A Simple Case of Infidelity Pt. 04

She looked at Richard and said, "I don't think it was right. She had a husband. I know I'd never..."

Leslie interrupted. She didn't say anything. She just pushed her chair away and quietly got up and left the table. Me? I felt justified, but kind of sad too. Richard's date had skewered Leslie just as surely as if she'd used a real knife. I figured she did it to ingratiate herself with Richard, but just the same I felt bad for Leslie; not real bad just a little bad. She had it coming anyway.

Leslie came back a few minutes later. Mom and Mrs. Bielson brought in the pies, some tapioca, and a lemon cake. We all had coffee and dessert.

A few minutes later Mrs. Bielson asked if Leslie had called her parents. Leslie said she hadn't, and she added, if she did they probably wouldn't be home. Mrs. Bielson talked her into it, and sure enough Leslie had been right. Her parents 'live in' maid answered the phone and told Leslie her dad was away on business and her mom had flown out to Seattle to be with her sister.

Leslie reminded us about her Aunt Annie; the one who'd embarrassed the family by marrying a mechanic. They'd moved to Seattle to be nearer their oldest daughter. He'd started a new business restoring and modifying classic cars. I watched Leslie go into what I called her 'mechanical mode'. Whenever she discussed her parents; she'd be 'automatic' about everything she said. It was rehearsed, practiced, lifeless, formulaic, and robotic.

Richard's date was new. She said something about how strange it was no one in Leslie's family called her. Nobody said anything. After that I didn't hang around. I left.

After I got home I called my parents. I wanted to thank my mom for the dinner. It was Leslie who answered the phone. I hung up. I figured I'd thank mom later.

~~V~~

I was back in the park office on Saturday. Woodrow had been feeling low so I took the whole weekend. Woodrow had been missing time, a lot of time; everyone knew he was sick. He must have asked Leslie to come in because she showed up a little after I did. She had some filing to do, and I had a whole bunch of nothing to fiddle with.

Leslie and I never talked in the office and I was glad of it. She brought me a Styrofoam lunch basket filled with leftovers. She did mention Thanksgiving; she said she figured I'd called later Thursday night to thank everyone for dinner. I told her that was what the call was for. She didn't say anything else for a while, but then she did tell me she thought the Broadwell woman didn't and could never have an excuse for what she did. I didn't answer her.

I took the lunch basket home with me. She, or someone, had packed a lot of left-over turkey, a little bowl of her special gravy, three pieces of pie, some potatoes, some stuffing, and a healthy helping of her oysters. I had a second feast that night. I especially enjoyed the oysters.

While I ate I thought about Leslie and me. We'd been apart for quite a while, and she'd been back almost four weeks. We worked together, and we were getting along. I thought maybe I would make it. Sure I missed the sex, I guess. I missed the affection, but I had my dogs.

~~V~~

I got through Thanksgiving, but then Advent started. During Advent every week for like five or six weeks, I forget, a family lights a candle. It was something Leslie and the kids and I always did. We'd done it just the year before. We wouldn't have if I'd known what she'd been doing with Weatherby. Anyway I got a call from the reverend. He said he knew Leslie and I were still 'having problems', but he asked if I'd join her for one of the candle lightings. I told him no. That lit another firestorm.

Two hours after I told the asshole no about the Advent candles my mom called. She was furious. Then Mrs. Bielson called; she wasn't furious just 'deeply saddened'. She thought I could've at least tried to show a little kindness. Mrs. Bartlett was next, then came Mrs. Camber, and she was followed by three more. I kept wondering, 'What part of no don't they understand.'

Finally Mrs. Cantwell called. Mrs. Cantwell had known me since I was a tyke. I used to cut her lawn. She used to babysit me. She was...well. She asked. What could I say?

So the third week of Advent I was up in front of the church with Leslie, and we were lighting candles. I looked out at the congregation. I saw a big bunch of nothing. There were the younger ones who neither knew nor cared about Leslie and I, but there were the middling and the older people, they did know and a lot of them had opinions.

It pissed me off a little. I glanced around at all the old people; they were all smiling like, 'Gee they're getting back together.' What bullshit! The middling group; well there were the women; some of them were looking at me in 'that way' women sometimes have. It was sort of disgusting to see married women giving me the subtle 'come on' while their husbands and kids were sitting right beside them. Worse though were some of the men; they were ogling Leslie. Up till then I'd avoided all eye contact with Leslie. When I looked over I saw she was watching me. She looked down real quick. That really pissed me off and I didn't even know why.

