An Appropriate Response Ch. 01

"I'll come pick you up. By then I won't be able to wait to see you."

"It really is going to be sad, with Patrick staying in Ithaca over Thanksgiving, and Caitlin in Paris. It's like it is not Thanksgiving at all." I started to tear up.

Emily came over and hugged my shoulders. "I know, Honey. You have loved Thanksgiving since I first met you."

"Em – family is everything, and it will never be the same again."

Emily left for work and I started making calls, first to my lawyer, then to my financial advisor. I then called a friend, who has a friend who knows someone. I wanted to mess up the O'Hara Thanksgiving celebration, and I would pay a bit extra to do so. Before noon there was sophisticated video equipment throughout the lake house.

Next thing was to address my greatest fear. Emily was highly organized, so I know she kept all of the family medical records. I found what I was looking for in her office just off our bedroom. I then called a friend at Mass. General Hospital, just to make sure I understood what I was looking at. It broke my heart, but was just another piece in the puzzle.

I didn't have meetings in D.C. However, I did drive there, with a car loaded with surprisingly little from our home and almost quarter century marriage. I wanted my car there, as I would be flying back to D.C. Thanksgiving night. I called a friend at Oxford, and another at Stanford. I needed to make sure I had things to do to keep busy after the Thanksgiving apocalypse. I thought about that, and the symbolism fit. When it all hit the fan, I was going to be a zombie.

While in D.C. I downloaded the videos of the weekend of lake house playtime, featuring the O'Hara sisters. I saw sex between all the different male-female combinations imaginable, as well as some female-female and threesomes. Turns out my wife was fucking all three of my brothers-in-law. Not surprisingly, she was more adventurous with them than she was with me, including taking an assertive role with each of them – except for Brad. With him she was submissive to the point of taking physical and verbal abuse. Brad hit her, called her "slut," "whore," "fat cow," and his "personal sex slave." All of which she took without comment or even reaction. However, whenever he started to trash me, calling me "a wimpy nerd" and a "pencil dicked half of a man," she cringed and asked him, albeit submissively, to stop. I wondered about that, but by this point I no longer cared.

I arrived at Manchester airport on the evening before Thanksgiving and Emily met me. She gave me a hug, and let me know how glad she was to see me. I only had a carry on bag, so we went right to the car. As usual, she let me drive. She reached over and took my arm, and I could hear her crying.

"What's the matter, love?"

"I'm just sad that the kids won't be here, that's all."

It was late when we got to the lake house, and the only one who hadn't retired to their room for the night was Emily's father Patrick. He was 77, and still physically strong. He couldn't fall asleep in bed, so I'm sure he would spend the night in the TV room, watching old movies and dozing off. I greeted him, and he shook my hand with a powerful grip. It then hit me that this would be the last day I would ever be welcome in his presence, and I was about to make his life sadder – which saddened me.

As we settled into our bedroom, it occurred to me that none of the sexual escapades I had seen on video were from this bed. I looked up, and saw the camera location on the top of the bookshelf. But nothing happened here. Emily kissed me goodnight and rolled over. This was her normal way when we were there with other members of the family. For our entire marriage she would never allow sex whenever we were in the same house as her family. For the first time, I was glad, and I silently laughed at the irony.

I got up early and went for my morning walk in the frost and chill of a Novermber morning in New Hampshire. I knew it would be my last time walking the lake.

Emily and I skyped with each of our children, wishing them a happy Thanksgiving. She then went to the kitchen to help with preparations. While I did an equal amount of the cooking at our home, on this occasion the O'Hara women were in charge – led by matriarch Sarah, with Emily, Shannon, Joanie and Denise assisting.

The Thanksgiving Day schedule proceeded as usual. The meal would be after the first football game. Patrick, Will, David and the asshole Brad sat on the couches in the family room, watching the game. I sat in the back, away from the rest. Twice Patrick and David asked me why I was so far away from the TV, inviting me to join them. I simply replied that I was fine. Under his breath, but loud enough for everyone to hear, Brad commented: "That's just the way he is."

After dinner, I asked Joanie's oldest daughter Heather to take all of her cousins downstairs to the playroom. I told her to keep them there until an adult told them they could come upstairs. I then invited everyone to join me around the family room TV. Offering Sarah and Patrick the places of honor, I began my spiel.

"As you know, I was raised in foster homes. You are the only family I have ever had. From my first Thanksgiving with you, I have felt loved and accepted. And so, I wanted to share this video presentation with all of you. However, it is really for our dear parents – Sarah and Patrick. The rest of you have seen these, or things like it, in the past. But they have not. You will notice there are Kleenex boxes on the table, as I expect there will be some tears. I know I cried putting it together."

With that I pushed a button on the TV remote, and took out my phone. I pushed a few buttons, and my phone took over the TV. I then stepped to the back of the room, out of the way.

The show began with a video of Brad mounting Emily from behind, as she cried out, "Fuck my ass, you bastard!" And from there it continued, with still pics and video segments of all manner of sexual activity, starring everyone in the room, with the exception of the parents Sarah and Patrick, and of course, me.

As you can imagine, the yelling started almost immediately. Brad screamed, "What the fuck – I'll kill you!" at which point he jumped up, and I calmly said, "Sit down Brad," and I shot him with a taser. Brad didn't sit down - he fell down, shaking.

