by Vandemonium1
A new twist on an old favourite.
This, my second submission, is a fair bit shorter than my first.
Similar to my first post this is a psychological thriller with a lot of tension and a devastating but non-violent BTB scene at the end. No sex at all. It chronicles a guy that when faced with a situation with apparently no options, makes his own path.
This guy has always lived by the old Latin phrase ‘Aut viam inveniam aut faciam’. If there is no road, make one. He also lives by the phrase, ‘It is better to die on your feet than live on your knees’.
Eternal thanks to SW_MO_HERMIT for his wise editorial input. Having said that, any faults are mine not his but he is totally to blame for it going from 10 Word pages to 18.
Where did this one come from? Why do I find stories where the wife announces she wants to take a lover so fascinating? One of my favourite stories is ‘Words’ by Jezzaz. I find the concept offensive and I think that triggers my sense of justice. I’ve read all such stories I can find and wanted to write one for others to enjoy. My makeup demands that anything I write must contain something that to the best of my knowledge hasn’t been done before. That decided, it was just a matter of finding it. I didn’t find that as difficult as you may think and I’m nothing special, so why not give it a go.
I give you ONSLAUGHT.
THAT SUNDAY AFTERNOON I drove home after a typical summer’s day. I slept in that morning, went to church, then golfed with the guys. It has been like that every Sunday for the last year since the second of our kids left home. Our eldest Laura, was now twenty. She moved to a nursing school out of town two years ago. Our baby Josh followed to college last year.
I looked forward to a relaxing Sunday evening with my wife of twenty-one years, Jenny. As I pulled into the garage, I thought again how lucky I was that even after twenty-one years I still got a little thrill when I thought of seeing my beautiful bride again. Her car was already in the garage. She had spent the day visiting her two long term friends, Joan and Petra. I looked forward to an evening of grilled steaks then either a snuggle on the couch or in the bedroom if you know what I’m saying.
As I entered the front door the sight of Jenny sitting at the kitchen table with a glass and half empty bottle of wine in front of her was just unusual enough to make my highly attuned senses send faint alarms to my brain. I walked over and gave her a peck on the cheek. Being very perceptive, I recognised the look in her eyes, nervous but determined.
“Sit down, Dave, we need to talk.”
The faint alarms changed to a blaring claxon. I did as requested, then sat there expectantly forcing my emotions into the background. As a successful manager in a large underground mine I had this down pat. I had the ability to almost shut down all emotional response and put all my energy into my logic circuits. That served me well in my twenty-five year career. There is no room for emotion when spending two days recovering a workmate from under 200T of rockfall or doing CPR on a guy who had been thrown from his truck and fractured the base of his skull. Later the nightmares would come but while there was a job to do, emotions could take a back seat.
I waited calmly, with a neutral expression on my face and sensed my emotions getting the hell out of Dodge.
“Dave, you know I love you with all my heart, don’t you?”
“Of course, sweetie, you’ve told me that at least once a week for the last two decades.”
“And you love me with all your heart don’t you, Dave?”
“Of course I do, dearest, I have loved you for every single day since we met twenty-three years ago. Even after all this time I would take a bullet for you without a millisecond’s hesitation. I loved you when you agreed to be my wife. I loved you every time you yelled at me when you had PMS. I loved you when I rubbed your growing belly both times you were pregnant to ease your pain. I loved you when I took that month off to look after you and the kids when you had Glandular Fever. Shit, I even loved you after you fell over and sprained both your wrists and I had to wipe your bum and wash you for three weeks. I love you now.”
I am sure I saw her quail a little at a couple of these but she obviously had a game plan and continued on with her script.
“Dave, I have something to say and would appreciate it if you could wait till I’m finished before interrupting. Can you do that for me?”
I nodded assent and pulled out my ever present notebook and pen. I didn’t want to say anything as my emotions were still retreating to their corner and I didn’t trust my voice to not give away my sudden nervousness. Somewhere, sometime, a good conversation may have started with, “we need to talk” but that was probably not in this century.
“You know both Joan and Petra are married, right? Well, what you probably don’t know is that they both also have lovers.”
Laura looked into my eyes seeking a reaction. I made sure she saw nothing. I was now 90% sure I knew where this conversation was going but gave nothing away.
“Both Bill and John know about the lovers and are fine with it. Turns out that Bill is turned on by watching Joan with other guys and she actually brings her lovers to their house and Bill watches.”
Throughout this monologue Jenny had been looking down at the table. With this last sentence she looked me in the face. I guess she was looking for any hint that I might be like Bill. I made sure all she saw was emptiness. Cold, unfeeling, neutrality. She looked back down at the table. I scribbled a sentence in my notebook.
“After Joan’s lover leaves, she says that Bill and her have the most amazing sex they have ever had in their marriage.”
Bugger, I’d just lost Bill as a friend. I respect all my friends.
Again another glance at me. My continued impassive expression was obviously making her as nervous as a Butcher’s thumb. She continued with her prepared speech.
“John didn’t take it as well as Bill when Petra told him about her lover but he stayed with her after a hissy fit. He refuses to allow Petra’s lover in the house so they go to a motel. Her lover is married, apparently. She usually goes home before midnight. John also refuses to make love to her the nights she comes home but any other night he does. He insists her lover must always use a condom. Petra says that she and John are having twice as much sex as they have had in years and it is much better than it was before she took her lover. She says she has learned things from her lover that she brings back to John and she feels closer to him now than she ever has in the past.”
Bugger again. There goes John.
