Chapter 11
Hank wasn’t the only one who had gone through major metamorphosis. Truth be told, Mandy and I were much different than when we had first met Hank and Patti as well. Although Mandy had grown up in the Mormon Church and was much more heavily indoctrinated by its teachings, she had ‘fallen away’ within a year of me becoming an ‘inactive member’ of the Church, as the church leadership refers to its lost sheep. They like to think that there is always hope that such individuals will somehow be inspired to come back into the fold. I guess some do, but Mandy and I had not just stopped attending church out of laziness or due to a temporary distraction by the secular world. We had really contemplated our dissatisfaction of organized religion as a whole and had become disgusted with the hypocrisy and oversimplification of the human existence that many religious teachings tended to propagate.
As Mandy, Hank, and I distanced ourselves from the Mormon Church, we began to experiment with the real world and expand our experiences to include those which most of the population considered part of ‘normal’ recreational activities and behaviors. We had all discovered alcohol. Hank had discovered porn and titty bars. He had even talked me and Mandy (coolest wife ever) into hitting a club called The Lodge in Dallas, a city chock full of strip clubs. Hank had soon sampled the wares at most of the gentlemen’s clubs in the big city as he met with his accountant and bankers during his many ‘business trips’ to Dallas.
The most significant difference between the loss of my faith and the loss of Hank’s was the fact that my mate and I agreed on the fact that church membership was no longer right for us or for our children. This was in distinct contrast to Hank’s experience with Patti, who seemed to cling even more enthusiastically and rigorously to Mormon doctrines as he drifted further away from a faith-based approach to life. She was still, and seemingly always would be, deeply entrenched in her roles within the Church. She was the perfect Mormon mother, the perfect Mormon wife, and a perfect member of the Mormon congregation, who was always willing to volunteer for a service project or receive a new church position, which would come with new church duties and obligations of time and effort. Hank had been pulling away from Patti for months, as he had asked to be released from his church positions, attended church less and less often, and eventually told her that he had lost his faith and that he was done with the Church.
I witnessed, first-hand, the anguish that he endured as he saw a rift opening up between himself and Patti. He knew this fissure would continue to grow as long as he refused to return to his previous spirituality, which was what Patti expected of him.
“She is living in a fantasy world, man,” Hank told me as we discussed Patti’s response to him leaving the church. “She told me that she knows I’m just going through a phase and that she had prayed about the changes I’m going through. The good old Holy Ghost told her I’m just confused, and that my faith will be restored and I’ll come around. Blah, blah, blah.”
“What do you expect?” I replied. “She is fully indoctrinated, man! In her mind, there is no possibility that you have actually seen the light and are finally feeling free. The only way that she can process the idea of someone leaving the church is by seeing them as confused or deceived. It’s just like all the shit we’ve been hearing about for years at church. Like we need to be patient with inactive members and always be ready to greet them with open arms when they reach back out to the Lord,” I said, as I performed a masturbatorial pantomime.
“I remember believing the same bullshit! When I was the ward mission leader during residency, I stopped by the houses of many an inactive member and tried to get them to believe that I was there out of love and acceptance. In reality, I was just as full of shit as Patti and the rest of them are! But Patti is, just like I was at the time, trying to be a good little Mormon and focus on her own faith, even if she should be focused on the fact that her marriage is in the shitter.”
“I know you’re right,” he replied. “I guess it just bums me out that I’ve spent so much time with Patti, and now all I can think about is getting away from her. I still love her, but I can’t spend my life pretending that I’m happy living the kind of life that is acceptable to her. I want to live life to its fullest, not just sit around and watch it go by like most people do.”
If Patti had been able to appreciate what her husband was actually going through, she might have been able to hold her marriage and her family together. What she couldn’t understand was that it was as if Hank had arrived in the land of Oz and had looked behind the notorious curtain. What he found was that the awesome manifestation of the great wizard was nothing but a deceptive illusion created to manipulate the masses. As was true for Mandy and myself, believing that Hank could somehow reacquire his faith in Mormonism was akin to believing that one could go back to believing that the Wizard of Oz was a great and powerful being after discovering that, behind the veil of concealment was a small and feeble man who was busily pulling the levers and pushing the buttons that controlled the projection of the awesome image of the being who was revered by the people who wanted to believe in the supernatural powers he claimed to hold. Patti was only interested in maintaining her faith and that of her children, so that she could continue follow the path laid out for her by others. She would never even discuss with Hank the basis of the spiritual epiphany which had eroded his spirituality, so the fissure in their relationship continued to grow into a crevasse, then a gorge, and finally into a bottomless chasm into which the remaining love between them was continuing to drain away. It had been merely a matter of time before they would lose the ability to see the world around them through even similar perspectives and their relationship would be doomed.
I understood what Hank was going through. I also understood how egocentric he was being. I rarely heard him, as he went through this major life transition, discuss how his kids would be affected by a divorce. I certainly never heard him talk about how they would feel if it came out that he was fucking his 25-year-old assistant, which seemed like an increasingly likely scenario. As I would eventually figure out, Hank was never interested in taking a step back and seeing how others were affected by his decisions and his actions. This personality trait of Hank’s was one which, eventually, poisoned many of his relationships. Years later, it would prove to be an integral factor in the corruption of our friendship as well.
