure, honey," I told her, "and the sooner we get started, the sooner we can see them." Then I grabbed the bag I had already packed for her, along with my own suitcase, and we headed back out to the car. I thought briefly about leaving a note for Carol telling her where we'd be, but I decided against it. "She hasn't been thinking about me very much lately. Why should I think about her?"

It took me a little over an hour to get to Mom and Dad's farm, and Susan slept through most of the drive. But when we turned into their rough gravel driveway, she woke up and began pointing at the horses and cows she could see through the car windows. 




The Six O'clock News Slot



As we pulled alongside the house, Mom and Dad came out to meet us, and when we got Susan unbuckled, she ran to her Grandma's arms and demanded to go see the farm animals. Mom took her hand and led her around to the barn, but not before giving me a worried look.

I grabbed my bag, and Dad got Susan's, and we went inside to drop them off in my old bedroom. Afterwards, Dad led me into the kitchen and offered me a glass of fruit tea. It was already sweetened, and the taste reminded me of my childhood. Those days seemed very long ago.

"Okay, Tom, what's going on with you and Carol?" Dad asked bluntly. He'd never been one for a lot of chitchat, and I could see the concern in his eyes. 

"Let's take a walk, Dad, and I'll tell you all about it."

I'd been dreading this conversation since I called them to ask if we could come and stay a week. They loved Carol and thought of her as the daughter they'd never had. I was pretty sure how this was going to hit them.

As we walked down the fence row, I began to tell him the whole sordid story. He kept his own counsel through most of it, but I could see the pain in his eyes whenever he looked at me. Several times he gasped at what I had to tell him. Finally I finished; there were tears in his eyes.

"I just can't believe that Carol would do such a thing. She was always so sweet to your mother and me, and such a good mother to Susan. How could she become so hard and selfish?"

He turned to look at me carefully. "You know I would never doubt you, Tom, but is there any way this could be some sort of misunderstanding, or maybe some kind of joke?"

I knew he was in denial and grasping at straws, but it still stung a little. Then I thought, "If I were in his shoes, I'd have to ask the same kind of questions. Hell, I'm still having a hard time believing it myself."

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. I queued up the video I'd shot at the green room and handed it to him. "Watch this, Dad."

When he took the phone, I reached over and touched the arrow to start the video playing. He half muttered to himself, "I can't really make out much of what's . . . Oh my Lord!" I could see that the picture had clarified as Carol's near nude body broke from Ted Stevenson's embrace and began to slide down his torso, reaching for his belt, unbuckling it and then unzipping his pants.

I took the phone back from him, and he stood there helplessly, his shoulders drooping and his face tight. Then he grabbed me and pulled me into a tight embrace. "Oh, son, I'm so sorry. It hurts so bad for me to see this, I can't even imagine how you must have felt."

We stood there for a few more minutes, then turned and began to make our way back to the house in silence. He kept his arm around my shoulder the whole way.

As we neared the house, I turned to him and asked, "Dad, can you tell Mom? I don't think I can do that."

He nodded solemnly. "I'll do it," he said.

Mom and Susan were in the kitchen having a snack when we returned. Mom looked at Dad, and when she saw his face, she was frightened. She started to speak, but Dad held up his hand to stop her. "Son," he said, "why don't you take Susan down to the pond so she can see all the baby ducks?"

When Susan heard that, she jumped up and began to tug on my arm. "Let's go see the ducks, Daddy. Can we go?" I nodded at Dad appreciatively and led Susan away toward the pond.

When we returned to the house, I could tell that Mom had been crying. She wiped her eyes with a dishtowel as we came in, then she walked over and gave me a big hug. "I love you, Tom. Your Dad and I will be here for you, no matter what."

"Thanks, Mom," I managed to croak out. Looking over her shoulder, I saw Dad and said "Thanks, Dad. That means so much to me." 

We stood there like that for a long time, and the silence clearly was beginning to bother Susan, who couldn't understand what was wrong. So I turned to her and said, "Okay, Susan, let's go and unpack. Then we need to wash up and get ready for supper." That broke the spell, and she took my hand and began to skip back to our room with me in tow. I told myself that I would never lose my daughter, no matter what.

