Condoms and Pantyhose

...

'Nita, in full jealous mode, searched the house before I got home, and then waited until I was asleep to check the truck. I have to wonder, looking back, how she must have felt when she opened the dash and pulled out two pair of pantyhose and a package of condoms with two missing. It didn't help that both pair had been worn by Billy's wife, she had given a few pairs to us after they laddered on her. 'Nita could tell they had been worn.

My girl had always had a hot temper, and she fought to control it constantly. Today though, she let the demons loose. I woke up to a truck with four flat tires and one rear view mirror missing. I found my rods in the driveway, obviously run over by her car, the reels mashed flat. She'd left me a note on the bathroom mirror, written in lipstick.

"You Bastard! Gone fishing my ass! Just to let you know, two can play this game, asshole."

I called her mother. I called her friends. I called the hospital. Nobody had seen her, but one friend said she'd called.

"What did she say?"

"Nothing I would repeat. My advice is if what she said was true, you'd better run. And if it's not true, you need to find her quick."

That didn't help my mood any. I tried to get her all the way up until I went to work, using a truck I borrowed, and called her on my breaks. At four in the morning I said screw it, and told the shift supervisor I was leaving. He seemed to think it was a good idea. "You've been...off, all night. I hope whatever is bothering you isn't catching."

I stopped at Walmart on the way home, and bought two new 33 Classic reels and two Ugly Sticks, really durable rods that would bend all the way double and never break. I still needed to fish this weekend, if I could get 'Nita calmed down. Maybe telling her about the money would help. Maybe I could even get her to go with me, and see how I spent my nights while she worked. Maybe it would calm her fears.

I noticed the car, but people were always parking in the wrong spot when they visited someone in one of the apartments. It stood out though, a BMW mixed with all the compact cars and old trucks. I was just happy to see 'Nita's car.

I grabbed my bags in one hand and the rods in the other, balancing while I opened the door before finally letting the bag go and turning my key. It had swung open about half way, and a deaf man could have heard them.

"That's it baby! Right there! How you liking this married pussy now, big boy?"

It was 'Nita's voice, along with some guy grunting.

Now, a reasonable man would have found out exactly what was happening before he reacted. A thinking man would have gotten evidence and burnt the bitch to the ground. A wimp would have just turned around and left, or sneaked in to watch. A redneck would have just kicked ass.

I was never known for my reasoning abilities or my intelligence. The last man that called me a wimp has a partial to remind him every day that wasn't the best idea he'd ever had. I was a redneck, and rednecks tend to react violently.

I kicked the bedroom door off the hinges, catching my loving wife and some asshole in bed. She was riding him reverse cowgirl, so I looked her right in the eyes. She went pale, then red. "How's it feel, mother fucker? Sucks being screwed over, huh. Now you..."

That was all she got out when I slapped her so hard she went off the bed. I recognized the guy, one of the ER doctors and a known pussyhound. She told me once she couldn't stand him, he'd screwed up two marriages already, and the administration had warned him to stay away from married women. Looks like he didn't listen.

He jumped up, deciding to bluff his way out. He was a gym rat, and liked to brag about his black belt.

"Calm down, dude. She came on to me. Is it my fault you can't keep her satisfied? I'm going to get my clothes and leave, it looks like the fun and games are over, at least for tonight. Get out of my way now, and you won't get hurt. You don't want your ass kicked by the man that just fucked your wife, that would be just too much. Keep a little dignity, and move."

I looked down at his balls, surprised to see them average sized. I figured they'd be the size of grapefruits with his attitude. He must have seen it in my eyes, and crouched down into a fighting stance.

In my rage I had forgotten I still held the rods in my hand. One night at a pond I saw a guy trying to wrestle in a monster. His buddy was helping him when the line snapped, and the rod whipped back. It him his friend right across the cheek, and the welt stayed there for the rest of the summer. People into inflicting pain should check out a rod. They'd probably throw every whip they owned away.