After a few more minutes, with the accompanying crying and yelling – especially as Joanie and Denise saw the scenes of Brad hitting and yelling abuses at Emily, my soon-to-be ex-father-in-law made eye contact with me and said, with resignation, "That's enough, son." I looked at his wife, with her head buried in his shoulder, sobbing, and – out of respect – I stopped the video.

Then I walked back in front of the TV.

"I want to apologize to you, Patrick and Sarah. I'm sure that was as difficult for you to see as it was for me, when I first discovered this sickening activity on the part of your children and their spouses – minus me, of course. It seems that Brad and Emily have been having sex for at least as long as she has been married to me, perhaps longer. And this was done with Shannon's consent and even cooperation. I don't know when Joanie, Will, Denise and David joined in the sexfest, but I do know it was the real reason for the end of Denise's marriage to her first husband Matt."

I continued. – "Worst of all, as if this debauchery and infidelity is not enough, I have also discovered that I am not the biological father of our two children, Caitlin and Sean Patrick, which – by the way, they both now know. I told them via email just before we all sat down to our lovely family feast."

At this point Emily went from crying to wailing.

"Of course, dear wife, I don't know who their bio dad really is. Could be Brad, or could be any of the other cocks you've been fucking all while making a fool out of me. Well, who is it – or don't you know?" (By this point I realized I was beginning to get louder. I didn't want to get inappropriate, so I took a deep breath and waited for a response from Emily.)

Shannon spoke up, "Henry – I'm sorry, but Brad is the father."

"Oh goody! I was hoping it was Brad. Explains why Sean Patrick is so much taller and more handsome than I am. Well then, let's turn our attention back to good ole' Brad, my loving brother-in-law. Shannon, get your husband to sit up, and wipe his mouth. The drooling is embarrassing. I want him to hear this. Brad, come on, get a hold of yourself. So Brad, I thought about suing you for years of child support since I raised your children. But my attorney didn't think that would be a good idea, since you are going to be in prison."

"What the hell?"

"Well Brad, as you may know, I have friends in Washington, including at a little group of nerds like me at the SEC. Brad, you know the SEC, right? I'm not talking college football here, Brad. Talking about the Securities and Exchange Commission. Seems the gang there at the SEC were a little bored recently, and decided – on a tip – to investigate Brad's work. Seems our boy here got a bit sloppy. Okay, maybe a lot sloppy. Looks like you are going to need a lawyer, Brad ole boy."

At this point Brad once again decided to jump up and come after me. "You motherfucking ..."

At which point I tased him again. He soiled his pants as he once again fell to the floor, shaking.

"Oh Brad, Brad, Brad."

"Well, now that Brad is incoherent, let's talk to Will and David. Guys, I thought we were friends. But, friends don't fuck each other's wives behind their back. So, I guess we were never friends. And gentlemen, I will do something in the name of retribution, but I haven't decided yet. You see, I want it to be appropriate, and I haven't had time to think of what that might be. Unlike you and your lovely wives, all of this is a bit of surprise to me. But trust me, I'll get back to you."

Both of them just looked down.

"Joanie. Next to what Emily has done to me, your betrayal hurts the most. You are the closest person I have ever had to a sister. I thought you really cared about me – I thought you respected me and loved me. I will miss you, but obviously – we are done."

"And now to my loving wife. Emily – look at me."

She had her face in her hands, shaking as she wept. Now she looked up, into my eyes, and mouthed, "I'm so sorry."

"Dear Emily. That is pretty much the definition of 'too little, too late,' isn't it? Now that our sham of a marriage is over, tell me – did you ever love me? You have given me the bare minimum of a sexual relationship for a quarter century, and it turns out that wasn't because you were cold, or conservative, or shy. It turns out you were purposely denying me on orders of your better lover - Brad here. And I get it, I really do. He gave you everything I couldn't give you – a tall, handsome man, a bigger cock, mixed in with all the inappropriate things I refused to give you, like physical violence and abuse. Glad to know that's what you really wanted. And isn't it so nice your dear sister Shannon here was willing to share. Goody for you!"

"I walked over to the TV and removed a large manila envelope I had placed there earlier.

"So, dear wife, here is the next chapter. In this envelope are the divorce papers. Sign them and send them back to the lawyer. You see, you are filing for divorce, not me. Filing under "Irreconcilable Differences." You are going to tell people that you simply don't love me anymore, and that I couldn't please you sexually. Yeah - that's the ticket.

I think you'll find the terms quite fair – more than appropriate. You get the house in Cambridge. It's paid for, and worth quite a bit in today's market if you decide to sell. Of course, you also get our share in this place. I certainly don't want anything more to do with this little love shack. I'll take the condo in D.C. Also in the envelope you will find further instructions, such as how to get in touch with me in case of emergency. And, in case you fight me on any of this – well, the little film presentation you saw today will become a box office smash, viewed by Caitlin, Sean Patrick, the folks at church, the executives at Boston Public Library, and anyone else I can think of."

Just then, the doorbell rang.

"Perfect timing. That would be my ride to the airport.

Sorry for ruining your Thankgiving. You ruined my life."

And as I walked out the door, I tased Brad one more time. Not necessary, but certainly appropriate.