“Both Petra and Joan’s lovers are younger than they are. Both say that having young lovers makes them feel incredibly sexy and desirable. Joan is onto her fifth guy and says that she gets an incredible high from going to bars and picking up young men to take home. She always has several guys hitting on her and gets to choose which one she wants. Of course, most of them aren’t comfortable going back to her place and having sex with her in front of Bill. In those cases she goes back to their place for the night for some solo time. If they want a repeat she tells them the next time has to be at her place. They either agree to her conditions or she dumps them. You know how gorgeous she is so they usually go along with her program.”
At this point I was now 99% sure where this was all heading so I excused myself to go to the fridge to get a beer then went to the toilet. I calmed myself, pushing the last of my emotions into their dark corner and ratcheted my logic circuits into overdrive. I quickly thought of two or three plans on how to go forwards. All had one thing in common. Evidence. I had to get evidence and I had to get it fast. I spent two minutes learning how to use the voice recorder on my phone, turned it on and slipped it into my top pocket before returning to the kitchen.
After retaking my seat, I broke my silence for the first time. “Why are you telling me all this, Jennifer?”
She never once looked at me as I allowed her to launch into another monologue. “Well, Dave, honey, I’m forty-seven now and have been a housewife for twenty-one years. I’m starting to lose my looks and every day I see more wrinkles. I want to prove I am still attractive to men. I NEED to prove I still have it.”
At this point she hesitated for what seemed an eternity. If ever a marriage hung on one sentence, this was it.
“I have told you how Bill and John took it…” She looked at me worriedly and asked, “How are you going to take it? Will you want to watch like Bill or will I have to go elsewhere?”
Bugger, I’m not as good as I thought I was. My emotions launched out of their corner and started beating logic back. Rage was clearly winning by a full length. I said nothing while I beat them back. My ensuing silence lasted long enough to be very uncomfortable for Jenny. She was searching my face but I have no idea what she saw. Like most people she dealt with the uncomfortable silence by filling it herself.
“I am going to take a lover, Dave. I love you to death and would never do anything to jeopardise our future but I have to do this. I want to grow old with you but I have to feel like I can still attract other men before I am totally old and wrinkly. Sex with you is still fantastic and I can’t wait for it to get better afterwards. I don’t know how long this phase will last but rest assured it won’t last forever unless we both want it to. I sincerely hope you can see I need to do this and will support me but if you don’t, I know you love me enough to let me do this without it damaging our future. I have total faith in your love. I would never cheat on you so that’s why we are having this conversation. You’ve always said that my happiness is the most important thing in your life, now you get to show me you meant it. I have to do this, Dave.”
Obviously having finished her rant and desperately looking for some reaction she paused. Her nervous demeanour gave lie to her faith that I would always forgive her.
I mumbled that I had to think, went into my study and locked the door. Once alone, I briefly let my emotions out of their corner. Once again rage won the contest and I allowed it to punch the shit out of a couch cushion till my wrist was sore. I then slumped into my chair while sorrow had its turn.
It took a long time to get everything but logic corralled back into their corner and then I thought everything through. Obviously Jenny was having some sort of breakdown or had been brainwashed. This was so far from her normal behaviour that those were the only reasons I could come up with for this totally atypical behaviour.
Well over an hour later I was still confused but had come to terms with some certainties. The main one was that she was dead wrong about my love being strong enough to forgive her everything. The first time she slept with another guy we were finished, forever. I was too old and comfortable to start another relationship. That left only one possibility for me. She had to call off this stupid and terminal idea. Once this decision was made my plan became obvious. I wrote some notes in my book so I wouldn’t forget anything.
I spent ten minutes copying my voice recorder file to my computer to make sure it worked, turned it back to record then returned to the kitchen. Jennifer was on the phone but hung straight up and sat back at the kitchen table. The wine bottle was now empty.
I sat down opposite her.
“Jennifer, could I confirm a few things then ask you some questions please?”
She nodded.
“Have I got this right? After twenty-one blissful years of marriage you want to prove your sexual attractiveness by taking a lover or lovers, outside of our marriage and you want my approval before you do it. Is that right?”
She thought for several seconds before replying.
“Not quite right, Dave. I need to do this like I’ve never needed anything before. While I would love your approval, I’m not seeking it. I am going to do this. I know that, because this is just emotionless sex outside of ‘us’ you will prove that my happiness is paramount to you by not letting this affect us adversely.” She lapsed into silence looking away from me.
“Well, I’m not sure what to say to you, Jennifer.” She blanched a bit at the use of her full name again. I can’t remember having used it before in our marriage.
“I can tell you though, Jennifer, that I am not like Bill, I will never get off on the thought or sight of you with another man. I’m not even sure I’m like John and could ever stay with you if you take this action you have planned,” I lied. “I have to tell you that the last few hours have critically wounded our marriage. Can I ask you if I have ever given you cause to hurt me the way you have? Have I not treated you like an equal, respected partner in our marriage? Have I not given you all the love, support, communication and sympathy you wanted? Does my job not provide all the money, respect, and prestige you need? Do I not satisfy you in bed as much as you want? Can you tell me any way I could be a better husband?”
She interrupted at this point. “Don’t be silly, Dave, you have always provided everything I wanted. I’ve already said that sex with you is fantastic and it is. This has nothing to do with you or us. No, Dave, I love you to bits and as a husband I would score you at ten out of ten.”
“Well then, Jennifer, I have to admit to still being totally confused. Isn’t my lust for you obvious? Even though you don’t have the same firm body as a twenty year old, shit, what mother of two does, haven’t I proved your sexual attractiveness a thousand times? Don’t I still insist you get undressed in front of me so I can perv at your body? Don’t I ravish you every opportunity I get? Doesn’t that show you that I still think you’re the sexiest thing on two legs, isn’t that enough for you?”
