A Simple Case of Infidelity Pt. 04

Mildred asked, "Well?"

Victoria concluded, "Carolyn's mom was Charlene Patch, Mr. Patch's daughter. So you see my mom was a heroine. She rescued Mr. Patch's granddaughter from being..."

"That's enough," I told her, "It wasn't nearly as dramatic as that."

"Oh yes it was mom, and you know it. You got the license number of that pick-up, and when the police got to us they told you the guys in that truck were a bad bunch, and the truck owner had a criminal record, and that Carolyn was lucky we happened along. You might have saved Carolyn's life that night, and that's why Mr. Patch wanted to hire you. You saved his only granddaughter's life.

I shook my head at mom and Mrs. Bielson, "Victoria's making a big fuss. It wasn't like that."

Victoria rudely cut me off, "Was too mom."

Anyway, after Ruby Tuesday's we stopped off at the T.J. Maxx and they bought me some more stuff. By the time we'd finished shopping I had more clothes than I'd ever need, more than I'd had in a long time, and pretty nice things too. I had everything Whalen said I was supposed to have. I was glad to get the clothes, but I felt funny about it. I knew I didn't deserve their help. They didn't know the truth. If they did; well...

We got back from shopping. Gosh was I tired. After we all unloaded the things Maggie and Victoria left, but not without a little tiff.

Maggie got back in her SUV, but Victoria wanted to hang around. She said, "You know mom with all the new clothes you're going to need someone to help you sort things out and put them away. Maybe I should stay a while."

I thought at first that was a good idea. Since being back I realized just how much I missed my daughter.

I'd missed the late night talks, the pizza nights with her and Richard and Francis when he was home. I even missed the fights. Did Victoria and I ever fight! Only someone who's raised a teenaged girl would understand what that meant; I mean the 'I hate yous', the 'I wish I'd never been borns', the 'I'm running aways', and the worst, the 'I'm going to kill myselfs'.

There were the good things too, and there was a lot more good than bad. Richard had never been interested in horses other than to just ride them. He was like my father back in Baltimore that way. But Victoria wanted her own pony. I remembered I'd always wanted one of my own. Francis had to work, but Victoria and I went pony shopping. We found a little mare named Sally. My god she was perfect, ornery but perfect. I still have the pictures of Victoria's first days on Sally.

I have pictures of Victoria, me, Richard, and Francis all standing around; Victoria on Sally and us all hanging around laughing and teasing. Yeah, somewhere there're whole albums full of stuff; pictures of us swimming, rafting, kayaking, lying on the beach, some of us just lying around in the living room, me, Francis, Richard when he was little, Victoria, all of us altogether, a family, a real family.

I had tons of pictures and memories like that. Francis had wangled two weeks off in January one year and it was off to Disney World for us. OK, Mickey, Minnie, and Goofy; it was all pretty silly, but not when a kid is five. I remember I'd been to Disney World several different times as a child. I always took a girlfriend or I went with their families. I had a really sweet nanny who went and took care of me; her name was Ngoc Bich, she was from Vietnam.

Francis had been in the 'Guard', Richard is now, and dad had served too. It was important for them that we go to D.C. so we went there for several days. We'd gone to the White House, up to the Washington Monument, out to the Jefferson Memorial, the Lincoln Memorial, and the Smithsonian. We drove down to Mount Vernon, and we went to Arlington. We saw the 'Wall'. Dad disappeared for a few minutes when we were there. Mom said to leave him alone for a while.

Arlington was special. My father had never served in the military; he'd gone the college deferment route. He said he was a Ted Nugent fan. He once said he agreed with what Ted said about how anybody who joined the military was either an idiot or an imbecile. My father's always been a staunch Republican. Dad's a Democrat. I don't know what Francis is; he's never said. Me, I'm a hardcore nothing. I've always said they were all crooked.

It was kind of sad at Arlington. I didn't remember ever thinking much about the Kennedys or all the famous people buried there. Dad wanted to find some actor's grave; some guy named Lee Marvin. I remembered him from that old movie about World War Two where they captured some chateau. Dad told us about some old time TV character named Captain Kangaroo. He was really moved.

We were at the 'Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.' We didn't stay long though. Dad got mad at all the people standing around talking and joking. I did too a little, got mad that is. Francis held Victoria in his arms and explained it all to her. I learned a lot that day. That was one of the times I really felt completely attached and part of something bigger. I'd never thought about it much, but I realized I lived in a pretty special kind of place. I really love my country. We never talked about any of that stuff when I was growing up. Father was a business man, and mother had her charities.