~~V~~

Winter finally arrived and with it there was another bunch those of those paradigm shifts. Some of what happened really bothered me.

First, what happens after Thanksgiving? That's right, Christmas and New Year's. I skipped church, but went to mom and dads for Christmas dinner. It was a virtual repeat of Thanksgiving; just without Richard's date, Mrs. Bielson who'd gone to see one of her daughters, or any comments about marriage. I stayed home for New Year's. Mom told me Mrs. Bielson and Leslie came to their house for New Year's. She said they both went home right after they dropped the ball and all on TV.

It was shortly after New Year's that the shit kind of hit the fan. I say kind of because it wasn't totally shit, but it could have been. Well I guess it was.

What could I say? I mean what was I supposed to do? It was cold, it was winter, and I was bored. Tired of sitting around the house day and night I started going out to eat. I only went out once or twice a week, and I never spent more than I had and I absolutely never bought anything alcoholic. Madigan's was my usual place. They had good steaks and I liked their string beans and potato salad.

One night; it was an unbelievably cold Thursday in early January. It had snowed, the plows had moved most of it, but the weather had warmed a little in the afternoon and by sundown ice was everywhere. I was really hungry when I pulled into the lot. First thing that caught my eye was Mr. Bielson's old pick-up on the lot. Leslie drove that old truck. I wondered, 'Was she in the restaurant?' Well so what. I went in anyway.

There she was over at a table sitting with three girls all not much older than our daughter. What's she doing in Madigan's with them? Then it caught up with me. Leslie, ever the do gooder, had volunteered to rejoin the crew at the 'Crisis Center'.

Our town, thanks to the ever changing nature of society and because of the dislocation caused by the economic meltdown a few years back had gone through a run of domestic problems. Most of the problems were associated with out of work fathers and husbands. They had no money, but they still had bills to pay and families to raise. For the most part the men had just sucked it up, found what they could and went on. Some however, the totally skill-less, those too old or too stubborn to get on, and a few who were just weak or in some cases no good had turned to the bottle. It was because of all those difficulties that I was sure led Leslie back into helping mode. Imagine, there was a woman who could barely help herself trying to fix things for others.

I sat down at a table at the far end of the room and waited for Shirley. Shirley was an older woman whose husband had died of throat cancer and found herself alone, without insurance, without a husband's pension, and without any money. Shirley was at least seventy and about the only thing she could still do was take orders, wipe tables, and share the local gossip. I loved Shirley by the way; known her all my life, her husband had been a good man, worked at a saw mill, but unfortunately he also chewed tobacco. Oh well.

Shirley came to my table, "Steak with all the trimmings?"

"You got it Mrs. Blanchard." Blanchard was her last name. I could never just call her Shirley. I asked, "What's up over there?" I pointed to the table where my almost ex-wife was holding court.

Shirley looked across the room and then back to me, "Leslie's got herself reconnected with the Call Center. Those are all young wives with problems. See them? Lauren and Barbara's husbands worked at the egg factory. They got laid off and ever since they've done nothing but drink and swear. The third one's Muriel. Muriel's got herself a real problem; her husband's not turned to the bottle but he's been a little rough around the house with poor Muriel, he leaves the kids alone though."

Even from where I sat I could a bruise on her cheek. I asked, "So my wife's heard the call?"

Shirley put her hand on my wrist, "Look honey, we all know about you and her, but Francis she's always been one of the good ones. You need..."

I cut her off, "You can start me off with coffee."

Shirley got the message. She took the menu and left.

The place wasn't very crowded. I thought I'd be able to listen in a little. I wished I hadn't moved so far away. I couldn't hear, but I sure could see. Leslie was in rare form; she was always at her best when she was doing something for somebody else. Then it seemed to change. The happy helpful Leslie vanished, and all I saw was depression and unhappiness. That's when it dawned on me; she'd seen me. I'd ruined her evening, and maybe her chance to be helpful. I knew I shouldn't but I felt like shit. Then again the mean part of me felt good. I raised my hand and got Shirley's attention. When she got back to me I told her to give me the check for Leslie's table, and to also make sure they knew they could get dessert if they wanted.