I lapsed into silence and gave her ample opportunity to respond. She just kept staring at the table. I continued. “One question puzzles me more than anything then. Why, if I am the perfect husband, would you risk it all by wanting, sorry, needing this? Why, if you’re as happy as you say I make you, are you willing to flush it all down the toilet for meaningless extra marital sex?”
Interrupting me she said, “I don’t see it as a risk, Dave. I have every confidence you will see why I have to do this and get over any initial objections you may have. Then we can continue on as we always have.”
It was my turn to interrupt. “Look, Jennifer, I have always treated you as an equal partner and would never dream of telling you that you can’t do this stupid, self-destructive thing. It is your decision to make. I am, however, begging you to think of the possible consequences of acting on the faith you have in my love. You are taking the biggest gamble in your life and I have to say I don’t have as much faith as you that our marriage can survive your adultery.”
At this point I paused and gave her an opportunity to respond. Again she just looked at the table.
I continued. “I’m still confused as all hell and I think we both need to ponder our next moves. I choose to believe you may have a mental issue and highly recommend you find a counselor for yourself or both of us before you take this any further. I’ll support either of those options and will even help find one.”
“Don’t be silly, Dave, we don’t need counselling and I know I’m not mad or anything so why would I need one on my own?”
“Well, Jennifer, cards on the table time. Counselling is the only way I can see at the moment to save our marriage.”
She responded to this by giving me a look that I just couldn’t decipher.
“I also recommend you drop your friends Petra and Joan. They are obviously having a very bad influence on you, but that’s your call to make. They have already cost you my trust in your continued fidelity. If you continue as friends with them I suspect they will cost you your marriage.”
Now for the million dollar questions.
“Tell me, Jennifer, when would all this extramarital activity happen? Do you already have someone lined up?”
She looked at me, I think deciding how honest to be.
“Well, Joan has a friend who she wants me to meet this Friday. If I like him we can take it from there, if not then there’s a guy at work that is always flirting with me, I’ll try something with him.”
Before my rage could escape again, I stood up.
“Well, Jennifer, I can see you have made up your mind for us so I’m going to pack and go away for a few days.”
“You don’t have to leave. Please don’t.”
“Oh yes I do, Jennifer.”
I sat down again. “Jennifer, do you think I am a quiet, gentle, patient man?”
“Yes you are, Dave.”
“Have you ever heard the saying, beware the fury of a quiet man?”
She nodded.
“Well, Jennifer, I haven’t mentioned this before because it was never necessary. What you don’t know is that twice in my life I have felt rage to the point of completely losing control. Both times I would have killed people in that blind rage. The only thing that stopped me was other people dragged me off. I have to say wife dear that I am a hair’s breadth away from a third episode.”
She could see the truth finally in my eyes. Her face paled a little and she pulled her head back. I went to the bedroom to pack enough gear for a week away. Over my shoulder I said, “I’ll give you ten minutes to think about this before I go.”
When I returned with my suitcases in the allotted time, Jennifer was still at the table. I put the case down and sat.
“Well, Jennifer?”
She looked a bit teary when she replied. “Petra warned me that you may react like this. She said that John moved out for two weeks when she first hit him with it but when he saw she had her mind set, he came back.” Jennifer stared at me with a look of defiance on her face, and then went on. “If it helps, Dave, think about what a divorce will cost you. Think about the kids. Think about having to give me the house, half of our bank accounts and having to pay me alimony. Think about the loneliness, the embarrassment, and the pain. Dave, I need to do this. I AM going to do this.”
I had to get out of here before the red rage rapidly blinding me took over and I did some irreparable damage. I once again stood and rapidly turned to leave.
“Well, I guess you have till next Friday to change your mind,” I said as I walked around the table and stood beside her. At that point I gently took her left hand and removed her wedding and engagement rings. Her eyes were widely open and tears trickled down her cheeks as she watched me put them in my pocket.
I looked down at her for another moment and said, “Just so you really know what you are risking.” I turned away from her, grabbed my bags and without looking back walked out the front door.
Once in my car I was staggered to see it was after 11p.m. Five hours from marital utopia to train wreck. I booked into one of the few hotels in town with a check-in still open.
After a near sleepless night I rang my boss and asked for the week off. He knew it was serious as I had always bragged that I had only taken six days off sick in twenty-five years and five of those were for Appendicitis. He didn’t ask for details and I didn’t volunteer any. One advantage of the sleepless night was that I already had a job list for the next day.
First stop was to an electronics store for two voice activated electronic sound recorders and two telephone taps. After some instructions and making sure they had new batteries, I stopped off at the house. Jennifer was at work. I put a phone tap on each of the phones. One in the kitchen and one in the bedroom. They could be downloaded into my laptop whenever I needed to listen to them. Likewise, I could download the data from the recorders that I put in the kitchen and lounge.
Second stop of the morning was to our family solicitor’s office. I had no intention of using him for a divorce as he was our shared solicitor but I just needed some general advice. Not being a divorce specialist he grabbed one of his partners that was. I explained the situation with frank openness to him and asked what the go was. He asked a few questions then gave me the best and worst case scenarios.
