“He came back in with a fireplace poker. They do have fireplaces in Gainesville. It’s so far inland it gets cold as hell and the frat guys liked having a fire in the winter. He broke my boyfriend’s jaw. Busted another’ guy’s arm and messed up another guy’s shoulder. He cleaned out the room and what I saw was him standing in the doorway swinging that thing to keep their friends outside.”
She closed her eyes
“Of course, he couldn’t keep them out, couldn’t stand up to all of them. They got him down and some of them started beating him while some of the guys who hadn’t been busted up started in on me again. There was so much screaming and guys coming out with broken arms that neighbors called the police. When they got there I was still being...raped. They arrested a couple dozen fraternity members that night.
“One of the guys they arrested told the cops later they would have probably stopped working over your father except...he kept getting back up. He said, ‘The son of a bitch wouldn’t stay down’.”
“I found out all of this afterwards. The guys your father busted up even tried to sue him, or their families did, but when I testified and there was the medical evidence and other witnesses they were gang raping me, they decided they didn’t want to sue him anymore. But, the bastards put him in Shands – that’s the best hospital in the city, the best in that part of the state – in a coma with his brain swelling.”
She looked back up. Her son was staring at her like she was an alien from another planet.
“I went in to see him. His mother, Grandma Maitland, was in the room when I walked in. She wasn’t happy to see me. To put it mildly. His father had died years before and your father was the only thing she had left. She said some terrible things – things I probably deserved – and threw me out. I came back later when she was gone and stared at him. He was just some stranger, some kid I’d never have noticed if I’d ever seen him around UF. His eyes were closed and he was blanketed in tubes and monitors.
“And he had risked his life to save some girl he’d never seen before. It was like something out of a book, a movie, a fairytale. I knew no matter how much shit guys had given me all my life about how wonderful I was, I wasn’t worth dying for.”
She stared into her son’s eyes, eyes that reminded her of his father.
“That’s the kind of man your father is. He might not have been the world’s best father, he damn sure wasn’t the best husband, but he was and is a good man.”
She was crying. BJ started toward her and she put her hand out to stop him.
“It’s okay. I’m alright. I just hadn’t...thought of that for a long time.”
She got up and went to their bedroom. And called Doug.
“Don’t come here today, Doug.”
“What? Why? Deb, I got somebody to cover my classes. You know how hard it is to get someone to come in during the summer to cover a class? I called in favors, because I wanted to be with you.”
She took a deep breath, and wiped her eyes.
“Sorry. I just...lost the mood.”
“That son of a bitch, Bill. You can’t help yourself, can you?”
She hung up on him.
Wednesday, July 14, 2005 – 2 P.M.
“Hello, Debbie.”
“Hi mom. Why are you calling me at the house at this time?”
“I called the school but they told me you’d taken a half day off. Is something wrong? Are the kids okay?”
“Yes, they’re fine. Of course, Bill Jr. is skipping summer school enrichment classes. I caught him, but I’m letting him slide this time.”
“Well, why are you home at this time of day?”
“I – uh....”
“You took the day off, left your classes, to be with that man.”
“He has a name, Mom. It’s Doug. And yes, although it’s none of your business, I did take time off to see him.”
“Is he there now?”
She sniffled and said, “No, mom. He is not here. If it makes you happy, he’s not going to be here today.”
“You’re crying. What did he do?”
“Jesus, Mom, he didn’t do anything. And how did you know I was crying. Mystic Mama Knows All, Sees All?”
“I’ve known you for nearly 40 years, baby. I know when you’re upset. I can hear it in your voice. Is it ...Doug. Or is it Bill? Have you heard the terrible things they’re saying about him. And that article in the TU? Trash journalism.”
“Mom....it’s just a lot of things. I must be getting ready to start my period. You know how crazy I get sometimes.”
“Are you happy now?”
“What?”
“You threw your husband of nearly 20 years out. You’re ending your marriage. You’ve turned your back on a man that risked his life for you, would have walked through fire for you. For a young good looking guy just like a thousand others that have chased you over the years. Was it worth it, Debbie?”
“Oh, shit. Mom are you my mother or his? Do you ever take my side? Have you taken my side in one thing since all this started? You’re supposed to be behind me. It’s hard enough...the kids...people at work looking at me...but you’re my MOTHER. You’re the last person that’s supposed to be criticizing me now.
“And still...why the hell don’t you adopt him?”
“I’m always going to be on your side, Baby. I am now. I just don’t think what you’re doing is right – for you, for the kids and definitely not for Bill. He is such a good man..”
“Yeah, and so is the Pope. I don’t want to be married to the Pope either. Saints aren’t easy to live with Mom, in case you didn’t know. You don’t live in this house, you don’t go to bed – or not go to bed – with him so you don’t know what you’re talking about.
“As far as being a good person, what am I? Chopped liver? I’ve been a good mother and a good wife. I took care of my kids and my husband for nearly 20 years. I kept them happy. But what about me, mom? Don’t I deserve to be happy? With a man who wants me, a man who makes me feel good about myself. A man – I know this will shock you – but a man who’s good in bed with me. Makes me remember that I am a woman.