Shirley smiled at me and went over to my almost ex's table. I saw the mood change again. Leslie listened to Shirley, she glanced at me, she gave me a tiny finger wave, and she seemed to perk back up a little.

'Well,' I thought, 'I'd done my good deed.' I had to admit it. I felt a little smug about what I'd done. Leslie had been over there all happy and feeling good, feeling like she was being important and helpful and then she saw me and her little bubble burst. She went from happy to sad, but then I offered to pay and offered dessert and she was back again, well back a little bit. I was in control. I was the man. I was...an asshole. I ate but didn't hang around.

~~V~~

Back home I had one of those old fashioned scanners. Come on. I was a volunteer fireman. I needed to keep up with what was going on. I was lying in bed a few nights after the Madigan's thing when I heard the scanner bleep in. Someone had called out a 911. I sat up and listened.

The operative at the Crisis Center had gotten a frantic call from Muriel Krause; something about her husband and her. I picked up more closely and realized from the voices the person at the Crisis Center who'd called was Leslie, and I heard her say she was hanging up and getting over to the Krause's.

'Damn it,' I thought, 'what's the asshole up to? We have emergency personnel for that. We have state troopers for that!' Christ! What if Muriel's husband was drunk or worse, high on something? I had to get right over there. Half-dressed and no overcoat, I ran to my jeep, started it up, and sped over to the Krause's.

I had another monitor in the jeep, but all I heard was noise, confusion, and a dozen different voices. I gunned my engine, ran the only red light between me and the Krause's and got there just in time to see the police coming down the steps. Was I too late? Had Leslie gotten there too soon and gotten hurt?

I had to admit it, I was scared. I jumped from my jeep and ran to the nearest officer, I knew the boy but couldn't remember his name. I asked, "What's up? What's happened? Where's Muriel. Where's my wife?"

The trooper gave me an agitated look, "Nothing's happened. They're inside," without another word he turned and stalked toward his car.

I ran in the Krause's front door and rushed to their kitchen. What the fuck! There was Muriel, her husband, and my dumb shit wife. They were all seated around the table with what looked like coffee. I asked, "What the hell's going on?"

Leslie looked over at me. She was dressed in a white coat and looked like a damn polar bear. She said, "Oh hi Francis. Muriel's husband here fell down the steps and Muriel thought he'd hit his head. He hadn't though and everything's all right. Want some coffee?"

Flabbergasted! I was flabbergasted, "You called 911."

Leslie answered, "Yes it's all right though. Won't you have some coffee with us?"

I just shook my head and left. Who was more stupid; her for calling in an emergency or me for running over like an idiot. I swore I'd never do that again.

~~V~~

It was January fifteenth. I knew the date because it had something to do with some holiday. I know it was cold. Leslie wasn't expected in so it was just Woodrow and me. He didn't look good.

Woodrow looked up at me, "Francis."

"Sir?"

"Francis I won't be around much longer."

I checked the clock. It was just past 10:00 a.m. so I said, "You go on if you want. Nothing's happening here."

He said, "No I mean I'm about through."

I still hadn't gotten it, "Yeah sure. Go on. I'll be fine."

"No Francis," he said, "I mean I've put in. I'm sick. Don't have much more...you know."

I knew what he meant then, but I was too stupid to know what to say, "You'll be all right. I'm sure..."

He interrupted me, "Shut up son. I said I'm dying," he was dead on serious and as quiet as death, "Brain thing, inoperable. I've recommended you..."

I tried to interrupt him, "No Mr. Patch I don't want..."

He stopped me cold, "I said I was dying. I just said I've recommended you as my replacement; at least until someone in Annapolis tries to get cute. They might want to bring in somebody from outside."

"Woodrow," I said, "I don't want your job," I really did. I wasn't just trying to be noble. I really did, just not like this. I loved this man. He was like a second father. I didn't know what else to say, and I knew he could tell.

"Don't be an asshole. You're who I want. Now listen."

I just sat and nodded.

"When I'm gone. It'll be in a couple weeks. It'll just be you and Leslie. She's only on that temporary thing a little longer, but you'll be able to keep her around until they decide something down in Annapolis. I know how you feel, but Francis I'd still like it if you kept her on. She needs the work."