He never expected it, who used a fishing rod as a weapon? I was either good or lucky, because my first swing caught him right on the end of his dick. He let a high pitched scream out as the rod snapped forward, hitting him at the peak of the arc, and tried to cover his family jewels, so the next one went right across his knuckles. The next one caught him on the neck, and he went down, lying with his ass up, still trying to protect his crotch. I gave him two good whacks when I heard the hammer go back.

"Bud! Stop this instant or I swear to God I'll shoot you! You got no right to act this way after what you did."

She was holding my Colt Python, the same gun that Rick carries in The Walking Dead. And it had .357 rounds in it. My rage evaporated.

"So then, it's not enough you fuck a guy in our home, on our bed, now you threaten me with a gun? I hope whatever set you off was worth it, because we're done."

For the first time she looked uncertain, then set her face in a scowl. "I'll say when we're done. This was just a little punishment, but if you don't toe the line it'll happen a lot more often. Now, move aside and let him go. Be happy I'm not asking you to apologize."

I looked down at him trying to crawl out the door, then up at her and grinned. "Fuck you. Pull the damn trigger."

...

Her eyes got wide, that was probably the last thing she expected me to say. I didn't hit asshole with the rod again, but I helped him to the door, kicking him in the ass every time he tried to stand up. I'd left the door open and a pretty good crowd was outside, attracted by the yelling and screaming.

They scattered pretty fast when 'Nita fired, though.

I didn't feel anything and there was no blood, so she must have missed. "Next time will be in your ass!," she screamed, as she lowered the pistol to point at me again. I looked up, seeing the hole in the ceiling. Good thing all the duplexes were single story.

Some concerned neighbor had called the cops when the screaming started, and they were just getting out of their car when she made the threat. Their weapons came out and they were crouched behind the car in seconds. It must have been quite a sight. She was naked, outside by now, holding that big pistol. Her partner in crime had been trying to crawl to his car, still naked, but when the shot went off he put his hands over his head, not knowing who held the weapon, and started begging me not to kill him, apologizing for screwing my wife. I was fully dressed, and just held my hands up in the air. I bet they played the bodycam tapes for months, looking at her.

They were screaming at 'Nita, she was screaming at me, and asshole was screaming he was sorry, and please, please don't shoot him.

She was wavering, looking at the cops and then me. She swung her hand towards the cops, and I grabbed her, knowing fully well they were an inch from blowing her away. She let go of the pistol and I threw it towards the cops, wrestling her to the ground. We were in cuffs almost instantly.

In the end, we all got a free ride to jail. I got charged with assault on the doctor, as well as domestic violence for slapping 'Nita. She was charged with assault on a police officer with a deadly weapon by pointing a gun, communicating threats, indecent exposure, and discharging a firearm in the city limits. If they could have found anything, they would have charged the doctor, but in the end they let him go. His wife had to come and get him, and bring him some clothes. She divorced his ass, named 'Nita in the complaint, tried to sue the hospital, so it all became public record.

I promised not to press charges against her for threatening my life with a weapon, if she agreed to drop the assault charge. She agreed reluctantly, not wanting any more publicity. The doctor could have made my life very uncomfortable, but he saw the writing on the wall and took off for parts unknown. It took his wife almost a year to find him, working in a clinic overseas. She already had most of their assets, but he had to pay child support, retroactive at that. All in all, I dodged a bullet, pun intended. The DA decided he didn't want to be ringmaster of this particular circus, and let us go. 'Nita had to go through anger management counseling and do two hundred hours of community service for pointing the gun at the cops, though.

...

Zip and Bill came to bail me out, using part of our fishing money. I refused to bail 'Nita out, and her folks had to come and get her. It gave me time to get home, grab most of my stuff, and get out of Dodge.

I didn't hear from 'Nita for three weeks. My thought was she was waiting for me to apologize. When that didn't happen she called me, dripping sarcasm and ordering me home.

"As loving as that invitation is, I think I'll pass. Don't call me anymore, Anita. We're through. I don't know what kind of wild hair you got up your ass, but I never cheated on you. Not once. I don't give a fuck what you heard, or what you imagined, or what you were thinking. I will never be able to trust you again, and I'd have to sleep with one eye open if I came back."