Regardless of how Hank had arrived at this point in his life, and regardless of how many character flaws he had, I completely understood how trapped he felt and why he had finally reached his breaking point. Though I didn’t think he was always being appropriately circumspect in his thoughts and behaviors, I did understand the need to get away from the Church and start ‘living life to its fullest,’ as he put it. It was, therefore, no surprise to me that he’d finally announced his decision to sever his marital relationship. The fracturing of a family is never pleasant to witness. However, with my unique perspective regarding what Hank was feeling, and my understanding of the emotional turmoil that he could no longer endure, I was able to see Patti Simmons and her kids as acceptable collateral damage as he attempted to change his life into one which gave him hope of achieving happiness and personal fulfillment.
Chapter 12
I knew that Hank was coming into Dallas for the weekend to attend an anesthesia conference, so I gave him a call and asked if he’d like to get together for dinner in Rockwall. It was an otherwise lonely evening for me due to the fact that Mandy was grocery shopping and running errands for household necessities, and the kids were all hanging out with their friends. I was in the mood for pizza, so I told Hank to meet me at a place called The Mellow Mushroom. This was a fun pizza and beer joint with a unique ambience, including a psychedelic atmosphere. There was purple shag carpet on the walls, pictures of spaceships and black holes on the walls, and life-sized statues of the characters from Alice in Wonderland throughout the restaurant among other groovy decor. They made great pizza pies and had an extensive menu of selections which
complemented pizza and other Italian delicacies. Their biggest draw, however, was a bevy of craft beers which they offered on-tap. Hank, actually, wasn’t much of a beer drinker, but Mandy and I were definitely developing a taste for these delicious concoctions of wheat, barley, and hops, as well as the euphoric state that they induced. Interestingly, the one thing that Hank never tried to better me at was my appreciation of the different forms of craft beers. Microbreweries and craft beer were rapidly becoming popular in Texas, so he would have had ample opportunity to talk about the innovative libations he would have taste tested and ranked according to their olfactory and gustatory attributes. I was always surprised that he had passed up this opportunity to show people how he had his finger on the pulse of pop culture. I had imagined him drinking in—no pun intended—the attention he would get as he explained to the hospital staff how he had become an expert on the differences between ales, porters, IPA’s, stouts, pilsners, blondes, sours, and wheat beers.
Rather than taking an interest in beer, however, he decided that he wanted to become an aficionado of wine. In true Hank fashion, he actually took a three-week trip to France and went through a very well respected vinology program. This intensive immersion in wine knowledge, appreciation, and culture was designed primarily as a place for fine restaurants to send their sommeliers in training, where, upon completion of the course, they would receive a certification as a wine expert. They were more than happy, however, to accept the $5000 tuition fee from private individuals who wanted to earn and display their esteemed credentials. There was no way that Hank was going to be satisfied by learning about grape cultivation, winery operation, and wine classification and appreciation, by going on winery tours in Napa, the Columbia River Valley in Washington, or other famous wine-producing regions like typical yokels would do, so the opportunity to train among wine industry professionals was one that he could not pass up.
But seriously, why would he go to the trouble of getting certified as a wine expert? Because he was Hank. ‘Go big or go home’ were the words he lived by. From that point on he loved to educate servers in restaurants about the wine he ordered, talk at parties about the wine he had brought as a hostess gift, and generally boast about his encyclopedic knowledge of wine making, tasting, and appreciation. Of course, as he preached about the attributes of his favorite grape fermentations, he often went on to discuss his plans to purchase a piece of land where he could begin cultivating grapes and building his own winery. I mean, why settle for just knowing what to order in a fine dining establishment when you can become an expert on wine who can impress restaurateurs and sommeliers with your sophisticated palate and wow the nursing staff at the hospital with your plans to create the next great wine label.
“Mandy, you know that cabernet you are drinking was rated poorly last year. Why don’t you let me order your next glass for you? I will get you something that will rock your world.’ This would be a typical Hank statement if we were out at a fine dining establishment. I did develop a bit of a taste for wine when I first started to imbibe, however, after Hank decided to become the absolute expert on vino and began to provide impromptu educational lectures whenever he was around someone with a stemmed glass in their hand, I began avoiding wine altogether. I figured I’d let the fucker have his fun impressing the uppity wine drinkers with their purple teeth and skunky wine breath. I’d focus on the less sophisticated, and certainly less impressive choices of intoxicating beverages—beer and liquor.
So anyway, we were feasting on pizza and beer tonight. What a shame, there was no wine on the menu—could this be why I had suggested the place? With no wine to talk about, Hank decided it was time to come clean.
“Okay, so you know that next week the divorce is final, right?”
