A Simple Case of Infidelity Pt. 02

We were rich, and I guess we assumed public school types were all a little lazy and 'thick'. I found out that was totally untrue. The kids I'd been teaching, and I got what some of the older teachers called the mediocrities, the dead beats of the school.

They were wrong. I discovered from 'day one' the kids were wonderful. I remembered I was holding forth about all my rules and regulations and how they had to obey every single thing I said when one young man raised his hand. I called on him and, and he politely reminded me I had to take roll and probably assign everyone a seat. I was really green. I grabbed the first roster I saw and started calling names. Not a single child on the list was in the room. It was only after I'd finished that a girl in a front seat sorted through my rosters and gave me the correct one. I was so embarrassed, but no one laughed or anything. If that had been at any school I'd attended we would've hounded that poor teacher mercilessly.

Well we went to this apple festival, it was in the fall, I should have been more careful. I was sipping a soda from a can when a yellow jacket flew in the top. I hadn't noticed it. I tipped the can to my mouth and the rascal nailed me right on the lip. It hurt! It really hurt. From out of nowhere my Galahad appeared. It was Francis. I knew. I knew right away. I just knew. This guy was something special.

I played hard to get for a couple weeks, but honestly, it was a done deal. He had me. I was completely at his mercy. He could have jumped me and taken me any time, but he didn't. He took his time. Then one night when he finally did approach me I was ready. Oh was I ready.

He had a pick-up truck with a vinyl cap. There were thick blankets, pillows, and a blow up mattress in the bed. He had a bucket with a bottle of wine cooling inside. The weather was cool, not cold, it was in the early evening, after sunset. We climbed in the back of that pick-up. He closed the rear and lowered the back window so we were all safe and secure. I was wearing a plaid shirt, a pair of too tight jeans, and tennis shoes. He slowly undressed me. Then he studied my body. I must have passed because he undressed too and together in the back of that pick-up we made love for the first time.

A week later at his parent's house; it was the week before Christmas, he asked me to marry him. He and I and his parents had just finished some fried chicken. He and his dad and mom were talking about the weather when he quietly slid a small box across the table toward me. He, his mom and dad just stopped talking and stared at me. I knew what was in the box. I opened it; just a quarter carat solitaire but I didn't care. It could have been the Hope Diamond.

We drove down to see my parents the next weekend. Anyone would have thought I'd contracted Malaria or something. They were speechless; speechless as in oh shit no, not this. I could tell. Francis could too. It didn't matter. I had who I wanted. We got married that June.

I had to laugh as I drove through the last of Cumberland. Thanks to my stupidity my life might have become a shambles, but no matter, I was still allowed to remember how crazily happy I'd once been. I reached the top of the hill just outside Cumberland. There was a discount store on the left and tire outlet on the right. My stomach tightened and clenched into a tight knot; I was having another moment of truth. I once had everything my heart ever desired, but instead of thinking about all the good things I had I'd gotten consumed with...nothing, things I couldn't even remember anymore. I'd gotten self-absorbed, selfish.

Most of my friends and almost all my family had been scandalized by my decision. Here I was, Leslie Marie Wells married to a 'Hill Billy'; a Hill Billy who'd grown up a scant seven miles from the ultimate Hill Billy factory - West Virginia!

My family wasn't pretentious! My middle name, Marie, was a commonplace in our family. Henrietta Marie had been wife and queen to King James I. Maryland was originally named 'Terra Marie' after her. Inconceivable! The 'Queen of the Debutantes' married to a doltish, aw shucks, howdy do, golly gee, backwoods hick farmer-forest ranger who wore a Smokey the Bear hat and nursed worthless bob cat kittens!

Finally past Cumberland I gasped and almost pulled over in unhappy tears as I thought about my one big bridal shower. A couple of my 'real' girlfriends had decided to have some fun me and my staid mother. One searched the Internet and found every episode of the old 'Hee Haw' show; that was her only present to me. Another, again as a joke, bought me a banjo. They were all surprised when I told them Francis actually played the banjo. I never bothered to tell them he also played the violin and the piano; he called it a violin and not a fiddle. Other 'special' gifts I got included a Dolly Parton wig, and straw boater that still had the price tag on it; the price tag she reminded me was in memory of Minnie Pearl.