Jennifer was wrong. The house being community property would be split, not given to her since we no longer had minor children living at home. One of us would have to buy the other out or we would sell it and split the proceeds. He said that with Jennifer’s salary I probably wouldn’t have to pay alimony. He even went as far as to say I definitely wouldn’t have to pay if I could prove infidelity. The worst case scenario was that I would get only 50% of the shared assets. The best case was 70%. After I played them the recording of the night before he leaned towards the high end as he said that parts of the discussion was very close to blackmail on her part.
Apart from when I needed to make a call I kept my cell off. Every time I turned it on the number of missed calls and messages from Jennifer had grown. I neither read nor returned any of them.
My third task was to ring the three other parties I wanted to get involved. It took six phone calls to arrange a time for us all to get together the next day, albeit one of them via skype. I asked them not to contact Jennifer before the meeting. I clammed up when they pumped me for information on what this was all about.
Fourthly, I rang and spoke to my doctor’s receptionist. She suggested I ring back at 12.30p.m., which I did. I started to explain what I wanted but he suggested I come in to see him at the end of the day. I did and we spoke for over an hour.
My fifth job for the day was the hardest. I rang Petra’s husband John and arranged to meet him at a bar after he finished work. He agreed.
As he walked towards me I could see the look of confusion on his face. To cut a long story short I explained that it was a very personal matter I wanted to talk about and invited him to walk out whenever he felt uncomfortable. I then briefed him on Jennifer’s ultimatum of the previous night and told him I had been led to believe he was in the same boat. To his credit he didn’t walk out but immediately took on the look of a beaten and broken man. It took him two neat whiskies before he could open up. He explained that far from being ‘on board’ with it, he “fucking hated it”. If I’d been inclined to disbelieve him, the passion of that statement would have convinced me. He explained that he had only come back as he had two teenage kids at home and made the sacrifice for their sake. The other reason was that he couldn’t afford to give Petra the house, child support, alimony and the bulk of their savings. He said no when I asked him if he had taken legal advice, he had taken Petra’s word for it. I briefed him on what my lawyer told me. His situation was different in that he had kids still at home.
I asked him about what Petra allegedly said about their sex life improving since she had taken a lover. He almost choked on his drink. When he stopped coughing he explained that in the seven months since his life had turned to shit he might possibly have had sex with Petra three or at the most four times. Every time, he had been drunk. As a thank you I rang my solicitor and arranged to pay him to advise John. John jumped at the chance. I also asked him to do me one last favour, he reluctantly agreed. I told him I would call when the time was right.
I had regained my respect for this broken man. The sacrifice he was making for his children was sad but understandable.
I briefly wondered at the gulf that separated Petra and John’s versions of their new sex life. Was Petra deluding herself or was she maliciously misrepresenting the facts to Jen?
After a long and emotionally draining day I went back to the motel, flopped on the bed and read through the texts from Jennifer followed by listening to her voice messages. I typed a simple message back to her, ‘Please contact me only when you have decided to stop this silliness.’ I heard nothing back that night.
After another night with six hours of broken sleep I was parked just down the road from my house when Jennifer drove off to work. I let myself in and quickly downloaded all four recorders. Back at the motel I started with the phone taps first. The bedroom one was blank, not so the kitchen phone.
The first call was as soon as she had got home on the Monday from work. It was to Petra as I expected. Jennifer described her confrontation with me and related that she had no idea what I was thinking as I was generally expressionless. The seriousness of my words and actions had got through to her however and she was thinking of calling the whole thing off. I couldn’t believe what a bitch Petra was. She called Jen all kinds of weakling and by the end of the conversation had convinced her back on track.
The second call was to Joan who encouraged her to hang in there for the sake of the best sex she would ever get in her life. In both phone calls there was much talk of sex but absolutely none on being made to feel young and nubile again. Taken together I found the calls disturbing.
The only thing of note on the voice recorder in the kitchen was the sound of sobbing from Jen after the final call. It tore my heart but I pushed sympathy into the background.
At 10.45 Tuesday morning, the first of my visitors arrived, Father Wayne, our parish priest. He was shortly followed by Lorraine, Jen’s mother. I offered them refreshments while waiting for 11a.m. I avoided answering their questions of why they were here. At 10.59 I dialled into skype on my laptop and turned the screen so everyone could see Laura, my daughter, on the screen from her room at school.
After everyone exchanged pleasantries, Laura asked me what this was all about. In reply I hit play on the voice recorder file on my laptop. It was set to start at the second conversation when I asked Jennifer to confirm what I thought she had said that horrible evening. The playback ended when I had turned the recorder off while I went to pack. That was just after Jennifer had confirmed she had two possible suitors lined up. As the recording revealed the depth of Jennifer’s plotting I could see everyone’s faces take on the rictus of utter disbelief. No one interrupted until the recording finished then utter bedlam broke out. I listened, recognising my feelings from Sunday.
After everyone was played out, I explained that I had done everything I could, except forbidding Jennifer to go through with it. I then explained why I had stopped short of saying that. This had to be a voluntary decision by Jen, not one forced on her. After I finished speaking, it was plain to all that the end of my marriage was one step away. I then explained what I intended to do next. They all agreed that the only hope was in getting Jenny to stop of her own accord and agreed my plan was the best way forwards.
Lorraine and I had never been particularly close so I was surprised by the depth of her feelings. When I looked in her eyes and saw the embarrassment as well as anger, I could tell as a mother, she felt some responsibility for this mess.
What’s that old saying? ‘Your son is your son till he takes a wife. Your daughter is your daughter for the rest of your life.’
I explained my plan again and we worked out a rough timetable. Tomorrow was show time. Before they left I also requested again that they not threaten Jennifer in any way. She had to do the right thing because she knew it was right, not because she was afraid of consequences.