“I know you’ve had a good marriage with Daddy and I’ve heard enough over the years to know that’s never been a problem with you two. But it’s been a damned big problem in my marriage.”
“You should have talked to Bill more.”
“Yeah, I should have held him down and forced him to listen to me. I should have made him pay attention to the way people looked at the two of us when we went somewhere together. I should have rubbed his nose in the way guys were always rubbing themselves all over me so he’d know he had a hot wife.
“You...everyone else...you keep saying I should have done this and I should have done that...well what about Bill. What about that sorry bastard, that miserable excuse for a human being, a guy I never should have married. That miserable, fat bald piece of shit. If I had known 20 years ago what I know now...”
There was a long silence and she forced herself to calm down. Where had that come from? For a minute there she’d hated Bill. Visceral hatred. And that was something she had never felt before.
“There’s something wrong with you, Debbie. Where did that anger come from? You dumped him. He should be the one that’s angry. It almost sounded like....Clarice.”
“I had a dream about her. I do sometimes. “
“I know, baby. I think about her sometimes too. But you were always closer to her than anyone else. It’s natural you remember her. But...those words...it almost sounded like Clarice talking about Frank.”
“I don’t know Mom. There are times when I get so angry at Bill. I know I have good reason, but...”
“Debbie, Bill is not Frank. Don’t ever forget that. I know Clarice spouted a lot of poison about men. I heard some of it. And I know you got most of it, but Clarice made a lot of her own problems. Frank isn’t the only guy that ever dumped his wife for a younger woman. But most women make a new life for themselves. Clarice just coul
dn’t let go. She was a sick, troubled woman.
“I know she did her best to infect you with her twisted hatred of men. She almost took your father down into the grave with her when she killed herself. I never told you or your sister, but when I heard what had happened I drove to the store and I found him leaving. I grabbed hold of the door to his car and told him he could drag me, or let me in. He had the .38 he kept in his office for security on the seat beside him.
“He didn’t say a word, but I knew he was going to kill Frank. I could see it in his eyes. Clarice was your father’s baby sister. He helped raise her. He was the one that insisted that we name your sister after her. It nearly killed him when he heard she was gone.
“But I told him that she was gone. He had lost her. If he went and shot Frank, he’d lose me and both you girls. Frank was a jerk, a piece of shit, but he didn’t do anything a lot of other men haven’t done. Clarice didn’t have to throw her life away for him. We all tried to help her, but some people you can’t help.”
“I know, but sometimes I remember her the way she was...before...”
“I do too, baby. You forget, I knew her a lot longer than you did. But, when I heard you just then, I felt a chill. I could have been listening to Clarice. Are you sure that-“
“No, Mom. I know that Bill isn’t Frank. He wasn’t running around on me. I had my problems with him, but not that. I don’t know why I got so pissed at him just then, but I don’t need a psychiatrist. We’re just going through a hard time right now. I’m doing something that scares me and Doug is just a friend, no matter what you or anybody else thinks. And I’d like to talk to Bill. He’s been the one person I could always talk to for nearly 20 years. But he insults me and hangs up on me when I try to talk to him.”
“Do you blame him?”
“...No...I guess not. But we’re going to have to talk someday. We’re going to be good divorced parents. I know we will. I just wish I could talk to him now. So many things have happened...I said and did things that I...shouldn’t have...but I’d like to make him understand why.”
“Well, it’s a shame you two aren’t talking. I have a feeling that today is one of those days he could really use a friend.”
“I know mom. Maybe...look, let me go. I’ll talk to you later. I love you.
She dialed Cheryl.
“How is he, Cheryl?”
“As bad as I’ve ever seen him. He looked himself in his office yesterday and wasn’t taking any calls – from anybody. About noon he went out, wouldn’t tell anyone where he was going, and came back an hour or two later. I’ve never seen him like this. Mr. Edwards came in to see him and later he went home. He didn’t’ talk to anybody around here. He came in this morning and he’s been trying to get his work done….but…he’s not himself.”
“Thanks, Cheryl.”
Wednesday, July 13, 2005 – 4 P.M.
I sensed, rather than heard the door to my office swing open. Ever since my boss had threatened to have it taken off the hinges, I’d left it unlocked. But there were only a handful of people who would enter without knocking. I looked up and I think my heart literally skipped a beat.
We had a staring contest for a few seconds.
“You should have called.”
“You would just have refused to take my call or taken it for the pleasure of hanging up on me.”
“If you know that, then why are you here?”
“We’ve been together for nearly 20 years. I know what happened hurt you. Cheryl told me you’ve barricaded yourself in this office yesterday. And about what happened afterward. And that’s not you.”
“So what are you going to do, kiss it and make it well?”
She looked at my desk instead of me and almost blushed. There was a day when she’d know exactly what to kiss to raise me out of whatever dumps I was in. But those days were history.
“I thought...you might want to talk. There was a time-“
“That time is past, Debbie. What makes you think you can just walk in here and play the dutiful wife like nothing’s happened these last months. You destroy my life and then you just prance in here and want to make nice. We talked when there was an ‘US’. There is no ‘US’ anymore.”