I had to stop day dreaming so much.

Well Victoria wanted to hang around, and I was all for it, but Maggie and Mildred scotched her. Mildred told my daughter she had school work, and that I had my chores too. Gee, I had chores? I let it go that they were running my daughter's life; Maggie had been doing it for months anyway. I was back; we'd have time. Somehow we'd figure things out. Yes, yes, yes! I was back and I wasn't leaving ever again - never!

~~v~~

After my mom and daughter pulled away I smiled at Mildred and said, "Gee I'm tired. I could go for a nap."

Was I surprised! Mildred smiled back and said, "We need to keep you busy sweetie."

She'd never called me anything but Leslie before. I think 'sweetie' was something she used on her daughter. I said, "Busy?"

Mildred grinned, "You need chores honey..."

Another affectionate appellation? I said, "Huh?"

"Come on sugar you've spent enough time in bed. If we're going to get you straightened out, off the chemicals, and into a right frame of mind we'll need to get you physically in shape. You know what they say, 'right body right mind.'"

I'd never heard it that way before. I tried to talk her into a nap, "Mildred I'm really..."

No such luck, "Nap comes later, first we need to tidy up. I'll vacuum. You dust. Then while I'm doing the kitchen floor you can get the bathrooms."

I grinned, "OK 'mom'," we went in and went to work.

After we did a little house cleaning Mildred let me lie down a while, but not as long as I liked. She had me up and she started to talk, "You know Leslie most days during the week I visit the 'Senior Center'. We play cards and bingo, and I like to 'work out' on the machinery," she laughed, "imagine that."

She went on, "I want you to get involved in a few things too. I don't suppose Bingo would be much fun, but there're other activities. You used to be involved in all sorts of things. I want you back out there; you know, rubbing elbows, mixing it up."

I demurred, "But Mildred they'll not..."

"They'll be glad you're back. There're a hundred places that need someone like you. Gosh, you used to be a central figure around town. Honestly honey, since your troubles began there've been places that have gone begging."

I asked, "You want me to tell you about my...troubles?"

Mildred got up, came over, and took my hands in hers, "Not till you're ready sweetheart."

I asked, "Can I take another nap now?" I felt like a kid.

She replied, "I'll call you when it's time for dinner. Maybe later we can...watch some TV."

I went back to my room. I was in her daughter's old room downstairs. We hadn't done anything about the upstairs, and it didn't look we would. I put all the things we'd bought in drawers and in the closet. Then I lay down on the bed, on top of the spread. I didn't go to sleep. I just laid there and thought...about things. I remembered I'd wanted to tell my mother about what I'd done. She only gave me a pill. Now here I was with Mildred and my mom and they were both ready to listen. I was afraid to tell them. I knew they'd hate me, but I needed to tell someone. I needed to get it off my chest. Maybe...

~~V~~

Saturday I cut the grass. Mildred's husband had bought a Lawn Boy push mower back in the day. It was an old two cycle engine. The deck had rusted out and he'd taken some L shaped metal rods and bolted it together. It took me a couple hours, and it reminded me of not so long ago when I used to cut our grass. We had a John Deere rider and a Troy built push mower. Richard cut it sometimes. Sometimes Francis cut it, but mostly it was me. I remember how I enjoyed it. I enjoyed being outside cutting grass and weeding flowers. That's what I did all day Saturday at Mrs. Bielson's. All day I didn't think about anything except the grass, the flowers, and yeah, the bugs. I hadn't had any pills or anything in almost a week!

Mildred had gone shopping, and I helped her bring in the groceries when she got back. It was a lot like before... I was pretty frazzled Saturday night when Mildred told me we were going to church in the morning. She was a Baptist, but said we'd be going to my old church from now on. That threw me; all I thought about all that night was how much I needed a Xanax.

~~V~~

Sunday morning came and Mildred and I drove over to the church I'd attended and joined years before. Francis had been raised in the Presbyterian tradition so it was to a Presbyterian church, 'Faith Presbyterian' that we went. I was never one to fully buy into all the Calvinist things they advocated and I didn't think Francis ever did either. We'd all always just gone, followed the litany, sang, prayed, gave, and come home. There hadn't been a lot of discussion; certainly no controversy. Honestly, I'd been raised in a very conservative Catholic church, and I didn't openly agree or disagree with some of things the priests said. For one I didn't think what the Popes said should take precedence over the Gospels, but I'd been raised to be a good girl and never challenged what I was taught.