That night I got the best sleep of the week so far. I had a plan and I was almost confident in it. There were no calls or texts from Jennifer.
I knew that Wednesday was Jen’s day off and she normally slept in until at least nine. At 8.30 I called Laura and gave her the go, reminding her of the rules. It was clear her anger had not dissipated overnight.
Chapter 2 Judgement Day 8.34Aa.m.-9.05a.m.
The following narrative I have cobbled together from memories of the conversations I had that day, deductions, and things I downloaded off the recorders I installed, after I left home. I finally got to listen to them two days after Jenny was taken to the hospital. One of my habits I am eternally grateful for is that I revert to a compulsive note taker when I am under stress.
Wednesday 8.34a.m. Jenny picks up a ringing telephone. “Hello, Jenny speaking.”
“Mum, it’s me.”
“Oh hello, Laura, it’s not like you to call midweek, is everything okay, sweetie?”
“No, everything is not fucking all right, Mum. What’s this fucking bullshit about you wanting to sleep around on Dad?”
There followed an audible gasp from the home end of the phone then many, many seconds of silence.
“Mum, are you there, did you hear me?”
More silence then. “Who….who told you that? Oh, my god, did you speak to your dad? What did he say? I… I never said that. We were just talking about a bit of variety in our sex life and well I may have mentioned the possibility of having an open marriage, you know, if we both agreed with…”
“Bullshit, Mum. The way I heard the story was that you made a stupid, unilateral decision to go out this weekend and fuck some man slut whether Dad liked it or not. Poor old Dad is devastated. I mean what has the poor prick done to deserve that? Did you catch him screwing around on you or something?”
I could hear my daughter getting angrier and angrier. I could almost see the spittle flying over her end of the phone. Jenny tried to regain the initiative. No chance. Every successful battle strategist in history has known that whoever has the high ground wins. Laura had the moral high ground whilst Jennifer subconsciously knew she was in the moral quagmire at the bottom of the hill. She desperately needed time to think.
“Laura, sweetie, can I call you back in a little while?”
“No you fucking can’t, Mum. We are going to have this out right now. I’m scared, Mum. When I have kids I want to be able to bring them over and see both of you. I want to see Dad bouncing my little boy on his knee, like he did with me, while you hold my little girl and sing to her as you did me. What you are talking about will fuck all that up. Mum, how could you?”
There then followed a full five minutes of what I can only describe as a tirade, as my sweet daughter lambasted her mother. I could only hear gasps and sobs from Jen’s end of the phone. I could only imagine Jennifer’s emotional turmoil as she heard her loving daughter talk to her with obvious venomous hatred. Surely now with both Laura and I expressing our disapproval she would give up her plan. But she didn’t have time to think and I know from experience that quick thinking in a crisis isn’t one of her strong points.
When Laura paused for breath, Jenny rallied.
“But, sweetie, it wasn’t like that, I never…”
“Come on, Mum, don’t add lying to your list of crimes. Dad convinced me that that was exactly what you were planning. He also told me that he’d told you in no uncertain terms that he didn’t want you to do this but you spat in his face and he said you’d refused to listen.”
Jennifer interrupted with sudden confidence.
“Laura, I don’t know what your Dad said to you exactly but I can tell you that at no point did he tell me I couldn’t go ahead with this…”
Laura again cut in. “Of course he didn’t, you stupid cow! He knows that as an equal partner in your marriage, he doesn’t have the right to tell you what to do. He can only give you enough rope to hang yourself.”
“What exactly does that mean, Laura?”
It was Laura’s turn to pause.
“Look, Mum, there are three ways I can see this going. One, you can have another conversation with Dad and try to see if you can get him to go along with this dumb idea. I’ll tell you now, Mum, there is no way he’ll ever come on board with this one. Two, you can go ahead with your plan and see what happens. Before you do that though, think about what you are risking. Not only Dad’s love but mine and Josh’s as well, shit, everyone in the world knows where that choice leads. The third choice is that you give up this stupid idea. Tell Dad it’s a result of temporary insanity and all the bullshit is over. Then I suggest you grovel to get him back and pray he can forgive you.”
“But he hasn’t gone anywhere…”
“Crap, Mum. You’ve lost him. He’s gone off to see whether you are going to go with option two or three. He’s handed you the rope and is waiting to see what you do with it. If you take option three then you survive, maybe, and can step off the gallows. By choosing option two you are putting the rope around your own neck and pulling the lever to hang yourself. Surely Mum, you’re smart enough to see that.”
I marvelled at the way Laura had regained her self-control. I had never felt prouder of her than at this moment. At the same time I was sad. Jennifer’s actions had hardened our sweet innocent daughter.
Jennifer was reeling from all this. She had only factored in me. She had no reason yet to question the confidence she had in me allowing her to do this. She hadn’t factored in Laura and Josh having an opinion or even ever finding out about this. She had to think. But there was no time. She then made her next strategic error. She tried to lie, not knowing that Laura held all the cards.
“Look, sweetie, I really don’t know what your Dad has told you but it wasn’t like that at all.”
And that was as far as she got. With a low growl Laura just launched into an increasingly angry diatribe. God, the language that girl used; embarrassment forbids me from repeating any of it. After many minutes of this she finally hung up. I could only imagine Jen’s shock. I mean, who hangs up on their own mum?
The kitchen recorder logged Jen sobbing and frantically redialling but Laura wasn’t picking up.
Laura followed the script and rang Lorraine for phase two. She rang me after hanging up and said she couldn’t talk as she was too angry. I reminded her that Jenny had always been an exceptional mum and deserved her love if no longer respect.