The Dolly Parton wig had been a gift from my Aunt Annie; she'd only done it to tweak my mother's nose. Of all my relatives it was only Aunt Annie who saw through the absurdity of the situation and knew I was really in love. My Aunt Annie had been named after the 'Lady Anne of Arundel'; one of the muckety muck wives of a member of the Calvert family, the 'Lords of Baltimore'. Anne Arundel County and Maryland's capital, Annapolis, was named after her.

Aunt Annie had always been one of my truest friends and absolute favorite relative. She'd married 'down' too; she'd married an auto mechanic. Once she and I were at a 'show' in Seattle or Portland or someplace out there. The host had been asking where people came from, and he got to my aunt. When he asked her she'd replied, "We're from Maryland. You know the state that provided the hole on the Potomac into which everyone pours all their hard earned tax dollars." It got a big laugh.

I loved my Aunt Annie. She hadn't married 'down', and neither had I. We'd both married 'up'. Oh why had I been so stupid? I kept driving. What was I going to do? I'd thrown my life away. What could I possibly say? I knew Francis. He'd never...no...I had to go on.

I kept driving. Back in the 'old days' when we were first married Francis liked everything I said and did. In fact, as I thought about it, Francis liked everything about me; he liked everything right up until...

~~V~~

Around Frostburg I thought about our son Richard. We, I'd, made some mistakes regarding Richard, two mistakes actually. I made them actually. I never got to fully explain why I liked the name Richard. I'd been coy when I first suggested it. I wished now I hadn't been so foolish. It had nothing to do with Weatherby; quite the opposite in fact.

Francis and I hadn't been married very long; maybe a little over a year. I didn't know it at the time but I was pregnant. We didn't have much money so our social life was pretty limited. We spent a lot of time staying home just watching TV or playing board games. We had cable, and there were the movie channels. One night Francis and I popped some popcorn, opened a bottle of very reasonably priced wine and watched an old movie titled 'The Cotton Club'. The big stars were Richard Gere and Diane Lane. About that time I'd tried putting a rinse on my normally light brown hair. It hadn't turned out like I thought it would, but Francis said he liked it. I hadn't thought about that particular movie or that Diana Lane was a dyed blond for her role as Vera Cicero. I'd just wanted to try something new.

We watched the movie, we kissed and cuddled, and we ate popcorn. People have to remember I've always had what I'd call a rich fantasy life. While I watched that movie and kissed and nibbled on my handsome husband's ears it occurred to me how much alike the Richard Gere of that movie and my real life husband were. The Richard in the movie was lithe and muscular in a sinewy sort of way. Both men had warm personalities, they had deep almost brooding minds, and they both had a disarmingly charming way with their ladies. I guess I started to fantasize that I was Diane Lane's Vera Cicero character and my Francis was the 'Mob Boss' character played by Richard Gere.

One thing led to another, and pretty soon I was watching Richard Gere movies whenever they were on. I pretended; it was like Richard Gere had his Diana Lanes, his Debra Winger, and his Julia Roberts, and I had my own Richard Gere in my Francis.

When our first child came out and he was a boy it was easy for me to persuade Francis to agree to give him the Richard tag. Honest, it never had anything to do with Richard Weatherby; I'd almost completely forgotten him. It never occurred to me years later, and it broke my heart when I found out the only other movie Richard Gere and Diane Lane made together was about infidelity and was called 'Unfaithful'. If I had only known. What was I doing? Why had I been so stupid?

I recalled I'd made two mistakes about our Richard; one was the name, the other had to do with his and Victoria's college funds. The second thing turned out to be a real disaster. I mean a catastrophe! Francis and I decided to put all our spare savings in two special accounts; one for Richard and the other for Victoria's college. As time went by it was with disquiet as I watched college costs escalate. Thanks to my parents I'd never worried about college costs, and Francis's SAT scores, his parent's money, plus state aid had all made his education an easy hop.

It was with growing alarm as I saw how our government and our nation's bankers were using young college kids as a place to squeeze extra money via ridiculously costly and totally self-defeating college loans. I read someplace where it said the highest rate of debt in the nation was owned by kids graduating from college. I felt like we needed to do something.