Over the previous year or so, Hank’s and Patti’s divorce attorneys had both labored to sink their teeth into the opposing client and tear away as much flesh as possible. It became a bloody fight, indeed, which is just the way the attorneys like it. After all, the bigger the battle that a divorce becomes, the greater the need for legal representation. More complex divorces led to mounting billable hours, and, eventually, exponentially larger legal fees. Not that lawyers would ever take advantage of their clients. Such a suggestion would be akin to stating that used car salesmen would, given the chance, try to misrepresent the value of a vehicle in order to increase their commissions. Anyway, the Simmons divorce slugfest was painful to watch, and those of us who had courtside seats for the event had to take care to not get a little blood splashed on us as both attorneys had sought input from their clients’ close associates in the form of notarized written statements, and even threatened depositions and courtroom statements regarding information pertinent to the proceedings. Mandy and I were glad to see that it was coming to a close, and, even though we were spending a lot more time with Hank than with Patti, we were glad to see that she and the kids would be taken care of fairly and adequately per the final settlement. We all knew that our families were destined to drift apart now that we had stopped practicing the Mormon religion. Even though our families weren’t likely to spend time together, Mandy and I still liked Patti and bore her no ill will. She, like Hank, deserved to be happy and it was crystal clear at this point in time that the two of them would never be able to provide each other with the love, understanding, and support that was necessary for a couple to remain happy and secure in their relationship.
“Wow,” I said, “the knot is finally untied, huh?”
“Huh? Oh,” he replied, “the marriage knot, gotcha. Clever boy. Yeah, it’s finally wrapping up and none too soon. My balls are about to explode. My lawyer told me that I’d better keep my pecker in my pants until it’s over if I didn’t want to lose serious points with the judge. Talk about major blue balls.”
“So, you’re telling me that you haven’t been jacking it on a regular basis while perusing porn on your laptop? By the way, did you behave yourself last weekend in Fort Worth at the conference? I’m sure she told you, but when I couldn’t get through to you last Thursday, I called Jodi and wasn’t too surprised to find out that she was also out of town. She wouldn’t possibly have been in Fort Worth, would she? Maybe, even staying close to you in case you needed her to fulfill some type of administrative function perhaps? I mean, you never know when you’re going to need your stamp licked or your dictaphone played. Get it, DICKtafone? Oh man, I’ve still got it.”
“Hilarious, Marky-Mark! You are truly gifted, dude. Yeah, she was there, smart ass, but she had her own room. And yes, I might be getting a nut off here and there while I’m on-line, so actually my balls aren’t too backed up with baby batter. By the way, have you seen her lately? She finally got her breast lift and augmentation at my surgery center. She got her braces off and she’s lost all of her extra weight. She’s been working out every day with the Brazilian butt lift video set I gave her as a birthday gift. That chick is on fire,” he said with a leering grin. “Now that Patti is history, I am definitely gonna hit that shit.”
I’d seen Jodi a few weeks prior when I picked Hank up from his office to go kayaking, and I’ll admit, she had definitely undergone an incredible aesthetic transformation. The frumpy, plain-Jane with fucked up teeth who I had first met several years before, had undergone the proverbial ugly duckling transformation, and she had become the sexy swan that Hank had been imagining all along. There was no doubt in my mind that Hank had been fantasizing about ‘gettin’ all up in her’ as he watched her boobies being revised, molded, and expanded into strip-club-worthy jugs during her plastic surgery procedure, which I’m sure he had presided over as the anesthesiologist. I could picture him having to wear a loose fitting surgical smock to hide his chubby while the plastics guy whittled away at her pendulous, post-breastfeeding naughty pillows and then, in the second phase of enhancement, somehow shoved a double D sized sac of silicone into place, so that the final product was an in your face set of cans that no one could ignore.
“Well,” I said, “I can hon
estly say that I knew it was coming. But don’t you think she’s a bit young for you?” Hank was now in his mid-forties and Jodi was in her late twenties. It’s not like he was jumping right back into a committed relationship, but it just seemed like they were in two very different places in their lives. What he was failing to see was that even if his plan was to get in, get off, and get out, this chick was looking for her next hubby and there was every reason to believe she had considered the last few years as her audition for the role of the next Mrs. Simmons. I had a feeling that, in order to mold her into his eventual plaything, Hank had given her every indication that she had nailed the audition and that she’d be starring in the big show. “What about the fact that she works for you? This could go two ways. One possibility is that you get lots of ass from her, fall in love, and before you know it you are heading back down the aisle. The second one is that you get some amount of ass from her—it doesn’t really matter how much in this scenario—then you get tired of her and want to move on. The very next week, you get served with a lawsuit for sexual harassment. And make no mistake here, you will fucking lose!”
“First off,” he replied, seeming somewhat annoyed. “Look at me, man. I’d say I’m holding up pretty good for being forty-five. So, she is definitely not too young for me. I’ve had fresh out of school nurses following me around like puppy dogs my whole career. Besides, no way am I gonna start trying to hook up with middle aged cougars. I’m going after young hotties for a while. On the other hand, I guess you have a point about the employer-employee issue. Shit. It’s just that she has really come so far, and I do get the idea that she has done it for me. That alone, is a huge turn on.”
Fatal Flaws Page 8