Chapter 3 Judgement Day 9.07Aa.m.-9.31a.m.
I had put much thought into the timing of the second and subsequent phone calls. The reason for Laura ringing Lorraine before me was to minimise any thinking and processing Jennifer could do between calls.
She knew I wasn’t following her script or should do if she wasn’t totally insane. It was possible she could rationalise both myself and her daughter being disapproving, if given time to think. The third opinion, with no processing, should tip the scales.
I was flying blind a little as I still couldn’t for the life of me think why she would ever believe we would survive her plan. Didn’t she know me at all? I truly believe there was some temporary insanity at work there. Unfortunately the tight time frame before Friday didn’t allow time to convince her of that or try to force treatment. The sufferers of mental illness are always the last to accept they have a problem.
Braaap, Braaap.
Braaap, Braaap.
“Hello, Jenny speaking.”
“Hello Jenny, it’s Mum.”
“Oh hi, Mum, I’m a little busy right now can I ring you back?”
“No, we need to talk right now. What’s the matter, you sound like you’re crying?”
“Yes, yes I am. Laura just rang and said some very hurtful things.”
“Yes, and I know what you probably talked about. Dave spoke to me as well.”
“Nooooo…”
“No indeed, Jenny. Jenny, how could you?”
She let that hang there and waited for Jennifer to try and get herself under control.
“Look, Mum, I really don’t think it has anything to do with you. It’s between me and Dave…”“It has everything to do with me. Don’t you see that whatever a daughter does, no matter how old she is, reflects on the mother? I’ve always respected Dave as a good provider to you and a great father to the kids. You know your Dad loved him. I’m glad he’s not around anymore to see this, god rest his soul. He must be turning in his grave to see how stupid his daughter is behaving.
“Just what has Dave done to deserve what you intend doing to him, no, what you have done to him?”
Despite the poisonous nature of Lorraine’s words, I couldn’t help but admire the calm way she was speaking. I thought the calm delivery was much more effective than Laura’s previous angry one-sided conversation of before.
Jenny’s sobbing was becoming louder in the background. Lorraine, with the patience of a cobra, was obviously letting Jenny set the pace.
Finally Jenny calmed down enough to be coherent.
“Look, Mum, I don’t know what Dave has told you, but I haven’t done anything to him. I simply told him that I was a little bored with our sex life and asked him if he would consider letting me experiment a little with another man.”
I paused the recording at this point for some thinking time. In all the years I had known my wife, I had never caught her out in a direct lie. She was the most honest person I know by far. What she just told her mother was in direct conflict with what I had on my voice recording. She didn’t sound like she was lying and if I hadn’t known better I’d have believed her. This demonstrated to me what I already suspected. Jenny was deluding herself. She had retreated into a false world, probably in self-protection. She sounded so convincing as she firmly believed her new version of our conversation of Sunday night. This meant she was subconsciously starting to see the depth of the hole she had dug for herself.
I re-started the recording. Lorraine had interrupted Jennifer. She must be seething that her own daughter would lie to her. I made a note to myself to talk to both Lorraine and Laura about delusions. If Jenny was ever to get out of the hospital, she would need the love and forgiveness of both of them.
“Listen, honey, I know that is a total crock. I know exactly what you told Dave. I know you didn’t give him a choice and just told him you were going to screw around on him. I also know how devastated he is about it all.”
Jenny started to break in but Lorraine just ran roughshod right over her.
“Just think for a moment, Jen. How would you feel if the boot was on the other foot? What if Dave had sat you down and announced he was going to screw around on Friday night whether you liked it or not huh? Would you be okay with that?”
“No, Dave would never do something like that, he loves me too much…”
Jennifer lapsed into fresh sobbing. For a moment I thought her delusion had cracked right open but she rallied.
“Mum, it really wasn’t like that.”
“All right, Jen, I’m really getting a bit sick of your bullshit. Where did this crappy idea come from anyway? You’ve never made me think you weren’t anything but totally happy with Dave?”
Jennifer stopped sobbing. She felt on firmer ground here.
“Well, you know my friend Petra? She and her husband have an open relationship and she says it has really improved her marriage. She says her sex life with her husband has never been better and it has really brought them closer together. I just want Dave to consider doing the same thing.”
Again her voice trailed off. Her subconscious mind and her delusions were fighting for supremacy. This allowed Lorraine to break in again gently.
“Is this the same Petra that was first married at eighteen and by twenty-eight was divorced from her second husband? Is this the same Petra that lost custody of her kids from her first marriage? The same one whose estranged kids won’t even have anything to do with?”
Jennifer didn’t answer any of these questions. The implications of what Lorraine was saying had all the subtlety of a rampaging bull elephant who had just snorted some bad crack.
In a voice that was so calm it was icy cold, Lorraine continued.
“Tell me, Jen, was it Petra who suggested you threaten Dave with a divorce that would ruin him if he didn’t go along with your little game?”
This time the combination sob/gasp from Jen could only be called explosive.
“No, Mum, I never…”
“Listen, Jenny, I can’t handle any more of your lies. I can’t tell you how much they hurt me. All I will say is that if you do this slutty thing then you will lose me as well as your husband. You’ve probably already blown your marriage. You may have a chance if you crawl a mile over broken glass and beg him to forgive you but I have my doubts.”
The connection abruptly cut off indicating that Lorraine had slammed down the phone.
Listening to the same time segment on the kitchen voice recorder revealed an anguished scream from Jenny and a scream of, “IT WASN’T LIKE THAT!”