The next day was Sunday, and we all went to the old Baptist church that Mom and Dad had been attending for years. As they say in the country, I'd been a backslider for a long time, but it felt good to be back in church and hear the familiar words and sing some of the old hymns. 

That evening, I had a call from Lou. He brought me up to date on all he'd been doing that weekend. As I listened, I realized that no matter what happened, I was lucky to have as good a friend as Lou, and that I would be in his debt for a long time. I tried to tell that to him, but I found it awkward to express my emotions, in that clumsy way that men have in such matters. He blew it off – "You'd do it for me," he said – but he understood what I was trying to say, and I knew it.

Then his tone changed. "Okay, Tom, it's all been for fun up to now. Are you ready to make it happen? Once we start, there's no turning back."

I didn't answer him right away, I really paused to think about what we were about to do. There was no guarantee of success. In fact, even if we succeeded, it still might end up badly for me. And if it all blew up in my face, things could get very ugly very quickly. I might well end up working on my parent's farm.

But then I thought about everything that had happened over the last two weeks. Through no fault of my own that I could see, Carol had humiliated me, had put me in a position I could not endure. Even if I chose to subjugate myself to her desires, there was no guarantee that the situation wouldn't become known – or repeated. If it did, what would Susan think of me when she grew old enough to understand? I didn't want to be that kind of model for a father to her.

No, I thought, Carol has backed me into a corner, and I have no option except to fight back. And by heaven, that's what I'm going to do.

"Lou," I said, "let's do it."

I think he must have understood what I'd been thinking just now, because he hadn't said a thing as I sat there pondering. But when I told him I was ready, he just said, "For what it's worth, Edy thinks you're doing the right thing." Somehow, that gave me a little encouragement.

He was all business now. "Do you have access to a computer?"

I laughed and said, "My folks may live on a farm, but they don't live in the 1800s."

"Okay then, I'll call you with information on where to find it tomorrow."

"Why don't you just email me the link?" I said. "I can easily log into my email from here."

"No," he said, "I don't want there to be a discoverable link to this. Just wait for my call tomorrow."

With that, he and I said our goodbyes, and I went off to make sure Susan was sleeping soundly in her new bed. Watching over her had become the most important job I had.

Lou called me mid-morning on Monday. "When you get a chance to have some private time on the computer, go to YouTube and do a search on WXYY," he told me. "You'll find it. After you've had a chance to view it, give me a call back and let me know what you think."

Mom and Dad had taken Susan out for a walk, so this was as good a time as any. I went to the website and did my search. There were a bunch of videos from the station, but my eye was drawn to one entitled "WXYY Co-anchor Carol Martin shares her personal philosophy on love and marriage."

When I clicked on it, the station's familiar theme music for the six o'clock news came out of the speakers, accompanied by a view of the standard opening set that WXYY used every week night. But as the camera zoomed in on Carol, her voice faded out and a voiceover began speaking. "Popular news co-anchor Carol Martin of WXYY recently gave an interview on her views about love and marriage."

The screen switched to another view of Carol, and I heard her saying, "Marriage is an institution that has existed as long as human society, but it is under siege today like never before."

I recognized the lines immediately: they were the opening on a soft news series that WXYY had run on the rising divorce rate around the country. But instead of continuing the series, which had actually aired some months ago, the voiceover returned. "And what are your views on the sanctity of marriage, Carol?" Suddenly, the scene shifted to our den, with Carol standing there and speaking, "Wedding vows were written for a different time and place. Nobody believes all that crap any more."

The scene froze and the voiceover returned. "And what about fidelity and constancy to your husband – how do you feel about that, Carol?"

Carol's onscreen image began to speak again. "If I want to go off and (beep) Ted Stevenson, I'm going to do it. This is something I want to do." A still picture of Ted Stevenson flashed on the screen, ensuring that the viewer would have no doubt about whom Carol was speaking.

The unseen announcer returned. "What about the views of the community? Do you think the majority of people in Birmingham who watch your news program would agree with you?"

Again, Carol began to speak. "I don't give a good (beep) what my fans think. They're nothing but a bunch of boobs and country bumpkins!"