She knew she was in serious trouble when I called her Anita instead of 'Nita. Her tone changed immediately. "Look, I may have made a mistake here. Why don't you come home and we'll discuss it like two adults."

"No. Wait, let me think. No. Hold on, while I give it serious consideration. Okay, not no, but HELL NO."

I hung up and didn't answer the phone again until the next day. I knew she was due to be served at two, and at two thirty my phone rang. It was her, of course, and instead of demanding and threatening she was crying. I told her gently I was sorry it had come to this but there was no way I would go back to her. "I'm sorry, Anita, I truly am. But I can't go back and I can't get over how easily you trashed our marriage, so this is the only way forward. Please don't fight it."

She fought it, delayed it as long as she could. Finally the judge got tired of it. I never showed up for any of the proceedings, I couldn't see the point. Maybe I should have, because the Judge issued an order for marriage counseling. One session apiece, and ten jointly. I made sure to stipulate that if, at the end of the counseling, I still wanted the divorce, it would go through without hindrance. If not, I would ignore the order and take my chances at jail. I was hauled before the Judge, and he listened as I told him my reasons. He looked at me sadly, realizing he was wasting everyone's time, but agreed and complied Anita to do the same.

She got to pick the counselor. He was a young man, in his thirties. I had a question right off the bat at our private session.

"How long you been doin' this?"

He didn't seemed surprised and smiled. "Longer that you think. This is my sixth year."

"Any good at it?"

I don't think he expected that. He kind of puffed up. "Really good. One of the best. My reconciliation rate is one of the highest in the state."

I frowned. "What if I told you I wasn't here for a reconciliation? That I was only here because it looked like it was the only chance I had of getting the divorce to go forward? If you think you can lead me to the water of getting back to my wife, you'll find it hard to get this mule to drink. The first time I think you're not being objective, the first time I think you're pushing an agenda that ain't mine, you and me are through. I checked your record too, and was surprised to see four complaints, three from men and one from a woman, saying you didn't really care about resolution but your numbers. Oh look, the time's up. See you next Thursday. Six sharp."

He looked a lot like the carp I hooked, gasping in the net.

The first two sessions were kind of difficult. He told us to sit together on a love seat facing him. I chose a recliner. I could see the frown he was trying to hide. The first hour was pretty much about her and the 'little mistake' she had made. So was the second. When she started out doing the same, I pulled out the newspaper I'd brought along and started reading. Both of them looked at me in surprise.

"What are you doing?"

"If I wanted reruns I'd watch some old television series. For two and a half hours you've let her ramble and have made no effort to push her to focus. If that's what you want, fine. Carry on. I'll just sit here quietly and read."

He was pissed. You could see it in his eyes and his body language. "Bud, if you don't..."

I stopped him. "We ain't friends. Call me Mr. Hart if you want to address me. I don't call you by your given name, do I?"

He was confused, and I wondered why. Had he not been listening to me?"

"Sorry, Mr. Hart. I'm just trying to establish a rapport with you, to make things easier. You have to participate, though, or I'll tell the judge."

I shrugged. "Tell him. I had my lawyer look the paperwork over pretty good, and it says I'm required to attend. It doesn't say a damn thing about participating. So why don't you stop and focus on the real issue here, how to prepar

That pretty much ended that session.

...

Well, he did tell the Judge, who brought me in for a meeting, saying I had to at least make a good faith effort. "Let me be clear here. In no way am I saying you have to take her back. That's your decision and after the sessions I'll accept whatever you want. But you might want to listen, see how things went South so fast. It might help you in any future relationships."

He was a pretty sharp old goat, I guess that's why he was a judge.

So, I did some due diligence(my lawyer taught me that)and was prepared for the next session. I handed both Anita and the counselor, Bob, a sheet of paper.

"What's this?"

"It's a record of all the times I was fishin' when she thought I might be fooling around. Those guys keep pretty good records, so you'll see the times I arrived and the times I left, or at least the times I cashed in my last pot. And if think I was having romantic interludes at a carp pond, you've obviously never been to one. The smell is not exactly a aid to romance."