I was a bit pissed at Lorraine. I’d asked her not to directly threaten Jennifer. It was vital that Jennifer gave up her plan but for the right motivation. If she responded to threats there was no guarantee her new desires wouldn’t just be driven underground. She had to see for herself the error of her ways.
With the wonderful view of 20/20 hindsight, I realised I could probably have stopped there after just the two phone calls. Surely with three people saying she was mad, Jennifer would have agreed to counselling. But my plan was on auto pilot at this stage.
While Lorraine was on the phone to Jennifer, I was on the phone to John. As soon as Lorraine had hung up on Jennifer, I quickly rang him and gave him the go.
Chapter 4 Judgement Day 9.32a.m.-10.03a.m.
John’s job was to deny all of Petra’s lies and tell Jennifer the truth about his feelings regarding Petra’s lover and why he stuck around and put up with her humiliating behaviour. He would deny her claims that their married sex life was improved. He would beg Jenny not to tell Petra of his call explaining it could destroy his family.
She got that call at 9.32. I won’t go through a blow by blow account of what Jenny and he discussed but will note that Jen’s polite phone manner had been replaced with an abrupt, “WHAT?”, when he rang her. Truth be told, the pain that Jenny was obviously suffering through made it very uncomfortable for me to listen to the recordings. Jennifer was surprisingly quiet throughout this call. I judged that this was caused by utter bewilderment rather than any attentive listening on her part.
While John was playing his part, I rang my solicitor. In my previous briefing with him we had gone over what he was to say to Jennifer. The bastard sounded like he was having the time of his life.
Isn’t it strange how humour intrudes in the most inappropriate times? I think it’s a self-preservation reflex. A bit of humour to save your sanity perhaps. An old lawyer joke leapt into my head.
A demon is driving his hot rod through hell when he loses control and smashes into a wall and knocks a hole in it. It turns out to be the wall separating heaven and hell. God calls Satan over and asks what he is going to do about the damage. Satan looks at the hole and says, “Nothing.” God responds with, “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.” Satan smiles and says, “Where are you going to find a lawyer?” God realises he is defeated before the fight has even started.
I mused, is he a bastard because he is a lawyer or is he a lawyer because he is a bastard.
At the end of our call, I reminded him to ring me immediately after talking to Jennifer.
By 9.43A, John had rung me and I had rung phase 5.
The solicitor’s job was to tell Jennifer that he had heard that she had been ill advised on the outcome of any divorce she caused by her infidelity. He was to relate what he heard from me on her idea of a split, then relay the advice his colleague gave me. I had asked him to slip both the words infidelity and adultery into the conversation as I really couldn’t decide which of them was the most emotive. He pulled it off.
Listening to the recording I don’t know how much of his advice she heard as she was ranting throughout most of his speech. Trooper that he is he just kept going with that even, deep voice of his.
He had rung me as soon as he finished and wanted to speak but I quickly shut him down and rang our family doctor to give him his cue.
This time, when he rang Jen at 9.58, she answered with the total silence you’d expect of the condemned prisoner looking up the steps of the gallows.
After a very brief greeting, the good doctor launched into a prepared speech expounding the need for the gentlemen in any extramarital relationship with another man’s wife to wear condoms to protect her from STDs. He was to go into some detail about the wide selection of such diseases and the health and treatment of each. He was also to remind her that as the straying wife she held a duty of care not to bring home these diseases to her husband.
I say he WAS to say all that. 108 seconds into the call Jenny let out a strange, strangled cry and hung up.
After the medico had rung me I made my last call of the day to Father Wayne who confirmed he was standing at our front door. It was 10.03a.m. on judgement day.
I cast my mind back three days to that Wednesday morning.
With the last of the calls and a difficult piece of co-ordination complete I had finally relaxed. I could imagine the scene in my old home. In my minds eye, I could see a very distraught Jenny, still in her dressing gown after being woken up. She would be devastated by the five very intense and emotionally wracking phone calls.
She would have had no breakfast and absolutely no time to process the calls since the first call just after 8.30. I could see her now opening the door to gentle Father Wayne, our spiritual guide for the last twelve years.
Chapter 5 Judgement Day 10.04Aa.m. and beyond
It had been just over an hour later that I got the expected call from Father Wayne. “Come home, she needs you.” I was already parked outside our house. He met me at the door and said, “Please forgive her and call me if you need help.” He then left.
I had imagined all kinds of responses from Jenny when I walked in the door. From remorse to anger. Remorse would show I had been successful. Anger might indicate remorse and embarrassment or a lack of success. Never in my wildest imaginings did I expect what I did get.
Jenny was sitting slumped at the kitchen table with her head on her arms looking to the side towards the window. She was a physical mess. Eyes puffy and bloodshot, hair all over the place and a torn dressing gown. I never did find out how that happened.
I called her name softly and sat down next to her. She didn’t acknowledge my voice, touch or even my very existence. I looked in her eyes and was terrified by what I saw. I saw absolutely nothing. The lights were on but no one was home. My Jenny had gone.
I immediately knew that I had gone too far. I had planned to shock her, but instead had destroyed her.
I called an ambulance and they took her away. I stayed with her all that day and that night at the hospital but in the morning, when they transferred her to the mental facility, I had to be parted from her.
I explained to the resident Psychiatrist what I had done. I played him my recordings and was honest with my part in her damage. To his credit he didn’t judge me. He didn’t have to. My self-condemnation was clear enough
He now had enough to commence treating Jenny. He explained that she was in a catatonic state. He was good at explaining things in layman’s terms, I’ll give him that. Catatonia is one of the brains defence mechanisms. When the mind gets absolutely overwhelmed, it sends your consciousness away for the metaphorical lie down somewhere quiet. It is a state familiar to all skilled brain washers. Destroy the old mind then implant a new one.