The announcer smoothly filled in the sudden silence. "That's certainly a controversial viewpoint, Carol. Aren't you concerned about how that might affect public opinion?"

Carol's onscreen image quickly supplied the answer. "Listen, in six months to a year I'll leave this hick town and land a job in a real city where they don't roll the streets up at night. In the meantime, what the people here think means nothing to me." 

Without a trace of irony or judgment, the unseen voice continued, "So you're set on pursuing a sexual relationship with your co-anchor, Ted Stevenson?"

Carol's answer was clear: "I've already told you, I'm going to go off and have my little fling with Ted Stevenson, and there's nothing you can do about it." But this time, instead of the scene of Carol talking to me in our den, her voice ran over the video I had captured on my phone in the green room. And, just as my Dad had experienced, the scene went from two figures intertwined in darkness to a clear view of a barely clad Carol sinking to her knees and beginning to undress the unmistakable figure of Ted Stevenson.

The scene froze on the erotic tableaux, and the voiceover returned for the last time. "Now the only question left on Birmingham viewers' minds is, 'Where are Carol and Ted this week?"

Then the WXYY news sign-off theme came up, and the view of the newsdesk with empty chairs filled the screen, and the video faded out.

I sat back in my chair, filled with an odd mix of triumph and sorrow. I grabbed my cellphone and called Lou.

He obviously recognized my number because he answered the phone by saying "Well, what did you think?"

"Oh my gosh, Lou, you're a genius. This is going to be brutal. That video will cut her career open like a carving knife on a Thanksgiving turkey."

"Pretty good, hunh? I have to admit, I'm proud of it," he said happily.

I began to feel a few pangs of guilt as I thought back over what I'd just seen. "Do you think we were too rough on her?"

"Listen," he said fiercely, "did she or did she not say every one of those things to your face?"

"Yes," I replied, "but . . ."

"No buts," he cut in. "She's changed into some kind of egotistical monster, and we have to expose that to the rest of the world." 

Then his tone changed. "Listen, Tom, you're a nice guy at heart. I think a lot of times you'd rather suffer yourself than make someone else suffer. But if you don't do this, it's not you that's going to suffer, it's Susan. She's going to grow up with Carol as her role model. You don't want that, do you?"

I swallowed hard. "You're right, Lou. There really isn't any choice here. Thanks for helping to keep my head straight."

"Now," I said, "what do we do next? Do we send out mass emails with a link to the video, or what?"

"The beauty of a virus is that you don't have to do anything special for it to spread. Once there's a source of contagion, the flu virus spreads without any help until pretty soon there's an epidemic. This video is our source of contagion. I may drop a hint to a couple of people who love to gossip, but from there on it's going to spread on its own. You just have to be patient."

"Okay, Lou, you're the expert on this kind of thing. Just keep me posted."

For the next few days, Susan and I had a great time visiting with Mom and Dad. Susan had been to the farm before, but only for a day or two at a time. Now, with a whole week at our disposal, Dad and I wanted to give her a real look at how a farm works, and Susan began to learn where our food comes from. At the same time, Mom took Susan into the kitchen and introduced her to cooking. Our meals at home were more of the "open the package and heat the contents" than real cooking. Mom cooked almost everything from scratch, and Susan loved standing on a stool beside her, helping add ingredients and stirring them in the big bowls. All in all, it was a wonderful week for Susan to be exposed to many things that she would not have experienced in our urban life.

In the meantime, Lou called every day to keep me apprised of the snowball that was starting to roll down the mountain directly at Susan. On Tuesday, he actually chortled when he told me that Edy had heard about the video from a woman she worked with. On Wednesday, the video was the talk of the table at the weekly Kiwanis meeting Lou attended. He swore that he had not been the one to bring it up.

In Thursday morning's paper, the local media columnist had a few brief lines referring to the video in vague terms in her column. She wound up with the following: "And the question that has all of Birmingham buzzing this week is, 'Where are Carol and Ted?'" 

When he called me on Thursday afternoon, Lou couldn't keep the glee out of his voice. "I talked to our guy in the Media Department who deals with WXYY. He tells me the whole station is in a panic. They're starting to get calls from other news outlets trying to get interviews with Carol and Ted about the video, and the WXYY people don't know what to do. Apparently, Don Sanchez also took off a few days this week, and nobody knows where he is or how to reach him."