Right up until my 'troubles' I'd been a Sunday school teacher. Troubles has been a stupid way to describe the things I did. I recall I'd taught elementary Sunday school. My last teaching day had been the Sunday after last Thanksgiving.

Ok so we went to church. I was scared. I just knew everyone was going to shun me. I sure couldn't blame them. Was I ever surprised! We only stayed for the service. I didn't see Francis, but mom, dad, and Victoria were there - right in 'our' usual pew.

When the service was over and after we shook the reverend's hand, he said he was glad I was back, several people closed in on us. I was sure I was going to get it, but aside from some curious stares and an occasional 'we've missed yous' I got nothing. Everybody crowded around Mrs. Bielson!

That's when it really hit me. Sure I'd cheated, broken my vows, and made a mess of my family, but Mrs. Bielson was a Baptist, the novelty of having her at 'our' church far outweighed all my indiscretions. It was kind of a relief to not be the target of all the things I feared. And as for Mrs. Bielson; she made it clear she was still a Baptist but she and I would be 'visiting' Faith Church until we decided what we wanted to do.

'Christ.' I thought, 'it was almost miraculous! When the people around us thought I might be leaving their church for the Baptists the mood changed. It was scary! Everyone made it crystal clear they knew I was one of them, and for me to ever leave would break their hearts.'

I saw Mrs. Bielson smile at the sudden outflow of affection. I wondered if she knew. I thought some more, 'That old squaw's pretty smart.'

~~V~~

The only way I could describe it is to say Mrs. Bielson worked on me all the time. She kept after me about my eating and exercising. I'd always been a healthy eater and an active person, but my six months with my mother in Baltimore hadn't seen much of anything. I knew my mother cared, and my father, in his way, did too. It's just that nothing seemed to happen; I mostly slept, ate a little, and just slouched around in bed.

I wasn't expected to show up for work until Wednesday. Through Mr. Patch and Mildred I was told Francis wasn't very happy about me being alongside him at Swallow Falls, but I was told he'd backed down on his threats to quit or try to transfer. I was glad of that. If I could just be near him I could show him by my behavior how much he meant to me.

Mildred kept drumming it into my head that I mustn't go out of my way to please Francis. More important she said I mustn't get all weepy, not to apologize all the time, that I should let him to be as gruff as he wants, but I shouldn't get defensive. She said my best defense if he got mean was to just sit and take it. She insisted I treat him with utmost deference; treat him like who he was, my supervisor.

She said she'd disown me and send me back to Baltimore if I tried to plead with him. What she said was he'd been living in his own private hell, I was to blame for that, and the only way I could free myself and get him back was to constantly remind him, by my good behavior, what had made him fall in love with me.

I told her I thought I could do it. Just the same Mildred kept me busy. I worked every minute I was awake, and when she couldn't find anything at her house we drove over to my mom's and together they found more things for me to do. I never washed so many windows, scrubbed so many floors, cleaned so much silverware, or wiped down so many walls. I understood; idle hands make an idle mind, and an idle mind for someone like me would only lead to a relapse into depression. I was depressed enough as it was.

I'll say this for Mildred, my mom, and Whalen; they never let me droop into self-pity. It must have been instinctive; they could tell whenever I started to drift off, and if I did they'd be right on me. I remembered raising Richard and Victoria and being able to see their moods. Mildred and my Oakland parents were reading me like a book. I kind of liked it. I mean they still cared.

I guess I was OK right up until Tuesday night. Wednesday was to be my first back in front of my 'separated' husband. I thought about the Xanax; I wanted one, I desperately wanted one, but I knew I didn't really need one. I didn't sleep much. Mildred brought me a cup of tea, some tension tamer, it helped...some. Thank god for Maryland divorce laws; I had six months to prove myself.

~~V~~

It was Wednesday, Francis's first day on the job with his estranged wife around.

Here I am, Francis J. Campbell. I thought about my son Richard, the shit bastard; he called me last night to remind me Leslie would be in today. He reminded me I had to be polite. Polite wasn't his word; he said 'nice'. Nice, nice my ass! Was she nice to me? No! That fucking lying cheating whore dishonest cunt bitch had lied and cheated her fucking ass off.