I thought about what he said. 'Gee, I could get rid of her. I'd have a legitimate excuse to just drop her. Did I want to do that?' I told Mr. Patch, "I suppose I ought to keep her. At least till they settle what they're going to do about you."

He didn't smile. I don't think he believed me, "I'd like that son. If you don't mind I'm going home now."

I nodded again. He put on his coat and hat and left. I sat there for the longest time. I felt just numb.

All kinds of thoughts ran through my head, 'What was I going to do? First I realized at last I could get Leslie out of my hair. Hell, I didn't really need her anyway. But did I really want to do that? Did I want to let Woodrow down? Did I really have to? We'd been working pretty well together. I knew she needed some kind of job.' I didn't know it yet, but my chance to dump her was going to be even easier than I thought.

~~v~~

The big non-incident with the Krause's happened not long after New Year's. Leslie continued to work the call center, and though I always had my scanner on I never heard anything until early February.

Woodrow had put in his paperwork, and only stopped in once in a while just to look things over. I hadn't released Leslie yet. Then late one evening, it was a Thursday, I overheard another emergency call from the 'Center'. It was Leslie making the call again. 'Why,' I wondered, 'couldn't these stupid women just call for themselves?'

This one sounded pretty bad. One of the older men in town, a real drunk, must have gotten his fur up with his wife. There was all kinds of hysteria over the lines. I heard Leslie. Yeah, she was headed toward the scene. I turned the damn thing off. No way was I going for that again.

Less than an hour later I got a call from my dad. He was at the community hospital. He told me Leslie was there, and when they asked her for her health card it turned out she didn't have one. He asked, "What you cancelled her health insurance?"

I told him, "Yeah. I took her off. You knew that."

My dad went bonkers on me. He yelled into the phone, "Well she doesn't have any health care, and they want to get paid. What are you going to do about it? She's still technically your wife you know!"

'Jesus', I thought, 'Yeah, I'd taken her off my policy. So what.' It never occurred to me the dumb shit wouldn't get anything to replace it. Couldn't she have gotten Medicaid or something? I knew her little part-time job didn't offer any. Worse,' I thought, 'What? She got hurt?'

I asked, "She didn't get hurt did she?"

My dad kept hollering, "What're you stupid? Why do you think I'm at the hospital? Yeah she's hurt and pretty damn bad too!" Then he yelled, "So what are you going to do about it?"

He scared me; it sounded like he was going to have a heart attack! I told him I'd be right there.

When I got there they let me right in. The older couple Leslie had so foolishly tried help lived in an old rundown upstairs apartment. It had an outside walk up with an old set of wooden stairs and half rotted bannister. The old bastard, drunk as usual, had gotten mad and pushed Leslie down the stairs. I found out stupid had broken her left collar bone and her left ankle. She'd twisted her foot on the way down, and apparently tried to stop her fall by stretching out her arms.

I saw her in the room. They had Leslie sort of sitting up. 'Jesus', I thought, 'it didn't matter; regardless of the circumstances she always looked like some beauty queen.' I assumed they'd have her in some big cast, but she was only in a sling. Later I found out they called it a figure eight sling. I was supposed to know that. Her foot was up and that was in what looked like a cast. She didn't look very happy. No surprise there. She had bruises on her face. There was a big scratch on her cheek. It looked like her fingers were blue, and she had clearly been crying. As soon as she saw me she started to cry.

I was in a kind of daze. All my 'so called' training had abandoned me. Stupidly, I walked over and felt her forehead. I didn't know what else to do. My first aid training hadn't been all that much anyway. She didn't feel hot. Honestly, I didn't know what to do or what was really wrong. My mind was a blank, but I knew why; when the injured person is especially close emotionally the helper quite often loses their aplomb. I'd sure lost mine. I mean if she'd been hypothermic or half drowned I guess I would've known what to do. I had to admit it; she'd been hurt and I was scared! I mean she was...who she was!

Leslie whimpered, "Oh Francis I'm so sorry. I wanted to help and..." She ran out of things to say.

She really, I mean really needed a whole big shit load of TLC, and at that moment I really, I mean like totally, absolutely really needed to provide it, but I just stood there with my hands at my sides like some imbecile, some moron.

I asked, "Hurt much?"

She sobbed, "My foot hurts terribly, but I can't feel anything in my arm except an awful tingling."