On Friday, Lou steered me toward a write-up in Gawker.com, the media blog. It reported on the furor in Birmingham surrounding the two WXYY news anchors, and gave the link to the YouTube video. The article ended with the prediction that heads might roll. That morning, I called my attorney and told him to go ahead with the divorce filing. I also made special arrangements with him to have Carol served on Saturday at the Gulf Shores retreat where she and Ted were enjoying themselves. It would cost me extra, but I figured it would be worth it. My hunch was more a bet on a sure thing because I knew what Lou's next step was.

I also called Missy to let her know that I was filing for divorce and would have Carol served on Saturday. I asked her if she wanted to have Ted served at the same time. "No," she said calmly, "I plan to do that myself whenever he finally comes home." I wished her luck. 

The other local tv stations in Birmingham had been insanely jealous of the success of WXYY. They picked up on the gossip early in the week, and smelled blood in the water when they checked out the video on line. Their only problem was how to play the story. Lou gave them the answer. He tipped off a news producer at the second-ranked station that I was filing for divorce. That tidbit represented an actual news event they could run on its own merits, without having to resort to having to report what was essentially gossip. 

Then my attorney upped the ante. When a reporter for the station called to confirm the filing, the attorney let her know that the papers were going to be served on Saturday, and he managed to reveal the location where that was going to take place. Suddenly, the hounds were in full cry.

The news director decided that the story was too juicy to ignore, and they decided to go all out. The station contacted the process server charged with serving Carol, and they agreed to coordinate their activities. Once that was locked down, the station manager authorized sending a video crew and their lead reporter down to Gulf Shores on Saturday.

Lou called me Saturday morning with more news. Apparently, Don Sanchez had finally been reached; he had cut his vacation short and was trying to make arrangements to get back to Birmingham as quickly as possible. Lou's contact at WXYY told him that everyone at the station was terror-stricken; no one knew what would happen.

Lou also told me to be sure to watch the evening news on the competitor's station. "I think you'll find it interesting," he said, with wry understatement.

The thing about Saturday is that it's usually a slow news day, which means the tv stations are often grasping at straws for content. I guess that was the case that Saturday, because the Carol and Ted news was the lead story.

The rival anchor man, a somewhat oily type, came on the air with a photo of Carol and Ted behind him. It was a shot of the billboard I'd seen out of my office window a week ago. "All this week, the question on the minds of many people in Birmingham has been, 'Where are Carol Martin and Ted Stevenson of WXYY?' Today, in an exclusive story, we managed to find them in Gulf Shores, where they've been hiding all week."

The scene shifted to footage of the station's lead reporter, Hilda O'Reilly, an abrasive red-headed woman with a strident voice, striding across the shore toward a couple sunbathing on the sand. Of course, it was Carol and Ted. Neither of them heard the reporter, camera man and mike operator until Hilda reached the two of them and began asking in a loud voice, "Carol Martin, Ted Stevenson, what do you have to say about your relationship and the stories that are circulating back in Birmingham?"

Carol gave a little shriek of surprise and turned over to see who was speaking to her. When she did so, it became clear to viewing public that she'd been sunbathing topless. Seeing the small crowd and the video camera, she shrieked again and hastily covered her breasts, which had, of course, been blurred on the tv screen to meet FCC standards. She turned away to pick up the bra to her bikini, and as she bent down to put it on, she revealed that her bikini bottom was a thong.

The camera then turned to Ted Stevenson, who was desperately trying to retrieve his beach towel to cover the tiny Speedo swimsuit he was wearing.

Once she had regained a modicum of modesty, Carol turned angrily toward the red-headed reporter and yelled, "Hilda, what the (beep) are you doing here? Why are you intruding on us like this?"

Hilda wasn't fazed in the slightest. "What do you have to say about the video that's all over the internet?"

"What video?" Carol asked in confusion.

"The one where you told all the hicks in Birmingham you were coming here to have an affair with Ted Stevenson," Hilda responded coolly.