I looked at her. "Look, maybe I should have explained about the condoms and pantyhose, but I didn't see a need. You only half listened when I told you about what I was doing anyway. You had your hobbies, the occasional night out with the girls, shopping, that sort of thing. Did I think you were cheating? No. I think you might have danced a little too close a time or two, or let hands wander where they shouldn't a little, but I TRUSTED you. So I didn't check up on you, didn't search your car or look for motel receipts. I didn't look in your panties to see if there was something there that shouldn't be. If I had thought something was up, I would have talked to you. Why couldn't you do the same? We'd still be together, house shopping, and talking about kids. Instead, we're in here with a total stranger, telling him all our secrets. At least you are. The less I speak the calmer I am, and when it gets down to it, this is nobody's business but our own, and I resent tremendously the fact that we're here at all."

It was the longest I had talked in the sessions, and they were so stunned it took them a minute to get going again. Then my phone dinged. "Oh look, times up. See you next week." I was out the door and gone before the could react.

I sensed it the next time we were there. Something had changed. Anita looked me in the eyes, and she wasn't crying. "You talked last week. Now it's my turn."

I nodded. Looks like we might have made a little progress here.

"I realize now there is no way we'll ever be together again. I broke that and it can't be fixed. I just want to tell you some of what I was thinking. You were the perfect husband. You didn't drink much, you held a good job, and you didn't fool around on me. I was so proud of you."

"All the nurses at work, at least the younger ones, were either divorced or fooling around. I was so lucky we had the same schedule. Most of them were having affairs because the husbands were taking advantage of all that weekend freedom to hook up, and it was mostly revenge."

"I bragged on you so much. Then you started fishing. Suddenly you weren't home while I worked. I trusted you at first, but then you started fishing more. The time apart grew longer, and all my friends said the same thing. 'He's got a girlfriend.'

Then a week before it all fell apart, one of them told me she saw you with another woman, and you were laughing and even hugged each other. I wanted to ask you then, but was so afraid of the answer. Then Jane told me about the perfumes, condoms, and pantyhose. What was I supposed to think?

You know I've always had to fight to control my temper, but I couldn't this time. My only thought was to hurt you the way you hurt me. So I hooked up with Dr. Sleaze, he was available and willing. Even then, I was never going to tell you, it would be my little secret when I thought about you cheating.

Then you came home early and it all went to hell. You weren't supposed to be there. You were never supposed to know. I was so ashamed until my anger took over. Only the shock of you slapping me calmed me down.

Even then, when you were whipping asshole with that fishing rod, I knew we were over. I only pulled your revolver out of the nightstand to keep you from killing him. I have to admit though, that my anger was still there, and my finger was itching to pull the trigger.

When you looked me in the eyes and told me to pull the trigger, at that exact moment I knew I didn't matter to you anymore. Just like that, the rage started going away. I was still confused when the cops showed up. I even considered shooting in their direction, so they would kill me and end the pain."

She stopped, wiped her eyes, and drank some water. I started to say something but she stopped me.

"Then we all went to jail. It broke my heart all over again when you refused to get me out and left. Then the doctor's wife came and it got even uglier. When she sued the hospital it all came out. My friends, my family, they all knew something happened but now they knew the details. It was a pretty lonely time for me. You were gone, my friends were gone, management at the hospital was not pleased with me. They kept me though, because I was an excellent nurse, but the warm feeling I got from my job was gone.

So here are. I fucked up, and even though I would do anything to fix it, I know you. You're an Old Testament kind of man, and I always admired you for your beliefs. I've made a decision. The sessions stop today. I give up, Bud."

Before I could respond she was out the door and gone. I looked at the counselor. "Should I go after her?"

"Only if you're concerned she might do harm to herself. Otherwise, I would leave her alone. She's already started her recovery process, I would just leave her in peace."

...

So we got divorced. She was amazed at the amount I had saved for our house, she had a general idea but always trusted me, so she didn't worry about it. I made sure she got half.

Of course, we were long gone from our old apartment, the owners take a dim view of someone shooting holes in their property. I got a small studio closer to work that suited me just fine. Anita moved in with another nurse, telling me it was more economical and she hated an empty house.