I cast about and saw how the stock market and especially mutual funds were raking in record returns. I called my father to get his advice. He mailed me a short list of what he called highly desirable and lucrative mutual funds. He'd even starred the accounts he most preferred. I talked Francis into pouring all the savings we had into the top mutual my father recommended. We dumped everything into two of what my father called aggressive funds; we did it in the early winter of 2006-2007. The rest was history. Francis and I watched in disbelief as nearly everything we had simply disappeared.

Broken hearted I called my father. He almost laughed, he did laugh; he reminded me of what John Maynard Keynes had once said, He'd said, "Money in the stock market was like a person's lap. When the owner is sitting the lap is there. Everyone sees it, but what happens when the person stands up. The lap disappears." All our money had simply disappeared. Our children's futures were put in jeopardy, and it had been all my fault. Francis had been good about it; he'd said we shouldn't worry, it was only money.

My father was good about it too. He suggested if I came home he'd help with my children's college. He never liked Francis. He just didn't understand.

~~V~~

I went on past Frostburg; that's where my Richard was in school and then I tooled on by Grantsville till I got to Keyser's Ridge where I turned off Route Forty and picked up #219. In a little while I'd be home.

As I made the turn to go south I remembered back. That first time I'd made the turn had been in August the year I started work; I had a new job, a new place to live, and was starting a career. I'd been filled with uncertainty. I'd known nothing about the area, nothing about the people or their 'ways' except it was like West Virginia and all that meant. Then there was the second time. Me and Francis in the U-Haul truck, and that time, for the first time in my life I felt like I was going home. I had been going to 'my place', my home, my life, my future, and my very own 'happily ever after'.

This was my third 'big turn' south down #219. This time I was going back to the wreckage I'd created. I knew I needed to do this. I had to; there was no other option. I knew where I belonged. I knew who I belonged with. My hands tingled as I tightly gripped the wheel. I felt terrible; I'd been a liar, a whore, a deceitful bitch.

The closer I got to Oakland the more nervous I got. My stomach started to act up. On the back seat I had my 'sewing kit'. The thing I called my 'sewing kit' actually was an old sewing kit, but there weren't any needles or threads inside. My sewing kit had l my 'meds'. I'd promised myself this time when I got home I'd throw everything away.

I'm not an addict or anything crazy like that, but over the years I've collected a few prescriptions that I sometimes find I need. I got the idea from my mother; she has a sewing kit too. When I was in school; that was back before I went off to board mother would sometimes help me get through the rough spots of middle school with one of her 'little helpers'. Mother said she needed her meds because my father made her nervous. Mother had a doctor who gave her Valium; that's something almost impossible to get now a days. My mother has her special supplier; her brother's a doctor, a respected surgeon, if he prescribes a little Valium or a little Librium for my mother no one's going to say anything.

When I was young and I had a problem mother would get out her little sewing kit. She'd give me half a Valium; she'd take two. We'd stay home, me from school, her from whatever charity she was working on. We'd drink diet soda and watch soap operas together. Sometimes mother would do my homework for me while I took a little nap.

When I went to college I seldom drank. Drinking lowers a person's inhibitions and it's easy to overdo it and maybe die from alcohol poisoning. College was stressful enough without the booze.

My mother was always there for me. She said Valium wasn't good for me, and her Librium was too strong for a 'growing girl', so she got me other things. She got me Ambien, Xanax, and something called Zolpimist. Once she got me something called Tranxene, or Tranzene or something, but I never liked that one much, it made me groggy. It made me feel like a zombie. I think I always liked the Xanax the most. I've always kept a few extra pills on hand. I found out early the best thing to do was to fill all the refills as fast as possible because sometimes the pharmacists would say the prescription had expired. Nothing's more nerve wracking than running out of something and not being able to get any refills. Sometimes I had to resort to getting things from 'friends' around campus. Later of course mother's brother, my uncle, took care of me.

I remember my senior year when I visited the Children's Hospital. All those dying children really made life hard for me. I'm thinking crazy; that sounded selfish. It was hard for me; it was a lot harder on the moms and dads who watched their children die. We prayed together a lot. People from Guatemala are all Roman Catholic so it was easy for me to relate to them. It was hard watching their children die; I'm glad I had my sewing kit.