So, here I am. At home, cut off from the love of my life and with a very guilty conscience.
Despite how hard it is to listen to all the recordings, I am forcing myself. I can feel myself heading for catatonia myself now. The light at the end of my tunnel that I am concentrating on is the goal of finding out what finally triggered Jenny’s downfall. If I can find that out, I can tell the Psychiatrist and maybe that will help Jenny’s treatment. If only that egotistical little bastard of part of my soul wasn’t congratulating me on a job well done. Maybe then I would have had some sleep in the last three days.
I was convinced the final trigger was in the early conversation that Jenny had with Father Wayne. I didn’t have to listen to that recording again, it was clearly etched in my memory.
Once in the house he had confronted Jenny with the fact that he knew her plans. She had again denied it vehemently and convincingly. There was several minutes of quiet while the good reverend got his laptop out and fired it up.
Within thirty seconds of starting listening to the recording I had given him, all hell broke loose. You know, the one starting, “Have I got this right? After twenty-one blissful years of marriage you want to prove your sexual attractiveness by taking a lover or lovers, outside of our marriage and you want my approval before you do it. Is that right?”
There was no doubt that was the moment of Jenny’s collapse. I may not be a detective but the screams and incoherent babbling gave it away. Surely the doctor would want to know which part of that recording and its implications mattered. Was it the fact that she had just been caught barefaced lying to the gentle man of god. I mean, it is one thing to lie to your daughter, mother, solicitor and doctor. But one of god’s representative on earth?
Or was it that she actually believed her own delusions at this point, remember, she had had absolutely no chance to process since her lies started at 8.32. Having her own ears hear the recording must have brought that house of cards crashing down.
I just couldn’t decide and it was eating me.
EPILOGUE
Jenny was institutionalised for nearly six weeks. For the first three I couldn’t see or talk to her. The doctors wanted total control of all her sensory inputs.
After the three weeks her chief shrink wanted to confirm that her mother, Laura and I all intended to forgive Jenny. He didn’t say as much but it was obvious that contact with Jen was contingent on a yes to that one. He also stressed that negative influences such as Petra and Joan should be kept right out of the picture.
The last three weeks completed the re-build and allowed the medics to get her HRT doses optimised. Without understanding all the big words it seemed that Jenny’s psychotic episode had been triggered by pre-menopausal hormone changes which were treatable. Yes, he did confirm it was a type of insanity.
The shrink also postulated that dear Petra had exerted an almost hypnotic influence on Jenny due to her vulnerable state.
Whatever the case, by the end of the treatment I was 99.9% convinced it was all over. The recorders staying in place covered the 0.1%. I was finally seeing the remorse that I needed to relax my guard. A month after her release she is still trying to kill me with sex and affection.
She copied a Spike Milligan quote and uses it at least weekly. “I’ve got a certificate to prove I’m sane, do you?”
Like I said, I kept the phone taps in place. The most amusing call was from Petra. Once Jenny heard who it was she went into a towering rage. She called her twenty synonyms for slut, some of them I hadn’t heard before and had to google. She finally hung up with the wish that Petra would “fuck off and die.” All very un-Jenny like language and behaviour.
Joan went in a gentler but no less firm way.
I provided John with emotional support in his final four months with Petra. Boy, I loved that. He started off with an ultimatum to her to stop fucking around on him. They fought and he asked her to leave. She fell into his trap and left for a month before crawling back and begging forgiveness. She promised to be a good girl from then on. Three months later, a well-advertised trip out of town for him with a video camera in their bedroom gave him the last piece he needed to end his charade of a marriage.
One piece of luck was her lover’s wife coming to the family home and bitch slapping Petra in front of her kids. That was one of the most productive phone calls John reckons he ever made.
He played it very well. The assault, Petra abandoning the family home for a month, the recording he made of him begging her to give up her lover, the video footage plus the fact that he had already reduced his work hours to school times tipped the judge in his favour. He got a 60/40 split, kept the house, got custody of the kids and she had to pay child support. On the day of the divorce he came over and personally thanked Jenny for the reduced work hours idea.
Bill tried to get me to meet him, I refused. I like to think I respect everyone’s right of choice but I know I have trouble even talking to people I have absolutely no respect for.
I knew my own healing was complete when my sense of humour finally returned. Sitting alone in the lounge one night sipping a single malt, I was reviewing the whole episode in my head.
“Fuck, Jenny is lucky I didn’t know the Pope’s phone number.”
THE END
Those that don’t think that this and my first offering are BTB stories have obviously never seen someone have a nervous breakdown. Asylums around the world are full of people that have never recovered from one.
I know there are many clichés above. It was quite deliberate.
Yes, I really do work in the mining industry and my ability to compartmentalise logic and emotion is very real. I have had more than a few conversations with psychologists and counsellors about it. Usually just after a question like, “How did you feel when you were giving CPR to that guy for an hour that had cerebral fluid pumping out of his ears even though you knew it was a complete waste of time but did it because his brother was standing right there?” Two of them have outright said I was wrong, the other’s eyes betrayed the fact they didn’t believe it. I know it’s true. How else can ambulance officers do what they do day in day out? How else can police officers rock up to people’s door and tell them their parent or child has been beheaded in a traffic accident without themselves breaking down. Just think, for a moment, what those guys do and honour them.