Carol began to sputter, and Ted tried to step in and draw attention away from her. But just at that moment, the unlikely appearance of a man wearing a suit and tie on the beach caused everyone to pause. Walking up to Carol, he asked in a loud voice, "Are you Carol Bailey Martin?" 

Reflexively, Carol answered "Yes."

"Then Ms, Martin" he said, handing her an envelope, "you have been served. Your husband has also instructed me to inform you that the locks on your house have been changed, and you are no longer welcome there."

With that, he calmly turned on his heel and strode off the beach.

For a moment, Carol was dumbfounded; then, anger flashed in her eyes and she screamed, "That son of a (bleep)!"




The Six O'clock News Slot



Being the television professional that he was, Ted realized that the cameras were still rolling, and he grabbed Carol and cautioned her in a low voice not to say anything else. He grabbed her arm and half-led, half-pulled her away toward the resort. The camera held the focus on her gleaming, oiled buttocks as she stalked angrily away.

The local announcer came back on the screen. "And there you have it. Carol Martin and Ted Stevenson, who've been missing all week, were found to have been sharing a room at a swank Gulf Shores resort. And in the latest development, Carol's husband has slapped her with a suit for divorce and kicked her out of their house. We tried to get her husband for comment, but were unable to reach him."

Indeed they were unable to reach me because Susan and I were safely ensconced at my parent's farm, and I was going to keep it that way through the weekend. While that meant I was safe for the moment from prying reporters, my only means of keeping up with developments was through Lou.

Lou learned from his contact at the other Birmingham tv station that Carol had foolishly failed to believe the process server when he told her I'd had the locks changed, so she had Ted drive her over to our house. That was a double mistake, because not only would her key no longer work in the door, but the other tv news had stationed a camera crew to keep an eye on the house, and her embarrassment and frustration were all caught on camera.

It got worse. She and Ted next drove to Ted's house, not thinking of the consequences. Missy met him at the door with a set of her own divorce papers, and told Ted not to bother coming back. There was a camera crew there as well, and Ted's humiliation was incorporated into the news story for all to see.

In desperation, the two of them sped off, trying to lose the tail of reporters, and eventually spent the night at a motel off of Interstate 65, halfway to Tennessee.

For the next chapter in the story, Lou had to rely on our Media Manager, who in turn got the story from his contact at WXYY. Don Sanchez, the WXYY News Director, had finally made it back to Birmingham on Saturday afternoon, and had been trying to contact Carol and Ted without success. They, of course, were returning from Gulf Shores with their cellphones turned off to avoid calls from other news reporters. Don wasn't even able to leave a message – both Carol's and Ted's mailbox had topped out on voicemail. 

The result of all this was a very angry news director. His temperament was not improved when someone showed him a recording of his rival network's Saturday evening news exclusive. It wasn't until Sunday afternoon that Ted thought to call in to the office, at which time Don summarily ordered the two co-anchors to come to the studio immediately.

The two of them hopped back in Ted's car and immediately set out for the WXYY studio. When they arrived, they found the remote broadcast van from their rival station parked across the street, so they had to drive around to the back of the building and sneak up the service elevator. The result of this little maneuver was that they walked headlong and unannounced into a meeting Don was holding with the rest of his staff.

Apparently, the shouting began immediately, with Don lambasting the pair for their "stupid, slutty behavior" and Carol and Ted attempting to defend themselves. Finally, Don had had enough, and in front of the entire group he told Carol and Ted they were fired.

"What?" Carol screeched. "You can't do that. We have a contract."

Don had now shifted into executive mode, and he responded very coolly. "If you'll check those contracts, you'll see that they include a morals clause requiring you to conduct yourself in a manner appropriate to community standards."

"What we do in private is no one else's business," Carol snapped back.

Don, who was a practicing Catholic, stood up and leaned over his desk at her. "When I went to Mass this morning at the Cathedral, the priest's homily was on the sanctity of marriage and the sin of adultery. He didn't mention you two by name, but he did refer to the poor example set by certain public figures in our city."

Carol recoiled at the idea she had become the subject of sermons locally, but Ted was still indignant, and he rushed on where wiser heads would have kept silent. "But nobody knows about us, or cares, for that matter."