Richard was a big help to me back then; he did a lot more than just hold me and love me. The girl he'd been dating before me had some kind of medical problem and she used something called Roliphyl or Rohypnol I think. Richard always had some for me. Before we went out he always made sure I took one; I sort of remember how dreamy they made me feel. Sometimes I'd take two. I wouldn't even remember anything if I took two.

He gave me some more when he came to see me after his wife left him. I still have some in my kit. He gave me a big bottle; they aren't marked so I couldn't say where he got them.

I drove past Deep Creek Lake. When we were married and the kids were young we'd go fishing, canoeing, and swimming, and well, all kinds of things. Jeez I'd been everywhere, done everything, I swam in the Aegean, been scuba diving all around the Bahamas, surfed the Hawaiian coast, not the north coast, I'd camped in the Alps, in Colorado. But in all those places I'd been the 'single'; the girl who was the friend, the party 'extra'. At DCL I was at the epicenter, the mom, the wife, the daughter-in-law, no the daughter, the very best friend. Oh DCL was and is a homely little place, not much to do really, but to me it was the most wonderful lake in the most wonderful place in the world. How could I have not seen...? I had so much.

Weatherby wanted me to use those pills again after Francis sent me away. That was after Francis showed me the pictures of me and Richard together in front of my parent's house.

I think about it now. I have to admit I did some pretty sneaky things last winter between Thanksgiving and the start of Lent. I almost got Francis to deny, or at least pretend to deny, what he saw. I thought I had everything figured out. I'd go back to my parents. I was so sure Francis would miss me so much he'd agree to almost anything. He almost did too. It was those pictures, those three lousy pictures that ruined everything. The awful thing about it was when I went back to my parents I'd only wanted to make Francis feel insecure. Why Richard was in Baltimore I'll never really know. He said some things. He said a lot of things. He said he wanted to get back with me, but I'd already moved on. Those pictures, the things Francis saw when he came to Baltimore might have looked incriminating, but they weren't what really happened.

I had a bunch of other pills too. Back when I was in middle school I used to have a terrible time getting out of bed in the morning, and I'd always be falling asleep in classes in the afternoon. Some doctor said I had something called Narcolepsy, and he prescribed something called Provigil. Wow! Talk about an upper! I don't think I had Narcolepsy; I just stayed up too late, but my mother insisted there had to a 'medical' reason.

I had, and have a good supply of pain killers. I have prescription level Ibuprofen. I have something called Meloxicam which is really only Mobic. I have Oxycodone, and I have Hydrocodone too. Oxycodone hasn't been my favorite. I liked the sense of ennui, but I thought it made me feel puffy. Hydrocodone has done the same thing, but lately it's made me jittery, especially after I stopped taking it.

Victoria and I were in an accident few years back. We got Tee-boned by some druggie. Victoria got her legs all smashed up. I hit the steering wheel and the side door panel really hard. I got a cracked rib. The doctors prescribed the Oxycodone first, but Francis said that was addictive so they gave me Hydrocodone as a replacement. Hydrocodone is addictive too. Neither one did anything except make me nervous as so I couldn't sleep. I still kept them. I take one or the other every now and then just for the hell of it. They have helped to take the edge off sometimes.

Francis never blamed me for the accident, but he did say one time that if I'd taken a Provigil I might have been a little more alert. I never admitted it, but I think I might've fallen asleep a little bit. The druggie sad it was me who ran the light. Victoria hadn't been paying any attention. It was my word against his, and he had a criminal record. I don't think I caused my daughter all the pain she's gone through. I hope I haven't. Francis has always said it wasn't my fault. He still mentioned the Provigil though. I wish I could be sure.

~~v~~

I just passed the sign for Oakland. My mind has been going a mile a minute. What went wrong? Why did I do what I did?

It all started I guess right after Victoria was born. I was feeling fat and out of shape. I hadn't paid any attention before, but I noticed then how other women, younger women, hell I was still young, who were prettier than me all fawned all over Francis. They kept getting close to him, touching him, putting their hands on him, rubbing up against him, pushing their breasts against him. I guess I got jealous, and maybe a little unnerved, perhaps a tad insecure. That's when I sort of drifted to the handcuffs.