I took in her face and figure. She was wearing a nice green blouse and matching skirt that showed a fair amount of leg. As always those fantastic tits thrust themselves out against any garments that tried to restrain them.
I had thought I was getting over her. But I was stupid. The only way I’d ever get over her was just to get as far away from her as I could, and stay away.
“Take a look around the office, Debbie. Tell me what you see, and what you don’t see.”
She glanced at my desk, the bookshelf behind me, the coffee table, and the walls in washed oak. There were letters of commendation and pictures of myself taken with President Bush when he had passed through and Bill Clinton, another one with Hillary. On my desk I kept four 12-inch high photos of Bill Jr. and Kelly, matching sets taken when they were two years old respectively and a year or so ago.
I had a picture I’d had blown up from one of the few I’d found of my mother and father that must have been taken when I was about four. He was a big, dark-haired, Black Irish type and Mom was a peaches and cream Brit whose parents wound up in the same small town where my dad’s family had lived for decades.
It took her a moment. Then it sank in.
“What’s happened...Bill, it doesn’t change what we had.”
“Of course it does. The picture of you and me is gone. I meant to save it but somehow it got smashed and wound up going out with the trash.”
I read her eyes with professional skill and I like to think that hurt.
“If you go into my condo, you won’t find any pictures of you and me. Or you. And if you bothered to check our photo albums, I didn’t take anything. You check my wallet and I have snapshots of the kids. You’re not there anymore.”
She blinked and I hope she was preparing to tear up.
“Getting rid of my picture doesn’t destroy the memories of our life. It was real. It happened.”
“You remember that Clint Eastwood movie we saw, about the retired gunfighter that takes the job of killing those cowboys. The one with Morgan Freeman? There’s a great line in there where he says that when you kill a man, you steal everything he has, and everything he ever will have.
“Well, you pissed all over everything we ever had together. You ruined it.
“I didn’t take any pictures with me because I can’t remember those days without seeing those fucking emails...without seeing you kissing him...without seeing you in my head sucking on his big dick and probably squealing while he’s shoving it up inside you.
“I can’t remember any of the good times we ever had, because those pictures keep getting in the way. You stole my whole life, you ruined the last 20 years of my life. You did a real job on me.”
She shook her head.
“Those miserable emails.”
She looked at me and said, “Why did you have to save them and why did you have to read them? If you hadn’t seen them you wouldn’t have come to UNF and in a few days I’d have told you our marriage just wasn’t working. You wouldn’t have known about Doug and you wouldn’t be hurt like this. You could have gone on with your life and we would have had our past. You wouldn’t hate me.”
“I don’t hate you, Debbie. I can’t stand looking at you. I can’t stand remembering our life. But I don’t hate you. I wish I did. The problem is I still love you. Maybe I always will.
“But maybe I won’t. I know it doesn’t hurt as bad anymore. And it’s only been three months. I think in time I’ll get to the point that I won’t feel anything for you at all.”
Why the hell she looked hurt I couldn’t understand. She was the one who had dumped me.
“Now you begin the life you should have had all along, Deb. Before you made the mistake of letting hero worship blind you. If it wasn’t for BJ and Kelly, I would rather have
never met you and you would have had the life you wanted. Money and power and big dicks and not being saddled with a short fat loser.”
She looked at me as if I were speaking in a foreign language.
“If it makes you feel any better, helps with the guilt, I’ve been waiting for this for 20 years, I wasn’t surprised by Doug. I’m even relieved in a way. Now you won’t have to go on pretending you ever loved me.”
She moved faster than I’d ever seen her move. Obviously, those trips to the gym had kept her limber. Unfortunately, my trips to Carlos’ gym had speeded up my reflexes. I caught her hand on the way to delivering a slap that probably would have rattled my teeth.
“Don’t do that Debbie. You don’t know how close I’ve come to hurting you, hurting you physically. Don’t give me an excuse.”
Her eyes literally flared and those damned titties rose up and down like bellows.
“Our marriage is shot. You killed it and I buried it. But don’t you tell me that I never loved you. Don’t tell me those first few years were a lie. Because I know damn well what I felt back then. I did love you.
“I know you weren’t a stud. I could have married dozens of well hung, gorgeous guys , but I loved you. You were kind and loving and you care for me more than anyone else ever had and I felt safe with you.
“Love isn’t all about sex. It’s part of it, but I never had any complaints about the way you made love to me. You satisfied me. Until you decided you loved this damned job more than you loved me.”
I remembered what Teller had said. I could try to explain why I had done what I’d done, but at rock bottom, wasn’t she right? And she hadn’t signed up for a marriage in which she was doomed to play second fiddle until the day I decided to move on to a less demanding job.
I could try to explain why I had let my marriage go.
I could tell her it was like the frog that’s dropped into a cooking pot full of lukewarm water, which is gradually heated. The frog is boiled before he ever realizes the danger he’s in.
There was never a moment I could remember when I had consciously decided that my job was more important than my wife. There was never a moment when I knowingly decided if I had to choose between my job and her, that my job came first. But knowingly or not, that was the way I had lived for too long.
The Long Fall Page 29