Now Don became sarcastic. "Obviously, you didn't see the news on the other news stations last night. I suggest you get a copy and watch it. But there's no reason to wait for that, just take a look out the window." With that he strode over to the window behind his desk and pulled back the curtain. 

There across the street was one of the promotional billboards featuring the now infamous co-anchors. Carol glanced at the sign quickly, then did a double-take and peered at it more closely. "Oh my God!" she gasped. A vandal with a lot of nerve and a can of spray paint had defaced the sign. He hadn't done much, just obliterated a part of the text, but now the sign proudly pronounced "Birmingham's Choice for the Six O'clock News Slut."

Don let the curtain fall and turned back to the now silent pair. In a formal tone, he said, "Your behavior has embarrassed this station and done irreparable harm to our ratings and our reputation. I have no choice but to pull you from the air and terminate your contracts immediately."

He paused, and then said bitterly, "Have you ever seen the original Frankenstein?"

Confused by the change of subject, the two of them nodded uncertainly.

"Well, right now," Don went on, "you're the monster, and the people of Birmingham are the angry mob. If I were you, I'd get out of town as quick as possible."

I was very apprehensive as Susan and I drove back to Birmingham on Sunday evening. I'd deliberately left late in hopes of avoiding any confrontations either with Carol or the news media. As a result, I had heard the news about Carol's and Ted's dismissal on the Sunday evening news. But as I pulled up to our garage, it appeared that, having won a famous victory, the opposing news teams had decided to leave the field of battle.

I also caught a break the next morning when the Birmingham News headlined a new scandal about a city politician caught dipping into public funds. That story pushed Ted and Carol onto the back pages and started the reporters on a new witch hunt. Apparently, no one cared about the reaction of the irate husband any more.

I took Susan over to Mrs. Alsop's house that morning. When I got there, Mrs. Alsop greeted me at the door and wrapped her arms around Susan protectively. "Go on in, honey," she said to her. "My kids have missed you; they want to play."

When Susan had run off to join her little friends, Mrs. Alsop turned back to me with a sympathetic look. "I was so sad to hear of everything that's happened, Tom. I hope you and Susan are going to be okay."

I thanked her for her sympathy, but I really didn't have an answer to the question about how things were going to work out for us. I did think it was telling that she hadn't included Carol in her concern.

When I got to the office, everyone was nice, but I could tell they were avoiding me. It was like I had an incurable disease and no one knew what to say. The exception, of course, was Lou. He hugged me, and I hugged him back just as hard. 

"You're a genius," I told him. "You're the master of the viral campaign."

"Well," he said, "it worked, better than we had a right to hope for. The only bad thing is we can never tell anyone what we did."

"That's just as well," I replied. "I know that this is going to come back on me, and I'm ready for that. By now, Carol must have figured out that I had to be the source of that video, and she's going to come after me with guns blazing. I don't want you to get hit in the crossfire."

As it turned out, I was too pessimistic in my expectations. My attorney called me later in the week to tell me that Carol had decided not to contest the divorce.

"But why?" I asked him. "She'd already told me what she was going to do if I filed – what happened?"

"I had a chat with Carol's attorney, and she told me the rest of the story," he said. "Carol wanted to counter-sue for divorce plus sue you for invasion of privacy, but her attorney talked her out of it. She pointed out that there are legal questions about whether or not a person can legally record the conversation of his or her spouse. Those questions get even more tangled when one spouse is a television personality, a very public figure. Basically, she told Carol her suit might well have to go all the way to the Supreme Court before it was finally resolved. She also reminded Carol that she was not a very popular figure these days. She'd be hard pressed to find a sympathetic jury to hear her case."

"But what about Susan?" I asked. "Carol swore that she would try to take her away from me."

My attorney snorted. "Tom, your soon-to-be ex-wife is unemployed. Her chances for resuming her career, not only in Birmingham but in the state of Alabama, are absolutely nil. In fact, I don't think she could land a broadcasting job anywhere in the Southeast after the publicity she's had. She's now the poster child for unfaithful wives. With a reputation for immoral living, without a steady job and with no prospects in the entire region, what judge would possibly award custody of a young child to her?" 