Twenty-two years, twenty-two fucking years! Two kids; two lying back stabbing kids. And parents, my own parents! My neighbors, my so-called friends, even my boss! Is there anybody on my side? Oh yeah, one person, well one person other than Venica, but I know what she wants. Who's been that one person? Me! Oh shit yeah! 'I love honesty! Put another dime in the truth box baby!'

I pulled up the gravel lot. Mrs. Bielson's truck was in 'my spot'. The cunt's taken over everything. I can see 'Mr. Patch' had already arrived too. Yes sir, no more Woodrow; its Mr. Patch from now on. Throw friendship and conviviality out the window. Oh I'll be polite. I'll be considerate. I'm a 'professional' after all. Isn't that what that rheumatic old man said, 'I needed to be professional. Don't let personal matters interfere.' Well don't you worry you old son-of-a-bitch; I won't!

I got out of my jeep, pulled out my duffel and lunch kit, yanked on my hat, and went on inside. Woodrow, no Mr. Patch had the newspaper and was sitting at his desk. I saw where Leslie had been given the empty desk behind mine.

Jesus H. Christ! Look at her! OK, she's lost weight, a lot of weight. I can see the crow's feet, there's grey in her hair. I guess she stopped dying it. She's wearing glasses, her bifocals. No uniform. No. Oh shit. Look at her. Just look at her! God. This is god awful! Well I'm glad I won't have to look at her. The way the desks have been arranged I'll have my back to her.

Why does she have to be so awfully god damned beautiful? She's in slacks, loose fitting dark brown slacks. And that blouse; it's like a light green, green like her eyes. The damn blouse matches her eyes. All very prim and proper I see. Two, not three buttons open at the top. She's wearing a brassiere. I can see the lace of her brassiere! I can see her nipples pressing against the material. Well it is kind of cold in the room. We use propane, but we have a wood stove too.

"Woodrow," damn it I broke my first rule, oh what the fuck, "Woodrow, it's kind of cool in here. Maybe we could start a small fire."

Woodrow looked up from his paper, "Be my guest."

I dropped my duffel and my lunch kit on my desk. Ignoring Leslie as best I could I stepped outside and gathered up some faggots. I got back to the stove, opened the door, and started to crumple up some of the pages from yesterday's paper. I began to place smaller pieces of wood on top. Light a match and just like that, the fire was started. I stepped back, "There, that'll heat the place up until the sun gets out."

I looked around. Leslie's hair was in a ponytail. She was wearing a pair of gold 'hang down' earrings that had small emeralds encrusted in them. I'd bought them for her for...something; it hadn't been a birthday, or Christmas. I remembered I'd seen some like them on a person in one of the stores up in Cumberland and then I'd searched around for a similar pair for her. There'd never really been a reason, just stupidity I guess. She's always had such pretty ears. I remember how I used to nibble on them when we laid on one of the rugs in front of the fire back in my parent's cabin. God...

Shit she was wearing a necklace I got. It was the one with the gold cross. Damn, it still looked good around her neck...her neck.

Jesus she's still so pretty, a little too thin. Too much dieting I guess. She really should put a rinse in her hair. The grey doesn't look good; she looks best when her hair has that lustrous chestnut color.

She's looking at me. Why's she got to have such big eyes? Eyebrows. Shit. Hair's parted down the middle; there's loose fronds hanging around her face. Oh shit she's blushing. She's just put her hand to the buttons on her blouse. Jesus Christ Leslie don't fucking button it up! Oh phew, she didn't. I finally got down and sat at my desk, back turned now I wouldn't have to look at her.

Woodrow looked up, "Leslie go out and get the folder I have on the seat of my truck."

I hear her. She said 'yes sir.' I discreetly watched as she stepped beside my desk and went to and out the door. She's wearing my favorite perfume, Chanel something. She smells...so...good. I hate her! That voice, that sweet melodic, oh so refreshing voice. She sounded timid. Look at the way she walked by me; if that wasn't a 'come on'...

Leslie used to sing in the church choir. She never had the best voice, but she had a good one, kind of clear and pure. Pure, her? I remembered how when we were married, when we were happy, I could look at her and sort of see the child in the adult. Little girls have a way of kind of shifting their weight and swinging their hips in a sweet circular back and forth kind of way. Leslie always looked like that, like a little girl. She has dimples, and they show up when she smiles. I remember sitting in my pew, being so proud, feeling so warm, and feeling, well, I guess possessive. She was mine. Not anymore. Cunt!