"The bottom line is that Carol is leaving town as quickly as she can get out. You'll still have to divide any proceeds from the house when it's sold, which can be any time between now and when Susan turns 18. And Carol will still have visitation rights on holidays and birthdays. But she's relinquishing custody to you because she really has no hope of getting anything else."

"The only thing she wants is to be allowed to enter the house to get her personal possessions before she leaves town. And one other thing, Tom, she'd like the chance to talk to you when she comes to your house."

"If she'll sign the papers on those terms, I guess I can stand to talk to her before she leaves town," I told him. We agreed that would take place the end of the week.

So it was done: I really had gotten everything I'd wanted. No, that isn't true, what I really wanted was to have my life and my family back together the way they were before all this terrible mess happened. But that was wishful thinking – once the avalanche starts, there's really nothing that can stop it. But at least I had my daughter, and that was the only thing that really mattered to me.

Lou and Edy and I celebrated over dinner the next night. Susan had come along, and she was now asleep in one of their beds while the adults continued the party. Actually, it wasn't really a party, just a chance for the three of us to reflect on all that had happened. 

I'd brought a bottle of the most expensive champagne I could find to toast my friends and thank them for their loyalty. Edy, in turn, raised a glass to the two of us. "Guys," she said, "when I heard about your scheme, I thought you were crazy. I thought it would blow up in your faces and we'd have a major mess on our hands. The only thing that kept me from objecting was the fact that you – here she saluted me – were fighting for your little girl and had no place else to turn to. And you, my loving husband, were so convinced you could pull this off. So here's to the both of you: for fighting when you had to and winning in the face of long odds."

"Here, here," Lou and I agreed in unison.

There was one more thing I felt I had to do before the whole sordid mess could be considered done: check on Missy Stevenson. If ever there was an innocent bystander, it was she, yet I knew she was suffering as much or more than anyone else involved. And I felt a little guilty that I had dragged her into this mess, even though I had no choice and even though Ted was the real culprit. But at least I had had the chance to decide to act; Missy had never seen it coming.

I called to ask if I could come by, and she invited me to have lunch, so I felt she must not hold too strong a grudge against me. We met at a quiet neighborhood restaurant, and after the waiter had taken our orders, I asked her how she was doing.

"Not very well, I'm afraid, Tom," she answered. "I still can't believe that all this has happened. One day I'm happily married to a handsome, successful tv personality, the next I'm getting divorced from a bastard who lied and cheated and humiliated me in front of the entire city."

"I know, Missy," I consoled her. "It's all so unbelievable. I feel like I've been transported into a bad soap opera on daytime tv."

She wanted to know what was going on with Carol and me, so I told her the outcome of our divorce. "Good," she said vindictively, "she's getting exactly what she deserved."

"And what about Ted?" I asked her. "What's happening with the two of you?"

"That coward," she replied bitterly, "he didn't have the courage or the courtesy to face me. He just left town, telling his attorney to give me whatever I wanted. I have no idea where he's gone, and I could care less. Except, of course, that I keep waking up in the night and reaching for him, before I remember what's happened."

She pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. 

"Are you going to be okay financially?" I asked.

"Yes and no," she said. "He's left me the house, but it's way too big for me to live in alone. And we have a big mortgage and no real equity, so I don't think I can afford to keep it anyway. Ted's supposed to be paying me alimony, but, to be honest, I'm not counting on it. He can only pay if he finds a new job, and my friends have warned me that's not going to be easy for him to do."

She sighed, "All in all, I think the smartest thing for me to do is to move back in with my folks for a while, try to find a job, and start rebuilding my life." She paused. "This isn't the way my life was supposed to turn out," she said sadly.

I felt terrible for her. She was a sweet girl who had done nothing to deserve this. I begged her to stay in touch and let me know where she wound up. I really like Missy and hoped she'd catch a break. She deserved one.

That left only Carol's visit, and I wasn't looking forward to it. A lot of the anger and resentment I'd felt before had subsided in the wake of the success of our viral video campaign. I felt as though I'd won back my manhood, at least somewhat, and now I had no need to fight with her any more nor to gloat over my victory.

As a result, I decided to do something nice for Carol: I arranged to have Susan with me when it was time for Carol to come. As Carol got out of the SUV she'd rented to haul her clothes and other personal belongings, I saw the scowl on her face. But when I opened the door and let Susan run to her, the scowl disappeared into smiles and happy tears. As Susan threw her arms around her mother's neck and hugged her desperately, Carol looked up at me and mouthed, "Thank you."

They came inside and Carol proceeded to play with Susan for quite a while. The visit was officially supposed to last only an hour, but I had mentally thrown that time out the window when I decided to have Susan there.

Once Susan had exhausted her inventory of things she had wanted to show and tell her mother, Carol suggested she go upstairs to her room and play. "I'll be up there soon, baby. Daddy and I have to talk first."

Once Susan had left, Carol turned to me somewhat grudgingly and said, "Thank you for that. I really hadn't expected you'd let me see her."

I simply nodded. Carol's mood changed visibly. "I can't believe you did all that to me. You used a private conversation between the two of us to ruin me, to make me the laughing stock of the city. How could you do that?"

I sighed. "Carol, I don't want to fight with you any more – there's nothing to be gained for either of us."

"That's easy for you to say," she shot back, "you're the winner. You've cost me my job, my family and my future – all to protect your fragile little ego!"

"Carol, I said I wasn't going to fight with you and I meant it. I just want you to think about one thing: nothing would have happened if you hadn't decided to satisfy your own wishes and desires, regardless of anyone or anything else. Everything that's happened you've brought on yourself."

Carol opened her mouth to respond, but at that moment Susan called out to her, asking when she was going to come upstairs. Carol glared at me for a moment more, than turned on her heel and went up to see her daughter.

After playing in Susan's room for a while, Carol took her daughter over to our bedroom and began to pack while continuing to talk to Susan. I could hear their happy chatter from down below. Finally, Carol came back downstairs dragging her suitcases, with Susan tagging along behind.

Carol set her bags upright and then turned and knelt in front of her daughter. Taking Susan's shoulders in her hands, Carol told her, "Mommy has to go away now. I'm going to live in another state, and I won't get to see you every day. But I promise I'll see you every chance I can, and we can talk on the phone and video each other as much as you want."

Susan's cry was immediate and heartfelt, "No, Mommy, I don't want you to go!" The little girl grabbed her mother around the neck and clung to her as though she were the only life raft in the ocean. Carol picked her up and stood, holding her tightly, stoking her back and trying to soothe her. "It's okay, baby doll, I'll see you real soon and you can tell me all about what you've been doing, and we'll have such a good time."

As she spoke, she walked over to me and handed Susan to me. "Now you be a good girl and do everything that Daddy tells you to. I love you, Susan, don't you ever forget that." Then she turned, picked up her suitcases and walked briskly to the door. I could see that tears were streaming down her face, but she wouldn't allow herself to look back. Instead, she walked directly to her car, loaded the bags in the back, and drove off with a quick wave.

I held my sobbing daughter and my own tears running down my cheeks. I was startled to realize that they were for my loss as much as for my daughter's. My little girl was losing her mother, and I was losing my wife. 

Finally, I put Susan down. "Listen," I said, "I have an idea."

"What, Daddy?" she asked tearfully.

"Why don't we go over to the park and see if the ducks are there? And after we've done that, maybe we can find the ice cream man and get an ice cream cone. Would you like that?"

"Oh, yes," she replied immediately, "and we can feed the cones to the ducks, can't we Daddy?"

"Sure we can," I replied.

It was a great relief to be able to divert Susan from her sorrow. I knew that there would be many times when she would miss her mother and miss having a female presence in our home. But I hoped that what I had heard was true: that young children are more resilient and quicker to adapt to change than older ones. And, I thought ruefully, I hoped that I could adapt too.

The next week I learned that I would have to adapt even more than I had expected. The head of the agency called me into his office late one afternoon.

"Tom," he began, "you've done some great work for us, and we truly appreciate the contributions you've made to the agency's success."

I just waited for the "but" that I knew was coming. I didn't think I was going to like the direction this was taking.

"But the whole business with your wife has left an odor that attaches to everything around it. Clients are asking if you are Carol's husband, and it has an impact on them, even when I tell them your status. Not surprisingly, our relations with WXYY are also pretty strained, and they're a key media outlet for us."